~ Blaire ~
Unlike most seventeen year olds with a job, I loved going to mine. I worked as a barista at a spot called Yummy Joy Cafe. If you're one of those people who can't get enough of bubble tea parlors with bakeries attached, you would find this place pretty irresistible. They had free wifi, ceiling-to-floor windows, and a super friendly staff. Sometimes I felt like I was going to work inside a slice of life television program.
In other words, Yummy Joy was my own little sanctuary. On my breaks, I could doodle things and secret places in my head without someone spying over my shoulder and snickering. The evil overlords knew nothing about this place and I intended to keep it that way.
Normally I was in a pretty good mood when I came to clock in, but this time around was the last day of summer, so I wasn't feeling like my usual self. Even my boss, Mr. Wang, noticed. Wang was an elderly Taiwanese man who liked to speak cryptically from time to time.
Shortly after I started my shift, he asked me how my rabbit lost its hop. If that strikes you as a strange thing for someone to say, trust me it is. But this was just how Mr. Wang talked. I guess it was his way of noting that something seemed off about me.
To be completely honest, this wasn't the first time Mr. Wang had inquired about my "rabbit." When I first started working, I wondered if he might be going senile. But Michael, Mr. Wang's grandson, who was also a barista, told me that his grandfather had been talking like that for as long as he could remember.
So not only was this the last day of summer, but apparently my cosmic rabbit was out of sorts. Count that as two strikes against me. And we're not even at the worst part yet.
Ten AM rolled around. I was feeling all right when he suddenly walked in. He had no name because I didn't know it yet. We're just going to call him Pink Hair because, well, take a wild guess.
I wouldn't call myself a judgmental person. I'm all for self expression. I've dyed my hair a few times (and have the curl damage to prove it). I even dreamed of the day I would leave home for college and get my first tattoo. Still, even with my approval, this new customer had a way of wearing his modifications that made it very hard to ignore.
Pink Hair walked into Yummy Joy with a short skateboard tucked under his arm. He wore a white t-shirt with a few holes scattered about the collar and a bright green depiction of Reptar on the front.
Great, a 90s kid wannabe.
He wandered towards the register like a tourist lost in a busy train station. His gaze lingered on the tables, which were mostly empty. His expression alternated between wonder and amusement.
I glanced around the restaurant. Nothing was happening. The few customers present were immersed in their laptops. Nothing was worth giggling over.
"Weirdo," I whispered under my breath.
Finally, he came up to the register.
Okay, so he's a pretty cute weirdo.
Pink Hair was tall. If I could add an extra L to emphasize it without being grammatically incorrect, I definitely would. And I'll admit, height was a weakness of mine. But it wasn't enough to distract me from his cloudy pink hair. He had about an inch of naturally dark hair that had grown out since he last dyed it. The nape and sides were kept short, giving the illusion of cotton candy erupting from his crown.
His skin was tan, but not quite as dark as mine. He was just shy of brown. The rest of his features had me declaring racial ambiguity. I wouldn't be surprised if he was regularly asked about that sort of stuff.
I noticed two piercings on him. There was one in the corner of his lower lip that gave off a pale iridescence, as if it was made from pearls. That was . . . cool, I guess. The other one was a basic silver stud in his eyebrow on the same side.
His eyes were still surveying the room, looking everywhere else besides me. Or the menu for that matter.
The rainforests will die out before this guy places an order.
When Pink Hair finally looked at me, the shift in his expression was so dramatic that it caught me off guard. His features morphed from a playful curiosity to something more serious and direct.
My mouth opened, but I could make any words happen.
Can I take your order? Can I take your order? Come on, Blaire, you can do this!
Yeah no. Nothing was happening. I just froze.
Pink Hair didn't make the situation any easier. He stood there staring and staring and staring and staring.
There wasn't anything particularly captivating about his eyes. They weren't hazel or gray or gold or emerald green in case you were wondering. Like mine, they were brown, but a lot darker and more intense. As if his irises were made from the bark of some ancient forest.
I tried to clear my throat, but that didn't do crap except make me sound like a dinosaur.
Pink Hair arched his pierced brow. You can imagine how helpful that was. Not only was he staring at me, but now he did so with a mixture of judgment and confusion.
"Whoa."
That was him who spoke first. Not me. I was still going through cryogenesis.
"You're glowing."
There it was. Strike three.
And there it was. The meltdown. I started to feel the other people in the room staring at me. My heartbeat became so loud all of sudden that I could hear it in my ears and feel it in my nose. Someone – a coworker or something – asked me if I was breathing all right.
Pink Hair looked on with a sense of wonder. Laughter sprang into his misty brown eyes.
I wanted to die.
Instead, I abandoned my post. Once I made it to the kitchen, I shrugged out of my apron and told the nearest coworker to tell Mr. Wang that I had an emergency and had to go home.
This coworker, Michael, touched my shoulder and asked if everything was okay.
No, it is not. I'm having a panic attack.
I told him that I would be fine. Everything between then and the drive home was a total blur. Evidently my body had gone into autopilot. Honestly, it was a miracle that I hadn't crashed into a tree.
I pulled into the driveway, turned off the car, and cried like I never have before. By now you're probably wondering what was wrong with me. I mean, I freaked out because a boy stared at me for too long. And somehow I ended up having a breakdown in my car right outside of my house.
Pink Hair's voice echoed through my head.
Whoa. You're glowing.
It was no mystery why he chose those words. Whenever I blushed, my whole damn face would catch flame like a bonfire. My brown skin changed under any sort of social pressure. Getting embarrassed or humiliated would make the color in my cheeks deepen to a shade closer to redwood.
This is how the evil overlords came up with their little nickname for me. It was something that I spent the last four years trying to suppress. I had gotten pretty good at it too. The trick was to turn off all of your emotions when you felt it coming on. Pretend you were dead until the moment passed.
I spent a lot of time pretending that I was dead over the years. That I didn't exist. And when you spend that much time pretending you weren't alive, eventually you didn't want to be.
I got therapy to help with the not-wanting-to-be-alive problem, but I never got over having meltdowns whenever I felt pressured to blush. They always dragged me back to that time in my life when my tormentors brought me to an all time low.
I was about to start my senior year with the realization that I had not completely gotten over my emotional baggage. That weird, skater punk showed me that I was nowhere near ready to face the evil overlords again. I wasn't Blaire Sunderland to anyone who mattered. I was only Blush. Nothing would change until I graduated.
"Bear?"
That was Mom. She was knocking on the car window even though I could see her standing right outside. I could understand her reason for worrying though. The meltdown had passed, but it left me too exhausted to move. From where she was, I probably looked on the verge of passing out.
"What happened, sweetie? Why are you back so early?"
I groaned. "Just a panic attack, Mom. I had to come home."
The voice in the back of my head let me have it. Oh, so now you can talk all of a sudden? Superb timing, Blaire.
Mom's face relaxed into that familiar expression of warmth and understanding.
"Oh honey, I'm so sorry. Do you want to come inside and we can talk about it over some fresh pancakes?"
I wanted to tell her that not even pancakes could fix this, but I said, "Sure. Just give me a minute."
She let her fingertips rest on the glass for a moment. Then she went into the house.
After episodes like these, I always took a second where I tried, no matter how hard, to find a silver lining. This wasn't a technique that I picked up from therapy. I came up with it on my own and found that it helped. Because seriously, I did not want to be this sad, unstable puddle of person. That wasn't me.
So for the billionth time, I tried to find the upside in all of this.
You will never have to see that pink-haired loser ever again.
And there it was. The meltdown was officially over.
Now I could finally go inside, stuff my face with pancakes, and forget this day ever happened.
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Hi! Thank you so much for being patient while I put together this chapter. What do you think of Blaire so far? Can anyone relate to what she's going through? Let me know your thoughts.
Thank you and remember to always stay true to yourself!
~ Coco