SATURDAY
Monday is the day before the first day of 4th grade. That is where I will make all of my friends for my whole life. Yesterday was tests at the doctor. After, Mommy took me to Dairy Queen. That’s how I knew the diagnosis was severe.
I asked for my usual: a small Oreo Blizzard. She asked, “Why don’t we get you a large?” I started praying for a painless death. Maybe it was shock or brainfreeze, but my ears rang while she spoke. I made out two words: Peanut. Allergy.
Like a Blizzard in the drive-through, my life turned upside down.
SUNDAY
Tomorrow is the first day of 4th grade. Today was Church. After Service I asked Pastor Charles why God makes us suffer.
I explained my condition as Mommy told me. Although I have a “food allergy” I can still eat “food.” Just not “all food.” I can still eat the body of Christ, and (one day) drink the blood of Christ, but I cannot, under any circumstances, eat the Nuts of Christ.
Mommy said that I can, however, be around the Nuts of Christ. I may breathe the air of the Nuts of Christ, and even touch the Nuts of Christ without feeling itchy. But I CANNOT put the Nuts of Christ in my mouth.
Pastor Charles asked that I not call peanuts the Nuts of Christ, especially in Church.
Pastor Charles explained that “dietary restriction” is not suffering. Some people, like Miss Irene from Church, cannot eat the body of Christ because she doesn’t pay for gluten. Some people, like Daddy, cannot drink the blood of Christ, because Mommy will divorce him. Pastor Charles says that true suffering is like Crucifixion, which Jesus did for our Sins.
Crucifixion is when Jesus had nails in his body on the Cross. Crucifixion sounds a lot like an Epi-Pen, I explained, which is what happens if I swallow the Nuts of Christ.
As I left Church, Mrs. Charles asked Pastor Charles why we talked so much about Nuts.
MONDAY
Today was the first day of 4th grade. Daddy drove me. He told me that on his first day of college, he shot a gun at a beer in 4 seconds, which became “his thing.” I didn’t want a peanut allergy to be “my thing.”
I met a lot of people: Sam who is nice, Hunter whose name is a job, Anna who is pretty, Ramy who is nice, and Jenna who smells like garlic.
Everyone was nice. Except my teacher, Miss Sprinkle.
When we left Recess, I was part of the group. I was the line’s caboose.
Before we entered the cafeteria, Sprinkle pulled me off the train, like I was a little engine who couldn’t. She explained that I had to sit somewhere away from everyone, called The Peanut Free Table.
I pleaded to Miss Sprinkle. This Table doesn’t even make sense! Putting all the nut-free kids in one place just makes us easier to kill. If someone wanted, they could lob one Smuckers Uncrustable onto the table like a Boba Fett grenade and kill us all.
Miss Sprinkle taught me that “life isn’t fair.”
Jenna and I are the only ones cursed by God in our class. Other than that, we have nothing in common. For example: Jenna smells like garlic and I do not. I told Jenna I like Star Wars and Jenna told me that she is an atheist. If someone assassinates Jenna and I with a PB&J grenade in one fell swoop, I’m afraid that God may get confused and send us both to Hell.
Daddy picked me up from school and we talked about loneliness. We went to Dairy Queen, where the rainbow toppings reminded me of my cold teacher.
I got two chocolate scoops in a waffle cone bowl. Daddy told me, “Sometimes . . . things start out a way and . . . how it’s over . . . is differenter.” Daddy’s ice cream was in a brown paper bag.
TUESDAY
Last night I had The Nightmare again. This time, when Mr. Peanut had me in the sights of his monocle, he started choking me with The Force. Then he dropped me, turned his cane into a lightsaber, and cut my head clean off.
At recess today, I wanted to play Jedis, but the normal kids were doing something else. Anna touched me, which felt like a good thing, but then she ran away from me, which is probably a bad thing. She called me “It.” Overnight, I was just a no-nut clown.
I even tried playing with Hunter. He was exterminating an anthill with farts, so I figured he wouldn’t find me weird enough to flee. As I walked over, he frowned at my genetic inferiority. I asked:
“What’s with the face? Is it because I’m nut-free?”
“No, of course not.”
“Oh. Well, what is it?”
“It’s because your skin is brown.”
Hunter is weird. At lunch, Jenna told me a man named Reese put a “piece” in her ice cream. She almost got killed. I wasn’t sure how to ask, but how does someone stick a gun in your ice cream without noticing? Also, what flavor of ice cream makes not only your breath but your clothes smell like garlic.
I went over to the teacher table for some fresh air and a word with Miss Sprinkle. I looked her in her salad-stuffed face and said, “I don’t care about rules, tables, or death. The nut-free table is worse than death. It’s Hell! Mom, plea–!”
Oh no. God, kill me now.
Miss Sprinkle laughed. “Prentiss, if anyone knows about how tough allergies are, it’s me. And no worries about calling me Mom. I do have six little ones of my own running around.” Principal Burke asked if Miss Sprinkles’ allergy is “lay tex.”
Miss Sprinkle tried to cheer me up. She said that “life is suffering.” She learned that from Buddhists, who are bald men that made themselves bald on purpose and don’t care about anything. Miss Sprinkle also said not to hang out with Hunter because Hunter’s dad is also bald on purpose, but for reasons other than Buddhism.
If life is suffering, then I’m the most alive 9-and-a-half-year-old to ever live.
WEDNESDAY
Today a man shot up our school. This, I learned, is different from when my dad shot a beer. Miss Sprinkle said she “wanted the horror to end,” which felt important because Buddhists don’t ever want anything. But I didn’t feel too much suffering because we all ate lunch together in the classroom! Also no one died, so we all still get to suffer.
Lunch was a good time to tell Miss Sprinkle: “Sitting in this room, crowded together, waiting to see if someone will kill us is exactly what the nut-free table feels like. Anyone with a granola bar becomes our God.” Miss Sprinkle shushed me. Ramy giggled. He asked if the Peanut-Free Table feels like padawans before Anakin attacks. Miss Sprinkle had to tell us to “stop snickering.”
Up until then, I thought Snickers were a bad thing.
THURSDAY
Last night I stopped having The Nightmare.
Today Ramy and I played Jedis! Hunter wanted to play too, which would have been fine if he didn’t insist that I be Mace Windu. Ramy told me that Hunter is mean to him too because Ramy is something called Muslim. Ramy’s family does Ramadan, which is one month where they have a food allergy to all food. From one sufferer to another, that sounds pretty hard.
Speaking of food, guess where Ramy sat at lunch? With me and Jenna!!! We talked about the afterlife. Jenna told us that Atheist Death is like when you can’t fall asleep during nap time and your eyes are wide open in a dark room. Jenna also said her birthday was soon, and if we came she’d get a nut-free cake made of ICE CREAM.
I’m not sure where God sends us after anna-fill-actick shock, but I’m glad someone sent me here.