Apple

Opening my lunch, I peer in, analyzing everything that had been placed neatly inside. A ham sandwich, a granola bar, a couple of homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the dreaded fruit… This time it happened to be an apple.
Everyday, I faced the same dilemma. A fruit I disliked. At least now, my mother gave up on packing oranges, I couldn't stand those, not the colour, or the taste, and especially not the smell. Apples on the other hand, I disliked, but I could stand to force one down.
As I glanced around the noisy classroom, I noticed the teacher smiling sweetly at me. Her look translated to 'you'd-better-eat-everything-in-your-lunch-today-or-I'm-going-to-call-your-mother-again'. Yesterday, when I walked home through the snow, my mother had been waiting for me, her arms crossed, and an annoyed look on her face. She'd asked me why I'd traded my apple for someone's banana, and I was forced yet again, to explain that banana's were my favourite fruit, not apples.
Yet again, I lost the argument. So today, it was an apple. I took a bite of the crunchy fruit, and quickly finished the dreaded thing, and moved on to my cookies.
No phone call tonight, I thought smugly.