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The bell rings. I take my backpack and step out of class, into the pouring sunshine and rushing wind. The weather in California is wierd. I sling my backpack around one shoulder and hurry to the vending machines. I'm thankful for all the noise outside, covering the sound of my grumbling stomach. People around me laugh loudly, gossip uncontrollably, and others stomp off from one class to the next.
My trip to the vending machines is like an obstacle course. I dodge this speedy nerd and step around that burly football player. I come to the other side of campus, nothing on my mind except my hungry stomach.
Lunch is not for another 3 periods. I skipped breakfast this morning because I woke up late and had to hurry to school. I get there before any lines start forming. I haven't been to the vending machines very much, so I'm not familiar with what's for sale. I finally decide on a bag of baked chips, sour cream and onion flavored. In the plexi-glass reflection, I see a few people get behind me and wait. I punch in B4. The metal ring spins slowly, as if reluctant to let the bag of chips fall.
Sure enough, as my luck would have it, the bag leans against the glass and gets stuck. I stand dumbfounded. I don't know what to do. Someone to my left says I should bang or kick the glass. But I don't want to look like an idiot. I check my pockets, hoping to find some extra change so I can buy another bag from the same spot. Someone bangs their fist against the glass as I search for money. The bag doesn't move and I have no more coins.
"Here let me try." A guy from behind me steps forward. The first thing I notice is his height; he's just about a head taller than me. He puts in a dollar.
"No you don't have to..." I start to say, when he turns to me with a friendly smile.
"It's okay, I was going to get the same thing anyways." He punches in B4. My bag drops to the bottom, but his stays stuck. He sighs with a laugh. "Just my luck." I can't help but smile at the situation.
"Thanks, but now I wish I could help you." I say as I get my bag out. He's probably 2 grades ahead of me, a junior. His hair is sandy colored, his eyes a deep golden hazel-almost brown. I've seen eyes like that before. My cat had the same color.
The same person, I suspect, who pounded the vending machine before, takes a hit at it again. His bag falls down, to both of our relief. I'm vaguely aware that I have 2 minutes to get to class, all the way back across campus.
"What do you know?" he says, reaching down for the chips. "I guess punching the machine really works sometimes." he says to me.
I don't know what else to say, so I smile back and thank him again for the help. He says something like "no problem", but it slips my mind as I begin walking away.
Ms. Lidi will not like me being late. It will be my first tardy this year. I notice the sandy-haired boy walk towards the gym as I briskly jog to class.