I was actually supposed to be looking for a piece of my writing to¬† submit for an internship and I came across all of these old pieces I wrote in response to a class prompt. I realized how much I enjoyed them and thought I would share them on my blog since I’ve been slacking on that. I’m sure it could use some editing, but I don’t feel like doing it.

I walked into my fifth period class which was also the last one of the day, for me anyway. I modeled a gray and navy blue striped shirt that was covered by my navy blue jacket. This is how I remember my days, by outfit. Skinny jeans were not in yet so flare-legged pants were my favorite, especially with my all black Chuck Taylor’s. I had a Little Hug (the drink)in hand that I bought from the school store; the orange kind with the aluminum lid.

Once I settled into my desk and subconsciously placed my feet on the floor-level basket in front of me, I peeled back the tricky lid in preparation to cure the dryness overtaking my mouth. Mindful of the two minutes left until the bell rang, I managed to start chugging down the 8oz drink before my teacher called me out for breaking one of her all mighty classroom rules. In the midst of my rehydration, a voice in the crowd of chatty students emitted a joke beyond hilarious. It seemed impossible not to laugh, like it was a natural reaction or a reflex. The only problem was my mouth instantly forgot about the task at hand.

Within seconds I burst into laughter simultaneously spraying boodles of warm saliva and juice through my teeth. Celia Burke, the girl who sat in front of me, had just fallen victim to an unwanted shower. My stomach dropped as if it no longer desired to be a part of my body. At this point, I automatically began chanting my apologies over and over. Rewind then repeat. I rushed to get wads of paper towels from a tall, brown shelf in the corner of the room and continued my robotic chant. With every breath I inhaled to restart my expression of sorrow, Celia took the chance to tell me it was not a big deal. She was just glad it was only juice and not a heap of vomit. Plus, she had been caught in the rain on the way to class and her shirt was conveniently black. She was already wet and the orange drink would not show up on her shirt. Thank goodness. I was surprised by her reaction, but still immensely embarrassed. I thought these things only happened in movies and on purpose.

My English teacher cooled the situation down by calling the class to order. I cleaned up my mess to the best of my abilities and apologized one last time. I tried to pay attention to the lesson, but did not have much success. I still had the almost empty Little Hugon the floor next to me, making a mockery of my momentary clumsiness; emphasis on momentary. Although by the end of the class I pushed the memory to the back of my mind, I obviously cannot forget the incident. When I think about it, I realized that mistakes are only mistakes if you never learn from them. With that said, I know to be more cautious about when and where I choose to enjoy any beverage.