Chicken fingers

It was just after lunch when Helen made her way toward the boys' section of the dining hall. The buzz of students still echoed in the air as some lingered over their plates, chatting and laughing. She had heard about the strange occurrences around school lately, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. But she hadn’t expected the scene before her when she arrived at the boys’ side.

Destiny, as usual, was seated at one of the tables, eating like a man starved for weeks. His large plate piled high with rice and a hefty portion of fried chicken, the bones practically crumbling between his fingers as he crushed them with the hunger of a beast. Helen’s eyes widened in shock when she saw him munching on the chicken bone, his fingers slick with grease and saliva.

“Wak!” She gasped under her breath.

Victory, who had been sitting across from Destiny, shot him an exasperated look. “Come on, man, not in front of her,” he muttered.