The Lunch Club

By Regina Higgins

It was a great idea in the beginning. In fact, it was my idea, even though Ralph went around telling everybody it was his. But Ralph just thought up what to call it—the Lunch Club. I thought of the real idea and how we could do it.

And, like I said, it was a great idea. I mean, who wouldn’t want a different lunch every day?

All of us at the lunch table said, “Deal.” Ralph and Theo and Carlos and Rick and Bobby and me, we all agreed to bring our bag lunches from home, put them down on the lunch table, and then close our eyes and pick up someone else’s. So Theo would eat the lunch that Rick brought, and Carlos would eat the lunch Bobby brought, and I would eat the lunch that Ralph brought, and so on like that. You get the picture.

And it worked really well the first week. I had chicken salad on Monday, deviled ham on Tuesday, really cool tahini stuff on Wednesday, tuna salad on Thursday, and pimento and cheese on Friday. It was fun trying new stuff to eat.

The only problem was each of my friends ate the same sandwich all the time. So if I got Ralph’s sandwich, it was always deviled ham, and Bobby’s was always tuna salad. And Carlos’s cool tahini stuff was not so cool after you had it three or four times. I was the only one who brought a different lunch every day. And it was always a good one, because my Dad’s a great cook and an awesome sandwich maker. So everyone always hoped to get my lunch, and I never got to have it.

You see, when Dad makes chicken salad, it isn’t just some goopy mess thrown on white bread. Dad’s chicken salad has just the right amount of tangy mayonnaise, and a few grapes, too. On sourdough, maybe. That’s the way Dad likes to make it. And that’s the way I like to eat it.

After the second week, I really missed Dad’s sandwiches. And I really got sick of seeing a friend eating my sandwich and saying, “I usually hate meatloaf, but this is awesome!”

I knew I had to do something. But what could I do? The whole thing had been my idea (not Ralph’s) in the first place.

The dumb Lunch Club. What was I thinking?

Then one night we had Dad’s great Jamaican pulled pork and corn bread for dinner. We all had seconds, and Pop and I had thirds, but there was still a little left.

“I think I’ll have enough to make you a sandwich tomorrow, Alex.”

“Lucky you, buddy,” Pop said. “Oh, but don’t you have that switching thing going on?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. Jamaican Pulled Pork. Yet another reason to get out of this stupid Lunch Club.

“How’s that going?” Dad asked. “I think it’s great that you’re being adventurous about eating. Are you enjoying everyone’s lunches?”

“Not as much as they’re enjoying his, I’ll bet,” Pop laughed.

“My lunches are pretty popular,” I admitted.

“Price of excellence, buddy.” Pop told me. “Nobody will fight you for the so-so stuff.”

That’s when I got the idea.

I didn’t do anything right away. I waited until I was loading the dishwasher. Then I said to Dad, “Oh, you know, I just remembered. I won’t be taking a sandwich tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

“It’s Ms. McDermott’s birthday, and she’s treating us all to pizza.” I looked away when I said it. I’m a lousy liar.

“But I thought Ms. McDermott didn’t like pizza.”

See what I mean about lying? I’d forgotten that.

“Well, she’s bringing it anyway. She says it’s because…” I reached way back in the dishwasher and moved some dishes around. I was stalling, trying to think.

But Dad jumped right in. “Because she knows her class will like it. What a generous thing to do. And on her birthday, too.”

Whew.

That night when I went to bed, I set my alarm a half hour earlier than usual. I also put it on the lowest possible volume. I wanted to get up really early, but for my plan to work, Pop and Dad (especially Dad) had to be sound asleep.

Before I shut my eyes, I made a promise to myself: “Tomorrow’s the last day of the Lunch Club.”

The next morning, I got up and very, very quietly went down the stairs. No one else was awake yet. I hoped it would stay that way, at least for the time I needed to put together the Lunch Club Destroyer—the sandwich that would gross out everyone so much that they’d never touch a sandwich I brought again.

I started with the pumpernickel bread Dad had baked last weekend. Nothing gross about that. But I had some plans.

First I pulled back the ring on a can of sardines. There they were—lying there all oily and fishy. I dumped them on the pumpernickel.

Then I got out a jar of chopped garlic and slopped some on the sardines. Looking pretty yucky already!

Now what? How about some pickles? I balanced them on the sardines and the garlic and then put on the top slice of pumpernickel. That should do it.

I wrapped the sandwich double in Dad’s special waxed paper, to keep in the sogginess and the yucky smell. I put it in a paper bag, and hid it in my backpack, hanging on the rack by the door. The sardine can went in the garbage, with some paper towels on top. Done. And a close thing, too, because just then Dad came down the stairs.

When I got to school, Ralph was sitting on my desk.

“Hey, Alex,” he said. “Whatcha got for lunch?”

“Hmmm.” I made a big deal of looking in my backpack. “It’s a surprise, Ralph. You’ll see.”

“Is it roasted peppers?” He was practically drooling. “I hope I get it!”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “I hope you do, too, Ralph.”

All morning long, all I could think about was the Lunch Club Destroyer in my backpack. I started calling it the LCD. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. When Ms. McDermott told everyone to open their science book, I took out my social studies book. When Ms. McDermott told everyone to stand and stretch, I forgot to stand up. About eleven fifty-nine, just one minute before lunch, Ms. McDermott asked me what the capital of France was. I said Chicago. The whole class laughed.

“Alex!”

Wow, she was mad.

“Alex, you’ve been dreaming and being downright silly all morning. Maybe sitting at lunch all by yourself will wake you up and get you back on track.”

Oh, no! Not solitary lunch! What about the LCD?

I stood up. “Please, Ms. McDermott, I totally apologize for this morning. Really. I’m going to try my best to concentrate. Just please don’t make me go to lunch alone.”

“Well… ”

The lunch bell rang.

“Well, go then, Alex, but I’ll be watching you this afternoon!”

“Thank you, Ms. McDermott!” I ran to grab my backpack, and tore off down the hall to the cafeteria. Ralph was right behind me.

All the guys were already at the table when we got there. Ralph plunked his lunch bag down (deviled ham, big surprise), and I pulled the LCD out of my backpack. I’d done a good job of wrapping it: no dripping, and you couldn’t smell a thing. I put it on the table with the others.

“Okay, guys,” said Ralph. “Close your eyes and grab a lunch!”

All right, I cheated and didn’t close my eyes. But neither did Ralph. He went straight for my lunch. LCD delivered.

We all sat down and opened the bags. There was the usual talking and complaining and comparing lunches among the guys, but I was concentrating on Ralph. He was tearing the bag apart like he hadn’t eaten since last year.

Then he found the double waxed paper. “What’s this? More wrapping? Is this your lunch, Alex?” Like he didn’t know.

“Yeah, Ralph. Hope you enjoy it.” I tried to open the deviled ham very casually.

“Oh, gross!”

He’d unwrapped the LCD. And it looked and smelled even worse than when I’d made it that morning. Ralph pushed it away.

“I’m not eating that! It’s gross! Look at it!”

Everyone could smell the garlic. Some pickles had fallen out on the waxed paper. But the best part was the fish heads sticking out one end. I hadn’t planned that at all, but it was great!

The whole table was laughing, except for Ralph.

“It’s disgusting! Alex, what is this?”

I tried to keep a straight face. “It’s my lunch, Ralph. Well, no,” I corrected myself super politely. “It’s your lunch, Ralph.”

“I’m not eating it! Take it back!” Ralph was pushing the sandwich towards me.

“Okay. But if you don’t eat this sandwich, that means the Lunch Club is over.” I was real calm on the outside, but I was cheering like mad on the inside.

“Okay! Okay!” Ralph was desperate. “Just give me my own sandwich back!”

I looked at Ralph very seriously. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! No more Lunch Club!”

Slowly, I pushed Ralph’s deviled ham sandwich across the table. He grabbed it.

Ralph devoured his lunch like a crazy man. Then I realized that the rest of the guys were watching me.

“Hey, Alex,” Rick grinned. “How about your lunch?”

The rest of the guys were laughing. “Yeah, Alex. Eat it up. Yum-yum!”

I hadn’t thought of this. I looked down at the LCD, with the sardine heads hanging out and the pickles scattered around and the garlic smelling like, well, garlic.

Dad always said we should be adventurous about eating. So I picked up my sandwich, closed my eyes, and took a bite.

And you know what? It wasn’t half bad. I think I overdid the garlic, but next time … hmmm, maybe some roasted peppers…