01. THE HEALTHIEST SUBWAY SANDWICH

IF TOBY'S PARENTS HAD NOT decided to waste an insurmountable amount of money on handmade upholstery, maybe he would have started off college a little wealthier.

For some bizarre reason, his parents used to be obsessed with handmade curtains, lampshades, comforters- you name it. They were absolutely against machine-made goods and that wasn't a bad thing but they insisted on buying original, handmade pieces. Those obviously cost a fortune but Toby's parents-very well aware of this fact- paid no attention to it. Nothing would stop them from visiting everything from flea markets to expensive antique stores in search of the best.

Any other normal, responsible adult would have spent wisely or at least been aware that all their savings are being sapped but it was Toby's undeniable luck to be blessed with such unaware parents.

It took them almost four years to stop buying unnecessarily expensive upholstery but by then, they had spent close to a half a million dollars. That was when Toby's mother started working two jobs and his father- for once- tried to complete his projects before the deadline.

Maybe it would not have been such a waste if all these things were not lying in the basement and gathering dust now. Toby doubted that his parents even remembered it. He wondered if things were different, would he still be working in the campus Subway on weekends instead of going to clubs and Saturday night parties like a normal person. He can't really use the doing-hard-work-to-feed-hungry-students excuse for the not partying because a) He only works in the afternoons and b) he hasn't been invited to a single one because c) he hasn't made any new acquaintances even though d) he talks to about fifty people everyday working at Subway.

A senior asks him for a roasted chicken salad with extra vinaigrette. Toby sets to work and-to hell with being modest- he's pretty good. He's quick and clean and he usually tries to spare smiles for customers.

He smiles at the senior as he hands him his salad. The older boy only nods vacantly and pays up. Toby feels like stuffing a handful of freshly chopped lettuce into the boy's mouth. What does a guy have to do to get a tip around here?

The boy is just leaving with his salad when a pretty Indian girl enters. She ties her black hair into a ponytail as she makes her way to the counter. Her dark circles are more prominent than usual and the way they grace the dark skin of her face reminds Toby of the shadows on the moon.

She walks up to the counter, leans on it and grins at Toby. "Knock, knock!" Zara announces loudly.

"I'm working, go away."

"Oh, shut up. Knock, knock!"

Toby sighs and wipes removes his plastic gloves. He wipes his hands on his apron and looks at her. "Who's there?"

"Lettuce."

"Lettuce who?"

"Lettuce treat our friend with a free Sub!" She beams at him with the glee of a child. In the artificially bright lighting of Subway, her face glows warmly and her acne is almost invisible. This information would thrill her.

"You're not getting a free Sub," Toby tells her sternly.

"Oh, come on."

"No."

She drops the smile and scowls at him, looking more like her usual self. She stands up straight and crosses her arms. Since Toby knows she's not necessarily harmless, she always succeeds in scaring him.

"Where's Charlie?" He asks her, craning his neck to looks for him.

"He's coming... behind, I don't know," Zara answers with a shrug but she turns around too. "He was behind me ten seconds ago."

Toby frowns. "So where's he now?"

"Relax your worried mommy-side, Toby," she chides. "He'll be here in a minute."

Toby wanted to argue about how he did not in fact, have a mommy-side when Charlie enters. His dark hair is tousled and windblown to one side as if he has walked through a tornado. Toby suspects it must be a windy afternoon.

Charlie spots Toby and waves. Then he waves to someone in the left corner of the room.

Curiously, Toby cranes his neck forward to see who he's waving at. A group of freshman sit the table, engrossed in conversation, perfectly oblivious to the fact that Charlie is waving at them, which he probably isn't. There could be endless possible people Charlie thought he was waving at. Toby is used to it by now but his heart skips a beat.

Unfazed, Charlie makes his way toward them and says, "Hey." He has a nice voice, Toby muses. He reckons his friend could have been a good speaker. He has the sort of voice you want in someone who will stay up late and read out loud to you but Charlie hates reading anything except for comic books. It gives him a headache.

"Hey," Toby and Zara reply in unison.

"Toby," Charlie begins in an excited voice. "Knock, knock?"

"I've already tried that." Zara tells him.

"But you're not holding a Sub."

"It didn't work." She says sadly.

Charlie gives Toby a disappointed look. "Really? You can't spare one Subway sandwich for your best friends?"

"I can if you pay me. And preferably tip me."

"Waiters get tips!" Zara exclaims, fanning her face. It was a sweet old fashioned gesture and she used it quite frequently. "You're not a waiter."

"Subways don't have waiters!" Toby argues.

"That's not the customers' problem!"

Toby gives her a dirty look. Some movement behind them catches his eye. Professor Fanning, head of the history department, enters. Heads turn to look at her because most professors don't eat at Subway or other fast food joints; they frequent bars and a salad joints. Most of the customers are students and that's why it's considered a sort of safe haven in the campus. If you want to grab a quick bite, you go to Subway. If you want a quiet spot away from the faculty's eyes to make out, you come to Subway and occupy the few tables it houses. Seeing a professor in Subway was like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs.

Professor Fanning, a tall woman of about fifty years of age, makes her way to the counter, oblivious or perhaps ignorant of all the stares she was receiving. Her long hair is loose and tangled from the wind and she sweeps it behind her shoulders as she makes her way to the counter.

Zara, Charlie and Toby continue to stare at her as she stops for a few seconds and spares a quick look at the Sub of the Day. She looks a little uncomfortable as she meets Toby's eyes.

Toby realizes that she isn't completely oblivious to the stares she is receiving and having two more people leaning against the counter and gaping at her like fish probably does not help. He prods Charlie in the shoulder and whispers, "Move."

Charlie blinks. He nods seriously as if he has been given the job of returning the One Ring back to Mordor. "Come on," he tells Zara and the two of them walk over to one of the vacant tables closest to the counter so that they can watch the scene unfold from a safe but convenient distance. 

Toby turns to the woman, trying for a winning smile. "Hello, Professor Fanning."

Professor Fanning smiles back at him, looking a little more at ease. "Hello...?"

"Toby."

"Toby. You aren't in any of my classes, are you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Oh, there's no need for such formality," She says nonchalantly but she stands a little straighter. She is one of the most senior members of the faculty; Toby figures a little formality is needed. "What can I get for you?"

"Hm. Are your vegetables fresh?"

"Um, yes?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"The latter, ma'am."

"Alright then. I'll try some Black Forest Ham."

"You have to choose your bread first."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

Behind her, Zara and Charlie and shaking with laughter, Toby is aware that they can hear every word of this conversation. They aren't the only ones. Two more tables have halted conversations in order to eavesdrop on a lowly freshman making a Subway sandwich for the head of the history department.

Toby sighs.

Professor Fanning is going through the choices of breads. "Which bread is the healthiest? I'm trying to lose weight, you know." She added in a low voice.

This question ignites an idea in Toby's mind. This is a fifty year old senior professor who is ordering at Subway for what seems like the first time and wants to eat healthy. What if Toby- the sweet, helpful boy that he is- helps her choose the perfect Subway sandwich? If she didn't tip him them, Toby would freeze her with the rest of his meat.

He smiles at her. "You can try Honey Oat."

"Alright, I shall try it."

"No cheese?"

"No cheese."

"D'you want me to toast it?"

"Toast what?"

'Um, the bread."

Someone at a nearby table audibly snorts. Toby glares in their direction as Professor Fanning says, "Oh, yes. I would like it toasted."

"You can also try turkey breast," Toby adds as he retrieves the bread. "It's very healthy."

She nods. "And I shall. Good choice. And add all vegetables."

Keep going, keep going, Toby thinks. As he heats up the meat, he says, "I hope you don't have anywhere important to go after this. Turkey makes you very sleepy."

Professor Fanning frowns at him.

"Y-You know at Thanksgiving and all, Turkey makes everyone so sleepy. It's got this chemical called trypophan." Toby recalls his cousin telling him something of the sort. "We need it for, um, I mean the body needs it for making you know, fats. It makes you very sleepy." Toby has no idea what trypophan is and Turkey has never made him sleepy but who knows? Maybe dear old Professor Fanning takes an afternoon siesta after each Thanksgiving meals and would be very interested in knows why she feels so sleepy.

Professor Fanning is quiet for a minute. "You don't by any means, Toby dear, mean tryptophan?"

Toby's heart skips a beat. He glances up quickly to see his friends, red with suppressed laughter. His neck feels hot. He adds the vegetables to the Sub without looking up again. "Um, yes."

"And tryptophan makes proteins." Professor Fanning continues. "And in fact it's proven that it's not the Turkey that makes people sleepy at Thanksgiving. It's the carbs- the potatoes and cheese and pies."

Toby feels like he is melting into his Vans. "Oh."

"Yes, dear."

"What sauces do you want?" Toby asks in a thick voice.

"What are the healthiest sauces, O Turkey Expert? Or The One Who Thinks He is The Turkey Expert?" Professor fanning laughs at her own joke. She is probably trying to make him feel lighter but it just annoys him further. Not unlike the rest of the world, Toby hates getting embarrassed.

It's not the woman's fault but Toby wants his own personal sort of revenge. "The healthiest sauces," he says dramatically, "are Mayo, Southwest and Ranch Dressing."

She frowns at him. "What are you going on about? Mayonnaise is fattening."

So she knows her stuff. Toby doesn't back down. "Oh I'm sorry, yes. I misspoke. The other two are the healthiest we have."

Professor Fanning still doesn't look convinced. She keeps impatiently tapping the counter with her wallet. "I'll have the other two, then."

As Toby squeezes the two highly fattening sauces onto Professor Fanning's Sub, a sweet pleasure overcomes him. If this is drunkenly powerful feeling is what drives villains to become villains, he sympathizes.

*

"Can I use your laptop?' Toby asks.

"Yeah, okay." Charlie looks up from his- technically Toby's since Charlie would rather swim in hot oil than take notes for once- notes. "What are you doing?"

"I've got this stupid essay."

"Oh."

It wasn't even two weeks since classes started and Toby was already feeling it. He had spent his first one week idling around and not doing anything and then the workload began piling up. It was probably not very much but it seemed like it.

And what is sadder than doing a psychology essay on a Sunday night? Trying to do a psychology essay and not being able to.

Toby chose to major in psychology because the human brain fascinated him. He was good at it too- mainly because he spent most of high school and middle school on the internet, searching up on disorders and ways to help people with the same.

He began with schizophrenia after Charlie was diagnosed but he began reading up on others too. Before he knew it, he was reading essays by online professors. For a long time, Toby had known what he wanted to pursue.

"Look at us," Charlie says forlornly. He sets his stack of notes aside and rubs his eyes. "We're so pathetic."

"I know, right?" Toby agrees.

"You wanna do some weed or something? They're all doing it outside."

Toby glares at him over the laptop. "No drugs."

"You sound like my mom."

'I'm going to burn you alive if you become a drug addict."

"Why do you care?"

Toby flinches.

"I didn't mean that." Charlie says quickly.

"Okay."

"I really didn't."

"Okay."

The reason Charlie and Toby attended the same collage was mostly because Charlie's doctors said that Charlie's schizophrenia was better with Toby around. It was nothing very major but having Toby around calmed Charlie down. Charlie's parents had a huge talk with Toby's and they decided that the two should attend the same college.

It was hard- finding the same college, getting admission. Charlie's parents had to specially make sure they got the same room in the college hostel. And it all worked out because Toby remembers losing hours of sleep during their senior year, wondering what Charlie is going to do without him when they go to college. Knowing that they will be together during college was the best news he had gotten all year. It was like a testament to their friendship which according to Charlie's doctor was one of the most strong relationships he'd ever witnessed. Toby suspected that he was just saying it to please Charlie but he felt warm nevertheless.

In fact, when the two learned that Zara- who had best their other best friend since middle school after she punched someone for calling Charlie a freak- was also attending the Hudson University in Lincoln, Toby wondered how everything was falling into place so perfectly. (Zara's parents had convinced her to attend the Hudson University and she had no problem with that since she tried for scholarship at Princeton, Ivey and about ten other collages and failed.)

Everyday Toby would ask Charlie if he has taken his pills. Sometimes it skipped Charlie's mind but it never skipped Toby's. Charlie was always in his mind.

"Hey, Toby," Charlie calls out.

"What?"

"We've gotta go."

"What? Where?'

"Someone's in the hallway."

"It's a hostel, someone's obviously in the hallway." Toby answers in a bored voice. He stares hard at the blank Word document he has opened. It was a good technical representation on his blank head.

"No, I mean downstairs. In a black bandanna and all."

"What?" Toby keeps the laptop aside. He frowns. "What are you talking about?"

Charlie quickly rushes to wear his sneakers. He tries to tie his shoelace but his hands are shaking from excitement and he keeps messing it up.

Toby walks up to him and gently pries Charlie's hands away from the shoelace. His fingers are warm and trembling and Toby feels as though he has captured a butterfly in his hands. Toby calmly ties Charlie's shoelace for him and then stares him in the eye. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Trust me, come on." Charlie stands up and pulls up his jeans. "Or I'm going alone."

Are you sure this isn't a delusion? Toby wanted to ask, but he had never seen Charlie sound so sure about anything. He spoke with conviction and finality in his voice so that it made it very hard for Toby to not believe him. He didn't, though. He crosses his arms and glared at his friend. "You're not going alone."

"Then. Come. With. Me."

Oh to hell with it, Toby thinks. Nothing in the Nine Realms is going to stop Charlie from doing what he wants and Toby is going to let him go alone. He quickly throws on his Vans and grabs his phone. By that time, Charlie is already rushing out.

"Wait!" Toby calls out.

The hallways are sort of suffocating and stuffy. A few boys are lounging around, leaning against the walls and smoking. The smell makes Toby want to stop breathing. He buries his nose into his shirt and keeps going. Charlie rushes down the flights of stairs, past the lobby and into the basement.

"Charlie!" Toby yells. "You little piece of"-

"Shut up!" Charlie yells back. "And stop yelling!"

Toby wants to point out to irony but by then they are in the dark, dingy basement of the building. Toby didn't even know they had a basement.

Charlie has halted and crouched against a wall, cloaked in the shadows. He gestures for Toby to join him.

They are standing in a narrow hallway lined with doors on both sides. A small bulb provides some much needed light. It bathes the walls in shades of yellow. The air is musty and stale and Toby can't wait to get out.

Feeling pretty stupid, he crouches beside Charlie.

They stay like that for what seems like a minute. Toby is pressed against Charlie and smell the sweet sweat on his neck. He can feel his friend's heart beating and can swear it's faster than usual.

"Charlie," he whispers in a soothing voice. "Let's go."

"Wait," Charlie whispers again, so softly that Toby has to lean into him even more to hear it. That's when he hears footsteps. Toby's heart feels like it was crawling to his throat.

He feels Charlie's muscles tense. The boys are quiet but their nerves are on the edge.

A figure darts into view from the other end of the hallway. Toby can't make much out except a monkey mask on the face, black camouflage and a bag pack. He can't tell if the person is male or female because a woolen mask covers their head. More than anything, Toby wonders how much the poor guy/girl would be sweating in the Nebraska heat.

The figure tries to pick the lock on one of the rooms. They fail. They move to another. And fail again. A few minutes pass by like this. Toby doesn't dare breathe.

Finally, the figure sighs loudly, curses voluminously and steps back. Again, the voice could be male or female. They begin making their way toward where Toby and Charlie are crouched and judging from their gait, they are unhappy. Mission failed.

It takes a second for Toby to think, oh shit. The figure could be armed. It dawns on Toby that they could die. The thought induced such an adrenaline rush in him that Toby shuddered. Before he could do anything else, the figure was onto them. There is no way to hide in the shadows as Toby's blood freezes as the figure steps in front of him, their thighs parallel to Toby's eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The voice that escaped the monkey cap was gruff and fake as though someone was trying very hard to conceal their identity.

Charlie unfreezes a second before Toby. "Run!" He yelps. He tugs Toby's collar and sprints back up. Toby pushes aside the figure standing over him and runs after Charlie. He doesn't turn back as he follows Charlie up the stairs. His legs are on fire and feel as if they could fall off. They boys sprint back to their room- the people in the hallway give them weird looks but all Toby can think of is getting away from the black figure.

The hostel only introduced brand new keys for the rooms a month or two before Charlie and Toby started but they hadn't locked the room. Charlie throws the door open and they rush inside. Toby slams it shut behind him.

The boys collapse on their beds from sheer exhaustion. Toby is breathing so heavily that he feels as if his lungs are on fire. His veins are pumping with adrenaline and he can hardly keep still; it's as though he has been injected with heavenly fire. He can feel his heartbeat in his temples- fast and urgent as if trying to give him a message.

"Well... shit," Charlie pants.

"Well... shit." Toby agrees.