[ Wakanda or America ]

§Chapter 2: Discriminate§

Kori's Pov

We're still seated at the bathroom door when Olivia stands to look in the mirror. I could only face palm at the timing she chose to check her makeup. I never understood the obsession with putting paint on your face just to enhance beauty. Just be happy in your own skin.

"You can't seriously be thinking of makeup right now. We have an angry woman on the other side of the door ready to nag us to oblivion and you choose to reapply your lipstick?"

"Girl don't judge me. This might be my ticket for a boyfriend one of these days."

"Why can't you just accept your flawless skin and leave it at that?"

"As nice as that is, I still like my light pink coating."

I roll my eyes and sigh before moving to my feet. Olivia turns to me in excitement before I hold out my hand to stop her.

"No I'm not reconsidering."

She pouts and goes back to applying her coats whilst I take a moment to look at myself. I don't understand what people find so bad about my color. I think it looks nice. Plus there are people who are much darker than I am. Or maybe they target me because I'm a female and they see me as weak? That's gonna have to change one of these days.

But until then, might as well let them keep assuming. Because that's all they have on me. Assumptions, opinions, rumors, but not facts. No one in this facility has anything solid or truthful that they could use against me or Olivia. We stay low, and we stay undetected.

That's unfortunately how us blacks have to survive in a place like this. Just stay low until you get a chance to gain the upper hand. Which rarely comes about so you just stay low for the majority of your time here. At this college, it's like a jungle. Only there are two categories for the people in it:

The Alphas (Whites), who are the predators.

The Omegas (Blacks), who are the prey.

Now I'll admit, there are some whites that actually treat us with mutual respect and they're somewhat okay. Though most of them do it in silence. Since they're ashamed of us.

There are very, very few whites who openly give respect to blacks. If there was such a person in this place, please, direct me to them. I'd like to be their friend.

Speaking of whites, it seems the girl who was banging on the door finally left. I don't feel any presence outside.

"Liv the coast is clear."

"I'm already at the door dummy."

"Could've told me that you damn ninja."

"Maybe you should stop spacing out all of a sudden."

I get her in a headlock and roughly nuzzle her hair with my fist grinning. She laughs and tries to escape but I keep my grip on her tight. We always used to do this as kids. Fight and wrestle with each other. Still do it to this day, only on a more intense level. It's still fun though.

After deciding she's had enough, I let her go and check my watch. Class starts in a little bit so I wave Liv goodbye and head to my first session.

Once I enter the room, every head turns in my direction. This used to make me nervous and insecure but Olivia has a way of twisting things to make you feel better about yourself. I don't know how but I like it.

So with a small smile I walk to my seat in the back and unload my things. Not before a pale hand slams down in front of my space. I roll my eyes and mentally thank God for giving me long, dark curly hair to hide it. I just keep taking books out my bags and wait for the person to get aggravated enough to speak. Because I don't respond or act just because someone wants me to. These aren't the slave times anymore.