That night was the first time Brianna ever heard of the word 'chow line' wherein people line as they hold up their trays which will then be filled with tiny portions of food by fellow inmates.
If the inmate holding the tray belonged to the same gang as the inmate using the serving spoon, then that former inmate's tray would be filled to the brim. If it's the opposite, then the two would exchange profanities and middle fingers first before the amount of food was settled.
If it's an inmate who wasn't part of the same gang but acting nice and kind to everyone, then she can bargain the portion of her food. However, if it's a new inmate that no gang claimed yet, no hands supporting the back yet, and not even a single cheer for her first endeavor in her prison life, then the inmate holding the serving food would also ignore her as if she didn't exist.
As though she wasn't feeling hungry as well.
Brianna stood by the middle of the long table where the food was lined, yet not even a single inmate filled her tray with food.
She pitifully remained standing, staring at her fellow prisoner in charge of distributing the rice as if her eyes had some supernatural powers that could make someone obey her in an instant. It was a dream she once had, getting people to do her bidding just by looking at them.
She'd seen her father do it many times before when she was a child, and she thought how cool it was. She believed her father had some power like the heroes in the books, but as she got older, she realized it wasn't something very unbelievable and extraterrestrial.
It was just because his father had money, power, and influence.
Something that Brianna lacked as she stood in that spoon-clattering, plate-hitting, mouth-munching, throat-horsing, teeth-chattering noisy and chaotic room. There was no order. Even ducklings freed from their coops followed their leader in line and quacked in harmony more than them.
Brianna's head throbbed. It felt as though something was splitting her brain into two. She clutched the left side and tilted her head downwards. The rice distributor looked at Brianna with confusion.
Finally, she was noticed. Yet, instead of pleading for a scoop of rice, Brianna spouted haughtily, "What are you looking at?"
The rice distributor glowered at her and spat loudly, "Do you want rice or not?!"
Brianna knitted her brows. She squeezed her head as the headache was getting more painful. She blinked many times and got to nod slightly at the rice manager. The latter snickered and tipped the stainless container toward Brianna.
"Sorry, nothing's left for you now. You kept dawdling so I thought you were not going to eat," the rice woman laughed afterward. She laughed maniacally and loudly that everyone in the dining hall turned to them, and then they all laughed as if signals and cables of telepathic waves flew in the air and shot everyone sending a message 'Laugh at loud at the stupid newbie!'.
Brianna didn't get to register for that plan, so now she was the only one frowning, ready to cry from the constant bullying.
She walked away to the rice woman and stopped next to the soup girl, but the latter was caught scratching her armpits while the large bowl of chicken soup sprinkled with black pepper and ginger and almost complete recipe, only the missing ingredient was the chicken itself, was under her.
She fanned her armpit after and looked at Brianna nicely, and then she stated with a kind smile, "Today's too hot, isn't it?"
That random and casual question would have been a nice starter for introverts to engage in conversation, only if the other person wasn't deliberately trying to feel hot and make their underarms sweaty from a steaming chicken broth.
"Oh! Do you want a bowl of soup?" The soup girl asked innocently, showing a slightly apologetic look for making Brianna wait.
Brianna slowly shook her head and was about to move on to the veggie-giver, but the soup girl grabbed her arm, and her blackened nails dug into Brianna's smooth, pale skin. Brianna winced and forcefully pulled back her arm.
The soup girl acted surprised and hurt, "Oh, my! Why are you getting mad? I was just concerned that you weren't eating! You already ran out of rice, and now you're still refusing the soup! That's no good, girl! Come on, take it, I'll give you two bowls of soup personally sprinkled with my kindness!"
"HAHAHAHA!"
"WHAHAHAHA!"
"HIHIHIHI!"
"PWAHAHAHA!"
Different kinds of laughter – that's the first Brianna experienced hearing them all at once. Her ears got bombed by vicious, maniac, genuine, hysterical, frenzied, mad-like, unladylike, or whatever laughter one named it until a vein in her forehead snapped.
Medically, it was called an aneurysm; but metaphorically, it meant someone went mad.
Brianna grabbed the two bowls the soup manager gave her. It was hot to the touch, but she looked hotter as she performed a soup splash. The piping hot soup went down the wrong downspout.
The inmate with the itchy armpits cried, "OW! OW! OW! HELP ME, I'M GETTING BURNT!"
The veggie-giver's eyes went wide. She was stunned for a few seconds, but soon acted quickly and poured cold water on the soup server's face.
Brianna was astounded. She looked at her hands as if they committed the crime of picking someone's nose without permission. Disgust, disbelief, regret, and fear swirled in her crystal-colored eyes.
"WHAT THE F*CK DID YOU DO? BITCH!" The rice manager shouted.
The dining hall became rowdier than before. The guards came and silenced some of the inmates egging a fight between Brianna and the rice manager, while some were scolding the inmates dancing on the tables and using the tray and spoon as props.
Brianna staggered. She got pushed by an inmate's chest challenging her to touch the rice distributor's ears.
"GO ON, GO ON. TOUCH IT!"
"TOUCH IT!"
The chant became louder and louder and Brianna went deaf for a minute. She covered her ears with both of her hands and slowly sat on the floor, her elbows hugging her knees. She muttered repeatedly to herself, "Stop. Stop. Stop it. Stop. Stop."
She drowned herself in that redundant speech until everything went pitch black, yet her consciousness remained.
Then, all of a sudden, a child-like voice echoed in her ears. A voice unfamiliar, yet sent unexplainable nostalgia to her.
"STOP THEM YOURSELF! BE BRAVE! PUNCH THEM! KICK THEM!"
Brianna was confused. She opened her tightly closed eyes but only her old friend darkness greeted him. Then, her ears got bombarded by another redundant phrase.
"SAVE YOURSELF!! KILL THEM!"
"SAVE YOURSELF!! KILL THEM!"
Those words sent shivers down Brianna's spine.