Page 22 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

Somehow, the lunch offering at school didn’t completely suck on Monday. I’d brought my sad paper bag lunch with a sandwich and grapes with the assumption that I would be subjected to mystery meat from circus animals once more. However, when I discovered that grilled chicken, vegetables, and mashed potatoes were being served, I ditched the bag. While the chicken was slightly questionable in texture, it was still light years ahead of the last dozen lunches as far as quality went.

So, lunch was pretty good. Surprisingly, the best part about lunch wasn’t that the food was actually edible. Jules, me, and our friends were finishing up, and a few minutes remained in our lunch period, when Mrs. Hopkins made a loud, hysterical announcement that all of the students needed to stay in the cafeteria in their seats until they told us we could leave.

Obviously, Mrs. Hopkins hadn’t considered the day and time in which we’re all living. Immediately, everyone began to panic, wondering if we were about to experience our first real live shooter moment. After all, we lived in the United States and went to an American high school. When a teacher makes a panicked announcement that everyone should stay put and follow directions, a gunman is the first thing that comes to mind. For a handful of terrifying seconds, panic and scared murmurs rumbled through the cafeteria.

Fortunately, Vice Principal Chambers dashed into the cafeteria seconds after everyone started to panic. She announced that two squirrels somehow got into a math class, and administrators were working on shooing them out through a side door. Once they were gone, the day would resume. Nervous yet relieved laughter rolled through the room, and everyone went back to their lunches. Some students got their phones out to text people about the situation, and some even went live on their socials to talk about the Squirrel Incident.

“They didn’t come in through a window,” Liam murmured evilly to us. “They escaped their cages in the kitchen. There goes tomorrow’s lunch.”

All of us died laughing, and for once, Mrs. Hopkins was too busy to give a crap if our table was being rowdy.

Unfortunately, as fun as the Squirrel Incident was, it was over within ten minutes. We’d barely managed to get an extra five minutes on our lunch break before Mrs. Hopkins and Vice Principal Chambers announced that we should all head to our next class ‘in an orderly fashion.’ We all grumbled and groaned over how efficiently the staff had dealt with the escaped lunch menu ingredients, but went about our normal routines. However, every student trying to dump their trash and return their lunch trays was anything but orderly.

No matter how hard hundreds of students try to be organized, sometimes it’s impossible. When they’re all clustered together in a cafeteria and told to accomplish the same tasks at the same time, there’s no way order can be achieved. It’s been said that people have gone mad asking a group of teenagers to show decorum and efficiency in doing group tasks.

Of course, Jules and I were going to follow our typical protocol of ditching the cafeteria while our friends cleaned up the lunch mess. However, we had barely made our way to the periphery of the room when my eyes happened to land on Davud. He was at the far end of the line leading to the trash cans and his lunch tray was balanced upon his lap. The flood of students trying to get to the trash cans was swallowing him like a tsunami.

“Hey,” I said with a nudge to Jules’ side, “I’ll meet you in English?”

“What bullshit is this?” She frowned. “Do you need to go visit the log ride or what?”

“Gross,” I said. “I’m going to go help Davud.”

Leaving Jules before she could respond, I dashed across the cafeteria and pushed through the crowd at the end of the line to find Davud. Once I laid eyes on him again, he looked utterly lost, yet resigned, to the fact that he was going to have to wait until everyone was done before he could throw away his trash and put his tray up. Not that any teacher would count students as late to their next class—the squirrels had seen to that—but it was going to take Davud forever to get to his class. Not only was he going to have to wait to be the last person out of the cafeteria, he was going to be the last one to his class.

Even on a good day, getting from class to class could be torturous for Davud. The overcrowded hallways of A.M. Whitemane were not disabled-friendly at all. It was hard enough to dodge students rushing down the halls between classes without having to navigate a wheelchair while carrying learning supplies. Davud never complained or even mentioned that no one tried to make adjustments to provide a little equity, but I could always see it in his eyes. Often, he had the look of a guy resigned to being ignored.

“You doing okay?” I asked.

Davud sighed and looked up. When he saw me, his slack expression lifted, and he actually smiled.

“Yeah, man,” he said. “Just trying to get to my class in an orderly fashion.”

I laughed with him.

“Do you want me to put your tray and trash up for you?”

Davud twisted up his mouth in thought. Understandably, Davud wanted to throw away his own trash and put up his own lunch tray. He wanted autonomy and independence—like every other person in the cafeteria. Getting to his next class efficiently without getting trampled was also of paramount importance.

“I don’t mind,” I said. “So you’re not later to class than necessary.”

“Yeah,” Davud said. “That’d be cool.”

Davud passed his tray full of trash to me. Quickly, I accepted the tray and pushed through the crowd to the trashcans. A few other students tried giving me shit for cutting in line, but I ignored their protestations. I dumped the trash from the tray into the cans, then pushed through to the tray drop off bins. Within seconds, I was back at Davud’s side. He had managed to wheel himself backwards and out of the fray, but he had stuck around to make sure I had made it out of the crowd in one piece. It was very considerate of him.

“Thanks,” he said. “It would have taken me forever to get through all of that.”

I followed his lead as he turned his chair away from the crowd and started wheeling himself away.

“No worries,” I said. “Always glad to help if you want it.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Did you watch any movies this weekend?” I asked. “I mean, since you couldn’t be bothered to join Jules and me for horror movie night?”

Davud laughed. “Get over yourself. Not everyone wants to hang out with you, you know?”

“Fair enough.” I chuckled.