Lucky Thirteen

(I dance competitively. After a particularly grueling several-days-long competition, I’m very tired, but my parents want to take me to dinner to celebrate. I haven’t even washed off my stage makeup, and when we get to restaurant it’s packed, and there’s no room in the waiting area for me to sit. Since it’s cooler outside anyway, I go and take a seat on a bench. After a few minutes I hear voices, and look up to see three or four guys, about 19 or 20, approaching me. Once sits on the bench next to me.)

Guy: “Hey there, how’re you doing?”

Me: “Uh, um… I’m okay…”

Guy: “Yeah? Whatcha doin out here?”

Me: *thinking this is a ‘there’s candy in my van’ sort of situation* “I- I’m just getting food with my parents! They’re waiting right inside!”

Guy: “Ah, parents.” *rolls eyes*

Me: “Um… yeah?”

Guy: “You from around here?”

Me: *slowly catching on* “N-not really…”

Guy: “You’re kinda young, aren’t you? How old are you?”

Me: “Thirteen.”

(The guy jumps up like the bench was on fire while his friends crack up laughing.)

Guy: “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t… I mean, you don’t look… Thirteen?!”

(They wandered away laughing, occasionally tossing comments back at me trying to figure out of I was lying or not. I wasn’t)