Operation Sal | Sally Face x Travis Phelps

23

   Six months of Operation Sal! who cheered ?woo! And what a chapter to commemorate it...

      "Mr. Phelps?" His teacher looked up at him through the wide, thick rims of her glasses, her hands folded atop the neat stack of papers that sat on her desk. "He came in early and told me that he felt nauseous and asked to be excused to the nurse." She explained, a perplexed look on her face, "He never came back. I assume he's still not feeling well."

Well, it was no wonder that he wasn't feeling good.

Sal's head bobbed in a faint nod, "Yeah," he mumbled ambiguously.

Larry, for once, had walked into the classroom rather than stood waiting at the doorway. He entered in a few long strides, looking more alert than Sal had seen him in days. His eyes were sharp, his lips drawn into a flat, almost stern line, "Hey," he said, appearing at his side.

His brother mumbled a "hey" back, his hands folded into loose fists at his side. He reached one up to anxiously twist a lock of cerulean hair between his fingers.

His teacher looked between the two boys, her eyes flickering back and forth. Her relaxed expression contorted into one of slight suspicion, a thin eyebrow arching up against her wrinkly forehead, "Should I be worried?"

"No, ma'am," Sal shook his head quickly, "I was just curious is all."

   She nodded subtly, and turned her attention back to the pile of papers lying beneath her hands, "Well, yes," she hummed, "it's very sweet of you to inquire about your classmate."

The blue-haired boy swallowed and felt a hand wrap around the inside of his elbow.

   "Let's check the cafeteria, man," Larry nodded towards the door, a feathery wave of brown hair folding over the top of his shoulder like a blanket.

   Sal wasn't sure if Travis even wanted him to find him, if he wanted anyone to find him, if he simply wanted to be alone, or if he was hiding from him specifically.

   Either way, it was absolutely necessary that they spoke, if only for a minute, and if, at that point, Travis told him that he didn't want to talk about it, Sal would respect that sentiment wholeheartedly.

   "Thank you anyway, ma'am," Sal waved goodbye quietly as Larry gently guided him back out into the hallway.

   Everyone's eyes seemed to be on him, and for no good reason. Sal shrunk at Larry's side, almost ducking behind his brother.

   Phillip was right. Less than twenty feet apart, the hallway was covered with photocopies of Travis's notebook entry, some more faded and difficult to read than others.

   Sal frowned, reaching up to peel one off, taking some of the wall's frail, cracking beige paint with him.

   Out of the corner of his eye, one of the other junior boys laughed and stared at him, jerking his hand in front of his face as if he was performing fellatio.

   "Ah, would you cut it out?" Larry scoffed, scowling at him. He reached for Sal's free hand and pulled him along, glaring daggers at the student, "Can't any of you fuckers get a life?"

   Sal scanned the hall for that familiar head of blonde hair as his brother pulled him through the crowd by the hand, "Who do you think did this?" He asked slowly, finally getting a good look at the walls.

    "I don't know," Larry grumbled, "must have been someone with a big name if these many people are worked up over it." He huffed, almost laughing, "Wasn't Trav, that's for sure."