A quick sketch story by Julie Prescesky

“Is that what I think it is?” A girl with a southern drawl twisted in her seat trying to get a closer look.

“Uh … this?” Joth figured his first day at a new school would get him some funny looks, but he didn’t expect it to be over his sandwich.

“Yeah.” The girl leaned in. “If that’s what I think it is, you’re going to want to wrap that puppy right back up and get rid of the evidence.”

“Evidence of what?” His lips formed an incredulous smile.

“PB and J!” She whisper-yelled and then looked over her shoulder to be sure they weren’t discovered. “This is a PB free school. Zero tolerance.”

Joth placed his sandwich down on the cling wrap he pulled it out of. “Oh.”

“What are you doing?”

This girl seemed a little dramatic.

“Wrap that sucker up before anybody sees it, or heaven forbid, smells it, or you are a goner.”

“A goner … like, suspended?” Joth’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“No, silly.” She rolled her glossy brown eyes. “Expelled. Kaput. Finito. You’ll be looking for another school, Bucko.”

Expelled? That seemed a little extreme. Joth squinted his eyes in disbelief.

“I am not kiddin’. I’m Myra Colt and I always stand by my words.”

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“Well, Myra Colt, I guess, thanks for the heads up.” Joth quickly wrapped his sandwich up and plunked it back in his lunch bag.

Myra opened her bejeweled turquoise and black leopard print lunch box and handed Joth half her sandwich.

“What’s this?” He said, looking hesitant.

“Only the best thing ever.” She said. “Cheese and onions.”

“Oh, sounds …”

“Delicious. Trust me.”

Joth paused a moment. “Okay, Myra Colt, who always stands by her words.” He raised it to his mouth. The pungent smell brought tears to his eyes. Was this why Myra’s eyes seemed so glossy?

“Right?” Myra was nodding her head coaching him along. “I told you. Good right?”

Joth nodded his head mock-enthusiastically as he chewed. “Mmmm.”

Myra turned back in her seat and dug through her lunch box again. “I like to chase it down with a little guava juice. I’ll share some with you, if you like?”

“Oh, no, really, I’m good. Thank you so much for this, though.” Joth gestured toward the remaining sandwich in his hand. “You’ll have to give me the recipe.” He swallowed purposefully.

“Just cheese and onions, silly.”

“Right.” Joth smiled. This, clearly was not going to be a sufficient replacement for his beloved PB and J, but he’d figure out something. His main worry was telling his parents, tonight, that they enrolled him in a school that considered peanut butter a punishable offense, not an easy thing to say to the founders of a burgeoning peanut butter empire. Maybe they could grow onions instead.