The apple bumped along the middle of the table, rolling aimlessly and forgotten back and forth. It was not going to be eaten. Miscellaneous expressions bloomed on the kid’s faces when they realized what was being served for lunch. Girls scrunched their noses and pulled their lips into a faint pucker as they considered the fat content of the pudding and the zit factor in the oily potato chips.
“Eww… Chili again?” They whispered. “I really don’t want to eat that.” Eventually they settled at their tables and prepared to share the most exciting parts of their day with the rest of us.
“Hey lunch-bagger.” The poorly constructed label was hurled at me in a joking manner. They use this term to remind me that my food is not neatly presented on a multicolored platter like theirs. Instead I bring my own lunch from home, in a bag. Bag or no bag, all of us do partake in eating lunch in the cafeteria, but I think eating is mostly just a facade for the true purpose of a middle school lunch table. A place like this is where secrets are freely dumped onto the tables for anyone in the group to hear. When you think about it, it really must be true. Students are herded into a private room in which multiple tables sit waiting for them. Certain groups of kids migrate to their own tables, making outsiders completely unwelcome to their discussion. The girls pull their hair back tightly in order to keep it from falling into their already displeasing food. The boys’ hair flops and twists in random directions as if they had just woken up from a nice fourth hours nap.
Screeching voices surround everyone, echoes bounce off the white walls and ceilings, resulting in the loudest part of my day. The gossip is always riveting; if your news is not intriguing enough the floor is ripped out from under you and given to the next person in hopes that their story is better than yours. I try to keep my mouth shut when it comes to gossip, but once in a while I find myself with a pressing urge to reveal a secret or two. Usually when I try this disgusted faces are cast at me implying that whatever I said was completely ridiculous and boring, and then their attention, along with mine, is easily snatched away by something more captivating.
In the quieter moments as we pack up our debris, I notice the true character of the lunch tables. Masked by the dark speckled formica, kids leave their marks. Sharpies lay down heart shapes enclosing things like “T&M FOREVER, 2010.” A smile teases my lips as I explore the possibilities of who “T&M” could be, and how they will think of themselves being together “FOREVER” in six months. As far as school goes, lunch is by far both my favorite and most eventful part of the exciting middle school day.
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