The Riveting Lives of Russell and Sal

Chapter 33

There was still a lot more to tell Russell, but Russell wanted to get food first. Although Sal he didn't feel so hungry. He forced himself to take another bite of his Whopper Jr., wishing he hadn't gotten it at all.

"Are you still upset about what I said?" Russell asked. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are. I'm not mad at you." Sal poked his burger, then dropped it into the bag for later. Forcing himself to eat could lead to disaster.

Russell noticed. "You always eat your food. And everyone else's." He reached out to touch Sal's leg. "What's wrong?"

"I'm tired of it. You know?"

Russell nodded. "I know. People were always telling me to pick a gender, saying pansexuals don't exist. Or calling me an attention-seeking bisexual. Or giving me pans." At the last point, he raised his eyebrow at Sal, who felt himself turn pink.

"I'm sorry," Sal mumbled.

"It's okay. You actually thought that." Russell chuckled. "No, I've gotten so many pan-lover comments from people who knew that wasn't what it was."

"Does it ever get better?"

Russell was silent for a moment. He finished chewing his last fry before he shook his head. "No. The comments never go away. You get used to them, but they'll always be there when you're feeling at your worst."

"That's not very uplifting." Sal watched Russell toss his empty fry carton in his bag, and crumple it up.

"It helps when you have someone who gets it." Smiling, Russell linked his arm around Sal's. "Add in Terry, and we can start our own gang. And since none of us actually exist, we can get away with all sorts of stuff."

Sal snorted. "What would you even do? Decorate your bedroom with pride flags to rebel against your parents, and take them down before they can even see them?"

Russell shoved him playfully. "And what would you do? Steal food?"

Sal shoved him back with twice the force. "That was too far!"

Russell rubbed his shoulder, giving him a blank stare. "I'm sorry?"

Unpleasant memories flooded Sal's brain, and he debated on if he should share them. Or at least give him some sort of explanation. He felt guilty enough for his sudden outburst. Maybe Michelle had a point. Maybe he did have a bit of an anger problem.

Sal did Michelle's "count to 10" exercise, then sat up straight. "I'm sorry for stealing your pudding cup on the second day of school."

Russell's blank stare changed to one of surprise. "What?"

"And you'd be stealing food too if you spent years of your life not knowing when you'd get your next meal."

"You stole my pudding cup? Christ." Russell ran his fingers through his hair. "If you had been nice to me, I would've given it to you."

"Well excuse me for mistaking a crush for hatred."

"It started that quick?" Russell gave him a half-smile, and ruffled his hair. "Cute."

Sal slapped his hand away. "This conversation is over."

"Alright. I've gone a bit over my lunch hour, so I really should head back."

Lunch. Lunch never filled him up, though he had gotten good at stealing other people's food. But things weren't always that way. His mother used to make lasagna every week, and it was the best lasagna ever, regardless of what he told Brenda. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he made an attempt to wipe them away without looking like he was wiping away tears.