Lunch time in the cafeteria again, but unlike yesterday Frankie got something to eat. He had to pick between some stale-looking pizza, a beef burger, and wings. All served with fries on the side, and some kind of milk or water.

Frankie considered his options carefully, wondering what looked dry-er and whether he would regret getting the wings over the beef burger.

The lunch lady seemed to rush him with the way her eyes shifted between Frankie and the people behind him, along with that was the pressure of the other 50 people in the lunch line waiting for him to take his pick. None of it looked very appealing, but the thought of him just taking nothing not only felt like a waste of time, but made him feel a deep sense of ‘wrongness’, as if he were committing a crime. Frankie took the wings and water, he passed on the fries.

After leaving the line he thought about making his own school lunches over an over again, surely it would be better than that? He wouldn’t have to wait in a line either, the only thing he was worried about was whether he’d actually commit to making lunch every morning. When his grandma stopped making his lunches at the start of Freshman year he’d just gone straight to school lunches, his dad put money on his card so he just assumed that it’d be the best choice for him.

Foster made his own school lunches, even though Grandma had never stopped making his.‘Grandma doesn’t give me enough protein,’ Foster had once said.

When Frankie got to the table where the six of them always sat, his seat was taken. So he just stood awkwardly around the table, like an annoying fly that couldn’t be swatted. As she always did, Libby moved to the space next to Emery where Frankie would normally sit so she could make space for one of Finley’s friends- this friend was a brunette, with freckles and straight teeth.

Emery kept his eyes on his notebook, and Lucy on her phone, while everyone else on the table just continued walking.

Frankie watched them for a moment then took a wing and put it to his mouth, he caught a whiff of it as he did, and recoiled.

That is not barbecue sauce, he thought while scrunching his nose up.

Whatever the sauce was, Frankie didn’t like it.

Barbecue sauce was already pushing his boundaries, he liked his wings plain more often than not. The mystery sauce was completely out of it; sticky, jellifying, and nothing he was putting anywhere near his mouth.

“What’s the matter?” Emery asked, taking his headphones off, and looking at Frankie.

He might have seen Frankie’s face from the corner of his eye, or maybe heard the groan of disgust Frankie had let out.

“My wings,” Frankie said.

Emery looked at them as Frankie brought them down to his eye level.

“Those don’t look too fresh,” said Emery, as he furrowed his brows,” Swap them out for new ones, they’re probably out of date,”

Their school's food was served in little cardboard containers, none of it was made from scratch, and all of it came to the school frozen to be reheated later. The cafeteria wasn’t known to have expired food but Frankie heard of it happening to a couple of people, something about them mixing batches and forgetting the expiry dates. The cafeteria’s real speciality was contaminated food, before they got everything shipped frozen to the school, there used to be a real problem with finding hair, or other things in the cookies they made or other desserts. Frankie himself once picked up a brownie only to find he picked up two brownies connected by a thin strand of hair. From then on he stuck to the premade food, and then after junior year there was only premade food.

Frankie checked the date on the box the wings came in, sure enough, they were out of date by a couple of days. The lunch line was still long, and he had no intention of going straight to the front. He wondered if he could catch a lunch lady leaving from the staffroom door, they tended to do that when they needed a bathroom break.

“You can have my sandwich,” Emery suggested, nudging Frankie with the kraft sandwich box. The plain kraft box made it clear that it wasn’t from the school, but Frankie wasn’t sure where someone could buy a sandwich with no label.

“It’s fine,” Frankie said, as he turned him down.

“No. Take it,” Emery said, “I’m going out tonight, so, I don’t need to eat right now- not feeling too peckish either,”

He was tempted, “Are you…sure?” he asked.

“Very,” said Emery, cracking a shallow smile as he did.

Frankie took it hesitantly, “Flavour? Um, What’s the flavour?”

“Sandwiches don’t come in flavours,” He corrected Frankie, “I get what you mean though. The bread’s toasted, has mayonnaise on it, ham, bacon, cheese, and bit of lettuce as well,”

“Thanks,” He said, before taking the chance to keep talking, “Where did you…buy a sandwich? I mean- Like this one.”

He didn’t know packaged sandwiches could come toasted, he figured that the bread would just go soggy so it’d be too much of a hassle.

“I made it, make my lunch every morning,” Emery said as he put a headphone back on leaving just one of the ear, “You should try making your own lunch. School lunch isn’t nutritious,”-He looked Frankie up and down-”You need nutrients,”

No one wished Frankie could grow taller more than Frankie himself. In Middle school, he was the second tallest in the whole school, but then he just stopped growing. While he didn’t know his exact height, he knew he wasn’t the height of the average male nor was he the 6ft he thought he’d be at 17 almost 18. He thought he’d grow up to be his father’s height at least, it hit him like a truck when he realised he never could.

Frankie reluctantly dug into the sandwich, while Emery said he could have it he couldn’t exactly shake the gnawing feeling; You’re stealing from him, you should be ashamed of yourself. Frankie knew he wasn’t, but his anxiety didn’t seem to get the memo.

It was good. The bacon was his favourite bit, somewhere in between chewy and soft, it was just a salty as he liked it as well.

“Do you hang out with him?” The girl sitting next to Finley asked. Frankie overheard them, and didn’t know who she was talking about until he caught her looking at him. She had long auburn hair that looked wet in a way, and she was wearing a baggy grey shirt and even baggier grey trousers.

“...Kind of,” Finley said, apprehensively.

“I see him walking to his classes every morning,” She said, eyes lighting up as she did, “What’s his name?”

“Frankie,”

“That’s such a cute name,”

“Really? Is it?”

“...Yeah?” She said, “And look at him, he’s so cute- like a little pet,”

Frankie furrowed his brows. Pet? He thought.

Finley scoffed, “He follows me around like one,”

It wasn’t true, while he did sit at that lunch table every lunch, he never saw Finley outside of that. It was also really self-centred of him to think that Frankie was following him, if anything he was following Emery around and Emery didn’t mind it…most of the time.

“That’s… kinda mean of you,” She said, as she had her chin in her hands, “You’re acting like he’s some kind of nuisance,”

Finley struggled for words, “I didn’t-”

The girl got up, and stood next to Frankie, “I’m taller than you, I knew it,” She said excitedly. “I see you in the halls, always, and you always look so tiny, but I was like he’s probably taller than me or my height 'cause he’s a guy, but now you’re up close- You’re so little.”

Frankie was frozen in place, he thought he’d seen every reaction possible but he’d truly never encountered someone like this before. She went to touch his head, and he shrank away but she didn’t seem to get the hint, planting her hand on his head anyway.

“He’s not a dog, calm down,” Finley said in disgust, “Don’t touch his head, he probably has fleas Becca,”

Becca took her hand off his head momentarily, and Frankie shuffled away from her as silently and as quickly as possible. “You just said he wasn’t a dog, and then you said he has fleas. Pick one, Finley,”

“I don’t mean the one for dogs, the human fleas,” He said, clarifying.

They shared a look of confusion, as they tried to figure out what he was trying to say.

“You mean lice?” Emery said, before glancing at Frankie and shaking his head in disappointment.

They both turned towards Emery and gasped shortly in realisation.

“That thing,” Finley said, huffing right after, “Yeah, he probably has those,”

Becca rolled her eyes, taking the hand she was petting Frankie with and rubbing it all over Finley’s head, he didn’t move away fast enough at all.

“Now you’ve got them too,” She said, smilingly sweetly.

“You…” Finley started, he wanted to say something but the word seemed reluctant to leave his mouth.

“Remember, I told you not to call me a bitch,”

“I wasn’t going to,”

“Good,”

She turned right back around to Frankie, “Do you want to be my boyfriend? I’ve always wanted one shorter than me,” She asked while making her voice higher as if she were speaking to a dog, “I wasn’t entirely sure but Andrea just got one, and he’s too adorable,”

“No…” Frankie said, apprehensively.

I don’t wanna be your pet, Frankie thought.

Her brows bent, it didn’t seem like she expected that, “Why not?”

Finley burst into laughter. He struggled to speak through the giggles, “You’re so dumb Becca, he’s obviously gay,”

There was nothing ‘obvious’ about him liking guys, at least Frankie didn’t think so. The only reason Finley knew about him liking guys was because Freshman year Frankie thought it was a good idea to tell all of his new ‘friends’ the moment he put two and two together. It wasn’t like he gave Finley permission to tell everyone though… and It wasn’t like he was going to do anything about it either.

“That makes so much sense,” she said, “His type normally cry when a girl asks them out,”

“You wanted him to cry in front of the whole canteen?” He said as a smile played on his lips, “You were calling me a horrible person only a bit ago,”

“I’m not as bad as you,” Becca said while rolling her eyes, “It’d be so cute if he did,”

It was always odd, being talked about while in front of people. But it happened all the time to Frankie. Soon they stopped talking about him and moved on to some other subject.

It was weird, to say the least, but other than Frankie was focused on the sandwich.

Lunchtime was almost over, and Frankie prepared to walk to his next class.

“Frankie?” Finley called out. For a moment he thought there was something wrong with his ears, while he sometimes heard things they were never very nice.

Frankie pointed to himself, and spoke, “Me?”

Finley looked from left to right, “Any other Frankie’s here?”

The days that Finley Truman would willingly speak to him always felt like the day pigs would fly, but they never did

“There’s a party on Saturday, come to it,” Finley asked or rather demanded. He ran a hand through his hair as he spoke. He looked reluctant to even give the invitation as if every word he spoke to Frankie burned his tongue to say it.

Frankie felt there was something very wrong.

‘Frankie’ and ‘Party’ didn’t belong in the same sentence, unless it was one talking about the slim odds of him ever going to one before Senior year ended. Parties were distant to Frankie, he didn’t know if they were good or bad they just were. But being invited to something was a type of disbelief bred with excitement, that he’d never experienced before.

“Becca wants you there,” Finley said, clarifying.

“I don’t think I’m free,” Frankie said, desperately trying to find a way out of it. It was only a bit tempting, but anything to do with Finley was never good for Frankie

“I don’t think you have to sit with me at lunchtime,” Finley shot back, “You could always just sit by yourself,”

“...I’ll try my best to make it,”

Finley didn’t seem like he wanted him there at all, but Frankie of all people defying him probably felt like a slap in the face.