Jesse sits with me at breakfast. I don’t know why this surprises me. But I thought he would probably have friends to sit with. 

Maybe they aren’t up yet. I’d never seen Jesse at the dining hall before. Or if I did I hadn’t noticed him. Which is entirely possible. 

I tend to eat pretty early when the dining hall is still quiet. Also, I usually eat alone, and it takes about five minutes and then I leave. I don’t pay much attention to who else is in the cafeteria.

Jesse eats slowly and keeps asking me questions in between bites.

“I haven’t seen you around much since orientation. What are you studying?”

“Biochemistry.”

He nods. “That explains it. There is probably no overlap in our schedules. I’m majoring in musical theater with a concentration on contemporary dance. I thought of doing ballet, but I’m really not built for it. I need a few more feet.”

“That was a terrible joke. Also, you’re not that short.”

“Thank you, darling.” He bats his eyelashes. “But you haven’t seen me standing beside a prima ballerina. We look like we are entirely different species.” 

He can’t be much shorter than my friend Tea. But I think she’s short for a girl. And that would make Jesse really short for a guy. 

“So Richie…” he puts his elbows on the table and rests his head on his hands. “When you click your heels together three times, where do you end up?” 

“Richard,” I correct him. But I don’t know how to answer his question. I’m not sure what he is talking about. Maybe it’s a theater joke. 

Jesse shakes his head with a small smile. “Home, sweetie! You know…there’s no place like it? Where are you from?”

“Oh, like the Wizard of Oz. Minnesota. West of Minneapolis. And no, I do not ride a moose to school.” For some reason a lot of people ask this. Indiana isn’t even that much further south.

Jesse grins. “I was born in Harvard. The town, not the college. And for some reason it always sounds like a punchline when I tell people it’s in Idaho, the gem state.”

I thought it was the potato state.

“You’re thinking it’s the potato state, right? I’m also a mind-reader.”

“Huh.” I’m more interested in how he ended up stranded in the hallway than where he went to highschool. “Who’s your roommate anyway? And How can you forget your keys?”

“Easily. Besides reading minds, my other superpower is losing things. I hate that the doors shut automatically. Stupid fire codes. And my roommate is Nick. I’m sure you’ve seen him around.”

I think I met Nick. If I’m right, he is in my calculus class, and I don’t like him. He’s wrong a lot of the time and doesn’t like being told that he’s wrong. “Is Nick about my height? Brown curly hair?” 

“Yeah. That’s him.”

“I don’t like him.”

Jesse looks up from his bowl of cereal with his eyes wide. I wonder if I’ve offended him.

“My friend Tea says I can be a real ass. If I say something stupid, don’t take it personally.”

“Noted. And…Tea?” Jesse tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah. She has a stupid long name, but no one calls her that except her mom and there’s no reason for you to know it since I doubt you’ll ever meet her anyway.”

“Okay.” He nods slowly. “Friend? Girlfriend?”

“I asked. She said no. Probably for the best, since she’s a lesbian.”

Jesse laughs at that, but not a mean laugh. “So, she’s a member of the rainbow brigade too.”

“Yes, if you mean she’s gay. But she doesn’t like rainbows.”

Jesse laughs again and shakes his head. 

“Oh, and I’m not. Gay, I mean.”

“I never said you were.” Now he does look upset, or at least uncomfortable. I’m not sure why. 

I look right at him even though Tea says sometimes this puts people off. I want to make sure he knows what I mean, though, so I need to see his eyes. “You said too. That she’s a member of the rainbow brigade too. And I’m not.”

Jesse shakes his head. “Yeah. I wasn’t saying that. I meant me. Clearly.” He gestures to the clothes that he is wearing—my clothes. “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, and people of all genders: you are in the presence of possibly the only gay Filipino boy in all of Idaho. I assumed you could tell by my amazing fashion sense,” he says with an exaggerated feminine voice and a flip of his wrist. “Plus, you know, musical theater,” he says as if this is supposed to mean something. 

“You don’t need to be gay to act.” 

Jesse smiles. “True. But it helps.”

I don’t know why, but I stay at breakfast until he’s done. I finished my food long before. But he keeps talking to me. And I keep listening.

There’s something about him that makes me want to stay. Maybe it’s that he reminds me of Tea. He doesn’t make me miss Tea, or anything. But I think of how I wouldn’t want her to be alone. 

Or maybe it’s the clothes. They make him look even smaller than he is, like he’s way too young to be in college. I’d feel bad leaving him by himself.

Could be it’s like he’s a stray cat. They show up on your doorstep and you feel bad for them. Give them some food. See if you can help them find their way back to where they belong. You need to make sure that they’re okay. 

The cafeteria starts to fill up and pretty soon all the friends I had expected him to sit with show up. They are loudly exuberant and overly touchy. When he introduces me, this girl with a round face and curly pink hair gives me a hug. Which I don’t much like, but it is better than the face full of kisses that she gives Jesse before sitting down. 

One of the newcomers—a chubby black kid—briefly sits on Jesse’s lap and throws his arms around his neck. He’s followed by a slight, pale, blond dude with horn-rimmed glasses who gives a two-fingered salute by way of a greeting. 

He introduces me, but their names slide right past. I think the big guy is Danny. Jesse seems happy to see them; I’m glad they showed up. I’m still not sure why I worried about him before they arrived or why I didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone. 

In any case, Jesse seems like he’s okay now, surrounded by a bunch of friends, so I get up and leave.

“What’s with your new friend?” I hear the girl say as I put my tray on the conveyor belt to the kitchen. 

Jesse says, “Richie? He’s great.” 

I realize then that I forgot to say goodbye. At least Jesse wasn’t offended.