Middle School Miniature

Chapter 2, Don't take free samples

For third period, I went to English class. It was honors, but the teacher, Mr. Q, didn't take his job seriously and didn't show up on time to classes a few times already. So, it kinda felt like a waste of time and made me upset that students were held to standards that the teachers didn't even follow. A couple days ago I even caught him sitting on the computer shopping for lamps while we were doing a worksheet. I would have suggested the pink fishnet leg lamp to him for a reaction, but I thought better of it and didn't want to test my luck in the first few weeks of school.

Subdued by loneliness, I wandered through the halls on my way to music class, my only elective. I have always loved music. The way it makes me feel in harmony with the other players was the reason I stayed in band. It was the one place where I felt that I belonged. I also had came to the middle school to do the band's morning program the last year so I also had the advantage of being familiar with some other students and the teacher.

The band room might have been my home, but it was not homey in the slightest. When you walk through the double door entrance, you enter a large room with four rows of built-in risers. Each row just wide enough to fit a chair with a stand in front of them. The rows are in a semi-circle around the conductor stand. The carpet looks like trash and it's thin and saturated with stains of old spit of the past instrumentalists. The offices and file room are off to the right, going away from the large room. Also, directly to your left are doors heading to a side room with lots of instrument lockers. These are small square lockers, four feet deep, which are more like shelves that are made for instruments. They range in sizes to fit a flute all the way up to a tuba or the long shelf for a baritone saxophone. The stench of sweat, spit, and the moldy cheese that the upper classman had managed to stuff in a ceiling tile the previous year, is enough to cause the heartiest of stomachs to heave with the discomfort of incoming vomit.

Just incase you were wondering, I play first alto saxophone. I was actually quite proud of this accomplishment since I had beat out the other 5 sax players. Today, all we worked on a new piece called 'Legionnaires' that I was actually looking forward to mastering, but that isn't as important as what happened during lunch.

If you're not in middle school yet, or it has been a while since middle school, let me remind you: lunch is chaos.

All you need is to know where to go and how to get there faster than everyone else.

It was just my luck that my band teacher let us out late, and me even later.

The bell rang, students barely holding themselves back from sprinting to put stuff away as the director was finishing his last comments, "alright, Class dismissed!"

I gently but hurriedly took apart various parts of my instrument, pushed through the crowd of students in the locker room, and shoved my music next to my case.

I was about to follow the other students who were loudly rampaging towards the cafeteria, but my teacher called me over right before I escaped and asked me if I would file some pieces of music for him. This was actually a normal thing, so I quickly went to set the papers into the file with the right letter but just ended up leaving the rest of the stack on a stand, intending to properly organize it at a later time so I would actually be able to get a lunch and not starve. I went back to the lockers and grabbed by backpack and half jogged to the cafeteria by myself. But to my dismay, I was too slow and they just started taking down the multi-colored food stands. Hoping that I could get a leftover tray, I speed walked my way over to the lunch window.

"Excuse me!" I shouted, hoping that my extra loud 'manners' would earn me some food. A short, blond, curly haired lady came over to me.

"Can I help you dear?" She asked sweetly.

"Do you have any food left? I was late to lunch." I asked boldly.

This is an important life lesson: Never be late to lunch and never accept free samples from school. I guess that was two lessons but oh well, you get my point. On with the story.

"None of the lunch from today dearie, but I was told to give out a sample of the lasagna we might add to the menu, if you would want a slice." She said smiling a sickly sweet simile.

"Sure." I say, just glad that I got any food. She disappeared for a couple moments and returned with a square of lukewarm lasagna dripping with cheese. I didn't even have to pay.

"Thank you so much!" I said, rushing to get a spork (weird plastic utensil that is half spoon half fork, still not sure why the school uses the things. Probably just to save money).

I stuffed down the, not really Italian, Italian food. I was not really paying attention to the taste since I was pretty hungry and wanted time to put the sheet music away before fast walking (Because running in the halls was frowned upon) to my next class.

With about 10 or so minutes of remaining free time, I fast-walked back to the band room to put the music sheets in the file room. I sifted through the drawers putting the papers in the correct spot.

"Fidler Dance, F, Pep Ray Rock, P," I mutter to myself... and BAM! it hits me. Actually, it hit my poor stomach. I hunch over, holding my tummy gingerly. I feel like I'm going to throw up. Lasagna was not a good idea. I leave the papers behind and walk into the locker room groaning.

In the locker room, I went over to the long wooden table where I had set my binder down. I leaned on the table while slowly sitting down on the cold concrete floor, feeling woozy.

Ugh! I am going to put a terrible rating for that lasagna. Or maybe I'm allergic to something in the food. But I thought I knew that I wasn't allergic to anything.  Maybe I suddenly became dairy intolerant? Wait, that doesn't make any sense! I was frantic with the pain that continued to grow inside of me. My eyes started to become watery and my hearing started to ring. My whole body burnt and tingled like my nerves had been melted like that deplorable lasagna cheese.

Unbeknownst to Amelia, the loudspeaker had crackled out a lunchtime announcement calling, "Amelia Adair to the office". Even if she did hear it, she was in no position to respond to such a request.

My thoughts, though jumbled, went along the lines of 'I'm going to pass out' and 'I'm going to be late to class', and, 'I wonder who will find me, if.. ?' But the darkness overcame me and my mind went into an empty space.

thanks -Ema