Narrative

The cafeteria was filled with screaming six-year-olds and cafeteria workers screaming at the screaming children. Amongst the pre-pubescent children, I was one of them and was famished. Even from a young age, I have had a voracious appetite that only a myriad of food could fulfill. Most children who would bought lunch on a daily basis, used a blue card that acted as a debit card for only a lunch meal. These meals would consist of a portion of a lunch that couldn’t even have made a starved rat content. As I look back at my first grade year, I realize how irritating I was when lunch time came around. My mother had refused to give me an extra dollar a day to buy snacks because she viewed it as unhealthy. Halfway through my first grade year, I would attempt to bargain my way through more lunch from other students and scavenge change from others who bought food with actual physical money.        At a certain point, however, I had become angry with how little food is given to the students, and actually stole a snack from the cash register area. In my mind, I did not think of my actions as stealing, but as taking food because I was hungry. During these moments of theft, however, adrenaline pumped in my veins which made the thrill of taking these Doritos or Cheetos snacks much more fun. The cashier station was set up as two cash registers side by side and a snack cart ahead and in between both registers. I would buy lunch from the far right cash register worker, and then I would walk past the snack cart and grab a snack before walking past the other cashier, making it appear as though I had bought a snack from the previous register. Eventually, stealing snacks had become a daily event and eating these unhealthy snacks had become part of my diet as well. I had become the “Red” of my cafeteria jail, the sort of person who can get anything with a little sleight of hand. I felt as though my wealth should be shared and everyone who sat at my table was guaranteed a chip for a price. I was also not foolish with what had seemed to be a gift from heaven. I would not steal more than two bags of chips a day, and only three times a week on a normal school week. But as all good things, my daily dose of high sugar snacks came to an end. My stomach growled worse than a maltreated guard dog’s snarl. My mind was opaque with thoughts of hunger and starvation. The key aspect of my ingenious plan, however, was gone. The cashier on the right was absent, but I couldn’t have cared less. I thought that I could complete anything and that the absence of the cashier was only a minor detail in my hungry mind. I had bought lunch from the cashier on the left, and assumed that she no longer acknowledged who I was or where I was going. Because of this, I went backwards to the snack cart to steal a snack. My rushing blood and sweaty palms helped determine the tragedy of my first grade plans. As I walked past the cashier a second time with more food on my plate then we last encountered, she stopped me and took away the snack. I didn’t feel too guilty, until the vice principal found out and brought me out of my class the next day. To this day I still do not remember what had happened during that talk. I can only presume that he was disappointed in me, which must have confused me because I doubted he even knew my first name before that day, and told me that he was going to call home. Later that night, my parents had brought me into their room to give me a stern talk and teach me a lesson, but have failed at doing so since I can’t even be sure if they gave that talk the same day as my secret plan was discovered. Furthermore, I had recently asked my mom about the talk she gave me and she doesn’t even remember about it either. As aforementioned, guilt was not felt and even when confronted by the head of the school, I only felt a sort of pseudo-remorse. In fact, the only remorse I can feel from that particular day is how naive I was thinking that the cashier would not notice. I rue that day than most mistakes I have made in my life since then.