You enter by slowly taking a step down the short flight of stairs, your eyes squinting, as you examine the damage in which you find home from 12:40-1:25PM on Mondays to Fridays.
Keeping an eye out for an overly-familiar face, you had just rushed out of your third black classroom, after having to stay an extra two minutes to talk to your teacher.
All the familiar senses: relaxed, yet chaotic; calm voices, yet with much excitement; all of these feelings and observations echo up to the round, skylight window on top of the 35-foot high ceiling.
A warm tap on your shoulder breaks your concentration. Looking for a few faces in this crowded, popular destination is like finding Waldo. You turn around, surprised to see your bed friend standing next to you.
"Oh, so we didn’t get a table today, huh?"
"Welp, I guess not," you realize, grasping your brown paper bag.
From the sidelines, it’s easy to believe that this place is nothing but a mess of hormonal, noisy students, releasing their energy that’s been built up for hours beforehand.
You're on the sidelines.
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