Pizza (Without the Pineapple)

"I'm just not the same without him," she whispered. The girl adjusted the beads around her neck and stood alone by the punch table. She looked out at the people dancing in the center of the school gym and felt that all-too-familiar weight of loneliness settle on her shoulders.

She had just broken up with her boyfriend over an argument that seemed so trivial, and she couldn't help but feel like it was her fault. Everything had been perfect.

"It isn't my fault that I'm the only person who likes you!" she had yelled. "You just don't mix with other people! You're weird and that isn't my problem."

"Then don't make it your problem," he replied. He slammed the door, got into his car, and drove away.

See, society is a lot like a pizza, with every person putting their own opinions and work into what toppings should be appreciated the most.

There were the people who saw the world as black or white, either this way or that, and that was probably the cheese of the pizza.

There were people who thought a bit more outside-the-box and desired something new on their part of the pizza - mushrooms, peppers, maybe even anchovies or something like that. And people respected their opinions for what they were.

And then there were people who were like pineapples. Despite being just as kind and just as understanding as other people, no one wanted them or understood them in return. Just because of a little thing they believed or opinion they had, they were kicked out and shunned by society, who preferred something more popular.

The girl, now that she had reflected, had found herself to be on the outside-the-box part of the world. She had seen him alone at a lunch table near the garbage cans and, instead of going to sit with her other friends, she sat beside him. They talked and she found that he was more of a pineapple.

"You know," he had said, "I think of the world as a pizza."

She had laughed.

"I feel like you're a pizza some days," he joked, but she saw the seriousness in his eyes.

When push came to shove, they were both people. They both had their own parts of the world, opinions, and their own slices of pizza with what they preferred. And maybe she should have been a bit more open to hearing what he had to say instead of making him more to fit her perspective.

When the boy disappeared, she cursed him and hated him for so long. But now, as she stood alone at the only prom she'd ever go to, she saw the world as it was: prejudiced, scared, and formed to fold into specific corners that each person was assigned, and when you stepped over the boundary of those corners, you got in trouble - or you got hurt.

"I feel like you're a pineapple," she whispered sadly. "Even though you weren't the most popular, you still made me just as good as any other type of pizza could be."

She felt a buzz from her purse and took out her phone, then answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Chrissy."

"Jake."

"I forgive you."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you at the dance?"

"Yes."

"Are you with someone?"

"No."

The line was quiet for a moment.

"Could I join you?"

"Of course, pineapple."

Jake chuckled over the phone.

"Better meet me outside for your corsage, pizza."

She did. She hung up and left the gym without another word, just to see Jake standing there with his hair gelled and his normal clothing replaced for a tuxedo and slacks.

"You clean up nicely."

"You look beautiful."

Jake took Chrissy's hand and she watched as the yellow roses clipped onto her wrist. Yellow like a pineapple, she thought.

Chrissy led him back inside and to the punch table. "You know, pineapples might be a bit weird on a pizza, but they make great punch." She handed him a cup of yellow-white juice and took a sip of her own.

Jake took a drink of the juice and smiled at her.

"Can we try again?"

"Of course."

Chrissy stepped forward and hugged him.

"I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

He wrapped his arms around her and began to sway to the music. She chuckled and looked up at him.

"Care to dance?"

He smiled back down at her.

"I'd love to."

They walked to the center of the room and began to dance together, just them against the world. Pineapple and pizza - not fit for every palate, as most of the other high schoolers showed. They walked away from the two and went to dance elsewhere, often in avoidance of Jake, but Chrissy didn't care. They were perfect for each other.

"Jake?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For wanting to come back."

He pulled back and gently cupped her face.

"I never really wanted to leave."

"I think I love you."

"I think I love you, too."

They danced. The world around them began to fade, and everything was peaceful once again. She could breathe easily and held tightly to his arms as he held her through the steps.

-----

Time passed. High school passed. College passed. Fights passed, but were resolved. Eventually, the time for a ring came. That time passed and the two were ecstatic. Time for a wedding. The bride, dressed in white, couldn't help her grin as the ring slipped onto her finger. Love came, a baby came, and the family was happy.

Time passed. The world changed. The family began to go to the church that the husband had gone to, and the wife met a multitude of pineapples among the community. She fell in love with it, with her life, with her baby, and everything was perfect.

In a world where people still preferred other, more popular things over pineapples, she was happy. She had her opinion, and found herself becoming more of a pineapple every day.