As we approached the food building, it loomed over us. This building was massive – at least the size of several hippopotamuses – but I had only been in the cafeteria on the second floor, and part of the first and second floor hallways. The comments made about Jacques' map had got me wondering – despite having been here for a few days, there were so many places at this school that I knew nothing about. Kind of like Owen, I wanted to go exploring and see what all I could find on campus. Even the food building had to have at least three floors, since there was still another flight of stairs leading upward from the second floor.
As the class turned to the right to begin climbing the stairs, I noticed an elevator to the left of the staircase. I could tell it was an elevator because above it, there was a sign that said elevator. I wondered if I could see how many floors this building had by peering at the button panel to the side of the elevator, but unfortunately, this was not one of those kinds of elevators. There was only an up and a down button on the panel, so all the specific floor buttons must be inside the elevator. Oh well, I guess I just had to rely on the rest of the class behaving, and then Mr. Pony would show us around. Like that was gonna happen. Us kindergartners sure could be an unruly species.
Either way, we arrived in the cafeteria, more or less on time. As the sound of Thousand Foot Krutch assailed my eardrums, I noticed that the cafeteria was a little more crowdeder than usual, but I still shouldn't have trouble finding a seat. After all, I had my secret weapon – the Lucky Penny. I took the brown, metal coin out of my pocket and prepared to flip it, but then Mr. Pony's words ba-dumped through my head. "Sometimes, it's okay to do what you want, even if it isn't completely fair to everyone else." I stared at it for a little longer. There were so many seats to choose from, and so many things to eat, but I didn't know where I wanted to sit, or what I wanted to eat. Plus, no matter what my final decision ended up being, I couldn't see how it would be completely unfair to anyone else.
However, Rachel's words ba-dumped through my head immediately afterwards. "If a decision does not yield a result, it needn't be made." I quivered. If there was nowhere I wanted to sit, and nothing that I wanted to eat, but no matter what I did would be unfair to someone else, then the best course of action would be to do nothing… right?
"Precisely." I could imagine Rachel's response to my thoughts as clearly as if she was Tia Dalma speaking in my head. It was both disturbing and strangely calming.
I was torn by this revelation. Generations of societal conditioning were pushing me to sit somewhere and eat something to sate my six-year old hunger, while Rachel's compelling logic led me to believe that I did not need to do anything if there was nothing I wanted to do. In order to solve this complicated moral dilemma, I decided to leave it up to the Lucky Penny.
...But wait. My thoughts stopped dead in their tracks like an impossibly light train that had suddenly slammed on the brakes. How did I 'decide' to leave the decision up to the Lucky Penny? Wasn't that a flawed decision that I had come to myself? Sure, my mama says I could always rely on the Lucky Penny if a decision was too hard to make on my own, but who 'decided' if a decision was too hard to make in the first place? My head felt like it was going to split open. I closed my eyes and started spinning, wishing it would all go away.
"H-hey, Amanda," honked a familiar voice. I opened my eyes and immediately stopped spinning. The world seemed brighter than usual for some reason.
"Huh?" I replied. It was Chuck. He seemed to be sweating more than usual, which seemed absurd even for him. "Wait, what did you call me?"
"Uh… Maddie," he replied, avoiding my gaze and wringing his hands. "But yeah, uh, do you wanna come sit with me and William? We can, uh, show you the improved butter sandwich." He pointed to a table behind him over his shoulder with his thumb.
Now I was intrigued. "That sounds cool," I agreed, before doing the you-know-I-had-to-do-it-to-em pose. "Besides, I'm interested in what kind of sandwiched William can make."
"Really good ones," answered Chuck, wiping a veil of sweat off his brow with a thick forearm.
"Awesome, let's go then," I said, traipsing over to the table where William was seated while Chuck lumbered after me in hot pursuit. Besides William, the other people seated at the table were shep, Jordan, who was Chuck's pen-pal, Owen, Kiki, Kathleen, and… sigh… Him. The way I said that made it seem like I was talking about a hunky romantic interest, but it was really only Tim.
Kathleen was the first to notice me. "'Sup, Maddie?" she said, but it sounded more like "Hey Maddie."
I chuckled, but not darkly. "'Sup? Isn't that usually what Kiki says?"
"Yup," she replied cheerfully, putting both of her fists to her chin and closing her eyes. "But ever since she wrote it during class yesterday, I thought it was super cool and started using it too. Oh, 'sup, Chuck?"
"Yeah," goaded Owen, grinning and cupping one of his hands around his mouth. "What's upchuck?"
Chuck was already out of breath from following me to the table, but Owen's comment only seemed to make him even more oofed. "Not much," he wheezed, taking his seat between William and Jordan. I sat on the other side of William, with shep on my right. It was like me and Chuck were creating a William sandwich.
William looked left and right, then left and right again as if he was checking for oncoming traffic before stepping out into the screet. "Is this everyone?" he asked through his ruby red lips.
"Yeah," honked Chuck, sweating nervously.
"Okay then, Maddie, since you're the last one here, what kind of sandwich do you want?" asked William, putting a pencil to his assignment book. There were already several sandwiches and ingredients scrawled in the book in William's surprisingly neat handwriting. All of that gaming must have given him some fine motor skills.
"Hold up," piped up Kathleen. "Tim still hasn't said what he wants yet."
"No, thank you," quipped Tim irritably, without looking up from his copy of Atlas Shrugged. "I wouldn't be caught dead consuming an abomination such as a 'butter sandwich'. All of my meal plans are meticulously crafted by my personal dietitian to ensure that I obtain the optimal nutrition." He smirked. "It's how I maintain my lean and athletic figure."
Kathleen tilted her head to the side, looking confused. "What does that even mean?"
Tim turned up his rather prominent nose at the girl. "If you do not possess the prerequisite intelligence to hold a conversation with a being such as myself, then do not attempt to engage in conversation with me in the first place." He turned his sharp eyes back to his book. "Honestly, you are quite fortunate that I deign to merely share a table with someone of your caliber of intellectual ineptitude."
Owen covered his ears with his hands. "Stop!" he howled in his scratchy voice. "I have hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia!"
Tim snorted incredulously. For a split second, he actually seemed amused by whatever the heck it was Owen had just said. Then, his expression returned to intense concentration on his book. It was clear that this man was simply on a higher plane of existence than the rest of us.
"...Anyways," I resumed, "I'm not really sure what kind of sandwich I want, but for now, a butter sandwich sounds good. If you could find some way to work in oyster crackers that would be great, since they're my favorite food."
"Okay," he said, jotting this down. "Aaand, that's everyone. Now just sit tight while I grab the ingredients. Kathleen, can you help?"
"You got it!" she said enthusiastically, hopping to her feet. The two of the ventured off into the urban jungle known as the cafeteria, leaving a void at the table.
I decided to break the silence. "So, what kind of sandwiches did everyone ask for?"
Chuck was the first to speak up. "I got an improved butter sandwich," he stated proudly. "William and I perfected the recipe yesterday. It now not only has butter, but also mayonnaise, pepperoni, chipotle ranch, bacon bits, and buffalo sauce!"
"I asked for a hotdog," said Owen, grinning and putting his hands behind his head.
"I didn't wanna sandwich," commented Kiki, while simultaneously listening to the Pink Floyd music playing in the background. "I wanted some ramen noodles instead, so I'm gonna go get those." Bracing herself against the table, she stood up and strode off towards the hot bar.
"I asked for a pizza sandwich," replied shep serenely, closing his eyes while raising one hand and putting the other on his hip, "since pizza is kind of my favorite food."
Jordan just kind of stared off blankly into space.
"Hey, what about you, Jordan?" I asked.
"..."
"Yoo-hoo, earth to Jor-bah," said Owen. Still no response.
Chuck tapped him lightly on the shoulder, then later gently shook it. Nothing. Nada. Nilch.
"Let me try," offered shep. "Hey, Jordan. Are you okay?"
"..."
"Jordan. Can you hear me? Are you listening?"
"...Huh?" Jordan blunk and turned his head to look at shep.
"Welcome back," mused shep, closing his eyes, waving with one hand, and putting the other on his hip. "You seemed pretty out of it just now."
"Yeah," answered Jordan. What was going on with him? Was he feeling shell shocked because Randy outed him as a stamp collector during show and tell? Maybe I should talk to him during recess and find out what was up.
Just as the background music changed to Fleetwood Mac, William, Kathleen, and Kiki returned with a bunch of sandwiches in tow, before passing them out to everyone. The delicious aroma of food wafted through my nostrils as William placed a crackers n' butter sandwich right in front of me. It looked just like the butter sandwich that I had made with Chuck earlier, but with countless oyster crackers sandwiched in between the two slices of wonder bread, held firmly in place with Country Crock margarine.
"Thanks, William," I said, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. The crisp crunch of the delectable oyster crackers, mixed with the creamy, savory texture of the Country Crock margarine and the subtle doughiness of the wonder bread created a taste-splosion across all of my taste buds. I felt like the dude from Ratatouille.
"Whoa," said Chuck, through a mouthful of improved butter sandwich. "You know, I've made like eight or nine of these, but I've never tasted one this good. You really have a knack for making sandwiches, William."
"Yeah," agreed Kathleen. "This is sooo delicious!"
"Thanks guys," replied William, scratching his shaggy bowl cut humbly. "But really, it's nothing. I just… really enjoy, y'know, making sandwiches."
The taste of the crackers n' butter sandwich diminished slightly in my mouth upon hearing those words. Just like Jordan, and what seemed like all the rest of my friends, William had something he really enjoyed doing, a passion, or a hobby he could pursue.
"How fortunate," said shep calmly, with his eyes closed. "It must be amazing having something that you enjoy so much. I'm almost jealous."
The rest of the table got a bit quiet. Although he had put the thoughts that I was thinking into words better than I ever could, it wasn't exactly something you could just say at the lunch table without killing the mood. No one was sure how exactly to continue the conversation after that.
"Pay this degenerate no heed," remarked Tim, before taking a sip of his mineral-distilled vegetable juice-infused chamomile tea and not even bothering to look up from his book. "He's exhibited this behavior ever since we were your age, and attempting to correct it has proven thus far to be utterly futile."
"Ah, did I say something weird again?" asked shep, closing his eyes and raising his hands disarmingly, his voice becoming significantly more radical. "I apologize. I was just… thinking out loud." Immediately after he finished uttering that sentence, the background music changed to that exact song, by none other than Ed Sheeran.
I dropped the issue. shep was a bit of a weird guy, but it was difficult to dislike someone with such a pleasant demeanor. Plus, although I didn't want to admit it out loud, it almost felt like we had just shared a bonding moment, like two young lovers discussing their favorite type of cloud, or favorite type of material to build a house with. For the time being though, we all just sat and ate out sandwiches, indulging our palettes with their blissful flavors. All of us, except for Jordan, who ate his bacon grilled cheese rather mechanically, and Owen, who seemed a little distracted from his suspiciously bouncy cafeteria hotdog. He had been acting different since this morning, and his usual comedic quips were few and far between. I wondered what was going on in that scribbled-on head of his.
As we finished up our meals, William let us know, "Just let me know tomorrow if you want me to make you another special sandwich. Although, I can't have too many people asking for them at once. Lunch only lasts for so long, y'know!' Soon, the bell rang, and we had to get in line to go out to recess. As we were getting in line, Kiki turned around to quickly give me the lollipop she had offered me during centers.
"You can eat it now, if you want," she said. "After all, my mom always says that the best time to eat is during lunch." She put a finger to her mouth thoughtfully and looked up slightly. "...Or was it… before lunch?" While I wasn't familiar with Kiki's mom at all, I did agree that that did sound like something my mama would say. I thanked her and slipped the lollipop into my mouth, pretending like it was a cigarette and I was an adult. As we walked out of the cafeteria, I pretended that I was wearing sunglasses like Zak's and flashed some finger guns at the security camera. Feeling like a cool cat, our squad was on our way to the playground.