“Almost all our misfortunes in life come from the wrong notions we have about the things that happen to us. To know men thoroughly, to judge events sanely is, therefore, a great step towards happiness.” (Journal, Dec. 10, 1801)

For two weeks, Tony and I did not look at each other. He blamed me for his shame, while I believed it was his fault.

Carrying my bag lunch, I stood behind Henry, the nose-picker, with Tony behind me. No one wanted to stand next to Henry, since everyone thought he was gross for eating his boogers.

At first, he used to make me sick when he performed his disgusting habit, but as long as I did not have to hold his hand, Henry was charming.

Everyday we would walk home from school. Henry and I were like peas in a pod; we talked about all kinds of stuff. Whenever we found a cluster of flowers, Henry would help me pick them so I could take them home. If Henry found a penny or a nickel on the road, he would give it to me. Henry thought he was my boyfriend and I really did not care. It was nice to have someone to talk to on the way home from school.

When we entered the cafeteria, Henry turned around and said, “Here, I’m not hungry,” opening his hand to reveal a quarter.

“No,” I replied shaking my head before walking over to the table. I sat at the end of the table, which was my assigned seat.

Opening the paper sack, I took out the wrapped peanut butter pancake sandwich in an old bread bag. Removing the stacked pancakes, I sniffed the bread bag, hoping to remember the taste of white bread. I had to eat the pancakes before the class caught a glimpse of my lunch. I took several bites trying to pry my tongue loose from the sticky peanut butter. Desperately, I needed some water to swallow it down. Mother had packed a plastic cup, so I could ask for water. I would have to wait until Mrs. Brown sat at the table.

Behind me, I saw Ellen, a neighborhood friend. She had brought a lunch, too. Ellen took out a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, a banana, two cookies wrapped in a smaller sheet of wax paper along with a thermos containing grape Kool-Aid.

“She always brings her lunch,” said one of my female classmates.

“Yeah, that’s because her family lives in Slab Town,” replied another.

Quickly, I jammed the pancake mess back into the paper sack along with the bread bag.

Holding onto the cup, I looked in the direction of where Mrs. Brown was sitting and motion for permission to get water.

I walked over to the water fountain. I waved at Ellen. Ellen waved back inviting me to stop at her table. Cautiously, I looked back at my table. Good! No one would ever know.

“Here.” Ellen held the two cookies in her hand.

“No, that’s okay, you eat them,” I mumbled.

“I saw what you stuck back in the bag. Take them!” Ellen put the two cookies in my hand.

Blushing, I wanted to say, ‘Oh, lord, thank you.’ Instead, I mumbled, “thanks.”

I sat in my seat and began nibbling on one of the oatmeal cookies.

“Hey, there’s Ellen’s older sister wiping tables,” someone said.

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