Several weeks passed, and Sal still never saw Russell eating in the cafeteria. It bothered him to the point where he added it to his "Reasons to Hate Russell" list, which was growing quite long.

"It's weird that Russell is never in the cafeteria," Sal said to Stewart one day. "Nobody knows where he goes during lunch?"

"Nope," Stewart said, picking at what might have been beans.

"Well, tomorrow's the day I'm going to find out." Sal already had a plan formulated. English class with Russell occurred before lunch, which made things convenient. He would simply follow Russell without Russell seeing him. The challenging part was making sure Russell wouldn't see him.

"Why are you so obsessed with what Russell does during lunch?" Stewart asked.

Sal pounded his fist on the table, nearly knocking over Stewart's carton of milk. "I am not obsessed with Russell," he said, glaring at Stewart, who clutched his milk protectively. "What makes you think I'm obsessed with him? Because I am not obsessed with him. I am just wondering!"

"Well, gee Sal. I'm just saying, it's a little weird."

Sal kept his formulated plan to himself.

The next day, Sal sat in his usual seat behind Russell. When the bell rang, he was sure to take his time packing his things. Unfortunately, Russell also took his time packing up. It didn't help that Russell always set up what could have been a mobile office supply store. Finishing after Russell would be impossible, so Sal kept his pen out and waited, making a mental note to add "packs up slowly" to the list. It didn't help that Russell was one of those kids who didn't pack up until the bell rang. That was already on the list.

Russell turned around in his seat to frown at him. "Why are you just sitting there?"

Sal leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, pen in one hand. "I'm not done packing my things."

"There's nothing on your desk."

Sal held up his pen, clicking it twice. "I still need to put my pen away."

Rolling his eyes, Russell left the room. Sal shoved his pen in his backpack and peered around the doorway. It looked like Russell was headed for his locker. Interesting.

He crept in Russell's direction. Once Russell arrived at his locker, Sal crouched behind a cluster of blue lockers across from Russell's and observed with bated breath. Russell grabbed a small, brown bag out from his locker. Interesting indeed, he thought, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. It looks exactly like the kind of brown bag I carry my lunch in. But what could possibly be in his brown bag?

"What are you doing?" a voice asked. Sal jumped and saw a girl staring at him. Or a boy? He couldn't tell. They had an oval face that seemed feminine enough, but their tan skin still appeared rough around the edges. And they had short, black hair with a red stripe down the side. No make-up. Sal tried checking for boobs without looking like he was checking for boobs. Their oversized hoodie made it hard to tell. Maybe if I knew their name...

"Hi, I'm Sal." He held out his hand. "What's your name?"

"Terry," Terry said, ignoring his hand and scowling at him with crossed arms. "What are you doing next to my locker?"

Terry's voice sounded somewhere between deep and high. Completely gender-neutral, Sal thought. How could I ever know if this person is a boy or a girl without asking them?

"Hi Terry," Russell said, joining in on the party. He narrowed his eyes at Sal. "What are you doing here?"

"That's what I was asking," Terry said. "He's in my way."

Desperate to keep his cover, Sal blurted out, "Are you a boy or a girl?"

"I'm neither." Terry looked down at him. Except Sal was a lot taller than Terry. So they looked up at him instead, with a look that said they would be looking down at him if they were tall enough.

Sal gave Terry a blank stare, a million questions running through his head. He started with the first one that came to mind. "How is that possible?"

Terry continued staring him down. "I don't feel like a boy, and I don't feel like a girl. How hard is that to understand?"

"Very." Sal tilted his head to the side. "Do you not have genitals or something?"

"Shut up Sal," Russell said through gritted teeth.

"Don't tell me what to do." Sal made a move to shove Russell, but to his surprise, Russell shoved him back. Interesting. He wasn't sure how to react to this sudden personality change.

"Don't bother with him." Terry took Russell's hand, pulling him away from Sal. "Let's go. We can eat lunch together like old times."

"No, that's okay. I need to go to the library." Russell removed his hand from Terry's and headed off in the direction of the library.

"So that's where he spends his lunch," Sal said. "What a nerd."

Terry shoved him into the lockers, and left for the cafeteria. Sal rubbed the ache in his shoulder, wondering what it was like to not feel like a boy, yet not feel like a girl either. He concluded that it must be complicated and began his trek to the library.

But Russell wasn't in the library. Sal searched the general vicinity but no luck. He needed fresh air. Noticing a door conveniently propped open, he took a step outside. There, on concrete steps that led to the doorway, sat Russell, eating a sandwich with an open textbook in his lap. Sal held back a gasp. Interesting.

I use the word interesting too much, he thought. I need to expand my vocabulary. Sal stood, focusing on Russell's back, failing to think of good synonyms for interesting. Then, he remembered his phone had a dictionary app. He pulled it from his pocket, typed in "interesting," and silently read off the synonyms listed. Engrossing. No. Fascinating. Too simple. Compelling. Nah. Entertaining does not describe this. A-ha!

"RIVETING" Sal shouted in an English accent.

Russell jumped and looked over his shoulder, cringing at the sight of Sal.

"That word makes me sound smart and sophisticated," Sal said. "Much better than the word interesting. I'm gonna start using it all the time now. Is it an SAT word? I wouldn't know, I'm not going to college."

Russell groaned. "What are you doing here? What do you want from me? Why can't you leave me alone?" He put a hand over his forehead, looking down at the textbook.

"Excuse me? I'll be the one asking the questions," Sal said, pointing his thumb towards himself. "What are you doing here? Why are you eating alone? Why has no one ever seen you in the cafeteria? And most importantly- what kind of sandwich are you eating?"

"None of your business, none of your business, none of your business, and jelly." Russell slipped the remains of his sandwich into his lunch bag, slammed his textbook shut, shoved it all into his backpack, and stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Jelly? Sal mentally added "prefers jelly to peanut butter" to his ever-growing list. He stepped in front of the door with crossed arms, blocking Russell from entering. "Not until you tell me why you are eating a jelly sandwich when peanut butter is better."

"Are you serious? Jelly is far superior to peanut butter."

"No way! You're crazy."

"Says the guy who's been stalking me all lunch."

Before Sal could protest, the bell rang. Russell shouldered him aside and walked into the school building. Sal followed, glowering at Russell's back. It was nice to know where Russell spent his lunch period. But why there, alone?