If I Fell

Soggy Taco

Angela asks the blonde boy to move to the other side of the table so that I can sit beside her. I wait for him to move his things before setting mine down. I don't miss her giving me another once over, and I wonder if she was watching me on the line.

"You okay?" she asks quietly.

I don't know how to answer but the boy, now seated in front of me, interrupts.

"So how are you liking Forks?"

Angela seems put off but I'm glad for the distraction.

"It's not so bad if you don't count the weather."

Or the people.

"Well you'll get used to the weather," he says enthusiastically.

I doubt that. I've been living in Washington state for almost 8 years and the weather still irks me to this day. I can't count the number of twist outs that wound up looking like wash and go's after just a few hours outside. Or how much money I wasted on getting box braids done just for them to fuzz out after getting caught in the rain. But explaining this to the blonde boy feels pointless, so I just hum in agreement and begin fixing up one of my tacos.

"Ew, what is that?"

I turn to my left and give the boy sitting there a once over. I haven't acknowledged anyone else at the table since sitting down, but to be fair no one else has acknowledged me. Angela might have made introductions if she wasn't so distracted by her concern.

Either way, the fact that he is rudely referring to what I hope turns out to be a good taco, has already earned him a bad impression.

"It's food," I answer in a flat tone.

He laughs loudly and thumps a hand on the table. I would probably find him cute if I wasn't in such a bad mood. His skin is a light sepia color, and his hair is cut low with dark little curls spiraling upwards. The earrings he's wearing wink at me under the bleak fluorescent lighting of the cafeteria.

"My bad, I could have phrased that better. I should have asked what sort of mystery meat they put on your taco. It looks like a soggy, crumbly mess," he says. His voice isn't particularly deep, but it's very upbeat and pleasant to listen to.

I look back down at the plate and can't find a reason to disagree with him. The meat substitutes I've tried are rarely ever attractive in appearance, and this one is no different.

"It's probably just quinoa with seasonings mixed in," I answer reluctantly.

"Quinoa?" I hear from the other side of the table. A pale girl with dark brown hair looks at me with confusion written on her face.

"Are you on a diet or something?"

Wow. Just wow.

"Jessica doesn't be rude," Angela speaks up from beside me.

Yes, get her before I get her.

Jessica looks down at her plate and raises her eyebrows, seemingly not having found anything wrong with her question.

Angela suddenly remembers that I'm sitting at a table full of strangers and begins introducing everyone. I'm told that the pretty brown boy to my left is named Tyler. The spray tanned, platinum blonde girl beside him is Lauren, and she gives me a thin styrofoam smile when I lean around him to see her face. It only lasts a second before she goes back to typing on her phone. Opposite her is a pale boy with pretty pink lips and black hair that brushes his shoulders. He waves at me energetically, then reaches across the table for a handshake and tells me his name is Eric before Angela can. He seems a little too excited, but maybe he's just a high energy person. He is seated beside rude ass Jessica, who gives me an apologetic smile. Next to her is blonde boy who gave up his seat for me. Angela informs me that his name is Mike, and he gives me what I assume must be his most charming smile.