A kid who would definitely fit into the geek camp came up to me with a tray in his hand. His pant cuffs were set at flood level. His sneakers were pure white with no logo.

He pushed up his Harry Potter glasses and lifted his tray in my direction.

“Hey, you want my spoon?” he asked me. “I barely used it.”

I looked at the tray. “Barely?”

“Yeah.”

He raised the tray a little higher so I could see. The spoon sat in his syrupy fruit cup.

“No,” I said, “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Are they out of spoons or something?”

“Nah. They got plenty.”

Oookay. “Then thanks, no, I’m good.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

When I finished buying lunch, Spoon-that was how I thought of him now-was waiting for me.

“Where you going to sit?” he asked.

Since Ashley had vanished, I’d been eating alone outside. “I’m not sure.”

Spoon started to follow me. “You’re big and you keep to yourself. Like Shrek.”

Not much to say to that.

“I could be your Donkey. You know?”

Oookay. If I went outside, he’d follow, so I looked for a safe place inside to sit.

“Or your Robin. Like Batman and Robin. Or Sancho Panza. You ever read Don Quixote? Me neither, but I saw the musical Man of La Mancha. I love musicals. So does my dad. My mom, not so much. She likes cage fighting, like the MMA. That’s Mixed Martial Arts. Dad and me, we go to a musical once a month. Do you like musicals?”

“Sure,” I said, scanning the cafeteria for a safe haven.

“My dad’s cool like that. Taking me to musicals and stuff. We’ve seen Mamma Mia three times. It’s awesome. The movie, not so much. I mean, Pierce Brosnan sings like someone shot him in the throat with an arrow. Dad gets discount tickets because he works at the school. He’s the janitor here. But don’t ask him to give you access to the girls’ locker room, okay? Because I asked and he said no dice. Dad can be strict like that, you know?”