The bell rings and we trickle down like tributaries to the lower courtyard. This is where the girl’s group sits. The boys sit further down the fence in the corner by the entrance. After we eat, the boys will merge into us.
We never eat together. I don’t know why, but it suits everyone just fine.
Now comes the part I hate, each girl reaches into her backpack and pulls out a brown paper bag or an insulated plain lunchbox – no cartoon characters, we’re not children- and begins to sort through the contents.
Multi layered sandwiches with sliced deli meats and fancy cheeses- California pepper jack, provolone, Wisconsin cheddar. Always a piece of lettuce, sometimes tomatoes too.
Shiny packaging pulled open to reveal crackers, ham, and cheese, all in perfect miniature! These you can stack, two, four, six at a time- towers of culinary and geometric accomplishment.
Mallory pulls out a thermos with soup. Soup! Can you imagine? Chicken noodle or minestrone, maybe even clam chowder, lovingly ladled and kept warm by the magic metal container.
JJ got a pickle! She is so lucky.
Stephanie, procures a crinkly bag, opens it slowly, oh these are my favorite! Fluorescent curly cues of perfection, their orange powder will stay on your fingers well into fifth period.
Now the floor is open for negotiations.
Doritos Cool Ranch are swapped for Lay’s Sour Cream and Onion. Half a turkey on whole wheat for tuna salad (with relish) on Dutch Crunch.
Sure, that makes sense.
Hostess cupcakes for Fruit Gushers.
That’s just stupid! Seven perfect squiggles atop chocolaty sponge cake with a vanilla cream filling for a measly ten or twelve rubbery fruit flavored drops? Some of them flavors you don’t even like? You should at least hold out for Fruit RollUp, that you can wrap around your finger, pointing and licking to your heart’s content.
The girls buying lunch that day don’t even participate. And why should they? They’ve hit the jackpot, a lunch of your own choosing, piping hot pizza or greasy chow mein, maybe even nachos with pickled jalepenos and It’s Its for dessert!
Uncharacteristically, I stay quiet. I have nothing to contribute. Nothing for the trading floor, no pocket money for a stray Ring Pop. And my lunch? Never an element of surprise. I know exactly what my foil pouch holds- Iron Kids bread and bologna with a Martinellis apple juice to drink. I know because I packed it myself, I’ve packed it myself ever since I stopped eating the school lunch in fifth grade. No sides. No pickles. Certainly no dessert.
They are finishing up now, Lee’s already singing “Tommy played piano like a kid out in the rain, then he lost his leg in Dallas he was dancing with a train”
And just like that my gluttonous girlfriends have had their fill and begin offering up the remnants, does anyone want this?
Sometimes I bite, well, I’ll take it if you’re just going to throw it away. Cool, nonchalant, whatever.
If it’s something amazing I’ll make them dare me to eat it.
I bet I can eat that french fry dipped in ice cream!
Ewwww no way, do it! Do it! Ooooh nasty!
I watch as at least three bites of sandwich are discarded, chip crumbs are thoughtlessly wiped from jackets, a half eaten apple shoved back into a backpack.
But I always have to let some of it go. You can’t look too eager, that’s just embarrassing.
This week’s prompt, was Jealousy. Constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated.
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Tags: childhood
You’ve left me speechless in silent thought. Sadness. Your writing hits my heart. Every time.
do you know how talented you are? so talented.
This was beautifully written, Y. Thanks for the Butthole Surfers flashback!
Childhood hunger, what a tough topic and you did a great job. Her negotiating the world of not only how to get extra food without betraying her hunger as well as her critique of the food trades of others were right on. She may have a future on the stock market. I also thought you captured well the jealousy she had of other people having choices in a way she didn’t feel she did.
That would be heartbreaking even if I hadn’t met such children in school…
Btw, it was the descriptions of the food which made it so realistic to me. They were so good.
So emotional. THat poor girl. The others have no idea how lucky they are to have a parent who cares enough to pack so much food.
Great job on this!
This was a fun post even though it had some serious undertones. I really enjoyed this and felt the envy this child was experiencing. Great job!
i won’t lie. the butthole surfers was my fave.
and i shared my lunch in 7th grade with someone who only ever had a scraggly looking apple and school milk for a dime every day. I never said anything, I just always gave her half of my cheetos and little debbie.
i saw this whole thing. such beautiful writing, my friend.
Ohhhhh wow. This is insanely good. I felt like I was sitting there in her shoes. The skillful way she manages to get a little bite here or there. Poor thing.
I used to pack my own lunch, too, though not til high school, and I was the oldest of 4 so there were things like, ya know, diapers being bought with the extra cash. Everyone else had treats and special goodies. The only time I got a treat was with the $1 change I got back from buying bus tokens once a week. That was always a good day
The nun would lead us in grace and always remind us to be thankful for the lunches our mothers made for us, and I’d want to tell her otherwise.
You’ve tackled an emotional topic, my dear. And you did it gracefully & with much ease. Lovingly, tenderly. I’m JEALOUS of your writing!!
Tremendous job. Wow. Makes me feel guilty because at that age, I don’t know if I’d have noticed someone who didn’t have anything or couldn’t afford anything for lunch….
You nailed it- again! You pulled at my heart strings and told a whole tale, tackled a whole topic, by describing a moment in time. Perfection. XO
Really well done, my friend. I can feel your jealousy, and your shame.
xo
You call that criticism? Really Cheryl I expected more from you. Put down the fluffy bunny suit and give me the real deal.
I love the food descriptions. So well done.
And the creative way of getting a little extra needed food.
You and I have spoken about this…you know that I get it.
But the way you wrote this, Yuliya?
Stunning.
You have an amazing ability to transport yourself back in time…to take on the voice of the girl you once were.
I love you, my friend.
So much.
I don’t read you as often as I should. Wow! I was in this moment, sitting at that table and aching to ask for that cupcake.
I hope a young girl that age finds this post, and knows that she is not alone, she is so much more than what is in her brown paper bag. This made me want to write! Thank u!
I’m jealous of how well you write… I read and think how or what can I do to be able to write like that. And it comes to me.. more time and more writing.
This brought back so many memories of school lunch when I was a child. I used to love those little bags of chips and always wanted to have them in my lunch too, but my mom never bought them.
I think that you described her feelings wonderfully… how she wanted the treats and how she shrugged it off in front of her friends.
This is so heartbreakingly beautiful. I was transported right back with you. And I was so sad, about lunch. But of course it’s bigger than lunch.
This was very vivid.
This is heartbreaking. I’m almost speechless. The writing is amazing!
Poignant. Stirring emotions. Real.
These are the words I would use to describe this story. There is no critique here. I see nothing that needs improvement here. I want to know more about this girl, what her life is really like, and I already feel a connection to her.
Absolutely fabulous.
Yuliya.
Yuliya.
We had such the same life.
At lunch: I just wanted to belong. I ACHED to belong.
All the kids never appreciated what they had: they had what I wanted.
To fit in and be typical.
They’d all trade lunches and laugh. And I’d sit, too embarrassed to even let them see my unbelievably ethnic lunch, that caused me to feel such shame:
I wanted normal food: bologna sandwiches, a tangerine, a chocolate chip cookie.
Instead? goat cheese and guava sandwiches, avocado slices, and mango cut up into chunks.
Such shame. Though my stomach would be full, I still had the hunger to be accepted.
So similar, you and I.
What an amazing piece! My mom was a huge health nut so I would get mini bags of carrots every day while everyone else got twinkies and bags of doritos. Untradeable. And somehow one of my most vivid memories from elementary school.
Gahhhh, you are so good. You made me experience that food like I was a kid again. Fruit roll-ups on the fingers, pointing and licking — awesome. Also, such a vivid snapshot of American bounty — good, bad and ugly. I remember when my sister-in-law arrived here from Russia on her lottery visa and went shopping for the first time in an American grocery store, she just broke down and wept. She couldn’t handle the abundance.
Don’t ever stop writing, my sister.
Your beautiful writing takes such a painful subject and makes me want to both cry for your younger self but also to know so much more about you.
Your food descriptions were perfect; the way you describe in detail what the others just take for granted is such an accurate way of portraying the difference between prosperity and want.
“You can’t look too eager…”
Oh, isn’t this true. So much of growing up – of life – is worrying about appearing to be over-eager.
What is the right amount of anything?
We so desperately want to be right. And we almost never are.
But this was perfect. Just the right amount. Of everything.
Yuliya this is so powerful. Really, you took me there, right there sitting with the “haves” and feeling like a “have-not”.
And the emotions surrounding the food and the waste and not wanting to seem to be wanting TOO much the leftovers that they carelessly discard? Amazing.
You are so talented, my friend!
Stunning post. I wish I could write like you!!!
Wow- that’s such a beautiful post. It’s SO descriptive– really love the imagery!
Does this give me bonus points in the evaluation? *fingers crossed*
First? Your writing is incredible. I’m in awe…and very jealous. But that’s the point of the piece, right?
Second….I LOVE that song…Pepper is a song that everybody can relate to. And I have no constructive criticism – I was sitting at that table with you…
Duuude, if you actually “get” Pepper you may want to send me a short essay on it’s meaning, I’m still a bit confused but I LOVED that song, takes me right back to that time.
[...] writing is superb! Your most recent post was part of the Red Writing Hood assignment and it was stunning: “Stephanie, procures a [...]
I saw your blog on Momcomm. Your writing is really amazing…great photos, too.
I was lucky to be one of the “have’s” with the soup in a thermos and such nice things like that, but no store bought treats. I know there were kids that qualified for the free or reduced school lunches, but I only knew of one boy in my class for sure. I ached for him then as he hungrily inhaled his food and was not too proud to ask for what others didn’t want. I think his entire family had to put aside their pride as they were starving. This was beautiful and sad. Talented writer!
Wonderful post, this brought back so many memories of school to me, there’s no way I could put it into words the way you have though, well done.
Have a lovely weekend,
Jade
thank you so much for reading this one, it was so fun to write I could see myself standing in that courtyard again as I wrote it. If you haven’t checked out the Red Dress Club yet, do it, you’ll be amazed at how much you can learn!
Thank you for sharing. I love your blog.
Hello fellow self proclaimed loud mouth! Nice to meet you!
What a beautiful piece.
I remember feeling very envious of kids who had ‘better ‘ lunches than me. Took me straight back there.
J x
Thank you so much, happy to hear you enjoyed it!
Belated happy SITS Day to you! This is a lovely post. So easy to envision the scene, and such a realistic account of middle school days.
Thank you so much for reading it, it was a fun one to write!
[...] I remember my days of school lunches well, and as an adult struggling (oh lord am I ever) with my weight I know how important the food choices we make as children are to leading a healthy life. [...]
[...] learn something about the art of storytelling.’ In fact it’s been so long since I wrote something with Write on Edge that they were still called the Red Dress Club when I did! I kept wanting to join in on the prompts [...]