Instead, I just concentrated on opening my backpack, pulling out my lunch bag, and slowly opening the aluminum-foil wrapping of my sandwich.
I could tell I was being stared at without even looking up. I knew that people were nudging each other, watching me out of the corners of their eyes.
I thought I was used to those kinds of stares by now, but I guess I wasn’t.
There was one table of girls that I knew were whispering about me because they were talking behind their hands.
Their eyes and whispers kept bouncing over to me. I hate the way I eat. I know how weird it looks.
I had a surgery to fix my cleft palate when I was a baby, and then a second cleft surgery when I was four, but I still have a hole in the roof of my mouth.
And even though I had jaw-alignment surgery a few years ago, I have to chew food in the front of my mouth.
I didn’t even realize how this looked until I was at a birthday party once, and one of the kids told the mom of the birthday boy
he didn’t want to sit next to me because I was too messy with all the food crumbs shooting out of my mouth.
I know the kid wasn’t trying to be mean, but he got in big trouble later, and his mom called my mom that night to apologize.
When I got home from the party, I went to the bathroom mirror and started eating a saltine cracker to see what I looked like when I was chewing.
The kid was right. I eat like a tortoise, if you’ve ever seen a tortoise eating. Like some prehistoric swamp thing.
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