𝙑𝙚𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙩 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙄𝙫𝙮 𝙒𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲.

The dining hall buzzed with the usual morning rush, but my mind was far from the clatter of trays and the hum of voices. I sat at a corner table, my gaze drifting back to where Devon stood with his friends. They were deep in conversation, laughing about something I couldn't hear. Sheila's words still echoed in my mind. I stabbed at my eggs, trying to shake the feeling off. My focus shifted to more mind-bending topics: neuroscience, what type of high-paying job I could get with a bachelor's degree in that field, and tailoring club on Saturdays Learning to make clothes from scratch seemed more than interesting. Keeping busy seemed like it was the only way to stay out of drama That sounded like a good plan. Devon's eyes caught mine again from across the room, it was like the rest of the world faded away. His smile sparked something in me I couldn't name—curiosity, intrigue, maybe even something more dangerous. It gnawed at me, against all my better instincts.

Sheila plopped down beside me, dragging me back to reality with her usual energy. "You're still staring at him," she teased, nudging me with her elbow. "I told you, Lola, you don't want to get involved with that mess. Devon's got more baggage than you think. And don't even get me started on Jade." Her voice trailed off with an eye roll.

I frowned, stirring my half-eaten breakfast around my plate. Sheila had made her feelings for Jade clear, but I wasn't sure I agreed. Maybe Jade wasn't as disconnected as Sheila thought. She was majoring in African American studies, after all. Didn't that count for something? "Sheila, you think it's that bad? Maybe Jade's just trying to understand. It's an important major... can't she care about it even if she's not one of us?"

Sheila gave me a knowing look, leaning closer as if we were sharing a secret. "Lola, you don't get it. There's a difference between studying our history and living it. Jade's family doesn't have ties to the struggles we've been through. She's just observing, but she can walk away from it whenever she wants. We can't. That's the difference."

I took a deep breath, her words sinking in. There was truth in what Sheila was saying, but something still didn't sit right. Couldn't someone from the outside contribute positively, even if they didn't share the same history? As I mulled over the thought, I glanced down at my barely touched plate, suddenly losing my appetite. Without saying much else, I gathered my things and pushed my chair back. "I gotta head to class," I mumbled, tossing my tray onto the rack. Sheila didn't protest, just gave me a nod as I walked away.