Cafeteria

I was never temped by the food in the freshman cafeteria. All the freshman at my high school ate in their own secluded mini-caf to...I don't know, bond as a class? Not be intimidated by the upper classmen? The food choices were chicken sandwiches, chicken tenders, some dumb snacks, pizza, fries. My first semester I packed my lunch. I think I ate a lot of pb & j and bags of potato chips. Off-brand Oreos. My second semester I had an early lunch right after swimming. I remember swallowing a lot of chlorinated water and always feeling winded from having to get ready in five minutes after laps. My look that spring: wet slimy hair, a bloated tummy, and hastily applied lip gloss. The only thing I could even imagine eating for some unknown reason were pretzels and Kit Kats. So that's what I ate. For five months. Very occasionally (like, three times) I bought a donut from the lunch line, and I would be given a free fruit cup. Everyone always got a free fruit cup. It had something to do with the school being able to get government funding for balanced meals. I spent around 100 hours total in that dumb room, and I remember very little.

A rando from the town everyone made fun of shared my lunch seat with me for two weeks. He asked me to write him notes but only drew pictures in response. A boy in my history class asked to see my homework "just to check his answers" and I let him have it. I watched it circle his entire table, everyone copying. I tried to drink Brisk Iced Tea like a club of two new friends did, but I thought it was very gross. My friend Smidge and I would quietly sing Les Mis to each other when we were bored. One girl gave up junk food for lent and ate it every day, making tally marks in a notebook. She said, "I'll make it up later."

My iced coffee got warm yesterday. I was at the Writing Center, so I asked around if there was a soda fountain somewhere in the building. There was one in the cafeteria, I learned, so I walked in for the first time and was immediately struck with a flood of nostalgia. It smelled EXACTLY like that freshman lunch room, and as far as I can tell, nothing in my life has ever smelled the same. I wanted to eat all the food even though I hadn't eaten it when I was fourteen. If I ingested that tray of fries, would I be fourteen again? As if being fourteen is so great in the first place.

Being Cyber Bullied

I'm doing research on cyber bullying for a project I'm working on. (Okay, it's a sketch show. Sounds hilarious, right? See you all there.) Cyber communication was a really big part in my adolescent experience. AIM was King, y'all. To be honest, I miss it sometimes. There was something very sweet about having to login and see if that person you were friends with that week was online.

A giant forgotten aspect of AIM was the profiles. Profiles were the blank space under your name where you could write anything. Common profiles would typically be song lyrics, the date you started dating someone, an inside joke for only one person, a funny quote. I was always gunning for being the funny quote in other people's profiles. There is an actual entry of my freshman year diary that reads, "I am in five people's profiles right now!"

I've been grateful while reading these bullying articles that most social media hit the scene after my school years. Maybe I wasn't aware of it, but I don't think there was much cyber bullying with simple chat. Occasionally a rando would talk to you, and you'd block them. The end. But then I totally remember that I totally was cyber bullied, but I didn't think much of it?

When I was 15, a short strange thing occurred while I was at speech team practice. It happened in about two minutes, and I bare considered it, but I guess it probably changed at least one student's life pretty significantly. A Girl asked about some cans of pop in the classroom (no teacher there for about ten minutes). Henne said, "You can't have any," thinking that's why she asked. "I wasn't going to steal any," she said, "Do you think I was going to steal them because I'm black?" Very confusing escalation. I didn't know if she was kidding or not. I didn't know Girl very well, but she was usually friendly. Another guy there (and there were five of us in the room total--the fifth sitting at a computer, her backs to us), let's call him C, said, "Take this" and pulled out a switchblade. Girl took the switchblade and pointed it at me and Henne. "You take that back" (or something along those lines). I don't even remember what happened next. I think Girl started laughing and we all kept working. I literally did not think of it again.

Until a week or so later I was pulled out of a chemistry test and asked to come to the security office. I was told to write down on a piece of paper what happened after school on an arbitrary date. I said, "Nothing." The officers kept pressing me. I had no idea. Finally one said, "No one pulled a knife out after school in a classroom?" I said, "Oh. Yeah." They smirked. I think they thought I was trying to cover up something, but I sincerely had forgotten. I said it wasn't a big deal, and they told me they needed documentation anyway. I was in the middle of a test and eager to get back to it. I wrote down a very simple statement that C had a knife, Girl held it briefly.

So, a couple days later, I find out C is expelled. How I find out is my friend Smidge IMs me and asks what I did to make everyone so mad. Apparently a dozen or so people changed their profiles to "We will miss you, C. Alice _____ will die." I guess C must have assumed I was the only one who told on him? But someone must have first? The girl at the computer? Who can say. Mainly, the result was a bunch of people at my school publicly wrote me a death threat. The weirdest part though...is how I reacted. I asked Smidge to tell me who hated me. I didn't know most of the people--C was in a grade above me. I only knew one guy, and we didn't have any classes together, so I was like, "Oh good, won't be a problem." I didn't tell a teacher or my parents or confront anyone who said they wanted me dead. I avoided those people in the cafeteria, and went on with sophomore year. In hindsight, I'm not sure how I feel about it all. Obviously I didn't feel I was in actual danger, but maybe I was? (Probably not.) It certainly wasn't right for those kids to do that, and maybe they should have learned a lesson? But somehow I was unaffected, so maybe it all worked out just fine?

I wonder how the rest of C's schooling went. I actually liked the guy. I wonder if he remembers me as a person who ruined his life.

Back There, In the Place We Used to Start

Third Eye Blind is on my work-out mix right now. The first time I heard the doot doot doot dootdodootdoot it was squeaking out of a boombox in the multi-purpose room of my middle school. I was 10 and attending a summer pom camp. The eighth grade girl leading my dance class jumped onto the radiator to turn up the radio. "This reminds me of camp!" she pouted to her co-counselor before kicking off with her white cheer shoes.

We had just stopped for pizza puffs. We were halfway to the state school for cheer and pom camp. It was 2001, and there was little better than traveling in a mini-van stuffed with my friends. I think Peppermint's mom drove us. Third Eye Blind came on the radio, and I realized that I was that girl on the radiator now.

Poms camp was so special. We screamed out school fight song every time we entered the gym with all the other teams. We learned dances to Aaron Carter on the corner of the soccer field. The grass was yellowed and dry. The watter bottles were piled high. It was a week, but what did we do every night? We practiced I remember. We imagined how cool it would be to live in the old olive dorm rooms. There were mini-fridges and I took a strawberry from the cafeteria to see what would happen to it in the freezer box.

Stick to Your Deal: Part II

The four of us were at the kitchen table full of markers and campaign stickers. My neighbor, vice president. Peppermint was to be secretary. Smidge the treasurer. And I was running for junior high study body president. Our ticket was SNAP--acronym of our names. ("It's a snap, vote for us!") We were writing our speeches. My big campaign promises were breakfast and a Christmas dance. Peppermint was most hesitant. She was scared of being on a ballot. She did not take rejection well. I'd seen her tear up during the thirty seconds people chose lab partners in Honors Science. Then we found out the Girl With the Best Handwriting was running for secretary too! From then on Peppermint was always muttering "I don't want to win anyway."

We drafted what we'd say at the assembly. "Maybe I don't have the best handwriting," she started. And my neighbor's mom, making up a tray of snacks for us (oh, to be thirteen again) hemmed in, "I wouldn't say that. Who cares? You don't need to make yourself look bad. Don't say that."

Humility is huge. We should be self-aware, but our weaknesses don't always have to do with the situation at hand. So don't make them. Stick to your deal.

I lost. I was runner-up. Out of six. Not bad. The faculty sponsor of Student Council told me "It was close." She leaned in, "Close." I was good. I ran for class rep and won. My mom was principal. She was there when the votes were tallied. I asked her how close. "You were definitely second. But there was a pretty big gap." She could have easily lied, but that's not how it was. Wasn't the honest result.

Middle school Poms team. Far left top Peppermint, left-mid Smidge, left-bottom neighbor. I'm also in here.