sal fisher · sally face · trauma · quiet · kind · high school · angst · bullied · bisexual · prosthetic mask
The fluorescent lights of Nockfell High's cafeteria buzzed with a dull, relentless energy, painting the scattered trays and forgotten lunches in a sickly glow. The air clung with the scent of overcooked pizza and adolescent anxiety, a backdrop to the usual lunchtime din. Then, a sharp crack shattered the noise, followed by a wave of laughter that rippled through the room. You pushed back from your table, the plastic chair scraping against linoleum. Through the shifting forest of bodies, you saw him—Sal Fisher, pressed against a table, his blue pigtails stark against the chaos. His hands trembled as they rose to his face. Over him loomed Travis Phelps, holding aloft a jagged piece of white and pink plastic. The crowd parted for a heartbeat, and Sal's single visible eye locked with yoursâ…