Shaking Up Lunch

When you walk into the cafeteria at Bellefonte Area High School it looks like a normal lunchroom in a normal high school. The further you walk into the cafeteria you can see splatter on the wall and if you look up you will see fruit gummies and a random tomato or cucumber stuck to the ceiling. These have become fixtures in that cafeteria. I am proud to say that my group of friends and I contributed to the mess and behind every splash of red and yellow on the wall, there is a story.

My freshman year the school was under renovation. When we finally had a nice, new cafeteria to eat in many of the seniors thought it would be fun to throw cups of applesauce against the walls. Everyone wondered why they would do such a thing after waiting so long to have something nice to be proud of. Three years later we were the people splashing colors against an eggshell colored wall. Seniors were special. We finally understood that if you've been there for four years and haven't experienced being on the brink of a trip to the principal's office then you weren't living. My friends and I were one of the louder tables in the cafeteria. Six of us sat diagonally from the group of eight senior boys sitting in the corner of the room. Our first encounter was small. We tossed Skittles back and forth for a few days until one of the boys took it too far and decided to throw a French fry. When the mushy potato exploded on me enough was enough. I quickly fired back with two French fries, hoping that at least one fry would make it to a boy's head.

From there on out we gave it everything we had. Skittles turned into fruit and halves of chicken sandwiches and finally chocolate milk bombs. Occasionally someone would be pulled aside by a teacher on duty, but was only given a warning. On the worst day of the war, a bag filled with a half eaten turkey sandwich covered in gravy was thrown from the opposing table. It landed in my friend's applesauce and splattered onto three of us. My best friend attempted to throw the dripping bag of slime back at the boys, but completely misfired and threw it over a group of girls' heads two tables away. As the bag slowly slid down the wall we all sat there awaiting our fate as we watched the teacher walk back. We covered our faces and watched in horror as he made his way back. Three tables away... Shit. Two tables away... We're dead. One table away... Damnit! As our hearts rose in our throats he walked past us to the table of boys. We all looked in amazement as every single one of the boys got up and moved to separate tables by themselves. The three top troublemakers of the table were escorted to the principal's office. As they walked past us scowling, we couldn't help but burst with laughter.

From that day on lunches weren't the same. We crossed some invisible line that the boys had apparently drawn. Our miniature food fights stopped being playful. Every now and then we felt a thud against our heads, but when we turned nobody was smiling. The playfulness was gone, but it was okay. We knew we had won.

Writer? Maybe

Like most people my age, the most writing I've probably ever done has been on Facebook. However, I do enjoy writing when I get the chance. I can't stand doing research and citing sources, even though I know I'll be doing a lot of that over the next four years. I enjoy creating a story and telling it like I was in it. I love to start with nothing and seeing the end result. When I read a story that I've written it almost feels like a memory. By no means do I consider myself good at writing. When I write, I write for myself. When it comes to writing for a class of course I'm going to try my best to appeal to my audience, but the story will always be a piece of me. My main character reflects a part of me that I would never be in reality or something that I aspire to be. I can become whoever I want to be in a story. I can be the bad girl that runs away to find something greater or I can be the successful business woman that I hope to become. There are so many things to learn so that my writing can get better. I want to become the writer that I think I can be. I want to have a skill that could possibly take me places. So, I hope you can help me figure it out through the course of this class. Am I a writer?