Brown Bag Lunch

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Math bores me, but he lights up my day. Five, four, three, two, one. The bell rings and I sprint to the doors. I see him instantly. I knew I would, he’s hard to miss. A six foot, 250 pound boy, with skin like coffee beans is a rarity in this town. A smile instantly comes to my face. I’m like a little girl admiring her celebrity crush.
He thought if he visited me at lunch, he would make my day. Little did he know, it made my week, my month, my year…but I didn’t let him know that. Before he had a chance to hand me the brown bag gripped in his hand, I squeezed him tight. “Thanks, baby!” I squeaked out.
We walked to lunch with my modest, ivory hand engulfed in his. Everyone at the table waved us over, just as happy to see him as me. Sometimes I think they love him more than I do. Embraces and grins draw attention to our lunch table. Soon surrounding eavesdroppers want to know who he is.
The lunch supervisor struts over and stares him up and down, not bothering to hide any appearance on her face. Her clenched lip and raised eyebrows make her look like she smelled something rotten. She speed walks to the office to get the assistant principle.
A small man with a grey mustache walks lazily to our table. “Who are you?” He spat out. “No visitors!” I was shocked. Words couldn’t form in my mouth. My friends protested and tried to explain. He escorted my six foot, 250 pound boyfriend, with skin like coffee beans out of the building.
I sat and stared at my lunch, and then I looked around the lunch room. I understand that rules need to be enforced, but I saw other girls. Other girls with smiles and brown bags from their boyfriends. Visitors who were white. Visitors who weren’t allowed in the building, but merely looked over. Visitors who blend into the school.





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rachelsunshine said...
May 23, 2010 at 2:36 pm
AMEN sista!
 
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