Sneha opened her lunchbox and the smell of pulihora and chicken curry flew out. She violently closed the lid, looking around to see if anybody had noticed. On top of the bed of pulihora rice lay a delicately placed lemon slice along with a dash of dried red chillies. 

"What is that smell?" One of her classmates, Jeremy, yelled with a hand covering his nose. 

Ew! Who brought that to school?” Ron sneered, glancing at Sneha with a faint smirk. Sneha stared at the container with the lemon rice and chicken curry, "I thought mom understood what I meant by normal American food," she muttered, glancing over at the lunch of her fellow classmate's: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a bag of Lays chips. Sneha got up, setting her lunch container beside her. She slid to the nearest trash can with the fewest people. The trash bag squelched as her pungent smelling curry slithered down the rumpled plastic. She sulked back to her original seat, the citrus and ginger smell still lingered in the air. 

As she walked into her house afterschool, she glanced at her mother, working on dinner at the large rectangular island table. The spice containers were opened and lids were cluttered throughout the table and sliced peppers were dropped beside the cutting board. Reading the room, she walked over, “Amma…Can I talk to you?” 

“Sure, thalli, what is it? I’m a little busy right now.” Her mother was chopping onions and sliding them into the pot with her cooking knife. 

Sneha shuffled over to her mother and squatted onto one of the high stools lining the island table. Could you please pack me a sandwich… or give me lunch money to buy in the cafeteria?” Sneha pleaded, picking her fingernails under the island table. 

Her mother sighed, “Sneha, what is it again? And you know I don’t want you eating unhealthy school food.” 

Sneha’s cheeks boiled and her hands slammed onto the other ends of the porcelain countertop, “I just want to be like everyone else! Why can’t you listen to me for once?” Her mom stopped chopping onions, “Sneha—I” 

“I’m tired of being different. I’m tired of everybody making fun of me!” Tears dripped down from Sneha’s eyes, “I don’t want your stupid food Amma!” 

Sneha ran upstairs, wiping her tears with her shirt’s sleeve. She went inside her room and plopped onto her bed. 

Sneha shuffled downstairs the next morning. There was a faint sizzle from the stove, a sign of her mother’s presence. 

Sneha walked into the doorway outside of the kitchen and stared at the silhouette of her mother, busy cooking breakfast. Her mother turned slightly, catching Sneha’s eyes for a brief second, then turned back to the frypan.

On the porcelain, Sneha’s lunchbox sat waiting. Sneha snatched the lunchbox and caught a glance at the stack of dirty dishes and bits and pieces of lemon zest sat throughout the sink. She quickly stuffed the lunchbox into her backpack and briskly walked out of her house as the door slammed behind her. 

It was lunchtime, she was sitting alone again at an ugly red plastic lunch table in the school cafeteria. Her plain brown and black backpack sat on the table. She fidgeted with her lunch, the same pulihora, debating whether to toss it or bring it back home. 

Then, Sneha felt a tap on her shoulders and flinched. The new girl from her English honors class stood, her backpack strap on one of her shoulders and her brown paper bag in her hands. 

"Hey, you're Sniha right? Is it alright if I sit with you?" The girl's eyelids fluttered, her long brunette hair flowing to her elbows. 

Typical, Sneha thought as she mentally rolled her eyes, "Yeah, you can sit there." The girl, Sera, was holding a sandwich with ham, lettuce, and what looked like cheese. "Sooo aren’t you gonna eat your lunch?" Sera asked, eyeing the lunchbox with the regular menu, lemon rice and curry. 

“I’m not hungry,” Sneha mumbled, her hands twirling her pieces of her dark brown hair. “Well, that looks really good, is it alright if I try a bite? I’ll give you half of my sandwich.” Sera asked, opening the aluminum foil wrapping her sandwich. Sera used the plastic spoon from the cafeteria to get a bite of the pulihora. “Wow! This is really good. What is this called?” Sera exclaimed, chewing on each grain. After hesitating for a second, Sneha answered, “It’s called pulihora or lemon rice, my mom has her own recipe. It has lemon, spices, and dried red chillies. And the paratha is a type of flatbread and you can eat it with yogurt.” 

“You’re so lucky, this is so much better than my sandwich.” 

Sneha smiled in response and pulled out her phone. Her fingers hesitantly wrote out a short message to her mom saying, “Thanks for lunch.” 

Her index finger lingered on the dark blue send button. When she sent the message, her mother instantly read it and sent a short reply of her usual pink heart emoji.