Lunch

As I walked outside, I could feel the wind as it brushed my cheek. It blew my hair across my eyes, briefly obscuring the courtyard. Which was good. I really did not want to see the the other students as I walked the solitary path to my usual spot, a table in the far back corner, away from prying eyes. The breeze was a welcome feeling after the stale warmth of the classroom. The light too was welcome, it was not the false light of the fluorescent bulb, that would occasionally hum, but the warm light of the sun, bringing a welcoming relief. Yes, outside was where I needed to be right now. A quiet moment to myself while I ate my ham sandwich with Miss Vickie’s salt and vinegar chips. 

It is not as though I did not like high school. In fact, I loved learning. My dad was always telling me to get my nose out of a book and to stop studying and go live. That was the hard part. The living part. It was easier to read about the history of other people that have lived or a fictional character that live it for me. Real life was a lot harder for a teenage girl in the twenty-first century than it was for the heroin in an adventure story. Sure, they might have to learn how to use a sword or how to manipulate the magic they possessed, but they did not have to face other teenagers in a fight for survival at high school. 

It really should not be this hard. Sure I am medicated to help with my anxiety, so my parents think that the problem should be solved. But in reality, it just makes it easier to get out of bed each morning, not to actually talk to someone or to really live. Or do group assignments. Which is a teachers form of punishment. Surly they do not realize how challenging that working, and even talking, to someone else can be. If they do know this, then they truly are minions of Satan. I would rather be sent to the rack than have to do group work. But, that seems to be many teachers favorite thing to do. Group work. 

I just left English class before coming out to my lunch break. Normally, it is my favorite class. But not this week. I even tried faking that my menstrual cramps were too miserable and I could not go to school today. Usually that works for my father, but apparently there are limits to the amount you can miss. Even if you have all A’s. Horror of all horrors, I have a group assignment in English this week (we just finished reading Romeo and Juliet) and have to do a creative retelling of it, which normally I would really enjoy, if I could do it on my own. But I was assigned to work with Sarah Miligan. She is everything that I am not. Poplular. Beautiful. Athletic. All the boys are in love with her, which I can totally get. The difficult part is, I am smart and she is rather, well, to say it politely, not the brightest crayon in the box. She would rather sit and flirt with the boy, Sam, sitting across from us, rather than work. And I want an A, so I end up doing all the work. And the hard part is, she expects it. She expects that I will do the assignment so we both will get a good grade. She will not say anything mean to me while I am working, so I guess that is a plus. But it still is complete torture. She treats me as though I were subhuman, and not worth any sort of attention, other than negative attention. That is actually the way I feel most people treat me. As though they did not realize that I actually am a person with feelings. That I do not deserve the cruel words thrown at me.

Bullies are the worst. I have had them stalk me ever since I started school. I am probably well below average on the beauty spectrum. With glasses, a large nose, and what I have been told many times, horse teeth, I suppose it is only natural to bully me. Plus, I am most certainly not petite. My mom just says I am big boned, but I know she is just trying to protect me. But not calling me by what I really am, is that really protecting me? Should we just all own the truth, that I am fat and ugly? Mom would say that it is not true, but it is. And maybe owning the truth would be helpful? I dont know. It would not change the person I am on the outside, so the bullying would not cease, so what does it really matter?

So that is why I am relishing this cool breeze, at my favorite table, all alone, eating my sandwich. I need this solitude before I face Spanish class (where there is always group work and talking to your neighbor. If only we did not need a foreign language credit to graduate, life would be one sixth easier). Being alone every lunch, although it is easier than facing the horde of teenagers that surround me, is still difficult. Wishing that there was someone that I could commiserate with, about having to work with Sarah, or rather work for her, in English class, would be nice sometimes. Although eating alone is preferable than some of the alternatives, it is still lonely. I’ve tried so hard to make a few friends, but nothing ever stuck. And the really depressing part is, I have given up on finding a friend. It is just easier to face the loneliness than to put yourself out there and find a friend.

All to soon, I know that the bell will ring summoning me back to class. I contemplate just sitting here and sloughing Spanish class. But I suppose my anxiety about not getting the grades I need to get into a good college will spur me on to class. I have hopes that I can leave this misery behind me and start a new life when I leave. But I know this is just wishful thinking. I will still be anxious about this or that, I will still look the same, if not worse, and I know that there are probably bullies everywhere I go. It is just a fact of life. I will be miserable until the day I die. 

But for now, I will enjoy the cool breeze on my face and the warm sun shining down on me. Mother nature and her elements are the one thing that has never let me down and never made me hate myself. She is always there to bring me comfort and help me escape, just for a moment, the realities that I face. It doesn’t matter what or who you are, the breeze will still cool you down and the sun will warm you. Mother earth does not judge, and for that, especially on school days, I am glad. Being outside, even if it is just on a giant concrete slab with scattered metal tables here and there, I can still see the blue sky and feel the warmth from the sun with the slow tickle of the wind. It is what gives me the strength to face the last half of the day. 

As the bell rings, I head to the door. The breeze giving me a last goodbye as she brushes past my arm. And I brace myself to reenter school.