Sal used to hate English, but now he looked forward to it more than any other class. He'd taken to speed-walking there, Russell beating him every time. But that could be because Sal always stopped by the bathroom for a quick hair check.

"I finished grading your group papers," Mrs. Norandi said at the end of class one day, holding up a stack of papers.

While she passed them back, Sal poked Russell with his pen. "I wonder what grade we got."

Russell turned around to face him. "Seeing as I did all the work, I expect nothing less than an A," he said, head held high with a gleam of intellectual superiority in his eyes.

"I did work. You just didn't want to turn it in."

"Because you typed it in Comic Sans."

Before Sal could respond, Mrs. Norandi dropped their paper on Russell's desk.

"Oooo, what'd we get?" Sal asked, peering over Russell's shoulder.

Russell flipped to the last page and frowned. "See me."

"C-minus? You said we'd get an A!"

"Not C-minus. See me. As in, she wants to see us after class."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Russell chewed his thumbnail.

Sal rested his chin in his hand, gazing at Russell. He couldn't help but smile as he studied the side of his face, and the way his jaw moved at every chew. I never thought nail-biting could be so attractive. He mentally added it to his new "Reasons to Love Russell" list, which he was going to keep off paper. No way would he risk somebody finding out about his new crush.

Russell stopped chewing and turned back towards him. "What are you doing?"

Sal tore his eyes away from Russell. "What do you mean?"

"You were staring at me."

"No I wasn't." Sal picked up his pen, and scribbled random shapes in his open notebook, gaze lowered. "Why would I ever stare at your ugly face? I was daydreaming."

"You were smiling."

"Cuz I remembered something funny."

"Must've been pretty funny, seeing how red you are."

Sal slammed his pen down. "I am not red!" he shouted, capturing everyone's attention.

Mrs. Norandi let out a sigh next to Mary and Ashley's table. "Sal, stop making so much noise."

Sal's warm face turned hot.

After the bell rang, Russell and Sal walked up to Mrs. Norandi, who sat at her desk, organizing papers.

"You wanted to see us?" Russell asked.

"Yes." Mrs. Norandi clasped her hands together as she looked up at the two boys. "I couldn't help but notice that your paper looked like Russell wrote everything."

Chest tightening, Sal stared down at his black Converse. This was it. Russell was going to tell the teacher all about how he did it all, and Sal did nothing but play video games. He opened his mouth to speak, but Russell spoke first.

"Sal wrote some of it. I typed it up though, and did some editing on his behalf. I must've gotten carried away with it."

"Don't be afraid to tell the truth. I know Sal has a habit of slacking off."

"I'm telling the truth. He helped."

"Okay." Mrs. Norandi still sounded dubious. "I only wanted to be sure that he contributed, before grading it." She opened what appeared to be a grade book, and wrote something down in it. "I'm giving you an A."

Sal grinned. His first A in a class that wasn't Geology. Maybe he should team up with Russell more often. In more ways than one, Sal thought as the two boys walked through the hallway, stopping at Russell's locker.

"You covered for me?" Sal asked.

"You did write your own version of the assignment, wrong as it probably was." Russell gave him a slight smile. "It's only fair for you to get credit."

"Thanks."

"What she said about you was messed up. I'd never say that about a student if I were a teacher. I might think it, but..."

Sal had found nothing out of the ordinary about Mrs. Norandi's comment. He'd heard worse. "It's nothing new. I've never cared about school. I mean, I care enough to graduate, but that's it."

"You're not going to college?" Russell asked, opening his locker.

"God no." Sal watched Russell stack a few books in his locker, and admired his perfect jawline. It wasn't strong, like his own, but it wasn't weak either. It was just right. His eyes gravitated towards the stubble growing on Russell's chin and upper lip. Those average-looking lips... Sal felt an urge to kiss them, and had to hold himself steady against the lockers. "Wanna eat lunch with me and Stewart today?" He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from Russell's surprised face. "Not that it means anything. I just know you eat lunch alone all the time and-"

"No." Russell turned his attention back to his locker.

Sal tried to ignore the stabbing pain in his heart. "We can eat lunch at your spot," he said, hoping Russell wouldn't notice the slight waver in his voice. "You can eat your jelly sandwich. I can eat my peanut butter sandwich. We can mash our sandwiches together to form a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

"That sounds stupid."

A lump formed in his throat. The urge to shove Russell struck him, which switched to an urge to hold him. He straightened. "You look stupid. So how about it?"

Russell closed his locker, his expression unreadable. "After you said I look stupid?"

"Just being honest."

"What's wrong?" Stewart asked as Sal slumped across from him in the cafeteria.

"Russell rejected me." Sal rested his chin on the table, stabbing heart pain still present.

"I'm sorry. Do you want the rest of my lunch? Today's Taco Thursday."

How could I ever make Russell fall in love with me? Sal wondered. An idea hit him, and he jerked his head back up. "How well do you know Russell?"

Stewart appeared unfazed by his abrupt change in mood. "Gee Sal, not very," he said. "We were once lab partners in Chemistry class. Which was great because I'm terrible at Chemistry, and he's real good at it."

"So he likes Chemistry." I could give him some of that.

"I'm not sure if he does. Russell's real good at a lot of subjects. He's a straight A student."

"So he's a nerd." Sal wasn't sure what to do with this newfound information he suspected anyway.

"He likes wolves."

"I already knew that."

"I once saw him reading a fitness magazine."

Sal stroked his chin. It was easy to assume that Russell was into such things, given the state of his biceps and triceps. "Really?"

"Yeah," Stewart said. "It was full of guys who were full of muscles."

"Are you telling me he's into guys with muscles?"

"Maybe." Stewart took a pitiful bite from his taco.

Sal examined his skinny arms in sorrow. "This is hopeless."

"Maybe you could buy him McDonald's, and treat him to a movie," Stewart said. "It would work on me."

"That would work on me too." Sal grinned. "You're a genius."

The second the final bell rang, Sal ran to the only velocity red, 2013 Mazda3 parked in the school's parking lot. He ignored the butterflies in his stomach, along with the looks his sprinting had earned him. He didn't know Russell's class schedule, so his only option was to wait for him to come to his car. While waiting, he made a mental note to ask for his schedule. Then, he wondered if that would be too creepy. He beamed when Russell approached, his butterflies turning into pterodactyls.

"What do you want now?" Russell asked, fumbling for his car keys. "I'm too busy today to go on any 7/11 escapades with you."

"What about Saturday?" Sal asked. "I was thinking McDonald's and a movie."

"My SAT's are on Saturday. And I was planning on applying to colleges and scholarships after."

"Good, because I can't hang out on Saturday anyway." Sal raised his head majestically, wind blowing through his hair.

"Then why did you suggest Saturday?"

"So you'd ask me why I can't hang out Saturday."

"I'm not asking you that."

"You're no fun." Sal tucked a lock of wind-blown hair behind his ear. "What about-"

"I got church Sunday."

"You go to church?"

"Yeah, I know."

"What about tomorrow night?" Sal asked. "After school?"

Russell looked up to the heavens, shoulders sagging. "You can't leave me alone, can you?"

"I'll pay!" Sal said. "I mean, this isn't a date." He held up a hand. "Just so we're clear. This is not a date."

Russell frowned at him. "I didn't think it was."

Sal's pulse quickened. He took a breath to steady it. "So you'll hang out with me?"

Russell didn't say yes, but he didn't say no either. Sal stared at him with bated breath. "There's no movies I want to see," Russell finally said.

Sal released his breath. "What should we do then?"

"Whatever teenage boys do, I guess." Russell furrowed his brow. "What do teenage boys do anyway?"

"I dunno. Commit crimes and get high?"

"I'm afraid I'll get caught."

"Wuss." Sal shoved his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie. "I guess we can go to the mall. Or something."

Russell nodded, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Sounds like fun."

Sal's heart soared. He clasped his hands together, bending his left leg upwards. "It's a date!"

Russell gave him a bemused look. "I thought this wasn't a date?"

Sal returned his hands and feet back to their proper positions, but he couldn't stop smiling. He bit his lip, and blurted out, "The reason I can't do Saturday is because Tyler's teaching me how to drive. He says I'm ready for expressways!"

"I really don't care."