Jarron could kill me in this bed, and Mr. Vandozer would brush it under the rug. He’s done it before.
I wrinkle my nose. “We need to look into Mr. Vandozer.”
“Right,” he says, eyebrows high. “I’ll put in a call and get him out of the school this evening. We’ll search his office after dinner.”
I nod sharply. “Alright.”
A gentle knock sounds on the door, and Jarron hops up to retrieve a rolling cart steaming and smelling ridiculously delicious.
The golden lid slides back, revealing a massive amount of food.
“Is that eggs benedict?” I ask, peering over the tray filled with at least three dozen cooked eggs covered in creamy sauce.
“And bacon. And rolls.”
I blink. All right, next time, downplay my hunger. Got it.
He piles the eggs onto a plate, followed by a side of like twelve pieces of bacon and two rolls, then hands it to me.
“You know there’s no way I can eat all that.”
My stomach growls. Jarron smirks, holding the plate out to me. “You told me you make up for your skimped lunches by eating a big breakfast and dinner. Prove it.”
I roll my eyes. “Half of this would be a big breakfast.” Still, I take the plate. “Should we go to the table?” I ask, looking down at my legs still covered in luxurious black sheets.
“Only if you want.”
“What if I make a mess?” And considering the contents of my plate, it’ll be a miracle if I don’t.
He shrugs. “The sheets will be changed before tonight anyway.”
If he doesn’t care, I don’t. I plop a pillow over my crossed legs and use it as a table. My first bite is bliss. Holy crap-olio. I pause mid-chew, tastes exploding on my tongue.
“I may have changed my mind,” I say, mouth full.
“About what?” he asks, now making his own plate.
“If this is what the food is like, maybe I should move into Elite Hall.” It’d be worth the extra bit of stress for this.
Jarron chuckles, taking a seat beside me on the bed. “As much as I’d like that, if you want to stay in Minor Hall, you should. I’ll have food sent to you if you want.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Fifty eggs benedict for breakfast every day!”
I roll my eyes. “Make it six.”
“What about your friends?”
I consider the way Janet eats. “Fine. Twenty.”
“Done.”
I shake my head, mind boggled by the thought of having catered food delivered to me every day. Don’t get me wrong, I grew up with wealthy parents. I have so many privileges, some I don’t even realize. But this is some next level stuff.
“Let me know when you get tired of it. You can get anything else you want. Omelets, chappatis, chicken and waffles, Haleem, crepes, macaroons. Anything really.”
“You’re just showing off now.”
