The First and Last Time I Ever Eat Salad
By: bay, 6th grade
“What is that??” I commanded, taking a few steps back from Kiyono’s table. “It’s meatball salad. C’mon, try it!” She said, offering me a forkful of lettuce, carrots, and saucy meat. “Gross, no way!” I squealed, waving my hands in front of my face. I had never had salad before, and at first, I thought it would taste good, but this looked disgusting! “Please, Shino! Just eat this little bit!”
I opened my eyes a tiny bit, squinting at the gooey meatball on the fork. “’No’ means no, Kiyono!” She frowned, and let her arm fall to her side, the sauce on the meatball dripping to the floor. “I made it myself… I made it especially for when you came over tonight.” She pouted, and I lowered my hands. “Ok, fine…” I said, rolling my eyes. She instantly perked up, and shoved the fork in my open mouth.
My eyes went wide as Kiyono shoved me in the face with a forkful of salad. My face paled slightly, and I felt my eye twitch. Kiyono stood in front of me expectantly, and asked, “So? How does it taste?” I yanked the fork out of my mouth, and rushed over to the bowl on the table. After spitting out the salad, I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “What in God’s name did you put in that thing?!” I barked, looking over my shoulder.
“Just lettuce, carrots, cheese, meatballs, and some ranch dressing…” Kiyono said, her eyes large. “Well, it tasted like… well, dog food!” I spat, wiping some dressing off of my chin with the back of my hand. “I’ll just give it to Kiba…” Kiyono murmured, and set the large bowl of salad on the floor. Instantly, her Akita, Kiba, bounded over eagerly to lap up the salad.
“Are you sure you put ranch dressing on there? Or meatball sauce?” I demanded, getting angry. Kiyono was quite clumsy; she might have mistaken the dressing for something else. “Well… I’m not sure. I might have put something else on there…” She said, pondering the chances of whether or not she could have. I felt my fingers twitch eagerly, trying hard not to scream. “Well… what could have happened?” I said through gritted teeth.
“Hold on…” Kiyono said, and then put a hand over her mouth to yell. “Okaasan! Doko ni imasu ka?” She called. Kiyono’s mom speaks only Japanese, and whenever the two talk to each other, I get seriously confused. “Daidokoro!” Her mom called, her voice sing-songy. “She’s in the kitchen.” Kayono said. We both rushed into their kitchen, to see her mom standing at the sink, peeling potatoes. “Okaasan, tasukete kudasai.” They began to converse rapidly in Japanese, while I stood, dumbfounded. After a few minutes, Kiyono’s face contorted. “Iya da…” She said, her eye twitching.
“What, what? What happened??” I asked, jumping in front of her. She did nothing. “Kiyono?? Hello?? Earth to Kiyono!” I said, jumping up and down. “You were right… it wasn’t ranch dressing.” “What?” I stopped jumping up and down, saving myself from embarrassment. “It was… dog gravy.”
“WHAT?!” I screamed, falling backwards. My eyes got very large, and I felt my stomach lurch. “I-I’m so sorry, Shino! I must have mistaken the bottle of dog gravy for the ranch dressing!” Kiyono hurriedly apologized, clasping her hands together. “WHO HAS DOG GRAVY?!” I barked, clenching my fists. Kiyono cringed. “I-It was for Kiba, we give it to him with his canned dog food… it looks an awful lot like ranch dressing…” My friend said, embarrassed to high heavens.
I simply lay there on the floor, my eye twitching up a storm. Kiyono’s mom looked at me, then her daughter, and said, “Doo shimashita ka?” She questioned. Kiyono looked back at me, and said, in English this time, “This is the last time she ever eats salad.”
Oh, how right you are, Kiyono.