Lunch

I was suddenly inspired to add another Pam short because of reasons. I think this will take place when Pam is ten and in fifth grade.

~*~

On a survey issued by the grade's student council regarding lunchtime, 72% brought from home, 27% bought cafeteria lunch, and 1% never had any lunch. Pam was the lone 1%, since her grade had exactly 100 students. She once counted everyone in her head, including appearance and names (she prided herself in her memory, and played games on Lumosity every day to keep it that way) and was pleased when the survey included the same number she had in her mind. When she checked off the "no lunch" box on that seemingly harmless piece of paper, she thought the survey wouldn't be published with names on it. Nobody could've been that heartless, right? Nope. Pamela Harper was printed neatly in Comic Sans on the survey under the title "poor kid who can't eat lunch everyday", which was in bold font and filled half the page, with the question, "What is her financial situation?" Pam had never been so embarrassed in her whole entire life. And when that horrible band of bullies dumped food in front of her like she was a homeless person, she felt like crying. No, Pam, she thought, you are a strong girl. Suck those tears back in those tear ducts. See? At least they put it on a tray so you can just throw it away. The bullies stayed and taunted her for a while, daring her to eat it, or else they would cut off Alex's hair. What they didn't know was that Alex was sick that day and had already cut his hair years ago, or more specifically, he had gotten a buzz cut and looked a lot more like a boy. Unless they were time travelers who owned a machine that could transport them to anywhere at any time, their threats were meaningless. "Come on, eat it, you orphan," they whined. Who did they think they were, telling her what to do? Cool people? Naw. If they were cool, their farts wouldn't sound like a mix of weed trimmers and moos from elderly cows. And plus, Pam only took orders from people who deserved respect.

After an excrutiating half hour of taunts, ugly sneers, and disgusting farts, Pam got up to throw her trash away. She didn't notice the leader of the bullies, Gabe Sankey, who was the size of a seventh grader, giving her the stink eye, nor did she expect him to drag her to an empty hall after the bell rang.

"Why'd you throw the food away?" he asked through clenched teeth. Pam raised her eyebrows. A typical bully wouldn't ask this sort of thing.

"Well, I'm not typical, now am I?" Oops. She hadn't meant to say that aloud.

"Oh really?" Or that. Gabe looked at her in the eye and asked in monotone, "Do you think you're special?" Pam gulped.

"Do you think you're so special, you have the right to call me typical?" Pam opened her mouth to give a witty response, but no words came out. Her tongue refused to move.

"I could've given that food to someone else, you know. Someone less fortunate than you are now. I could've given it to, I don't know, a shelter or a soup kitchen." Pam furrowed her brows. This bully was pretty smart for a bully.

Gabe's eyes burned and bore into hers. "You think you're so smart. You think everything should go your way. You think you're special or something? You think you're pretty? I could punch your pretty little face until it's green and purple and blue all over. Think you'll be pretty then? Huh? Huh? Do you?"

"I... I-I never th-thought I was special."

"Then why didn't you eat the food we gave you?"

"I-it was en-enemy food."

"Food is food. There is no such thing as bad food. Got it?"

"Y-yeah."

"Good." He started stalking off to the exit, and before he touched the handle, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Hurry up and go home, loser. You can't just walk into class without an excuse." Pam walked over to him cautiously, and eyed him as he opened the door for her.

"I'm not gonna bite. I'm not a stupid cannibal."

Unfortunately, Gabe knew where her aunt's house was because he lived down the street, so he walked her back. It was terrifying, walking beside someone who could potentially punch you into pulp.

At home, Pam immediately locked the door, bolted down the apartment's longest hallway, down a second hallway, and barely managed to avoid the cement Beethoven bust standing precariously over the edge of her aunt's arts and crafts cabinet. She sat in the center of a tile and started flipping through the origami paper collection of her aunt, Agnes Alonc, also known as "the triple A". Deciding on a blood red one with a black floral design, she wrote down everything she remembered from the encounter with Gabe in a fine tip sharpie, and made a rose.

The following day, Pam made up an excuse for leaving without notice, which the teacher miraculously believed. Gabe offered her a muffin, which she declined, because she thought it was strange how he seemed so generous while doing so. Alex still had a cold and claimed to be "warming my way up the social ladder" with his fever, so she was alone for the day. She wasn't lonely, but independent instead, and she decided that one day, she would travel to a city that glowed late at night, and work part-time in a soup kitchen.

~*~

Gabe is inspired by someone I know, who seems to have a split personality. Future me, if you don't recognize this person, shame on you. Shaaaaame. And this person, if you're reading this, I took some quotes from you. Not sorry.

Muffinnsss:

They look so delicious (T^T)

#PamelaHarper