Just a Story About Lunch; Nothing to See Here

Eating lunch at a public high school isn’t much different than eating lunch anywhere on this planet. You sit down, you eat your lunch, maybe have a chat, and then you go back to what you were doing. The only difference is everything. From the moment that you open those blue double doors on the first day of school, the uncertainty that comes with what you see is only matched by the volatility of the stock market during times of global worry. There are about five hundred kids scrambling in a room that was not designed with the concept that all those kids would be around walking around – at the same time. After failing to find a friendly face in the crowd, you notice the uncomfortable heat that has been following you since you opened those blue double doors. You step in and follow the crowd. People have filed in behind you closing off the entrance. You are now stuck in the crowd. Escape is impossible. All hope is lost. The yellow stain of the room downs your spirits and slows your movements. The distant flicker of a broken light disorients you. You are lost. All movement has stopped. Even in the heat, a cold sweat runs down your spine. You blame it on the heat but you know it’s from your nervousness. You can’t see past the heads of the people around you. Motion reinitiates. You hear a “hey.” You turn. It’s not for you. You hear another “hey.” You turn. That one wasn’t for you either. You hear a third “hey.” You’ve already mastered this. You don’t turn, but that one was your only friend in the cafeteria and he thinks you’re ignoring him so he doesn’t try again. Crap. Your inferiority complex tells you that you won’t eat lunch today; it’s “too much trouble.” Your stomach tells you that you won’t survive another class without a little nutrition.

After you orient yourself, you notice that you’re closing in on the even warmer room where you buy lunch. You have five dollars in your pocket. That’s enough. You hope. You’ve never actually seen the menu. When you get all your food you could find out that it costs a little too much. That would be embarrassing. Why go through that? You could just sit down and skip the meal. The food could also make you sick. You’ve heard about how bad cafeteria food is from television shows and your parents. You could ask your parents to make you a lunch and bring that to school. You look around. The upperclassmen who know each other have already bought their lunch and sat down. Not a brown paper bag in sight. It must be uncool. Being uncool is not even an option. You peak in the cafeteria to see the food. You didn’t expect a line to form in behind you. Even if you asked kindly, there’s no way that many people can move back. It’s like being stuck at an intersection during traffic and a red light strikes. You can’t simply put your car into reverse and move back. You’re stuck. That’s it. High school lunches suck.