“ding”

I sling the strap of my backpack over my shoulder,

and begin by long journey from Chemistry to Math.

Is there anything due today in math?

My feet tap the floor hastily,

there is no time to waste.

I don’t think so,

we turned in our worksheet yesterday.

My mind has perfectly calculated where each step should be,

to correctly ualize the 5 minute passing period.

I better cut through the band hall,

to avoid the mob gathered outside the gym.

I’m ¾ the way there where and I hear Mr. Maxwell’s voice over the intercom,

“Students, you have 1 minute until class begins.”

Oh shoot,

I better hurry.

The tapping of my feet turns into a low drumming.

What’s that lying on the ground?

My eyes once focused on the clock,

catch the glimpse of a open cheeto bag sitting on the tile floor.

Why would someone just leave their garbage there?

I am 20 feet away from the bag,

with about 35 people in between.

I should pick it up!

The drumming on my feet turns back to tapping.

It looks kind of gross though,

someone else will pick it up.

I look around,

hoping to see someone else heading over to the bag.

There aren’t any trash cans around,

and I don’t have time to try to find one.

There are 30 seconds left of passing period,

my eyes hopefully stair at the 5 people between me and the bag.

Should I pick it up?

My body is one step away now.

my heart pounding like a jackhammer.

Just reach down!!!

my heart shouts.

My arm is numb and motionless.

My whole body stops for a second, just to continue walking.

My palm empty.  

No! I should have picked it up!

What am I doing?

A locker slams shut,

screaming at my mistake.

What did I do?!

My feet pound on the tile floor,

running away from my crime.

I could turn around!

No it would look awkward,

It’s not a big deal. Right?

One more step away,

And I can feel the disapproving eyes of everyone in the hallway.

I am an awful person.

What am I doing with my life?

How will I ever make a difference if I don’t have the courage to pick up a piece of garbage?

“Ding”

My feet come to a halt and turn,

entering the door of my math classroom.

I should have gone back.

It was so simple but I had to mess it up.

My body makes its way to the nearest chair.

Why do I mess everything up?

…

“Ding”

I sling the strap of my backpack over my shoulder,

Ready to go home.

I’m so not ready for the test tomorrow.

My feet walk the familiar path,

back to the band hall doors.

Wait.

My feet stop,

And my eyes glace down at the tile floor.

I almost forgot.

My arm swings down,

And I continue walking.

That’s better.

My palm rubs against the slick plastic of a orange and red Cheeto bag.