Coffee Girl and Blondie

My strut into class was confident—my chin up and shoulders back. I didn't feel average like I always did, scared of the many faces and loud chattering like I used to be, worried that someone might be looking at me from a corner in the large lecture hall, or worried that I would trip on nothing and fall, spilling my books and pens all over. My mind was focused on something else.

I was trying to not know everything before it happened. I had my powers in check but my thoughts wouldn't stop spiralling. It was like trying to hold back on an involuntary action. Like holding in your belly fat when you're in a crop top and you walk past a group of guys.

The titbits of the day kept rolling in. The topic the professor was going to teach on today. The way the room would shuffle at exactly twenty-three minutes in when someone got up to go to the bathroom. The fact that today, two people would forget to silence their phones. The details unfolded in my mind like a script I had already memorized.

I was headed for my usual spot at the back when—

Bitch.

The word landed in my ears twice, overlapping. Two different voices, but the exact same word, spoken at the exact same time.

I dawdled, scanning the room with my eyes. My eyes landed on them, two girls sitting together, chewing gum loudly, leaning in towards each other, smirking. I knew I had seen one of them before—she had a perfectly chiseled nose, and was wearing her hair in a black bob style with green highlights. Her friend was blonde, wearing hers in a ponytail.

When they locked eyes, they smiled knowingly, knowing they had just shared some inside joke and it was when they looked in my direction that I knew it was at my expense.

I kept walking, my confidence slightly shaken, but instead of sitting down immediately, I turned back to them, focusing. Their thoughts unraveled before me like an open book.

Two years ago?

I frowned. Then I remembered the exact incident. At the same coffee shop, in my second year at school. I was late for a lab practical and was rushing into the cafe.

My shoulder slammed into someone's side, and I immediately caught the smell of the flying coffee which filled the air. I lifted my eyes just in time to catch the scalding wave of frothy latte splatter across her beige sweatshirt and onto the floor. The cup was a squeezed mess, its plastic lid falling to the ground as she helplessly tried to hold onto it with one hand and desperately failed. She eventually let go of the entire thing—the cup smacked the ground, sending the rest of her latte surging outward in a wide, steaming puddle.

She yelped and staggered backward, clutching her arm. I stumbled, panicking, nearly twisting an ankle as my foot landed right in the spill, the liquid sticking to the sole of my shoes, as I struggled to regain my balance.

People turned, and the barista paused mid-order. A few people covered their mouth with their palms, trying to suppress their already released gasps.

I gained my footing and looked up to see her glaring with eyes so stabbing I could feel it in my chest.

I blinked, my heart hammering.

"Oh my God. I —" I tried to form the words but I just stammered.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" she shrieked, and I felt my heart sink into my shoes.

"I'm so sorry, I'm really really sorry. I'm so stupid, I was in such a rush that…", I went on rambling as I tried to wipe the coffee off her sweatshirt, "I could get you another cup of—"

"Can you stop touching me?!" she bellowed, and I took a step back.

"urgh! Just get out of my way," she added, shoving me to the side and walking out of the coffee shop. I just stood there after she had left looking stupid.

It was the girl with the bob hair, but back then, she had long wavy hair. She still held a grudge against me— even told her friend so they could throw shades together about the mid bitch who ruined her favorite designer beige shirt.

And they weren't done. They were actually talking to each other about me.

"That dress is like three seasons ago."

"Right?" Her friend replied, "You would think that someone who came from a lowly background would watch where they're going. What if she had scratched a Lambo?"

"She's tragic–not like one can't tell by just looking at those earrings."

They were nitpicking. I wondered if she was really still mad at me, but then I saw it–she wasn't, really. She had just gotten used to talking about me to her friend and after such a long time, they enjoyed the liberty of sneak dissing and pointless gossip.

"I didn't even notice the earrings," Ponytail said.

"Well, turn and take a look at them."

She turned, her eyes landing dead on mine.

I didn't flinch, didn't try to turn my face away. I stared back at her, my expression was unreadable, yet disturbing.

I heard her thoughts stutter.

Why is she looking at me like that?

She turned back to her friend, whispering, "She's looking at me."

Her friend peeked over and caught my gaze too. I let my expression darken just enough to make them uncomfortable.

They both turned away, and soon found something else to gossip about. I sighed to myself, satisfied that I wouldn't have to hear more things about myself. At least for a while, I hoped.

The professor walked in.

————

Class was weird. It was like spoiling a movie for myself.

I sat through the lecture,trying hard not to know every word, every joke and every sigh the professor would let out before he even said it. I even found myself silently mimicking him under my breath, my lips forming the words right before he spoke them.

I was bored before the class was over, and was glad when it finally was.

And then I saw them again.

Blondie and Coffee girl.

They locked eyes with me and whispered in one another's ears while looking at me and smirking. Something in me snapped, just like it had in the coffee shop and I walked straight up to them.

Their body language became defensive and they stiffened as I approached, and I could hear it—the quickened heartbeat and the sudden nerves.

"Do you need something, honey?" Coffee girl asked, trying to sound as sarcastic as possible.

I smiled. "I'm here to say what I said two years ago, cause I really meant it. I'm really sorry. I know this probably doesn't count, but I had no idea it was your favorite sweatshirt. I didn't do it on purpose. I could get you another one, the exact type. I know it's not the same, but it could serve you well too."

Their faces dropped and they looked at each other then back at me.

I turned to blondie, the one who was nowhere in sight during the coffee incident two years ago. "You weren't there when it happened,yet you seem to have a lot to say about it. Wanna grow up?"

She opened her mouth to say something but I cut her off—looking back at the coffee girl, I said, 'See you around, Giselle?"

Then I walked away, hearing as their thoughts escalated.

Did she hear us?

How does she know my name?

And as I stepped into the sunlight outside, I let out a breath and thought to myself, this might not be so bad.