Standing Alone In The Crowded Cafeteria

Eric stood upright against the tiled wall of Westbridge Academy, letting the stampede of giants rush past him. Being ten years old in a combined middle and high school felt like being a mouse in a rhinoceros enclosure. He adjusted the straps of his heavy adventure backpack, making sure it sat evenly over his faded blue hoodie. He breathed in, slow and measured. Don't rush, he told himself, running a hand through his short, tousled chestnut hair. Just observe. He liked to think things through before acting, a habit that usually kept him out of trouble. The cafeteria doors loomed ahead like the gates of a fortress. He pushed through them, and the wall of sound physically pushed him back. Shouting, laughing, the deafening clatter of plastic on metal. He got in line, keeping his head down, and grabbed a slice of pizza and an apple. Then, he turned around to face the gauntlet. Eric clutches his lunch tray tightly as he surveys the sea of older students looking for one empty seat. The tables stretched on for miles. High schoolers with varsity jackets and booming voices dominated every surface. There wasn't a single empty table in sight. His chest tightened, a cold knot forming in his stomach. The safety of his quiet suburban neighborhood, where he knew every sidewalk and tree, felt a million miles away. He shifted his weight in his well-worn sneakers, the cafeteria noise roaring in his ears like an ocean storm. Everything he knew about lunch time was completely gone.