I didn't like my 6th grade class very much. That's not the secret...it's coming. I was the new kid (again) at this school and I know the teacher liked me but I couldn't really tell if the kids in my class did. These kids had known each other since kindergarten and had pretty tight knit groups. I mostly hung out in the library at recess and sat alone during lunch in the first month or so of the school year. I ended up being friends with a lot of the kids there, I just needed to say hello. That first month was so long though and I dreaded going to school.
On a night that we had a substantial amount of leftovers...I think it was spaghetti, the plan was formed. I got up about 20 minutes before my mother did and crept to the kitchen. I retrieved a small bowl and a spoon and served up some cold spaghetti. I mixed in some milk and torn bologna pieces to make the concoction look especially chunky. Once I was pleased with the results, I went to the bathroom and slammed the door (to wake my mother up). I made loud groaning sounds, I think I even said, "Ow, my stomach," and proceeded to make puking sounds as a gently poured a cup of water and the remnants of last night's dinner into the toilet. It was perfect, if anyone was listening (like I hoped my mother was) I would be staying home, watching Nickelodeon in my jammies and munching on snacks. The thoughts were racing....I'd have to spread it out across the school year to avoid doctor's visits and suspicions from my mother. It couldn't be spaghetti every time....maybe once a quarter....ooh...maybe on a test day...my eleven year old mind was officially blown.
I moaned and groaned. I turned on the faucet and flushed my mouth out with water and put on my most convincing sick face to alert my mother to the sickness that would keep me home from school that day. I didn't flush the "puke" in case my mother wanted to see the evidence.
I walk out of the bathroom.
I walk down the hallway to my mother's room. (Dang, she didn't get up, she must have heard though because I was "puking" my guts out).
I knock on her door, without waiting for her to say come in, I do.
"I'm sick," I say.
"What's the matter?" Mom says. (She must have been sleeping like a freaking rock!! She didn't hear a thing!).
"I just threw up," I say in my most pathetic sounding voice.
"There's Pepto in the bathroom, take that. Get ready for school," my mother says without a blink of her eye.