Separate But Not Equal

Chapter II

16th Street Baptist Church

"Are you the waiter here?" he questions indifferently, his jaw twitching, tightening around his skin.

Dammit, Ivory!

'What did you expect?' nags the annoying voice at the back of my head.

"Erm... ye... sor- sorry w- we hav-"

I'm stuttering. Why am I stuttering? I never stutter.

I'm amazing at being rude, it's like second nature for me.

No, first nature.

Why can't I talk?

As I unimpressively look for something to say, fumbling with my pen and biting my lip anxiously, Lauren grows impatient, obviously having more important thoughts that need to be expressed.

"Ignore her. She does this all the time. The girl clearly doesn't know how to do her job," she exclaims resting her hand on Christopher's arm for a suspiciously long time and purposely pushing her body against his. "None of them do."

I have worked here for 3 years, and I have done my minimum wage paid job perfectly. 

"I guess you're right, she can't" he states, avoiding eye contact with me, and staring down at Lauren, intensely.

Wait, what?

"No. Sorry, listen we have the-" I begin before being spoken over, by an incredibly, annoying Christopher.

"I don't remember asking you to carry on speaking. You're wasting my time. Can you get me another waiter one that actually knows what they're doing?" He booms, his voice rising with anger, and spreading through the restaurant.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, my hands trembling and my curly hair swinging back and forth, brushing against my cheek.

"Yes... Me," I point to my chest, gesturing to the outfit that obviously suggests that, I'm a waiter, that knows what she's doing.

Christopher's voice goes deeper, his chest shaking, while he laughs at me, the sort of laugh that just emphasises his already strong opinion of me.

Before I can protest, yell at him or kick him out myself for treating me like that, he dramatically turns around, and exits the restaurant. Bundles of brown hair gently bouncing behind him, his arms swaying against the wind rapidly. His legs quickly gaining speed.

Lauren hot on his trail, her face gleaming victoriously, and Christopher's face tighter and angrier, if possible, then when he previously entered the building,

The minute he leaves my eyesight, my brain begins to process what just happened and anger quickly builds its way through my body causing my breathing to pick up and my nails to dig into my palms with the strong urge to hit something or someone. 

"Sorry, about him" apologises one of the tall, dark-brown eyed boy. "I'm Alex, by the way, Alex Michaels." He offers me his hand, flashing his surprisingly white teeth, in the sun.

I shake it warily, fear overcoming me, not accompanied to being treated normally by any white person in my life.

"He'll come and apologise eventually... when he's in a better mood... If he ever is in a better mood," He Jokes. Locks of blonde hair, falling in front of his face.