Masked Girls

08. THE LUNCH TABLE DILEMMA

thank you for showing us who she really is!! I can't believe i ever thought that bitch was nice smh

who are u btw

most rifton ppl wouldn't dare do a mass expose like this one.

I grinned as the new message popped up on Nokia Buttons, which was currently resting on the top of my school file, hidden within my open backpack resting on my lap. No problem. However, you don't need to know who I am. It isn't relevant to you... well, let's just say I'm sick of people who put on this false image of themselves.

same ugh
like just be yourself omg ???

I scoffed. Being myself? Uniqueness, be yourself... everyone preached it, said it was the key to being happy amongst monotonous and conformist human beings. Such words were always uttered by those who were naturally popular, whose strengths and flaws and preferences naturally resulted in people gravitating towards them. Gillian was one such person. Bold, opinionated and bordering on the rude side, she was never afraid to throw open shade or state facts, even making offensive jokes in an environment like ours. Of course she'd want to be herself. Who wouldn't, when they could speak their mind and still have the entire cohort groveling at their feet?

I zipped the bag back up after ensuring Nokia Buttons was switched off and hidden, picking my ham sandwich up once more.

Sitting at the back of the cafeteria for multiple days alone and undisturbed was a lonely affair, but I had learnt to make do - and frankly, it gave me much-needed time to reflect and ponder upon things, instead of engaging in mindless conversation on something I didn't care for. Most of the time, it was just me daydreaming bullshit fantasies for personal amusement, but there were times when I considered important things. I would think about the news. My political alignment. Whether I was actually straight or not. Whether those SJW posts on Instagram were right about human rights, or just gatekeeping and gaslighting to seem woke.

And, of course, there was the Lunch Table Dilemma - how to choose the right lunch table that kept you socially acceptable and reduced risk of social annihilation. Coming from personal traumatic experiences, I felt that it was an important piece of general knowledge. Sadly, no one ever talked about it; it was only applicable to drifters like Reyna Sanders and loners like me - wait, not me, just Reyna, who was currently squealing over some K-Pop boy band with Tina and her cronies, going all 'saranghae oppa'.

Good grief.

Of course, I often considered if it was really that difficult to sit at a table and gush over things so that I felt socially acceptable, only to immediately decide against it. I was not giving up my dignity for the approval of a bunch of kids who weren't going to matter to me a few years down the road.

As I took another bite, I felt the air grow still, the hall growing quiet and rife with tension as the atmosphere shifted and eyes turned. There and then, I realised that the Lunch Table Dilemma had suddenly become applicable to yet another person.

The envious gazes of reverence had turned to cold, aloof stares befitting of a person worth less than the dirt beneath their shoes as Natalie Kingsley strode down the aisle - the same aisle she had walked so many times, her head held high as usual as she proceeded, elegant as always despite it all. Honey blonde hair up in the signature high ponytail. The dark blazer, smart and professional on her shoulders, and the blouse and skirt ironed crisp. Her Nikes were jet black as usual; it had been the first trend she'd come to establish in Rifton as its golden girl. The only difference lied with her facial expression, no longer able to mask the blow of her diminished social status. Gone was the friendly, nearly foolproof fake smile, and in its place was the cold emotionless facade of a fallen ice queen that refused to betray any form of outright despair.