School Lunches and Memories

Craning your neck to see the clock behind you, you were aware of the scraping noise the sweater was making on the chair, drawing eyes from everyone sitting around you. There were five minutes left till the end of class, people signed to each other. Five minutes until there was freedom to eat lunch. A minute, 30 seconds, and finally you’re out. Everyone in Tesla Stem has biological clock wired into their brains, knowing exactly when it’s time to leave, because there are no physical bells to signal the end of class.

This was a new experience for me at first because usually all schools have bells, but Tesla Stem is just unique that way. Walking out of English is like plunging into a tsunami instead of walking away from it. Like you, everyone’s eager to eat lunch, their stomachs grumbling loud as a lion as they make their way past the hoard of people waiting their turn to use the microwave, situated right outside of the English classroom. The microwave during lunch is like a star given a temporary spotlight, only needed at that time every day, and when the spotlight moves on to something else, it sits there on the light brown table, it’s white handle eager to be in use again.

You see, Tesla Stem is more like two hallways laid on top of each other, so the crowd can get difficult to maneuver through as people stubbornly stand there in the middle of the hallway, talking casually to their friends as if there is no other place they would rather be than smack dab in the middle of the crowd. Turning to your friends, their black hair loose over their side, their jeans and sweatshirt being the uniform code of what everyone seems to be wearing that day, you slide your hand into the crook of their arm and gently drag them towards the stairs. Even though they are probably only about 24 of the stairs, placed neatly into the corner right by the main door as if you were tucking someone into bed, it felt like they were never ending.

Braving your soon to be sore legs, you stumbled on them, laughing and teasing your friends until you finally reached the top, all ready to eat lunch. Looking back, you can see the destruction you left in your wake. Everyone was scattered around the staircase, the path you used clearly visible, lopsided and all over the place as if a tornado had just brushed past. As you sit down for lunch, everyone gathering around the 4 chairs right in front of the counselor’s office, some sit down on the ground while others sit on the chairs. The black leather of the chair makes a small whoosh sound as you crash down on it, leaning back against the coolness of the dark yellow walls. Slowly zipping open your lilac cloth lunch bag, you pull out your lunch box. Will you be able to open it today? Nope, the answer is still no. You unclip the black plastic clips and try to yank the lid off, but the vacuum your hot food created is stronger than your arm strength. Your friend grabs it from you and yanks the lid off, almost decapitating her nails in the process. You thank her and finally smell the goodness of your now room temperature lunch.

There are smells of the nutty flavor, tomato, and cheese. Can you guess what it was? Your favorite food in the entire world, pasta. As you stare at the goodness of the pasta, its pink, creamy, decadent sauce looking like it’s blushing as you stare at it. You then take your steel fork, its metallic glint showing you a reflection of your face, and dig into the first bite, the perfect amount of sauce inside the al Dante penne pasta. Taking the first bite, it’s like a bomb of flavors exploding in your mouth. The herby taste of the oregano mixed with the tangy tomato and the unique taste of black olives, reminding you of the perfect shade of the night sky, cut up in the perfect circles, not too thick but not thin either. Then you pick up a kernel of sunshine yellow corn, and as you bite into it, the sweet juice trickling down into your mouth, compensating for the spicy chili flakes you urged your mom to put even though you knew it was too spicy for you. Eyes watering and nose running you try sliding the chili flakes to the curb of the container, your friends asking you what’s wrong. Chili flakes, you say.

They quickly take out their phones and start clicking away, the amazing friends that they are, loving to record your most embarrassing moments for years to remember.

Laughing and joking, you take another bite, now indulging the strong and powerful parmigiana Reggiano that your mom has graciously sprinkled over the pasta. As you look over to your friends, peeking into their lunch, you see a variety of different cuisines and smells, each one looking as good as the next. After everyone has stolen a bite from the others, we start joking and complaining about the mountain of homework that is inviting us to sit at our study desk until 10pm at night. Whether it’s about the new Taylor Swift album that’s just released, or the tests everyone has today, you can talk about anything with your friends during lunch. It’s like a safe spot in a game of tag, where you don’t have to rush and can just enjoy the fun.

As the imaginary lunch bell rings once again, you close your lunch box, the clicking noise getting others to pack up too, and slide it into your lunch bag, zipping it shut. As you slide your school bag over one shoulder and the next, you urge your friends to hurry up and pull them into a standing position. You then slide your hand through the crook of their arm and walk towards the stairs, braving your legs once again as you slowly step down and get ready to go to class.  

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