Leaving Lunch

Leaving Lunch



I like to leave lunch early. I glance at the teacher and then walk toward the door like it’s what I’m supposed to be doing. If you look like you know what you’re doing people don’t think to question you. I slip out the door, opening it just enough to get through, then, I’m free. I’m in the gym. I love the gym when it’s quiet. There’s no one there. I feel so alone in the universe, not a sad alone, but a calm alone. I am totally independent. I’ve left the loud offending noise of the lunch room behind. My footsteps echo on the wooden floor. I can hear everything. I hear my shoe rubber compress and squeak, as I walk across the waxed wooden floor. My shoes make a unique pattering almost tapping noise on the floor. They tap out a steady rhythm.  It’s comforting, the regularity of it, like the ticking of a clock or the beating of a mothers heart. The world seems so sure, so steady. I move toward the doors at the farthest end of the gym, down a short hall, past the locker rooms, and pause in the dark hall right before the doors that lead into the main hall with all the classes, with noise. The bells going to ring soon, I should go. Then, far behind me, I hear the cafeteria door swing open and slam shut. I turn slowly afraid that there is a teacher coming to yell at me. Is this really against the rules, leaving lunch early? I look across the gym and see two students talking and stomping through my silence.  I can almost see the sound coming off them in waves. Their footsteps, there stomping, is ruining my silence! They could share it, and be quiet, by no, they had to ruin it! I turn around thinking how unfair it is that I have to move to the main hall now. I was in my special little quiet world and they came around and ruined it!



Oh well.



I move into the main hall. It’s not the same as the gym; there is a low hum from students and classes. I am the only one in the hall. I go to my locker happily listening to the patter of my shoes again. I put my lunch box away and then stand outside the English classroom. The second hand moves silently around the clock face.  I wait. I walk around in a circle, just out of sight of the people in the classroom. I don’t want to stand still. Part of me wishes the bell would ring, so I could go through the door; another part of me wishes I could join the conversation they are having beyond the door. “Could it be good to ban a book?” I hear the teacher ask. “Of course it could be good to ban a book, sometimes people aren’t ready to face things that you read in books.” I think preparing my answer, but knowing that no one had asked me, no one knew or cared what I thought at the moment. It’s like they were judging me without saying anything or even knowing I was there. I continue walking in my circle, slightly embarrassed that I had been listening in on their conversation it was like I had caught myself eavesdropping. I look up at the clock, seconds remain of my semi-silent world, until it will be destroyed by people, not on purpose but just because they feel the need to make noise, make their presence known. The bell rings. I am happy, but sad. Doors open. Silence is shattered.