1
Whoever chose how to set up the school lunch system in America deserves a serious scolding. And considering how much trouble I get into, I know firsthand what it feels to be given “a talk”.
I’d consider myself the lenient type because I’m pretty chill with most things. But the school lunches? Unforgivable. There are kids who have to buy lunch at school because their parents are too busy in the mornings to prepare lunch or because they’re one of the rare students that enjoy the food.
Not that I rely much on the cafeteria, but still. I mean, I can’t expect fresh pasta at restaurant quality. I know that much. But the lunches at my school aren’t what the books have described.
There are those books that have fancy indoor cafeterias with plastic lunch trays and chocolate cake for dessert. My school? We get outdoor lunch tables (meaning it’s scorching hot most of the time), small, brown paper trays, and all the food is wrapped in plastic. Half the time I can’t even tell if it is food.
And dessert? Apples that taste like there’s cleaning spray on them. Our meals don’t seem to get much better than blobs of orange-yellow goo in tasteless bread (aka a grilled cheese sandwich, according to the label).
My older sister Lizzie says they get pizza every day in middle school. I can’t tell if she’s trying to trick me again, but it better not be a lie because I’m more than ready to leave here.
And it doesn’t help to tell parents or other adults. All they say to elementary school students are “that’s nice, dear” and continue rambling on about “adult stuff”. Who are they trying to fool? Weather isn’t fun to talk about. But I mean, alright then, if they’re so happy to be old, nobody’s stopping them.
“Alex Jones!” someone hollered.
Oh, right.
Did I mention the supervisors?
They’re strict adults that wear these bright neon-yellow nylon mesh vests and have silver whistles that you can probably hear from a mile away.
The supervisors are probably the meanest bunch on campus. And I’ve seen mean before.
2
“ALEX JONES,” a supervisor yelled. “Come see me.”
We were playing basketball when Mrs. Jacobs, the strictest supervisor on the planet, called my friend’s name with a nasty glare on her face. She seems to have only two expressions: blank face or the death glare. In all honesty, though, they look about the same.
I winced as I saw my best friend walking toward her. She had on the classic yellow vest and everyone could see her tramping toward Alex.
You’re in so much trouble, I thought.
Mrs. Jacobs scared everyone, even if they didn’t do anything wrong.
Alex walked up and looked like he was trying to stay calm. Beside Mrs. Jacobs stood a short, pale girl with her black hair tied into pigtails, glaring with her hands on her hips.
“Well?” Mrs. Jacobs said. “Do you have anything to say to Hannah?”
“Uhhh…” Alex said.
“Do you remember what happened when lunch began?”
Alex genuinely seemed to be trying to think of what happened. “I…”
“Alex!”
Alex jumped.
Geez, she really needs to learn how to calm down. Staring at people with that intense glare isn’t going to do anything but make them more nervous. She says that it’s the “old-fashioned way of doing things”, but clearly, it’s not helping at all.
“Hurry and apologize!” Mrs. Jacobs nearly shrieked. It was even worse than her scolding since her voice was so shrill.
Alex took too long to answer.
“You bumped into me and pushed me over,” Hannah snapped.
“Mr. Jones, I hope you can reflect on what happened today,” Mrs. Jacobs said sternly, huffing with displeasure. “Unacceptable.”
She walked away with the girl, who threw in a glare before stomping away.
“What was that?” I asked.
“I dunno,” Alex muttered. “Girls.”
The bell rang in the distance
“Oh, come on!” Alex said. “We didn’t even get to finish the game!”
We didn’t think it could get any worse, but soon enough, tragedy.
3
My friends and I walked over near the lunch tables, making sure not to run or bump into anyone. On the way there, we passed by another boy from class getting scolded for walking toward lunch too early. Poor guy.
I grabbed my dark blue lunch pail from our class’ lunch bin after everyone else did when someone suddenly moaned in despair.
“NOO!” a voice yelled.
I swiveled my neck around to find Alex turning a sickly shade of white.
“What?” I said.
He looked at me in horror.
“What is it?” I said again. “Come on, we’re going to be late if you just stand there. I don’t know about you, but I definitely don’t want to eat lunch in the sun.”
“I forgot to bring my lunch today!” Alex cried.
Everyone stared at him as if he had uttered some sort of curse. People looked at him with pity. And they were right to since my face looked identical to theirs.
“It’s Pick Up Stix today,” someone said.
I guess they were trying to cheer him up since it could have been worse, but I don’t think it did much to help him.
I patted his shoulder and our friends gave him [/simple_tooltip]some sort of sympathetic looks as if he’d been given a bad grade. This was a close competitor on the level of how horrible it was. “It’ll be okay, Alex,” I said, but I was still trying to convince myself he’d make it to the end of the day alive.
4
I don’t know if my description of school lunches explained it properly. As Alex slowly slumped toward the lunch line, my friends and I sat anxiously at the table and waited for his arrival. We all crossed our fingers in hopes that the Pick Up Stix didn’t run out by the time he got there, but the chances were slim since most kids chose it.
If you’ve never had Pick-Up Stix before, the ones at our school come in these green boxes shaped like the to-go rice containers at Chinese restaurants. It’s supposed to be rice and pork, only the proportionsare way off. The one time I tried it, I ran out of pork before I was halfway through the rice. The reason everyone gets it despite this is because it’s the best thing at school after pizza, which we get twice a month (and if Lizzie isn’t lying about daily pizza, that’s just not fair for us).
Alex finally arrived after a couple of minutes.
I couldn’t see his lunch tray yet. “Well?”
The look on his face described it.
“The kid in front of me took the last one!” Alex groaned. “They only had the mini veggie burgers left.”
“Oh” was the only thing I could think of to say. “I mean, it’s not the worst thing ever. Looks a lot better than fried rice; that’s basically half-cooked rice with carrots and peas.”
Alex shrugged half-heartedly. “I guess.” He sat down with his paper tray, which had a plastic bag of cut cucumbers, a bottle of water, and two small fist-sized burgers in a plastic bag.
“Ugh,” Marcus said. “Those cucumbers don’t look very fresh.”
We all looked at the slouched bag shoved at the corner of his food tray.
“I know, right,” Alex said. “I tried to get away with just the burgers and water, but the cafeteria lady got all mad at me for not being ‘a healthy eater’. I don’t see the point in getting it if I’m not going to eat it. It’s a waste of food.”
Most of the kids at our school (well for what I know of) don’t get through more than half the bag of fruit or vegetables. Makes sense though, considering the taste. A lot of the time, fourth graders boys on the other side of the lunch tables get empty plastic water bottles and fill it up with carrots or cherry tomatoes and throw it around. Well, they used to do it. Until a supervisor got mad and they got sent to the principal’s office.
I don’t understand what we’re supposed to do during lunch anyway. The supervisors changed up the rules one day and told us that we had to throw away our trash at the end of lunch, couldn’t stand up, or talk too loud. What do they expect from us? If we can’t even talk during lunch, then when do we?
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.”
The noise rang in my ears.
A supervisor held up a loudspeaker and called attention.
“Lunch is ending in five minutes. I repeat, lunch is ending in FIVE MINUTES. Students that clean up quickly and sit quietly in their seats will be the first to be dismissed. You-”
A couple of girls giggled in the middle of the announcement, then quickly hushed after she shot them a stern look.
“You will NOT leave the lunch area until everything is cleaned up. You may begin.”
Everyone started to get up and throw away their trash, scrambling to hurry and shush the tables around them, which is harder than it seems since we have four to five rectangular tables in a horizontal line.
After the shushing stopped, the supervisors started dismissing rows of tables.
“You may return to class,” Mrs. Jacobs said in the distance.
Of course. They have this thing of dismissing the girls first even when they’re the loudest ones with all that chitter chattering gossip.
Finally, after all the tables were dismissed, she arrived at our row. “You are dismissed,” she said. “Make sure to WALK to class, boys.”
We scrambled up, but Alex started going too quickly.
“MR. JONES,” Mrs. Jacobs said with a glare. “WALKING FEET.”
Alex nodded and she finally left.
He sighed in relief. “That’s like the fourth time I’ve been called out during lunch. How come it’s always me?”
I shrugged. “No idea. Then again, I guess it’s better than going to the principal or something. There’s a couple of kids who are always sent.”
“True,” Alex said. “Ahh, I can’t wait for the end of the year!”
“Same,” I said, grinning. “Only one more week left until we graduate!”
The other boys nodded. “Daily pizza, here we come!”
