The School Bully Kicked My Lunch Tray, Thinking I Was Just A ‘Weak’ Substitute. He Didn’t Know I Was His New Principal. CHAPTER 1 The smell of a high school cafeteria is universal. It’s a distinct cocktail of industrial-strength bleach, tater tots, hormones, and anxiety. For most people, it’s a nostalgic scent. For me, standing in the middle of the Oak Creek High lunchroom, holding a plastic tray damp with condensation, it smelled like a battlefield. “Move it, grandpa. You’re blocking the flow.”