Peaches

Indistinguishable voices blended together into an uneven hum that filled the cafeteria. The many round tables were filled with students excited for their chance to eat and  freely talk to their friends. Never one to fight to get in line early, I sat patiently with my friends at our quieter and mostly empty table by the door until there was space for us to comfortably get in line and finally eat. When the room starts calming down I finally go up, swerving around the unevenly spaced tables and quickly dodging an oblivious classmate. And then instead of firm solid ground, my foot meets something slick, and I am blinking up at the shining lights in the ceiling. Sharp pain blooms from where my body hits the ground, keying my lagging mind into understanding about what just happened. As I carefully sat up my surroundings rushed back into focus. My friends’ cheerful cackling, the curious gazes of nearby students, and the slightly more rowdy hum of conversation. Staggering to my feet, my arms instinctively flying out to prevent a second fall, I glance to the grimy cafeteria floor. Right by my heeled black boots is a glistening pile of soft orange lumps, peaches that some other unfortunate student most likely spilled from their tray. This is a middle school lunch, so spills are not uncommon, yet this was the first time I ever fell victim to such a thing. Blood flowing to my cheeks I slowly pivot around to see my friends calming down from their laughing fit. I shrug off their laughter, I would likely have the same reaction if the roles were reversed. I simply disappointedly shake my head and mutter the word peaches. Which of course sets off another fit of joyous laughter for there is nothing more silly than slipping on the smallest pile of spilled food.