Rami & Friends

Orange is Hard (Sebastian)

As I make my way through the crowds of people in the dining hall, I see everyone stare at me. What, do you not read the news or see any of the tabloids? Have you never seen somebody with "orange skin"?

I admit, I might have over-applied the self tanner just a bit today. But, I was feeling myself this morning. My roommate, Rami, left early to do something (don't ask me what, I don't even know) and I had the dorm room all to myself, which is always nice. Longer showers, not in as much of a rush, especially with classes around 9:00. Rami and I are like two strangers sharing a room, we never converse, we only insult. It's painful.

"Sup, duck sauce boy," some jerk says as he walks past me, high-fifing his buddy.

"That is harassment," I say, a bit know-it-all like. People know to keep their mouth shut around me because, well, I don't do well with insults. One time, so many people called me orange, I took a bag of flour and continually slapped myself in the face with flour on the bathroom floor of my dorm.

"Is this what you want?!" I screamed, coughing on flour. Rami stormed in shortly after that.

"What the hell is your problem?!" he practically screamed. "You're getting that stuff everywhere!"

"I am not orange. I don't know why everyone says that I'm Orange!" I cried back.

"People talk," Rami said, and to make things clear, this is one of the only times he has spoken in a voice that didn't sound like a 40-something-year-old man explaining the weather forecast to a bunch of kindergarteners. "Clean this up, now."

And after that, the bathroom door was slammed shut. There I sat, a puddle of tears beneath me and a bunch of soggy flour on my face.

I have no idea why Rami wants to hang out with me today. We never hang out. He goes to his stuff, I go to mine. That's how it's always been. Once I get my lunch, a steamy bowl of chestnut soup, I go to sit down and text him.

"Hey. So, what are we doing this afternoon?" I type. I'm kind of excited. I rarely ever get invited to do anything because people pin me as weird.

He responds a few minutes later. 'I bought tickets for the ice cream museum at two' it says.

My eyes roll and my toes start to curl. Why two? I specifically said three! I wanted to have plans, and maybe that would lead to a friend. I take a deep breath. Obviously a misspelling. Nobody messes with Sebastian Bails.

'Two? I thought I told you three' I reply.

The text comes through. 'Sorry man, I could only tickets for two. Hope that works out!!'

'No, it doesn't. I have psychology then' I say. He'll understand, right. Maybe reschedule. We'll go out to an early dinner or a movie or..

'Aww that sucks. Really wanted you to come with me." The response reads. Is he serious? The first time I make a plan with somebody they just..

'So, you're going without me?' I ask. My toes are curling again.

'Yeah. Hope that's ok. Just need to get my mind off of Kate'

'But you said you would go with me," Now I'm furious.

'Sorry, it looks fun and I don't want to think about my girlfriend being in prison the entire day."

I choke on my soup. Standing up Sebastian Bails.... you just made a mistake, Rami Malek.