50 cupcakes. 50. 50 Pillsbury Funfetti cake cupcakes. 50 Pillsbury Funfetti cake cupcakes perfectly frosted with vanilla icing and sprinkles on top. I race to store them in the backseat of my car, carefully strapping my precious cargo in with the swift click of a seat belt. 2:18- the need for my being at work in this precise second has never been greater. As I slam my car door shut, ripping open the driver's side door, my body throws itself into the heather grey seat, impatiently starting the car, speeding off down the block just to make the light. A battle for time, my Sentra seems to lift off the ground as I fly the 4 blocks to my school.
"Her birthday comes once a year" I repeat to myself, thinking how in God's mercy my partner ever makes the simple action of baking for every holiday, and still comes in looking as good as the day before and smiling brilliantly. Of course I couldn't let her bake for her own birthday. And yet as I trudge up the steps calling for the security guard to open the door for me as I barely balance 4 metal tins stacked up the 10 marble steps to the chipping and somewhat rusting hunter green double door, insanely, I love it.
I can't see him, but I recognize his voice as he swiftly picks two tins off my stack and carries them into my room for me. He questions as to why my disheveled countenance is now substantially more rattled than usual, he chuckles. "Kid. You think you've got stress now with a couple of cupcakes, I don't think I wanna see you in a few years huffin' and puffin' after your own little ones." A thought that I hadn't contemplated for that day, and now a rude awakening that settles in my stomach and seeps outward to raise my anxiety. I chuckle, because he is right, and stumble in to the office to clock myself in.
I have formed one complete goal- Snack time. All thirty of them had better eat every single last morsel of the cupcakes. I plow through Math, Science and English- mentally aware of the screaming coming from my class alone. I know this will be trouble, and soon. they laugh, smile, grab across the table. I turn to look, and instantaneously, I know the cafeteria packed with 160 somewhat children will soon be devoid of every positive emotion known to man. click click. Her heels violently click against the floor of the room- and my heart races, and my head spins as I know that the brunt of the anger will be taken out on my class, as the inital force has been exerted on the flimsy floor tiles. I stand, red-faced, embarrassed, and feel a failure as my boss rages about the misbehavior of my children- how they lost all control. How I have no control. And faster then one's mind can comprehend, these 32 bodies are now on trial for their crimes.
"Well third grade, I really hope you're happy, because you just lost you're party. Alyssa- They can't have their cupcakes. Throw them out the window for all I care."
...and just like that the mallet dropped and the verdict was called for all to hear.
