Something smushy spurted against the back of Tony’s neck. He slapped at the spot and his hand came away holding a crumpled tomato.
Tomas stood behind him, smirking after his tomatoey ambush. “That kissy book is for girls.”
Tony didn’t close the book on the lunch table in front of him. Instead, he hunched over it defensively. A couple seeds slithered down his spine.
“What the heck, Tomas," the girl sitting next to Tony chimed in. "Don’t pick on people for reading when you can barely recite the alphabet.”
Oralee slid a sharp nail along the orange she held. The peel came away in a long curl, and she tore it off and hurled it at Tomas.
The bright peel flapped through the air like an injured parrot, veering to the side and slapping Tony in the ear. His eyes watered at the sharp citrus smell. Not because of embarrassment.
“Oh my god, Tony, I’m so sorry!” Oralee’s freckled cheeks flushed. “That wasn’t meant for you.”
On the other end of the long table, ever-observant Colin jumped to his feet, shaking a plastic Coke bottle over his head and screaming the words he must have dreamed of his whole life.
“FOOD FIGHT!!!” He unscrewed the lid and let the Coca-Cola fountain out in a foamy flood.
Tony turned away from the spray and stood to leave, but it was too late.
Greta peeled back the lid on her 2% Chobani Greek yogurt and started flinging spoonfuls of the white goop every which way. The gaps between her teeth showed as she laughed.
Meanwhile, Charlie threw the gnawed-on bones of his chicken wings with an overhand pitch honed by years of Little League. The bones stung and left behind smears of barbecue sauce where they struck.
Barry stripped his discarded banana peel into little stringy pieces and flicked them at his attackers. He dangled a wormlike thread over his neighbor’s head. “C’mon, Whitney, you can’t sit this one out too!”
The blonde girl sipped at her carton of grape juice with a pinched expression. Colin reached over, yanked the juice box from her hand, and squirted its contents all over the table. He sniffed, and his eyes widened. “Hey guys, this isn’t juice! It’s white wine!”
All the kids leaned in closer to the center of the table. “Ooo, I want to try it!” Greta squealed, dabbing her finger onto the sticky table.
Tony, forgotten, looked down at his book. The pages of Gone With the Wind were now crusted with Tomas’s tomato, Oralee’s orange, Colin’s Coke, Greta’s yogurt, Charlie’s bones, Barry’s banana, and Whitney’s wine. His brother was going to be so angry.
“Can I help you find anything, sir?” The Walmart employee’s smile stretched too tight over his face.
Tony shook his head, more to clear it than in denial. “No, I was just practicing a… mental exercise.” How long had he been standing here in the books section? He pulled Gone with the Wind off the shelf and slid it into his shopping basket.
Now it was off to the produce section for the rest of the list. Tony could barely suppress a shudder.
Thanks for reading! All words are mine, and the image is from pixabay.com. I'm participating in the creative writing challenge by @steemfluencer, which you can still join before Monday! Read the prompt for the first task, Tony's List, if you want to understand the context. The feeling of shame can help me remember things I'd rather forget, so I figured I'd play on Tony's embarrassment in a cliche scene to help him remember his shopping list.
-Katie, @therovingreader