The Donut Debacle


Rebecca Megginson, Editor

Aimee scanned her well-lit history classroom while gazing into the souls of 18 somber 13 year-olds. “I’m gonna leave for a minute, and I trust that you all will behave because you are in eighth grade. Don’t make me regret my choice,” In that moment, I sincerely did not want Aimee to  regret her choice. But sometimes circumstances change. As she disappeared from view, an urge ran through me to get up from my uncomfortable blue desk. The dull number 2 pencil balanced above my lip seemed like a good enough excuse. While walking to the pencil sharpener mounted above the plastic grey trash can, I felt eyes begin to follow me. I wasn’t shocked at the passive attention paid to me, being the only moving object in the classroom. But it made me think to myself. You can’t just sharpen your pencil and sit back down. They’re watching now. Do something.  

 To my delight, a beautiful pink, orange and white box stared at me from the top of the plastic trash can. America Runs on Dunkin was printed brightly on the side. A shock of glee shot through me. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had eaten a donut; this was fate. With only clean paper scraps surrounding it, I decided to test my luck, knowing the box was probably empty. While lifting the pristine pastry container from the hip height bin, a crescendo of whispers and yells of disgust filled the classroom. This only encouraged me, and soon the lid was lifted to reveal two beautiful plain, glazed donuts. They were golden and uniformly round in the way only chain store donuts could be, and their glaze left a sheen that reflected the fluorescent lights above. A waft of soft, sweet sugary scent filled my nostrils as I began to salivate.  Shrill, pleading voices surrounded me. I slowly picked up a donut, milking the moment while splitting it gingerly in half. More screams erupted as I popped it into my mouth and somehow chewed while grinning at my class. Their exclamations of disgust only fueled my hunger. Once finished, I sat down at my desk with a smug look of satisfaction. 

Aimee sauntered back in the room to the immediate sound of my classmates vivid retellings of what had occurred. Gabe Otridge was the first to get something out. “Rebecca ate a donut out of the trash can,” he blurted. I just smiled as Aimee shook her head and resumed her lecture.The story spread quickly throughout my small 8th grade class. People would walk up to and ask if it was true, if I really ate a donut out of the trash can. “Yes” I’d always answer, defending my choice with blind bravado whenever they gave me a look. I guess I did it because I wanted a donut, and maybe, just maybe, some attention. But I would have eaten it if no one was in the room.