Jason's Need

Jason stamped the snow off his sneakers and swiped as much of it off the bottom of his pants as he could. He stuck out his bottom lip and blew at the blonde curls that fell across his eyes as he bent to stuff his ‘mittens' into the pockets of the coat he wore. Since he didn't actually own any mittens, thread bare socks were all he could think of using to keep his hands warm in below freezing weather. He never put them on in front of other people. He waited until he was a good distance from the school, checked that no one was looking, slipped them on quickly and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

His coat wasn't much better. It had once been a pretty mint green - when his older sister, Lisa, used to wear it. Too many washings and wearings had made the green fade to a barely discernable color. It was a hand-me-down for her too. Some neighbor took pity on her when Lisa wore a spring coat on a winter day when Lisa was Jason's age. There was just enough color left in it to define it as a girl's coat and it was cinched at the waist in a decidedly feminine way. He hung the ugly thing on the only available hook. All the rest were filled with warm looking coats, backpacks, and every warm accessory imaginable: scarves, hats, mitts, gloves, snow pants, and even neck warmers. Whenever Jason saw someone put on a neck warmer, he laughed openly. Why not wear them on your elbows or knees, he thought? A special little tube made to cover a part of the body that a coat could easily deal with struck him as funny every time he imagined it. He pictured those same kids with nose and chin warmers.

It felt good to have a little laugh at their expense. It gave him a boost of courage to face them with more dignity than he actually felt. They'd be laughing at him but he had a joke about them too. He glanced at the classroom door that stood slightly ajar. That was good. He'd be able to push it open enough to walk through without making too much noise and drawing unnecessary attention to himself. From inside the classroom, he could hear Mrs. Conner giving her students a lesson on some boring thing. An occasional cough and scrape of a chair or one of the kids answering a question now and then were the only other sounds but he knew there had to be whispering going on in there. The other kids were always whispering about something. Most of the time he didn't care what they talked about but he hated how they gawked at him when he walked in the door. Hated how the girls got silly little smiles on their faces and hurriedly leaned towards the nearest friend, hand cupped around the other person's ear, how the boys snickered and jabbed elbows at one another. Yeah, well they wore neck warmers.

He took a step toward the door, his heart pounding in his chest. "I hate this, I hate this, I hate this," he murmured under his breath. His hand was on the doorknob when his stomach gave out a loud rumble. He'd almost forgotten the most important reason of all for being late. Being ashamed of his winter wear was only part of it. Hating school was another part of it but most importantly, he needed to put together a lunch.

Jason pulled a plastic grocery bag out of his pants pocket and tiptoed back to the row of hooks. Working quickly and glancing around often, he reached into half open backpacks and quietly pulled at the zippers of the closed ones. He kept his eyes moving from the classroom door, down the long corridor, to the entrance from outside. With one hand, he held the grocery bag open, the other hand rooting in the bottom of the bags.

A Rice Krispie square. Good. Fruit To Go, chocolate chip cookies, an apple . . . forget the apple. He moved quickly. A pudding. Too bad he couldn't find the spoon to go with it. Oh, cheese and crackers with a little red spreader. Once he'd gathered up six or seven items he stuffed the bag in a sleeve of his coat and turned back to the classroom.

It was always tempting to eat one of the snacks right away but the chances of being caught in the hall were greater if he did that. It was better to wait until later in the morning, ask to go to the bathroom and have one then - just enough to tide him over until lunch time when he could really eat. He'd gobble them down during the walk home and pretend to his mom that the ox tail soup they got from the food bank was just enough to fill him up. He'd try not to gag while he ate it. She always looked so sad between paydays and he didn't want her thinking he was ungrateful.

"I'm sorry kids," she'd say, "One of these days they'll call our numbers in the lottery and we'll buy a whole grocery store!" She'd stub out her cigarette, glance at the bedroom door where his dad was sleeping off a hangover, then to Jason and give him that close-lipped smile.

She said she was doing the best she could, so how could he ever let her know that he helped himself to extra food when he could get it? He couldn't even share it with her. She'd slap his ears hard if she knew he was stealing. Once when the principal from his sister's junior high school called to tell his mom that Lisa had been caught stealing from lockers, his mom had been so hurt and angry. Lisa had welts on her face for a few days afterward. It was a good thing she had a three-day suspension. Even so, Lisa's actions had given Jason the idea. He was just more careful about it than she was, and he took useful things. Not like Lisa who took money, jewelry, and make-up; useless junk.

Jason took a deep breath. The food was safely hidden and he'd gotten away with it. His success always gave him a little rush. He pushed the door open and entered the classroom. Mrs. Conner looked up from the book she'd been reading to the class, her lips pursed in a thin line. She shook her head, sighing heavily.

"Thank you, Jason, for gracing us with your presence," she finally said.

Jason nodded and made his way to his seat amid the twittering of the twits around him.

"That's enough now class. He's already caused enough disruption today. Don't encourage him." Mrs. Conner gave him another of her ‘looks' and turned back to the book.

Jason slumped in his seat and glowered.

Kindergarten was stupid. He wasn't sure he could handle twelve more years of this slow torture.