it's all about the benjamins baby

In that niche of time between Physics Paper 2 and 3, I happened to stumble upon a particularly interesting time to have lunch, one which I normally do not encounter: The time after the primary to Grade 2 kids get lunch, and before the Grade 3 to 5 kids are let out of their cages. It is a time of peace, leisure, noise- but not too much noise-, little faces full of Grade 12 inspired awe, and a grasp on the ultimate privelege- no power- the supreme power of lunchline dominance. One could argue -hey, don’t the Grade 12′s have Lunchline Power over generally any grade?- yes. But this is better. No Grade 6 bitchy-girl faces to accidentally incur, no smart-alec boy with the trolley bag to shove out of the way, just Grade 1 and 2, who don’t get to go in the lunch line yet. Default win.
At any rate, I had settled into a mid-diningroom seat, with Dominik, Adrian and Yang, giving an optimal ratio between distance to entrance door, distance to cantine and distance to door leading outside (that some scallywags seem to find humour in opening. In winter), with a Schnitzel, and promise of a good long rehash of Paper 2, some swearing, some gloating, a comparison of Schnitzel vs. the vegetarian dish, and a competition on who eats slowest (I won shadap). Then, however, the peace was broken, the solace disrupted. The entrance of the Grade 3-5′s was upon us. Miles of bodies, and Oh! the noise- Nah, ok, I’m lying, they were hardly different from their younger counterparts. Just as small, just as overlookable, with, however, one small difference. They had an upgraded level of diningroom priveleges, and with these, come an uncanny and disturbing confidence, one that leaves me no room to doubt their futures as those same Grade 6′s blocking the German coridoor, and then rudely bashing you with their huge schoolbags, and yapping a nice “whaaaat?” in your face, before making their way to wood-tech or food or Geography, or what all those subjects are called.
Anyhow, a particularly fine specimen, and her respective G3 cliche had graced our table with their presence, spreading themselves from the far end of the table, slowly but surely towards our nice carefully picked middle-ish-left position, until finally, they had reached the borders of our land, marked with the placement of my hardfuckencore messenger bag, and a few physics-related trinkets. Now we were forced into hearing each others conversations, and Oh! Jokes. It went something along the lines of:
“And he asked her if she had a PS3, and she said no, and he was like “oh” and then he asked me if I had a PS3 and I was like “yah”, and then he said (gesturing wildly between herself and her food) “we fiitt toogeeetherr”"-
This warranted a collective laugh, a hairflip from the story telling girl (who was apparently the cliche leader) and a pointed “ignore”, from my end.
But really, it was all manageable. I didn’t sense cardiac arrest on the horizon, and resolved to tune out the background radiation, and concentrate on Adrian’s harrowing, emotionally engaging tour-de-force tale of just how exactly Paper 2 raped him, and making Dominik feel uncomfortable in between.
This was when I felt a lingering, hovering presence near my right shoulder, in the form of a put-together young lady, with turquoise glasses and a blonde longish bob, and a tray unnecessarily close to my person. She then proceeded to ask me “Is anyone sitting here”, in a voice that may, to the layman have sounded “cute” or “polite”, but to me, there was a distinct undercurrent of “I’m a girl with glasses, and short blonde hair, and blah, and I’m awesome”, as if she thought it was weird that we were sitting at their table or something. Well, I wasn’t having it. So I said: “yes”, with a serious and contemplative look towards the chair. After a short awkward silence during which I stared at her ears, and she did that weird, side to side eye shift, that you do when you want to indicated to everyone present that you think the subject/person in question is highly questionable and strange, but not in a good way, without actually outright saying it. This was the moment when I was like, f it, no one does the weird shifty eyes with me- so I mumbled a defeated “I mean no. Forget it”, and proceeded to move my bag, telling myself that they weren’t worth my superior wit and-
-… my friends, namely Yang are telling me that “Frani, you are weirding out the little kids, and no, that is not a good thing, and- what? look, now they are staring at us… I think they are scarred for life-”
But I don’ cayah, I am of the decidedly humble opinion that no matter what I choose grace the world with in terms of words, I am in G12. So don’t give me the eyes yo. What I actually said was a really loud “Dude, whateverrrr, It’s like Grade 3.”

What’s that Dominik? I am receiving information stating that the entire table to the right of us is talking about me and story-telling-hair-flippy girl is giving me the bitch look? This is my chance, I will retaliate for once. In a wordless understanding with Dominik, filled with epic eyebrow movements, we decided we would shoot the whole table our patented “dual bitch-look-of-doom”. So when I had deemed the time right, I turned my head to the right, and fixated the table with my most venomous, calculating glare. One of the quieter, keychain-owning girls noticed and rapidly averted her gaze, but on the whole, there was silence and dustballs. Apparently they were done with me. Well.

I turn to my side to see if Dominik was as outraged as I was, and notice him engrossed in rearranging his calculator in his bag.
“Hey, what? I thought we were doing a retaliatory look!”

“Oh, I thought you were just randomly looking at me weird.”

Adrian informed me that this whole exchange reminded him of Louis CK’s rant about… kids. Just mine was less funny, and a little more like me getting pwned by Grade 3′s.