Two days passed before Sal finally spoke to him again. Travis was sitting at his desk in Algebra at the time, thumping his foot on the ground anxiously as he stared down at his hands.

  On the blackboard were words he loathed settling his eyes upon with every fiber of his being, spelled out boldly and in white chalk. There was a pop quiz today. On what? Projectile motion? Who fucking knew?

You could've told Travis it was on quite literally anything, and he would've accepted it to be true. He didn't have a single clue what was going on in math class.

Similarly, he didn't have any idea that someone was standing right behind him.

Travis jolted violently at the feeling of a gentle tap on his shoulder. Whipping his head around, his blood went cold at the sight of Sal's emotionless, plastic face staring back at him.

Travis nearly gasped, eyes wide and panicked. His chest tightened, and his stomach churned with anxiety.

Normally, Travis would've noticed Sal Fisher walking into class immediately. In fact, he was very conscious of Sal's existence relative to his own at all times.

But today, he had not noticed Sally Face walking through the classroom door, and he certainly did not notice the blue-haired boy creep up behind him to poke his shoulder. That damn pop quiz had his brain tied up in all types of knots.

"Hey man," Sal's eyes crinkled under the mask, he waved his hand politely, taking notice of Travis's wide, frantic eyes. His fingernails were glossy and coated with black polish.

   His hair was its usual style; pigtails. They swayed with the motion of his head. He was also wearing some sort of t-shirt for a band Travis had never heard of with a long-sleeved shirt underneath.

"I-" Travis sputtered, sitting up rigidly. Why the fuck was Sally Face talking to him? Was he going to say something about the letter on the bathroom floor? Something about the conversation they had? Maybe, he was going to tell him he was uninterested in dating. Travis had never intended to reveal his feelings in the first place, and the thought of legitimately dating a boy made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Uh," He sucked in a breath, dark eyes fluttering open and closed while he tried to come up with a coherent response, "Um- What- What do you want?" It sounded a little more aggressive than he'd intended. He was pretty sure he could hear his own heartbeat.

Sal seemed to pick up on his unfortunate, accidental hostility because his shiny blue eyes widened and he diverted his gaze for a moment, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear as if it would help him think more efficiently. He shifted from one leg to another, "Oh, I was just saying good morning is all." He said softly as if it was totally normal for him to do so. His voice was quiet and slightly muffled by his prosthetic.

"Oh," Travis's hands trembled and he stared down at the floor as Sal's crystal eyes continued to bore holes into the side of his face. He was anticipating a response. Travis knew that. He wasn't sure if he could trust his voice to reply. The words felt heavy in the back of his throat and in the end, he just swallowed and nodded.

Sal began to meticulously pick at the skin on his fingers. Travis pretended that he wasn't watching him do so out of the corner of his eye, his head down as Sally Face glanced out the window.

    "There's going to be a snowstorm or something soon, I think," Sal noted calmly, eyes narrowed as he stared off in the direction of the trees in the courtyard, "but they're having trouble pinpointing when."

   Travis fought the indescribably strong urge to ask why he was even talking to him about this, why he was talking to him at all. Instead, he offered another stiff nod and screamed at himself internally.

   "Say something that's not stupid," his brain pleaded. Travis pointedly ignored the suggestion.

   Sal stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and Travis wondered if he was getting annoyed. He glanced up at the blue-haired boy again and felt a shiver rush through him.

   "In any case," Fisher began, tilting his head slightly to the left, "good luck."

   His voice was so kind and sweet that Travis felt like a piece of shit for not being able to effectively communicate. He could feel his heartbeat quicken, and his palms were becoming clammy. He was frustrated.

   "Good luck?" he forced the words out, confronting Sally Face's expectant gaze again. His speech was not nearly as fluid or as thoughtful as Sal's. He felt like an idiot for only being able to say a select few words at a time.

   Sal's pretty blue eyes inspected him for what seemed like an eternity and then they narrowed and his prosthetic shifted up. Travis assumed that he was smiling. "The pop quiz, on the uhm...profit-income formulas." He reminded him, lifting a pale finger to point slightly past his head, and at the blackboard, "Good luck."

Right, profit and income. Fuck. Travis cringed internally. Now he seemed like an idiot for two reasons. He attempted to say good luck back but it came out as more of a strangled grunt.

Travis wanted to deck himself in the face, but miraculously, Sal seemed to think that his lame excuse of a response was perfectly acceptable and his blue eyes crinkled one more time before he waved goodbye and headed a few seats back towards his desk.

Travis shuddered and fiddled with his eraser. What the fuck was that? Sal seldom initiated a conversation with him, especially not for something like a friendly wave or a good morning chat.

   The way that Sal was catering to him made Travis feel nauseous. Sal probably thought that he needed to keep an eye on him or something as if he was going to have a tantrum at any moment. He probably thought that he had to talk to Travis now.

  After what had happened on bologna day, the last thing Travis wanted was to engage in an awkward conversation with Sal Fisher.

  Step one of Operation Sal was to maintain a comfortable distance from him. Travis couldn't handle the forced conversation, and he would never be able to comfortably talk to Sally Face anyway, so what he had to do now was act like that blue-haired kid with the prosthetic face didn't exist. That would make him forget what happened, hopefully.

   As their substitute teacher passed out the quizzes lazily, Travis kept his head down and didn't look back at Sal "Sally Face" Fisher once.

His foot tapped on the floor rapidly as he stared down at the math questions.

What the fuck was he looking at? The first three questions were easy. You'd have to be a real ignoramus to not know the answers.

The rest of them made Travis want to lobotomize himself with a rusty paper clip.

Of course, Sal was done before he was. It barely took him five minutes to finish the page, front and back, and he casually stood up to turn in his paper while many of the other students struggled.

There wasn't much that Travis would compliment Sal for out loud, but he was smart. That wasn't as much Travis's opinion as it was a fact.

   Travis turned in his quiz, only being confident about three of the answers.

It was Friday, and Friday meant pizza. Travis admittedly was not a huge fan of the school's pizza. To be fair, he wasn't a fan of school lunch at all, with the exception of bologna day.

He was a typical American kid with a limited palette. His mother was more adventurous with food and he always wanted to try food with her but after she left, he'd grown so accustomed to his dad's way of life that he trashed the idea of culinary curiosity in its entirety.

   The only viable solution to pizza Friday was to not eat.

   Travis sat cross-legged at lunch, staring down at the table with dead eyes. He didn't like pizza sauce, and he was picky about cheese, but he knew that Sal liked pizza day, and for some stupid reason, the dumber, gayer side of his head begged him to go get pizza because of that fact.

   "Maybe if he sees you eating pizza, he'll like you more," the idiotic voice in his head cheered.

  Travis could have slapped himself. What a stupid thought. As if Sal based his romantic feelings off of who ate pizza on pizza Friday. As if Travis gave a single fuck about whether or not Sal liked him. He definitely didn't care.

   His eyes flickered up. Speak of the devil. Sal and Ashley Campbell, just what Travis needed to see.

   Sal, predictably, had a plastic tray with a slice of pizza on it, alongside an obligatory milk carton. His pigtails bobbed slightly as he walked.

   Ashley laughed at something he said and doubled over, almost dropping her tray. Her hair was half up and it looked soft against the back of her shirt.

   Travis felt his ears pull back. She sure was standing close to Sal. Their shoulders were almost brushing.

   For a second, he wondered if they were dating. Maybe Sal wasn't gay at all. He did mention something about that in the boy's bathroom, and Ashley was always so touchy with him. To be fair, Larry and Todd were equally affectionate towards him. So maybe-

   "Hey," Sal waved his hand, pausing in front of his table for a moment.

   Suddenly, Travis felt sick to his stomach again. Looking up at Sal's shiny, plastic face, he found that his eyes were trained in front of him, down at the empty spot on the lunch table where Travis's meal should have been.

   Ashley stared at him with venom in her eyes. She wasn't laughing or smiling anymore.

   His eyebrows furrowed and he felt something hot rush into his chest. Maybe it was panic. Maybe it was anger. Maybe it was fear. Either way, it lead Travis to raise his voice at both of them, "Got something to say, Fisher?" He grumbled. His voice came out a lot shakier and much more hoarse than he had intended it to sound.

  "Just saying hi," Sal responded calmly with a shake of his head. His loose, blue raspberry pigtails shook with it. Something in his voice gave Travis the slightest inclination that he was disappointed.

   He hummed a response and stared down at his lap, hands clasped tightly against his legs. He could feel his face burning hot.

  Travis heard Ashley Campbell scoff softly and she reached out to grab Sal by the forearm.

   "Let's go, Sal," She said quietly.

   Sally Face glanced at her and then back at Travis, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze. His eyes softened, "See ya, Travis," He lifted his carefully manicured hand to wave goodbye.

   "Nice going," the voice in Travis's head nagged as he watched Sal and Ash walk away, "I'm sure you made a great impression with your crush just now."

"What's his deal?" Ashley huffed, staring at Travis over her shoulder as she walked back to the groups' lunch table. "Would it kill him to be nice for once?"

Sal tilted his head towards her. He set his tray down on the tabletop and glanced in the blondes' direction again. Travis was still sitting there alone, staring down at his lap in silence.

Ashley sat down across from Todd, who was flipping through a school owned novel.

"Travis isn't all bad," There was a hint of a smile in Sal's voice as he took a seat beside her, "Trust me, I've met some really terrible people."

Larry didn't say a word. He glanced over in Phelps's direction for a split second and then took a bite of pizza. Travis was bad news.

"Mean people usually have a reason for being mean," Todd added, not looking up from his book. "I don't know or care about Travis's personal life, but there's probably something there that causes him to act that way."

Oh, Sal knew about his personal life, maybe not about everything, but he certainly had a general understanding, "That's true," he muttered ambiguously.

Travis's life was his own business. It wasn't Sal's job to spread it around like some sort of rumor. Telling people his secrets wouldn't do anyone any good.

Even so, he couldn't refrain from wanting to help. Operation Travis was not running smoothly. He seemed so freaked out every time Sal initiated chitchat.

He couldn't help but think that he made Travis feel cornered. It was evident in the manner that he froze up every time Sal approached him, the way he tried to avoid eye contact by any means possible.

  It would seem that he misunderstood just how much Travis didn't like him. There was no reason for Travis to be timid, he was never shy before; just angry.

Even so, Sal didn't feel right watching Travis sit by himself every day. Of course, Travis would almost definitely not allow him to sit at his side, but maybe they could get to that point. Sal wouldn't give up yet.

   With his smile practically glowing in his eyes, he looked up at Larry, "So... Are we playing Super Mario tonight?"