A few days later, Stacey and Timothy and I
put our trays at the table next to Victor’s.
He turns his chair to us
but keeps his book open.
“We don’t bite,” Stacey says.
Victor chews his sandwich. Today it’s cheese and ham.
“Where are you from?” I ask,
taking the lid off my obento
slowly. No one laughs or gags,
but Timothy asks if he can have a kappamaki.
Victor swallows. “Rhode Island,” he says,
and points to the kappamaki. “What’s that?”
“Cucumber sushi. Take one.”
I wonder why I ate so many cafeteria lunches last year
when I could have eaten this yummy food instead.
And maybe if I’d shared it,
I could have made more friends.
“You must be here because of the college,” Stacey says.
Victor picks out a piece of sushi.
“My father works in the admissions office,” he says,
and pops the sushi in his mouth.
The bell rings, and lunch is over.
We say good-bye to Timothy,
and Stacey says, “See you later?” to Victor.
He nods. “Later.”
“He’s so cool,” Stacey says in my ear as we walk to history.
In class, Debbie whisper-sings, “Mimi and Victor sitting in the tree . . .”
I give her a Mifune look. She doesn’t understand
that the girl who wants to k-i-s-s Victor
is not me.