The lunch bell rang. At 11:32 the wide wooden doors would open, letting out the throngs, the odor, the leaden feet. I stood against the wall, my heels pressed against the cinder block. There were the girls in braces and the boys with large pimples on their noses. There were skinny legs in miniskirts and protruding Adam's apples. I wrinkled my nose at the stench of body spray and scented lip gloss and listened to the crunch of paper bags.
I watched them, but they didn't notice me. They grouped around tables like lions around drinking holes, each one in its right place, identifiable only to them. I could walk among them, invisible in my adult guise. They were filthy, opportunistic scavengers, moving from spot to spot, crowding in on one another, breaking away in search of something better. They didn't realize that someday they would stop looking.