Haunted by an embarrassing moment from the seventh grade, Blaire Sunderland is about to embark on her senior year at Honeybrook High. Though she has already confronted her issues with depression, anxiety, and body image, she's still known as "Blush"...
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~ Blaire ~
Unlike most seventeen year olds with a job, I loved going to mine. I worked as a barista at a spot called Yummy Joy Cafe. If you're one of those people who can't get enough of bubble tea parlors with bakeries attached, you would find this place pretty irresistible. They had free wifi, ceiling-to-floor windows, and a super friendly staff. Sometimes I felt like I was going to work inside a slice of life television program.
In other words, Yummy Joy was my own little sanctuary. On my breaks, I could doodle things and secret places in my head without someone spying over my shoulder and snickering. The evil overlords knew nothing about this place and I intended to keep it that way.
Normally I was in a pretty good mood when I came to clock in, but this time around was the last day of summer, so I wasn't feeling like my usual self. Even my boss, Mr. Wang, noticed. Wang was an elderly Taiwanese man who liked to speak cryptically from time to time.
Shortly after I started my shift, he asked me how my rabbit lost its hop. If that strikes you as a strange thing for someone to say, trust me it is. But this was just how Mr. Wang talked. I guess it was his way of noting that something seemed off about me.
To be completely honest, this wasn't the first time Mr. Wang had inquired about my "rabbit." When I first started working, I wondered if he might be going senile. But Michael, Mr. Wang's grandson, who was also a barista, told me that his grandfather had been talking like that for as long as he could remember.
So not only was this the last day of summer, but apparently my cosmic rabbit was out of sorts. Count that as two strikes against me. And we're not even at the worst part yet.
Ten AM rolled around. I was feeling all right when he suddenly walked in. He had no name because I didn't know it yet. We're just going to call him Pink Hair because, well, take a wild guess.
I wouldn't call myself a judgmental person. I'm all for self expression. I've dyed my hair a few times (and have the curl damage to prove it). I even dreamed of the day I would leave home for college and get my first tattoo. Still, even with my approval, this new customer had a way of wearing his modifications that made it very hard to ignore.
Pink Hair walked into Yummy Joy with a short skateboard tucked under his arm. He wore a white t-shirt with a few holes scattered about the collar and a bright green depiction of Reptar on the front.
Great, a 90s kid wannabe.
He wandered towards the register like a tourist lost in a busy train station. His gaze lingered on the tables, which were mostly empty. His expression alternated between wonder and amusement.
I glanced around the restaurant. Nothing was happening. The few customers present were immersed in their laptops. Nothing was worth giggling over.
