The Second Violin became my new obsession. I examined chins, trying to match up the only part of his face with every guy I knew, but my search was fruitless. I ended up playing in the east gardens, and, when I heard his violin reply solemnly, I lowered my choice weapon and faced him like a man. Well, sort of.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

The boy shrugged. "No one of consequence."

"Like hell you are." I shot back. "And why are you even here?"

The Second Violin made a sound that could have been a cough, but it developed into full out laugh. He was doubled up with mirth so intense that all I could do was stand there in shock, looking like a deer in the headlights. I hadn't even said anything funny.

"I'm...alright." He said, recovering from his fit of laughter. "I'd like to tell you who I am, but..."

There was a very pregnant pause.

"OK...OK.." I said, shattering the tense silence. "I don't need to know."

"Good." He sighed in relief. "For that, I promise to keep your secret. I'll look out for you, be the ally you never had but have always needed. I'll help you, as long as you never again try to find out my name or face."

This dude was just a little too weird, but, for some reason, I couldn't help liking him. And the mystery behind him, under the queerness, was quite intriguing.

So we talked. About life, about music, about Lakewood. He began to ask me why I skipped gym class every Monday, but stopped halfway through the question. Of course I would skip PE.

Like most conversations with guys, we ended up discussing DragonBall Z. Then the dinner bell rang and he left. I thought about following him, trying to find out his identity, but I remembered my promise to him, and I let him go, trudging back to the dining hall to eat the caviar in crystal glasses, swan--still feathered--and fried rice. I still don't know why they served fried rice with practically every meal, but I wasn't complaining. It was better than eating plumaged bird.