An Open Letter to Karis Webb.

I recall one lunch period of my 7th grade year. I somehow had it in my mind that, on that particular day, my lunch wouldn't be complete without some delicious Zebra Cakes. I rushed back in line of the outside a la carte area, fearing that they might close up before I was able to purchase some. Shortly after establishing my place in line, an 8th grader nudged me out of his way and cut me. At first I thought he was confused about my position in line, but after his snide chuckle I realized that he was taking advantage of his ranking in the Jr. High social hierarchy. There was little I could do about the situation, as I was smaller than average, even for a 7th grader. Just then, you, in an adjacent line, looked right at the 8th grade boy and said, "Don't cut." He looked at you, then down to me, then back at you and said, "Oh, um, I didn't even see him, okay?!?" defensively but somewhat remorsefully. He nudged me back in front and said, "Sorry kid." I looked up to thank you but you were approaching the window to buy whatever it was you were buying. Now, I wouldn't expect you to remember this brief tale of heroics, but as a lowly 7th grader, being stood up for by a 9th grader is a thrill not soon forgotten. I never had the chance to properly thank you, or never had the guts to, really. So... thank you. 

P.S. I was able to get my Zebra Cakes that day and remember them among some of the best I'd ever had.