Twelve. That is the number of people who can fit at a lunch table in my school cafeteria. Twelve. Yet, despite that small number, as I eat my bagel I may be sitting in between the class valedictorian and a kid who is struggling to pass his classes. Or, I could end up next to a black atheist and across from a strong Hispanic Catholic. Like most high schoolers, I eat with the same 12 people every day. Yet my table is far from ordinary.
In both high schools I have attended, students organize themselves in the cafeteria subconsciously by race, class, and GPA with few exceptions. When people see my lunch table, it confuses them. They call it a “hot mess.” It's out of the ordinary; to them it just doesn't make sense.
However, to me it makes more sense than sitting with a bunch of people who are reflections of myself.
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