Operation Sal | Sally Face x Travis Phelps

17

   "Todd, that can't be true," Travis listened as Sal's nervous, frantic voice struggled to calm itself, "The ministry? That would mean..."

  The blonde was approaching the lunch table from behind, coming back from the line with only an apple. It was Pizza Friday.

   Did that enrage Travis? Yes.

   Did he have bigger things to worry about? Of course.

   "Fucking sick, man," Larry grumbled, shaking his head slightly. He glanced up, catching Travis in his peripheral vision.  His dark eyes went wide for a moment.

   "I've dug relentlessly through multiple databases," Todd obliviously contested, glancing through the dozens of files propped up in his lap, "the only common link I could find was between the D.O.G and-"

   "What's the..." He paused, "The D.O.G?" Travis asked, head cocked ever so slightly to the side. He held the apple close to himself, his other hand stuffed in his pocket.

Sal's head spun around, his pigtails whipping along with the sudden motion, "Hey, Trav!" He exclaimed, voice wobbling with nervousness, "it's nothing, just uh," he paused, "D&D stuff." He winced for a moment, as if he had just been blinded by the sun, and then motioned for the blonde to sit beside him, "C'mere," he chirped softly.

Just like always, the table went silent at the sight of him, some glaring, and others pretending they didn't notice he was there at all.

He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, knowing deep down that he was unwanted.

Travis took a seat on the bench rigidly with his thighs pressed together. He held the apple in his hand glancing at Sal for a moment, who seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable, "D&D?" he repeated timidly.

Larry snorted and shook his head before propping his face against the palm of his hand, his long, dark hair cascading loosely over the curve of his shoulder, "I never thought I'd see the day," he mumbled with a smile, "You know, we should get church boy Phelps to play sometime."

The jab made Travis scrunch up his face, the pads of his fingers pressing soft, dark indents into the red skin of the apple, but wanting desperately to be on his best behavior around Larry Johnson, for Sal's sake, he bit his tongue and didn't say anything.

He glanced over his shoulder for a moment to observe the other kids who were members of his father's ministry. If they didn't tattle on him for sitting with this group to his dad before, they had absolutely no reason to do it now. Besides, they didn't know about what happened over the weekend anyway.

He was safe here. Well, safe enough. As long as Kenneth never found out, he had nothing to worry about.

"Can you pass me that?"

Travis whipped his head back around to see Ashley frowning at him, her eyes narrowed. Her hand was presented palm up.

He sucked in a breath, frantic and unsure of what she meant. His gaze darted around the table until her flat hand curled and pointed to a spot in front of him where a spork and napkin was sitting, wrapped in cellophane.

Oh, right.

Instead of her usual metal thermos of noodles, today, Ashley had some sort of Caesar salad in a plastic lunch organizer that, as Travis had now noticed, was sitting in front of her without any sort of utensil.

"Sorry," he blurted out, fumbling for the fork and napkin combo like a clumsy idiot, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she mumbled quietly once the little package was in her hand.