When we were little, we would grab a pencil, marker, or crayon and draw on whatever we wanted to. We would draw our mommies, daddies, and grandparents, yet no matter what we drew, or what it was supposed to be, it always ended up being a bunch of squiggly lines. However, when we would show it to our mom, her face would make an “O” and her eyes would become really big as she would say, “Wow! This is great sweetie, this really looks like…” This would cause us to beam and interrupt, “It’s you mommy!” The response would follow something along the lines of, “I knew that, you just didn’t give me a chance to say it.” She would then take it and put it with the pile of drawings that were all drawn by you, and looked the same, with the exception of different colors, on what was once her refrigerator. Scribble scrabble occurs when we have a picture in our minds but are not yet able to truly capture it into a physicality.
“You know, your brother really likes those milk cartons from school, do you think you could bring one home?” my mom asked as she sipped her coffee. I scribbled on my drawing, it was becoming uglier by the minute.
“Those thingys we get at lunch? Okay,” I replies, not looking up from my drawing. I loved the milk from school, for some reason having milk in a smaller container tasted better than regular milk.
At school, we didn’t have the nicest lunch ladies, which never made sense to me. If you don’t like kids, why would you work at a school, an elementary school to be specific. I walked up to the lady behind the counter, tiptoeing, so that I would appear taller and stuck out my chest. Just in case she wants to start a fight. At that time, I thought “muscles” was just a fancy word for bones, so I had a lot of muscles.
“Um, its it okay. . .milk carton,” I mumbles in a voice so lows that I didn’t even hear. The lunch lady found this amusing and grinned, she was missing her top and bottom front teeth. I was jealous, I didn’t lose any teeth yet. I wonder how much money she will get from the tooth fairy. Wait, mommy told me that when you ares growed up and you lose your teef, they don’t comes back.
“Um, please, can I have milk?” I asked louder, but before she could make a move I added, “Cause, uh, I spilleded mine and I am thirsty.”
“Of course sweetie,” she snarled as her stubby fingers reached over for the milk carton. She grinned as she handed it to me, and I smiled when I took it, but only for a second. She might get mad cause I haffs my teef and she don’t.
After lunch, I put my milk carton in my desk so that I would not forget to bring it home. I forgot it anyway, and the I forgot it the next day, and the day after that, and a couple more days. One day I walked in the classroom and it smelled horrendous, I wanted to vomit. The milk! I forgots to take it home! But where is that smell coming from?
“Okay class. . .” my teacher began, she started to take in the odor, “Wh-What is that smell? Everyone sit down. I’m gonna. . .” She inhaled more of the toxic and her nose crunched up, showing all the wrinkles on her face. We sat down, not paying attention to what she was going to say and checked out desks for the source of the smell.
I walked to my seat. It smells badder here. I looked in my desk. The milk! It’s the milk! Everyone will laugh at me. I could put in in Tiffany’s desk. . .no, she’s my best friend. I could put it in Tim’s desk, he is a meanie, and no one likes him anyway. . .
“Andriana!” I looked up with a guilty expression painted on my face, it was Tiffany, she must have been calling me while I was attempting to remove the evidence, “Huh?” My face turned back into innocence, a skill that was not hard at that age.
“Andriana, doesn’t it smell badder here than in front?” Tiffany asked. Tiffany is smart, she knows it’s coming from me.
“Um, no it don’t,” I blatantly lied.
“Yeah it doos, it must be Tim. . .” No one likes Tim.
“Uh yeah.” Yay, I am saveded.
“Andriana, let me see your desk,” and with those words Tiffany stuck her head in my desk. Her face came back up, her nose crinkled, something traveled up her throat, but she closed her mouth tight so it would not be allowed to escape.
She put her hand up. Oh, no! I will not get in trouble. I pulled her hand down, only so she could put her other one up, which I pulled down as well.
“Mrs. Greenblack!” Her real name is Mrs. Greenblatt.
“Tiffany, you cannot tell!” I covered her mouth and she pulled my hair, but I refused to let go. Tim sat there, his eyes were popping out of his head, and his jaw dropped to the fact that two best friends were fighting. He raised his had, but I was unable to apprehend him because I was holding down fort Tiffany. No, I wish his eyes poppeded out of his head and he is stupid, that is why no one likes him.
“Mrs. Greenblatt!” he called out. I want to shove those words back in his mouth. He must have known that I was thinking badly about him because he also said, “Andriana’s desk smells!”
“No it doesn’t!” I jumped.
Instead of listening to me, Mrs. Greenblatt came and checked my desk. Her face came back up wearing the same expression that Tiffany’s had moments ago.
“Andriana, is this milk?” She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. The smell was so bad that you could actually taste it, and it did not taste like the lovely milk from the carton, it tasted as rotten as I felt. Everyone laughed, my cheeks burned, I thought my skin was going to melt. I felt something hard and thorny in my throat. I couldn’t take it, tears tolled down my cheeks, but instead of cooling them down, they became hotter.
She pulled out the milk in one hand and pushed the hand with the milk in front of her as she turned her head away. This made the laughter worse. I hate them. I wanna put stinky milk in all of their desks, on their hair, on their faces, that way they will smell like that forever. Then I would laugh at them and drink my nice, not stinky milk.
Mrs. Greenblatt came back and calmed the class down, then she turned to me and said, “Don’t worry Andriana, things like this happen all the time, it just surprises me that you didn’t notice the smell.” She smiled. The class laughed. I’m gonna wipe that smile off of her ugly old face, put worms in her stupid apples, I’m gonna make noise at nap time. I ‘m gonna put an apple in her desk and then after a few days I wills how the class that the smell was coming from her desk. Then I am gonna say, “Don’t worry Mrs. Greenblack, things like this happen all the time, it just surprises me that you didn’t notice the smell.” I’m gonna say her name wrong on purpose, anything to make her cry.
Tim turned to me, ‘Don’t listen to them, they’re just stupid.” My eyes widened. Tim said stupid, a bad word. I raised my hand, “Mrs. Greenblatt!”
Tim’s eyes were literally popping out of his head this time with a “how-could-you” look printed on his face. Mrs. Greenblatt pointed to me, her way of calling on us. I dashed up to her and whispered in her ear. She nodded and I ran out the room. I’m not gonna tell on him. I am gonna go to the bafroom and wash my face, anyways, no one likes Tim.