Juice Boxes
A story about childhood, 5 Alive, and being alive.
A true story.
Dedicated to you, fellow pledge of the juice-box-popping fraternity, and knight of the round table. Onward!
It is an average autumn day in elementary school. I am in grade 2, division 14, Mrs. Kaga’s class. It is also the 3rd year of the reign of Sean Foo.
That’s me.
I’m king of everything, from soccer to smarts to dinosaurs. The best of the best. The cream of the crop. The crème brûlé (that’s french).
The other elementary school kids only dare to take on 8th graders, but me and my crew beat up grade twelves on the regular. We take on any 12th grader — behemoth or pipsqueak.
Yet the greatest thing about elementary school (and my reign) is popping juice boxes everyday at lunch with the boys, a skill requiring world class athleticism, strength, and dexterity.
§
I can never get to school on time.
Lieutenant Foo jumps out of the van while it’s still moving. Whilst exiting the vehicle, the decorated Navy SEAL grabs 75lbs of gear, and runs 100mph to his elementary school classroom.
School starts at 09:00.
The time is 09:15.
I knock. It’s a friendly (a classmate) that opens the door. I look around — Mrs. Kaga’s nowhere to be seen. Thank God.
But I underestimated my teacher. She appears out of nowhere, which is very hard to do — as she’s very tall — 5'1"!!
Mrs. Kaga crosses her arms, and frowns, “Late again Sean?”
Easy peasy, I know how to get out of this. I muster the most idiotic look I can, and pretend I don’t understand.
She pretends she doesn't understand either, and looks at me with the understanding-of-me-not-understanding-her, and tries to get me to understand no further questioning is forthcoming, so I will understand her… and not get muddled up.
I think I understand.
She nods, sends me away, and goes to help the students that actually need help — all while keeping a straight face. A skill rivaling my own, I had underestimated Mrs. Kaga indeed!
§
I start on our classwork, doodling with great skill.
When math is over, I look up at the clock. Almost time for recess! So I finish up my work, and when the bell rings, run out to play tag with my best friend Mackenzie Lee and the other guys. I’m the best at this too!
I win again, and when the ending bell rings, we stare enviously at the older kids and file quietly into class, single file. They get recess fifteen minutes after us, but it’s okay, soon will be lunch!
We hurry hurry through art and reading. It’s now 11:30am, tantalizing close to The Time.
§
Mrs. Kaga pulls out my favourite book, “Fantastic Mr. Fox”. It’s our favourite time of the day where she reads to us. We get to the part where Mr. Fox meets Mr. Hare and his family and — oh most joyful sound in the world — the lunch bell rings!
We gobble up our lunches before playing soccer. But first —
The Time has come.
Every day at lunch we must fulfill a time-honoured tradition: The Popping of Juice Boxes.
Everyone enjoys the non-competitive nature of this recreational sport. We’re helping to recycle too.
One by one we finish our juice, blow them boxes up like balloons,
“Pffft!
Pffft!”
and file out of the classroom with puffer fish the color of 5 Alive, SunnyD, and Costco house brand orange juice.
One by one, we throw our own juice boxes on the ground, jump and —
“Pop!”
“Pop!”
“POP!”
till everyone is finished. Loudest “pop” wins.
Being from an immigrant family I never get juice. I have to be content with smelly Malaysian-Chinese food. So we share juice boxes, Mack and I.
§
Today, I look over to Mack’s table and see he hasn't finished his 5 Alive. On closer inspection he hasn't even opened it!
In the mischievous ways the young are, I grab his juice box, leaving him staring in shock, and take off.
He gives chase, and like a Viet Cong guerrilla, I throw the juice box out the door, and jump-somersault-leap, Kung Fu-style, in front of it.
He sees, understands, and smiles. Obi-Wan Mackobi recovers his Jedi poise and gives a look of approval.
He nods.
I nod.
I take a few steps back and jump square onto the juice box with the force of a 1000 lbs of dynamite.
BOOOM!!
Juice explodes from the box. The sound reverberates with the force of breaking the sound barrier and (my juice box brings all the boys to the yard) the entire class rushes to the windooow (from the wall).
“Whoa!”
“Awesome!”
“Wicked!”
There I stand beaming at ground zero, and everything around me is covered in 5 Alive goodness.
No juice on me? Not so. I'm covered in juice and even worse — our lunch time monitor Mrs. Ogilvie has appeared, and the fury in her eyes is projecting the power of Cyclop’s Optic Blast. I look up and see why.
§
The outside of our classroom is covered with 5 Alive. I look higher and to my chagrin, the windows have juice on them also.
“Clean it up!” she barks.
Utterly humiliated, I submit and run into the classroom to grab paper towels.
Now I’m not so tall so I need to jump to reach the windows. Every few seconds my bowl-cut head pops up in view, adding to the hilarity of my predicament.
Laughter becomes howling as my friends see how futile my quest for 5 Alive-free windows is.
I really wish I had some Windex — that’s how my mom does it. Also wish I was a bit taller, I could be a baller too. It wouldn't hurt just to be taller.
After a few minutes curiosity gets the better of me — I must see what’s going on inside. I gather all my strength, jump as high as a grown-up, and scan the classroom for five seconds before dropping down.
And again,
up
down
up
down.
Thirty second grade students of division 14 wave hi.
I wave back, beaming!
I jump again. They mimick my windshield-wiper action.
— This isn’t funny.
§
To hide my shame, I squat and reflect on the day’s unforeseen turn of events. I've truly lost everything.
To the heavens I shout, “How the mighty have fallen!”
My once friends and fellow classmates are united in their pursuit of the destruction of my ego. Is this the meaning of humility?
I’m still pondering the meaning of life when I realize how funny all this is, and laughter soon fills my own belly.
Jumping up, I look at the flattened 5 Alive box… and promise to do it again.
I continue my quest for 5 Alive-free windows whilst having fun with my friends. I imagine I’m a Spitfire pilot patrolling the London skies, cleaning my cockpit with a rag in mid-flight.
