The car ride home was, unfortunately, uneventful. They only talked about class. Sal never got his goodnight kiss, though he hadn't expected one. But he called me a dork! He swooned over the memory, and had to fight back a smile when he walked through the door. Brenda was in the kitchen washing dishes, while Tyler watched TV in the family room. "Did you have fun?" Brenda asked.
At the same time, Tyler asked, "How was your date?"
Sal's breath caught. He knows!
"What are you talking about?" Brenda asked Tyler. "He was hanging out with his new friend."
"Sure he was." Tyler winked at Sal.
How does he know about my feelings towards Russell?
"I wasn't on a date," Sal said. Technically it wasn't, as much as he wished it was.
"Look how you're dressed." Tyler gestured towards his outfit. "You and your friend went on a double date. It's okay if you did. You're allowed to. What's her name?"
"Tyler!" Brenda shot Tyler a look.
"I want to know who she is."
Relief flooded through Sal's body. His secret was still safe. "I'm not lying. It was just me and Russell. Do you need help with those dishes?" he asked Brenda.
"No, I've got it." Brenda glanced up from the pan she was scrubbing. "I'm thinking of buying new pots and pans this weekend. These ones are so old."
Sal couldn't help but think of Russell, and his apparent love of pans as he walked upstairs. Of course, the one person he falls in love with has to have some freakish pan fetish. But if he wanted Russell to love him, he'd have to be supportive. And his initial reaction must've appeared the opposite, given Russell's mood change. He thought of what Brenda said about her pans, and how she wanted to buy new ones. How convenient, he thought. I could give him one of her old pans. What better way to show my support of his pansexualness.
Monday morning, Sal shoved a pan inside his backpack. Brenda, true to her word, had bought a new set of pots and pans the previous day. He had asked her if he could have one of the old ones to give to a friend.
"Why would your friend want a 20 year old pan?" she asked, frowning up at him.
"They're an artist, and want to use it for their latest project," Sal answered.
Brenda looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but didn't. "Take it."
So he had taken it and shoved it in his backpack. He would give it to Russell during lunch, when they were alone in his secret eating spot. Sal remembered how Russell was dead-set against eating lunch with him. But maybe after their date-that-was-not-a-date, he'd change his mind.
* * * * *
Most students would pack up five minutes before the bell, regardless of whether the teacher was finished or not. But Russell was better than that. He was polite, attentive, and teachers loved him for it. Unlike Sal, who only seemed to keep one notebook in his backpack at all times, and packed it early along with everyone else.
Thinking of Sal had been putting Russell's stomach in knots lately. Ever since he came out to him, he struggled to focus on anything. Especially on his SAT's. His scores probably suffered for it. He fiddled with the coffin pendant on his necklace, and felt Sal's eyes on him. Whenever Russell would so much as glance over his shoulder, Sal's head would jerk down to his notebook. Russell was almost certain he had been staring at him.
If he didn't know better, he'd swear Sal was crushing on him. But he doubted it. When he had told him he was pan, he only stared. Russell had been hoping it would've sparked excitement on Sal's end. But he didn't seem excited at the prospect. If anything, he seemed mildly disturbed. Of course he had to be the "there's nothing wrong with it, but keep it to yourself" type.
The fact plagued Russell's mind all weekend. He didn't know what to do with Sal. How could he be friends with someone who thought he should keep his sexuality to himself?
But Sal was the closest thing he had to a friend.
The bell rang. Russell packed up his textbook, notebook, pen, and English folder with care. He snuck a glimpse at Sal, who sat with his backpack in his lap, looking at Russell expectantly. Russell slung his backpack on, and left for his locker. Sal was quick to follow.
"What do you want?" Russell asked, fumbling with the combination knob on his locker. Right turn, 23. Full circle left turn, 3. Left turn, 45. Wait, no, right turn. Russell turned the knob back to 0 and started over, mentally cursing Sal's distracting pine scent. He pulled up his locker door's latch, yet it didn't open. He heard Sal sigh impatiently behind him, and looked over.
"23-3-45," Sal said.
"What?"
"Your locker combination. It's 23-3-45."
"How do you-"
"Wanna eat lunch together?" Sal set his hand against the lockers, leaning his body into what might have been a seductive pose. But it seemed like he was forcing it, instead of letting it come naturally. Was he trying to seduce him? Russell shook his head. No, Sal was just being Sal.
Sal's face fell. "So that's a no?"
Russell's appetite began to fall as his anxiety levels began to rise. He could not eat with Sal. He didn't think he could eat now, with all the butterflies fluttering around his stomach. "Yes."
"Yes?"
"No. Yes as in no." Russell successfully opened his locker, and placed his English and Government textbooks inside.
Sal rapped his knuckles against the lockers. "What's your problem? Why don't you ever want to eat lunch together?"
"I just don't!" Russell grabbed his lunch bag, slammed his locker shut, and stormed off. A twinge of guilt settled in his stomach next to the butterflies.
And of course Sal followed him outside. "But I got you a present."
Curiosity overcame Russell. Frowning, he slid off his backpack, setting it onto the steps along with his lunch bag. "What do you mean, you got me a present?"
"Close your eyes, and hold out your hand."
Russell stared.
"That's not clo-osed," Sal said in a singsong voice.
Russell reluctantly complied. He heard a zipping noise, and something metallic was placed on his palm. Whatever it was took up his entire hand. "Now open!"
Russell looked down. A pan? He grabbed onto the rubbery handle. "What the heck?"
A smile spread across Sal's face. "It's a pan."
The pan was a used one, with grease stains inside, and a burn mark on the bottom. Russell probably wouldn't be allowed to bring it in the house, much less use it. "Why are you giving me this?"
"To show my support."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm showing my support for your pansexuality by giving you this pan."
Not this. The comment he made in the bookstore was insulting enough. One Russell had hoped was out of ignorance. But this proved Sal thought his sexuality a mockery. His grip on the handle tightened along with his jaw. "Like we all haven't heard that one." He sat down on the concrete steps, flinging the pan aside. "Go away."
"But-"
"You hate pansexuals, I get it. Now leave."
"I don't hate pansexuals," Sal said. "That's why I got you a pan. Because you're into them, and I want you to know that I approve of your sexual fetish towards cookware."
"Hold on." Russell pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. Of course. Of course he misunderstood. He looked back up at Sal, who watched him with a concerned expression. "You don't know what pansexual means."
"I know what it means." Sal held his head high. "I know all things sex."
"Alright. What does it mean then?"
"It's a pan fetish."
Russell tilted his head back, and laughed. "Sal Rondello, you truly are an idiot."
"I'm not an idiot!"
But Russell rubbed at his face, still chuckling. "It's not a pan fetish. Pansexuals are people who are sexually attracted to all genders."
"Oh... That makes a lot more sense. Why didn't you just say you were bisexual?"
"Because I'm not bisexual."
"But you said-"
"All genders." Russell rubbed his temples, reminding himself that this was new to Sal. "Bisexuals are attracted to some genders. But I like every gender equally. I barely even think about it."
Sal rubbed his chin pensively. "And this includes men?"
"Yes, this includes men." Russell caught Sal's eyes lighting up at this information and smiled. "I love men. Especially ones with long hair and cocky attitudes."
"Riveting," Sal said breathlessly. "I'm a man with long hair and a cocky attitude."
Russell bit back a smile, and picked up his lunch bag. "My favorite are ones who'll leave me alone so I can eat in peace."
Sal clasped his hands together. "I can leave you alone so you can eat in peace!"
Russell watched him flounder off, and turned back to his lunch bag, pulling out his sandwich. His suspicions were now confirmed. Sal had a fat crush on him. And Russell held similar feelings. Nowhere near as big, but he couldn't deny it any longer.
"This is going to be an interesting year," he said to his sandwich.
* * * * *
"Gee Sal, you look happy," Stewart said as he sat down across from him. "Where've you been?"
"With Russell. I gave him a present, and he gave me something to live for."
"That sounds swell."
Sal bit his lip as he watched Stewart press his fork into mashed potatoes, making rows of indentations. Stewart was a nice kid with no other friends. The perfect person to share secrets with. And Sal couldn't contain his joy any longer. He leaned in towards Stewart. "Can you keep a secret?"
Stewart leaned forward. "No one's ever told me a secret. Of course I'll keep it."
"I'm serious. You can't breathe a word of this to anyone. Especially not that low-life Brad, and especially especially not Russell.
"I promise."
"Okay, I can't hold it in any longer." Sal closed his eyes for a moment. "I am truly, madly, deeply in love with Russell."
"Gee, I already knew that." Stewart went back to his potato art, disappointment etched in his face.
"What? How'd you know?"
"The way you go on and on about him, it's like you're already married."
Sal felt himself turn pink, and looked down at the table, resting his chin in his hand. "I gave him a pan, but he didn't like it."
"Well, gee Sal, I wouldn't like it either if I was pansexual and someone tried giving me a pan."
Sal dropped his arm down onto the table, the prominent bone in his wrist hitting the surface. Wincing, he rubbed it, wondering how he managed to do that. "You knew he was pansexual?"
"Everyone knows he's pansexual." Stewart held his fork to his mouth, licking bits of potato off of it.
"Riveting." Sal inspected his wrist, reflecting on his conversation with Russell. Knowing he had a chance filled him with determination. But how to win him over?
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