...as she was fondly called by her friends in the exchange program, was an absolute angel. She had brought some of Sereyin's favorite tea, full-well knowing that Sereyin was still hungover from the weekend.
She handed the tea to her, her expression not disappointed but also not approving. "Seri, you were so sick yesterday, and you still drank? I didn't think you're an alcoholic, but—"
"I... really, I know," Sereyin said, taking the small bag of loose-leaf tea and placing it neatly in her backpack. "It's just that it's been a particularly bad weekend for me."
"Stressed about starting the job?"
"I mean, what else?"
Mira chuckled and sat down in the chair next to her. "No worries, friendo, I'll always support you. I was really anxious over my first job, too."
The dining hall bustled with students who ate their lunch, studied, or both. Mira took out her insubstantial-looking lunch consisting of some berries, a few types of vegetables, and a slice of meat.
Sereyin noticed this and almost said 'that looks a little sad' but thought better of it and asked, "So, cooking again?"
"Trying, but I don't know if it's working out. Better than getting take-out all the time."
Mira had a round face and some curves to her much like Sereyin herself but in a cuter sort of way, in Sereyin's opinion. Mira was much shorter, for one, unlike Sereyin's giant 5'8", 172cm, much taller than the average Handese girl.
"Auntie has been sending me boxes of really good stuff and I can't eat it all usually, so hit me up if you need ingredients, bud!" Sereyin said.
Mira smiled shyly and dimples appeared. "Oh, um. Thanks. You're a really good cook, so maybe you can teach me sometime?"
"Bro, of course I'd love to teach you." Sereyin laughed and scratched the back of her head. "I mean, maybe I'm alright, but we'll see if I'm even good enough for this restaurant job."
"You'll be wonderful, Sai," Mira said and showed her angelic smile.
Mira was one of the things Sereyin could look forward to during the day—one of the people who had taken notice of her not just for her skin tone or the fact she was an exchange student, but for the fact they were the only ones in class who could laugh together about their teacher's strange humor. They were both engineering students with a history of loss in the family and Sereyin liked to hope that her presence was as much worth to Mira as Mira's had been to her.
Of course, hoping never got people anywhere. It's not like she made close friends since her family had become bankrupt and they moved around the United Counties.
As soon as they finished lunch, Sereyin and Mira went off to their respective classes, doing their usual friendly wave goodbye and promising to see each other later. Sereyin hated promises, but a simple "see you later" couldn't be that bad. No one overthought it; plenty of people never saw each other again even though they said that and they didn't make a big deal of it.
Sereyin's main distraction was classes, and she knew that as long as she put all of her effort into them, she wouldn't overthink such inconsequential things.
That afternoon, she finished her last two classes of the day and headed towards the ramen restaurant she had been hired to work in. She was more chipper than usual and attracted a few glances as she smiled to herself like a dork while she headed out of campus and to the restaurant. They hadn't asked for an interview because they were so desperately in need of a waiter due to an accident that they didn't seem to care who it was so long as the applicant had the experience.
She was right, but also dead wrong about that.
When she arrived in front of the place, it was already bustling with people despite the fact it was only 5 in the afternoon. She gulped. Lightly slapped her face a few times. Then she headed in through the closed doors of the building.
The inside was infernal. She was already wiping her forehead as droplets of sweat began to appear. She stood there, observing as the person who looked like the owner as well as the person she recognized as the manager ran from corner to corner, taking orders and serving bowls of ramen. The cooks in the back were yelling and the collective voices of the customers made a noise level louder than most Handese restaurants she had been to. On top of that, there seemed to be a fan in the kitchen that needed replacing, as it was terribly loud.
'They really need better vents,' she thought.
She began to tense up. When the hell was she supposed to butt in and ask to start work? There seriously were no waiters. There were only 2 cooks. The lack of workers looked so bad that it was like a visible disease in the restaurant. Every chance she thought she could step forward, the owner and the manager would be on to the next customer. Customers would keep slipping by her and she could barely move around the tables. For several minutes, she made herself smaller and said "excuse me" over and over.
'Uh they really need to expand this place, too,' she added to her thoughts.
At last, when she saw a slim chance to talk to one of the workers, she approached the one opening leading to behind the counter. The worker available was the owner. He was an old man who looked not only salty from the sweat sticking to his forehead but also from the way his eyebrows were constantly furrowed in annoyance. It looked like if they became even more furrowed his face might as well have been twisted into implosion. Maybe it was just the natural state of his face. Anyways, it looked as though he had to deal with a lot, and it reminded Sereyin a little of her own father when she was a young kid in the United Counties.
She slowly inhaled, picking up the bravery her parents had always told her to embrace.
'Never turn your back from the ocean' her father has always said ever since she almost drowned as a toddler.
After clearing her throat, she called out to the owner. "Um, excuse me, sir. I was told to start work here today!"
The immediate feeling of dread hit her like a shot of liquor with 60% alcohol.
The restaurant seemed to go quiet for a moment as customers glanced at her. Even worse, the look on the owner's face was even angrier than she could have thought possible.
He studied her for a moment, then yelled, "You? You apply?" His Elanish was not practiced much, but the fact that he used it in the first place even though she had spoken in fluent Handese stabbed hard like the end of a chopstick in the stomach.
Sereyin replied in Handese. "Y-you hired me. I'm Sereyin Ruyn."
Again, in Elanish. "I don't hire you. Your skin—dark. Customers don't come in because of dark skin, okay. Leave. We are busy."
"But—"
"I said leave!"
Sereyin's blood began to boil. Most people in Handen she had met were kind and accepting. But this—
Without holding back, she yelled, "EXCUSE ME? You literally hired me! You can't just FIRE me because of my skin. And I'm speaking fluent Handese!"
Her voice echoed through the restaurant. Things sure went silent now.
The owner groaned, then begrudgingly spoke Handese back. "I don't care, business is business. Now get out, you're disrupting the customers. You're fired, okay."
"YOU—"
Before Sereyin could retort, a deep, monotone voice chimed in from the sidelines. It was one of the customers sitting at the counter.
"So loud."
Sereyin turned to look at the random customer. Her eyes were wide and she was trembling. "What did you say?" she said in a seething whisper.
The customer adjusted his rectangular glasses and looked directly at her with his cold, lifeless brown eyes. Upon closer look, he didn't look quite Handese—maybe he was half that and half some sort of European. For some reason, he looked vaguely familiar.
He said, this time a little louder, "You're very disruptive. I thought you people wanted to break your stereotype. Just go away already."
Sereyin went cold. Then hot. Then cold again. It palpated in her chest as if it would explode. It looked like the room was melting around her, either from the heat of the restaurant or the heat emitting from herself. Everything, even the tables, chairs, and walls had eyes on her.
Customers began to whisper. Unable to control the anger boiling out, she suddenly slammed her hand on the counter and looked directly at Glasses with stabbing eyes.
"Well lucky you, at least people like you don't have the wrong fucking skin shade despite being a fucking halfie!"
Before she could break out sobbing, she turned away and stormed out of the restaurant, slamming the door of that infernal place behind her.
She ran all the way back to her apartment without stopping and desperately hoped that the sweat on her face would mask the tears that were beginning to pour out. It didn't matter, though. The eyes on her wouldn't go away.
'Great,' she thought. 'Now I won't be able to walk down this street again.'
She hoped there was someone, anyone, on her side. But hoping never got people anywhere.