Chapter Three - Lunch Table Trouble

CHAPTER THREE

Lunch Table Trouble

LUNCHTIME AT PUDDLE Creek Elementary was a big deal.
Pizza squares.
Apple slices.
Chocolate milk in cold little cartons.
The usual symphony of slurps and scoots.

Today’s special?
Bluster Trouble Stew.

Bluster bounced into the cafeteria like a bowling ball with legs.
His tray clattered.
His backpack swung.
His voice boomed.

“WHATCHA EATIN’? SMELLS LIKE CAT FOOD!”
He laughed. A few kids giggled.
Most didn’t.

He spun, looking for a spot.
Saw an empty seat.
Made a beeline.
But there was a tray already there.

CRASH.
Apple slices flew.
Milk somersaulted.
Pizza did a backflip and landed cheese-side down.

The whole room paused.
Even the lunch ladies.

Bluster blinked.
“Oh,” he said. “Oops.”

The girl whose tray he knocked over looked up.
She didn’t say anything.
She just started cleaning her lunch off the floor.
Slow. Quiet. Sad.

Bluster stood frozen.
His tray still untouched.
A spoon slid off and clinked against the tile.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said.
But it was quiet.
So quiet it barely counted.

Whispers started bubbling.
“Bluster did it again.”
“Mean, mean, meanie…”

Pebble sat two tables away.
Mouth full of applesauce.
Eyes full of thoughts.

Accidents happen.
But when the same kid always has them, what do you call that?

That’s the question everyone asked.
But nobody answered.

And Bluster?
He didn’t laugh this time.
He just picked at his pizza,
And didn’t eat a single bite.