Break time

As I walked to school with my six siblings, a woman carrying a plastic bucket filled with her wares approached us and asked if we wanted to buy her delicious snacks. My siblings and I were immediately intrigued.

It had no name, and it was pretty cheap.

So, we bought it—two wraps each—and took it to school.

All day, I boasted in class that I had brought a treat no one in the entire school had ever seen. The anticipation built as I waited for the bell to ring for break time. It felt like the bell took longer than usual, but when it finally came, I was filled with excitement.

A small crowd gathered around my desk as I hurriedly reached into my bag to reveal the mysterious snacks we had bought. Without hesitation, I took a bite—I had to know what it tasted like.

It was awful. And, frankly, nothing like a treat. I glanced around and caught the pure look of horror on a few faces.

“Why are you eating pap?” my seatmate, Dominion, asked, breaking the silence.

I was the talk of the school for months after that.