Carrying the Platter

Sniper's Unfortunate Morning

I'm back to continue this! But don't count on me too much, I might disappear for two months.

Tuesday 8:30

Smalls wasn't in the lunch room when the teachers started the day. Sniper had arrived at eight, as usual. Had it been any other day, Smalls would have shown up ten minutes later. But she hadn't done that, and she was still nowhere to be seen.

Their four cooking teachers spoke in unnecessary detail about what had to be done in the kitchen that day. Sniper's attention gravitated strongly towards the empty chair at his table instead. Smalls should have been in that seat. Finch and Tommy Boy filled the remaining two chairs, but Sniper was seriously missing the presence of Smalls. His hand under the table felt tingly without another hand to hold. He used said uncomfortably empty hand to sneak his phone out of his pocket.

Still no message, no text, not any kind of notification from Smalls indicating where she was. Smalls wasn't one to show up on time 100% of the time, but she was one to let people know when she faced trouble.

"Dude, you're starin' at yer hand again," Finch's voice cut through Sniper's thoughts. He realized that he had indeed been looking straight at his hand, hanging beside the chair.

"Patrick!" Weasel shouted, cutting off Seitz in the middle of a sentence, only to reprimand the teenager who had whispered one sentence.

Finch nodded at the asshole, who looked satisfied with that response. The second Weasel started looking for other students to randomly yell at, Finch rolled his eyes and mouthed "that son of a bitch".

"One hell of a motherfucker," Sniper whispered, barely loud enough for Finch and Tommy Boy to hear.

"He'd be lucky if any old hag, mudda' of twelve wanted ta be wit 'im," Finch said.

Sniper's snort earned him a glance from Weasel. He meekly raised his hand as an apology for his terrible disruption to the class. It didn't work much, as only a second later, he had to muffle another laugh when Tommy Boy said:

"Just like you, Finchy."

Under the table, Finch stabbed the air with his middle finger.

"Tom's right," Sniper whispered.

He also got the harsh flip-off from Finch. He quickly put his middle finger up towards his friend. His other hand did the same to Tommy Boy. Two seconds later, the boys were having a battle about who could flip the others off most aggressively under the table.

"Thomas, Patrick, Jeffrey, is there somethin' you'd like ta share with the class?" Ms. Kasprzak, or Hannah, as the students called her suddenly said.

The three boys realized they had been leaning over the table to very visibly flip each other off under the clothless table.

"No..." Tommy Boy said.

"Good," Hannah nodded sternly. "I need eight people to be today's waiters."

"We gotta be waiters - I forgot my hat at the lodging," Finch told his friends as he raised his hand to volunteer.

"What 'bout Smalls?" Sniper queried.

"She ain't here right now, she ain't got a say."

"Alright," Sniper raised his hand too.

"Okay, Jack, Charlie, Davey, Tom, Patrick, Jeff... two more please, or I will choose," Hannah said strictly.

That would have been a perfect time for Smalls to appear around the corner, all tired from hurrying, but ready to volunteer. Sniper glanced back at the staircase to the first floor, entertaining the small chance that exactly that would happen.