If Pie Cured Confusion
Between periods, I’m disappointed to discover that Rory and I aren’t in the same lunch because his drama course is interfering, and of course he’d rather do that than eat with me. Ugh, nothing’s worse than eating alone.
When I head into the cafeteria, I find Jack slipping quarters into the Coke machine, holding a tray loaded up with a burger and fries. I skirt the edge of the cafeteria and make a break for the picnic tables in the courtyard. Outside I grab a seat in the corner, unsnap my Velcro lunch bag, and pull out a sandwich, carrots, a cookie, a juice carton, and one of those soups you can drink.
I open one of Mom’s history books—A Compendium of Poetry. I don’t like poetry all that much, but reading her books makes me feel closer to her and lets me pretend she’s right here beside me. I set my bookmark on the table and start reading the section where I left off. It’s about Robert Frost. It says one of his most famous poems is “The Road Not Taken.” I don’t completely understand some of the lines in the poem, but the last section makes me sit up and pay attention:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Mom highlighted that one section in yellow. Did she feel like she lived life to the fullest? Did she take the right path for her? I bite into my sandwich and chew, thinking.
That’s when I hear him. “What is that?”
I turn to find Jack salivating over my sandwich. “Roast beef.”
He straddles the picnic table bench and sits. “Split it with me.”
“No.” I take a big bite, smacking obnoxiously.
He laughs. At school he’s so different from how he is on the farm where he’s the boss.
“Where’d you get the lunch?”
“Yvonne,” I say through a mouthful.
“Yvonne made you lunch?”
“She did.”
“She’s never made me a lunch.”
“Probably because you’ve never asked her to, brainiac.”
“I’ll be speaking with her as soon as I get home.” He sits up straight and pops open his Coke. “I want a roast beef sandwich.”
“Boys,” I mutter. When I move to open my thermos, Jack snatches my roast beef sandwich off the table. He takes a huge bite, grinning, before I can stop him.
“Give me that!” I say, grabbing it back. A piece of roast beef slips out onto the bench. In retaliation, I grab a handful of his fries and stuff them in my mouth.
That’s when Brent, that bonehead from the party the other night, walks by, staring at me. Girls at the next table over see I’m sitting with Jack and give me dirty looks.
“This sucks,” I say to myself.
“What does?” Jack asks, scooping up ketchup with a fry.
“Everyone’s looking at me like I’m a science experiment gone wrong. They don’t even bother to say hi. They figure they know everything they need to know based on what I look like.”
YOU ARE READING
Racing Savannah
Teen FictionThey're from two different worlds. He lives in the estate house, and she spends most of her time in the stables helping her father train horses. In fact, Savannah has always been much more comfortable around horses than boys. Especially boys like Ja...
