The special kids, the ones who wear keys around their necks, get to eat in the canteen. The canteen! Even the name sounds important. And these kids at lunch time go there because their mothers aren't home or home is too far away to get to.

　　My home isn't far but it's not close either, and somehow I got it in my head one day to ask my mother to make me a sandwich and write a note to the principal so I could eat in the canteen too.

　　Oh no, she says pointing the butter knife at me as if I'm starting trouble, no sir. Next thing you know everybody will be wanting a bag lunch—I'll be up all night cutting bread into little triangles, this one with mayonnaise, this one with mustard, no pickles on mine, but mustard on one side please. You kids just like to invent more work for me.'

　　那些特殊的孩子，那些脖子上套着钥匙的孩子，他们在餐厅吃饭。餐厅！名字听起来就不一样。那些孩子啊在午餐时间去那里，因为他们的妈妈不在家，或者家太远了不好回。

　　我的家不远，也不近。有一天我不知怎么想起来要妈妈帮我做一个三明治，并写上一张纸条给校长，那样我就也可以在餐厅吃饭了。

　　哦，不，她用切黄油的小刀指着我，好像我正在挑起事端一样。不行，长官。你知道接下来的事情就是每个人都会想带盒饭——我夜里就得忙着把面包切成三角丁，这个抹上蛋黄酱，那个撒上胡椒，我的不要泡菜，每面都要胡椒末。你们这些孩子就喜欢给我找事儿。