Lunchtime as a new student was a whole other minefield to navigate. For a small town, the cafeteria was somehow a large space. With round tables of six chairs, each spotted around with a little space to walk between.
You had to slide between the chairs, pressing against awkwardly placed chairs and trying not to drop your food.
And there I was standing with a piping hot, vegetarian pasta bake because unfortunately all of the meat options were strictly off the table, not being Halal and all.
Oh the woes of dietary restrictions but the pasta looked nice enough with a thick tomato sauce, the only thing I probably didn't like about it was the glob of melted cheese on top, I had never been a fan of dairy, especially cheese, the only exception being pizza oddly enough. I suspected that I was lactose intolerant but there seemed to be no such thing in a Desi household.
I clutched the red tray, with its battered and arguably well-loved edges, it had been used a million times before, and I could almost feel the grooves that other students had pressed their hands, maybe they had, shaking fingers like me, nails digging into plastic as they made the very decision I was struggling to make.
Where to sit?
There was the back corner, which looked appealing but it became a no go when I realised how many tables I would have to navigate my way through in order to get there. Then my gaze landed on the middle, an empty table that no one seemed to want to touch at all.
Cheery was nowhere to be found, so I took my chances. I beelined for the table, and it was so close, within reach of my fingertips when I felt my legs tangle with someone else's, I was tripped up and my tray went flying, my plate smashing against the ground with a sound that alerted the rest of the student body who looked at me with a mixture of pity and disgust.
I started at my food, splattered like blood across the linoleum flooring.
"Oops," an annoyingly familiar voice cackled, as I tried to lift myself up, my hands raw and red from catching myself before my face could smash into the ground. The force at which they had struck was still riveting through my bones. I was shaky as I got up, "Didn't see you there, midget, not my fault," she was flanked by people who laughed and I felt anger rise in me.
If there's one thing of mine you shouldn't mess with it's my food, my precious food.
A source of joy for me, there was nothing like a nice home-cooked meal and though this school food was far from the delicious curries and dishes my mother made, but my stomach had still been anticipating at least a half-decent meal, and now it was ripped away from me.
I huffed, watching as a dinner lady walked over to me with a sympathetic smile.
"You really think you did something there didn't you Ruby," I asked bitterly, "All you've done is make someone else's life harder. And I doubt you have the decency to help clean up the mess you made."
"My mess," she spoke in that high incredulous tone that grated at my ears. And I was sure if I had to listen to it a moment longer they would begin to bleed, "It's not my fault your clumsy and have no regard for your surroundings. And it's not my job it's hers," she jabbed a finger at the Dinner Lady who avoided her gaze. Her eyes darted to me silently communicating for me to leave it.
But I never knew how to leave well enough alone.
"Excuse me? I didn't think you lacked both integrity and decency, it must be a field day in your mind, thinking you are better than everyone. Doesn't the act get tiring? It's all a load of crap now if you're not going to help, I'd appreciate it if you could move,"
I turned away from her, but I could still feel the anger radiating from her.
I bent down to help pick up the shards of ceramic, "Careful hon, you might cut yourself, it's fine I'll clean it up, don't you worry,"
"It's ok, I'll get some paper towels to clean up the pasta," I rushed over to the lunch station where there was a tissue dispenser and took out a bunch of paper towels. They were greenish-grey and coarse just like the ones at my old school. Touching the material reminded me of all the times I had been sent to medical when it all got too bad, and they would gingerly place one of these soaked in water over my cuts and bruises.
It was a widely recognised school remedy, someone could have their head cracked open and a wet paper towel would be fetched as a solution.
The lady at the counter smiled at me, "Hey dear, once your done cleaning up you can have this dinner and I'll even give you an extra cookie, I think you deserve it for being so helpful,"
I smiled an ear-splitting grin, "Thank you, that's really kind,"
"No problem dear,"
I rushed back over to the spill and helped clean it up. It was all gone after a few minutes of wiping and I went over to grab my lunch not expecting three boys to be waiting for me.
"Grab your lunch, your sitting with us."