The cafeteria, also known as Chow Hall, was run by a group of ex-convicts, strictly supervised by Manfred Stone, an ex-marine; it was part of some government program. It involved prisoners who'd committed fraud, petty theft, and other sorts of similar crimes. There weren’t any Ted Bundys, Charles Mansons, or Al Capones—they served as a warning for students to stay on the right path in life, but they also showed them it was never too late to change.
Manfred was one hundred and ninety centimeters tall and buff to the point of breaking through his t-shirt. He was also the undisputed king of lunchroom monitoring. Manfred was responsible for monitoring student behavior during meal service. He managed the cleanliness of the cafeteria with perfection and assisted with the flow of meal service. Manfred took his work dead seriously, and any abnormalities were immediately reported to Principal Johnson. Law and order prevailed in the school cafeteria; Manfred was not a man to be trifled with.
The fact that he was also a former mixed martial arts fighter and had shown himself more than capable of breaking up any fight, killed any shred of doubt that peace must be maintained in the cafeteria.
The food was excellent, and the kitchen and cafeteria were cleaner than a priest on a Sunday. The aroma was strangely pleasant, with a hint of lavender mixed with whatever was cooking that day, be it breakfast or lunch.
A huge sign on the wall welcomed students as they entered the cafeteria:
IT IS A GREAT DAY TO BE A FALCON
FOCUSED
ACADEMIC
LOYAL
CLEVER
OPEN-MINDED
NEIGHBORLY
The cafeteria had been designed with healthy eating habits in mind and with the goal of creating an atmosphere where students would want to eat. Menu boards were scattered about on the tables and posted on the walls. Health-inspired banners depicting nutritional food items and food art sent a clear message: you are what you eat.
When the students entered, their chatter and excited laughter filled the building as they sat at their tables for lunch. Sal sat at his custom-made table and chair and Rosie sat at the table next to him. Within minutes, Jack joined them.
“Are you stalking us?” Rosie uttered as he sat down.
“I'm not a stalker—I'm an unpaid investigator. You're always so negative, Rosie.”
“Before you judge me, be sure you Google yourself, nerd.”
“Oh Rosie, you do know we prefer the term intellectual badass?”
“Are you on drugs? Because your self-image is way out of proportion.”
“Those who don't know me think I'm on drugs. Those who know me think I should be.”
They stopped bickering long enough to watch Sal scout the cafeteria, looking at each other and shaking their heads. Jack and Rosie had always quarreled with one another, but they always seemed to know what the other was thinking.
Jack grabbed the menu from the table. “Come on—let’s get in line for pasta.”
“Or, God forbid, some salad.” Rosie added.
While Sal stood in the queue for his plate of pasta Bolognese, he heard a commotion at the back of the cafeteria. He recognized Carl’s voice. “I'm not a proctologist, but I sure know an asshole when I see one.” He was standing face-to-face with Alan Hanson, quarterback on the football team. Alan was known for his powerful build and hard-played defense.
Carl pushed Alan—hard.
Sal sprinted toward his brother with Manfred racing right behind him. “Williams, stop that, right now,” Manfred commanded. The cafeteria went still, and everyone followed the scene playing out before them with great anticipation.
These kinds of outbursts were rare. Sal could practically sense people betting on the outcome.
Sal and Manfred reached the brawlers before anything more violent could break out.
“You should keep him on a leash, Sal. Your brother's crazy.” Alan sat back down at the table, and Carl retreated to the cafeteria door before Manfred got to him.
Sal followed Carl out into the hall. “Carl, wait!”
“Leave me alone, Sal.” He reached the end of the hall, angrily pushed the door open, and disappeared through it.
Sal reentered the cafeteria, staring into the faces of a lot of curious people, trying to connect the dots, looking every bit like a pop-eyed toy in a claw machine. He raised his hand and said, “Show’s over, folks.”
Manfred’s eyes fixed on him like they'd rusted into place. His glare seemed to suck something out of Sal, and it was the only message he needed.
Sal emptied his tray and walked outside. It wasn’t the time to settle the score with Manfred. Ever since Manfred had caught him in the cafeteria with the pizza delivery guy, he'd disliked him. Sal had crossed the line, and Manfred wasn’t one to forget it.
He crashed on a bench outside, his mind slipping back in time.
Sal had been excused from Mr. Mayer’s class after he'd forgotten to switch his phone off during class. Mr. Mayer's judgment had fallen promptly: go see the guidance counselor. Failing yet again to do what he'd been told, he headed to the cafeteria to see if he could get some free food.
The cafeteria should've been empty, but it wasn't. An insecure pizza delivery guy was trotting around the room, waiting to get paid for his delivery of ten pizzas. He looked at Sal with eyes expressing relief.
“I’m looking for a Manfred Stone. I have a delivery for him.” The guy pointed to the stack of pizzas on the counter.
There was purity about him. A naivety.
Sal smiled and walked closer. “I think you've been pranked. Manfred Stone would never order ten pizzas. In his world, carbs and fat are pure evil.”
The guy’s eyes darted back to the pizzas. “What am I going to do?”
"Don't look so sad," Sal said with a smile. "I’ll get your money."
“Really? Thank you. My boss will be really pissed if I come back without money.”
“Don’t I know you?" Sal asked with friendly interest. "Didn’t you graduate from Strong Edge High last year?”
“I did.” The pizza guy looked at his shoes. “I remember you, too.”
Sal stepped closer. Something inside him couldn’t resist. It was as if a part of him was playing a game. He touched the guy’s hand lightly and leaned in close. The guy didn’t move, but he closed his eyes as Sal leaned in for the kiss.
In the same moment, in came Manfred. He barged through the door like some warhorse and started to yell about deviant behavior and school rules. The incident turned into a greater ruckus when Manfred, feeling horribly violated, called Principal Johnson to the "scene of the crime."
Sal played it cool and claimed that he'd merely tried to help a fellow man in need.
The pizza guy got paid, and Sal managed to charm his way out of the situation, claiming he'd taken a shortcut through the cafeteria. Principal Johnson turned on his heel with Manfred on his tail like a lapdog, determined to resolve the mystery of the prank pizzas.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” Sal said when the pizza guy started to leave. His mouth broke into a flirtatious smile.
The pizza guy barely nodded, but then he looked at Sal with passion in his eyes. He seemed to ponder the situation for a second; his breath shook when he moved back to Sal. The kiss was short but intense.
The pizza guy hurried out the door, and Sal licked his lips.
When the school bell woke him from his daydream, he wasn’t sure how long he'd been lost in thought. The poor guy had been easy to tease. He'd seen him lurking by the school one time, but never again. Perhaps the situation should have filled him with guilt, but it didn’t.
Did that make him a selfish dick?