In The Unlikely Event [updates begin may 3]

01 | natural woman

a/n yeet, i was gonna wait till I had more chapters written but then i got to impatient so here; first chapter. next one is next week wednesday. follow, comment and leave a fat vote if you enjoy the chapter.

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Whenever I walked into a new room, I kept a running list of stereotypes for black people in my head. I had the game stacked against me; I needed to make sure I cleared any assumptions already made about me based on the colour of my skin and give myself a fighting chance. I was already halfway down my list and with each stereotype checked off, the interviewer, a middle-aged woman with thinning, gray-tinted hair, increasingly narrowed her eyes. Her eyes flickered down to my resume and reference letters, combing through the words meticulously in hopes of--I thought--finding some flaw to latch on.

My cheeks increasingly ached as the seconds ticked past 30 minutes for an interview that was supposed to take 15 minutes, tops. My palms were not sweaty--because they were ashy and dry as fuck--but I still wiped them down on my borrowed pantsuit, hiding them under the table. The room was silent, save for the sound of the analog clock ticking behind her. The smell of stale coffee, body odour, and old books told me that the small conference room was one that was in constant use.

You'd think someone would have had the good sense to change the whole decor and bring them out of the 1950s then, I thought. My gaze travelled off the stain on the mahogany table and up to the peeling, mouldy green, wallpaper that was once a vibrant yellow sunflower wallpaper, I was sure. My mouth was dry; my lips chapped. My teeth itched to peel away the dead skin but instead settled to bite the insides of my cheeks.

I reached out a shaky finger to point. "I was also on the debate team--"

"I can see that," her nasal voice interrupted.

I clammed up.

She pushed her tilting glasses up her nose before setting her gray eyes on me. She folded her hands and placed them on the table, atop my credentials. She simply stared at me. I could see the wrinkles that lined the sides of her mouth and the crow's feet behind her eyes. So, she smiled a lot.

She could have fooled me.

"Your recommendations are outstanding. All your teachers practically sing your praise." She unfolded her arms and flipped through the three pieces of paper that I'd committed to memory. "You're a straight-A student—" I wasn't but she didn't need to know that "—no reports of any altercations at school. You are the type of person we're always looking for in this courthouse."

She waited for a beat. I wanted to be hopeful and eliminate the lingering doubt that resided in the back of my mind. And for a second, I was sure that was it. She was going to sing my praises and offer me the position. Until I saw her lips form the word: but.

"But as you know, we only have a limited space open for volunteers; you simply handed your application in late. We held interviews two days ago. We are already well on our way to narrowing down the chosen applicants." The back of my neck was beginning to sweat, despite the AC in the room blasting through the vents. My dry, ashy palms were getting sweaty, leaving behind a streak of sweat as I wiped down down the pants suit.

When she closed the manila folder, tears pricked at the back of my eyes. Then when she said, "I'm sorry. It would have been great to have you volunteer with us." They threatened to fall. She stood up from her seat; I shot up right after. My brain knew I should probably beg. But the words wouldn't make their way out.

Instead, I shook her hands and smiled once more, my back straight as a ruler. I allowed her to lead me out of the conference room and back into the eerily, quiet lobby.