The Wrong Twin

Spencer Williams IV

1

“Sherman!”

Although the seventh period bell would not ring for another

three minutes, Sherman and Dalton had made significant progress

down the hall and were about an average Jaramillo High School stu-

dent’s height from the door to the outside. Although it was custom

for them to jet out of Biology a little early, Ms. Hinder’s shrill cry

from their prison, Room A141, made Sherman slow his pace. The

pale light from their classroom faded as the heavy door squeaked to

a close behind them. He knew his hesitation placed him in danger

if his teacher decided to be proactive and drag his insubordinate ass

back in to hear her customary farewell to her students for the week-

end. They were not going to stick around just to sing her little Coo-

lio-parody goodbye song: “One, two, three, four: Get your booties

out the door!” The whole intended mood of mirth would be ruined,

for one.

For two, by the time the screech tickled his eardrums in places

2

he could only scratch with a Q-tip, and where Johnson & Johnson

warning labels would dissuade him from trying to reach, there was

probably just a minute or less left and apprehending two kids who

always slipped out at this time anyway would just be a waste of ev-

eryone’s time.

“Let’s move!” shouted Sherman. He grabbed his friend by the

humerus and yanked him out the front entrance as the electronic

bell sounded from flat intercoms throughout the building.

They were greeted by a sea of students who appeared to stand

in color coordinated groups. Immediately in front of him were loud

obnoxious jocks wearing clothes so bright and clean they were glow-

ing, advertising the abbreviations and acronyms of popular brand

insignia, the infinite customizations of which emblazoned the can-

vas of their garb. Their pristine apparel looked as though it had only

that morning been removed from off-white shelves of perfect inset

cubes that smelled of vanilla and synthetic fabric. Their immaculate

dress was like a testament of their intemerate character. This was

America’s real life blood—Bull-headed braying testosterone reposi-

tories whose every head-first plunge into a locker door and sponta-

3

neous rallying cry was encouraged by their flock of floozies and their

parents, who sacrificed much to re-experience young adulthood’s

bliss.

To his immediate right were the goths, or at least people who,

like Dalton, always dressed in black. Today, although it was 70 de-

grees out, Dalton was wearing an all-black shiny pleather jumpsuit,

with a solid column of small buckles going down the side of each

leg. Sherman’s friend sat down on the walkway along the school, set

his back against the brick wall, and kicked out his shiny Gestapo

boots. His face was caked with white powder. His lips and eyes were

bleeding black goo. He looked like a propped up dead man, staring

straight ahead at shifting and dancing rows of capris and cargo pants

with his head slightly cocked to the side, while his boots postmor-

tally spasmed.

Sherman reached out his hand to wave it in front of Dalton’s

face, to see if he really was still alive. Just as he did so, his thumb

hooked into the belt loop of a girl who walked in between them

at just that moment. His hand was still moving forward to make a

playful gesture with his acquaintance while it was accidentally at-

4

tached and he only realized his mistake when his victim was sud-

denly jerked back by the brisk force with which he extended his

arm. By the time his outstretched arm acted as an effective fulcrum

on the back of the now falling girl, he saw thin fluttering strands

of black hair fly up symmetrically beside her face that curled and

pointed like fingers. An array of necklaces also went flying, suspend-

ing marijuana leaf, peace sign, and Grateful Dead bear pendants in

front of him like constellations. Her right leg went up in the air to

counterbalance as she fell back over his arm which in this split sec-

ond he attempted to keep straight and rigid so as to somehow re-

verse her fall by allowing her top weight to see-saw back up. On her

leg he saw hippie flowers of different colors and sizes sewn into bell-

bottom jeans. Tiny transparent beads outlined each leaf and sun-

center. This was Katie.

Katie and Karen were sisters and Sherman had first met them

in middle school. They, nor anyone he knew (including himself),

were not the same now as they were back then. He knew Katie but

only knew of Karen from seeing the two of them walk together down

hallways, usually in very loud conversation. They looked almost ex-

actly the same. Katie’s wardrobe tended to consist of brighter tones.

5

When he first asked Katie if Karen was her sister, she answered affir-

matively.

He and Katie talked all the time whenever they had classes to-

gether, but three years later he could not recall the subject of a sin-

gle conversation, except their last one before they found each other

again here, at Jaramillo. Although the general subject still eluded

him, he distinctly recalled her saying the word “crap” and he being

utterly repulsed by it. Did she not know that Jesus said not to swear

at all and that doing so put her in hot water salvation-wise?

He was quite sure of this at the time, anyway. When he first ran

into Katie again after sophomore orientation, he could not say what

his views of salvation entailed. The day they re-met, he was inadver-

tently leading a mob of students down the hallway in the opposite

direction that Katie, who was also inadvertently in front of a mass of

students, was coming towards him. Members of their mobs slowly

trickled from behind to in front to escape an accidental organization

of movement. As their parties approached, the two saw each other

and Sherman knew exactly who she was.

“Hey!” she exclaimed.

6

“Hey!” he responded.

“Nice shirt…”

“Oh… thanks!”

They kept moving and it would be days before they’d find each

other again. Sherman glanced down at his shirt and saw a scorpion

with huge googly eyes and jagged lightning bolt red lips that ap-

peared to be skewering a down-and-out rag doll of sorts. Classic The

Wall artwork.

They next met in oddly similar circumstances. The classes of

the first week of the year were more lax kinds of getting-to-know-

each-other sessions than serious lectures, where they were essen-

tially allowed to do anything they wanted. The teachers gave them

an overview of what to expect when things really got started, but

the last half hour of each class usually descended into people just

talking. Near the end, he would begin leading the procession that

emerged from their classroom by way of carrying on a conversa-

tion with a friend while they got up and left, consciously inspiring

his classmates to follow suit. He was once again the first in the hall

on his side of the school and as he walked and talked, several stu-

7

dents finally left their classes and started coming out from behind

him. He was still in conversation when he again saw an opposite

oncoming wall of students and Katie in front chatting with a small

and thin girl with black hair and black-rimmed glasses. Katie wore

a dull and faded tie-dye shirt under acid washed jean overalls with

leg cuffs that were frayed to shreds. She clanked as she walked with

at least five necklaces, at least as many bracelets on each arm (some

of which were also necklaces), and an ankle bracelet on each ankle.

Rubber-soled straw sandals snapped and flopped as they kicked low

hanging strands of white husk.

As they passed, Sherman once again said hello. This time, Katie

shoved a folded piece of notebook paper into his hand. They contin-

ued past each other.

Back at home, once he found a spare moment, he read the let-

ter:

Sherman,

Hey there! What’s up? It’s been forever!!! What’s been going on

with you?

8

You know, I was having a really shitty day yesterday until you

were so kind as to say hello. I know it may not sound like very much.

But for me, it just made my day. It’s great to know you’re still so

sweet.

I’m not sure what my schedule’s gonna be yet, but we should

hang out! I’m always waiting outside the C wing for the bus. Wow, I

thought this year was gonna suck! I’m really happy to run into you

again.

Peace,

Katie

Sherman reread the note several times, flipped it over and back

to make sure this was definitely what Katie handed him. There was

her name right at the end. This was obviously her note addressed

to him. He became very warm. When he stood up, he thought he

could see the steam that the swamp in his netherparts released,

from which streams of sweat rolled down his legs. Perhaps he was

overacting, although he was not sure what kind of reaction he was

having. Was this some kind of invitation? To what?

9

He would inquire with Katie’s other half to get a sense if his

instincts were right. He rarely talked to Karen and wasn’t sure what

she thought of him, but assumed there were positive feelings. Back

at school, he found Katie’s sister standing next to a wall of fudge-

colored lockers with black combination dials, chatting audibly with

an assortment of variously physiqued women. She and Katie had the

exact same kinds of inflections in their speech. They had the exact

same way of expressing exasperation, by expelling air in a guttural

push that almost sounded like they were growling, and they both

did it a lot.

He approached her from behind and was about to tap her

shoulder when the broad and tall girl Karen was facing noticed

Sherman and pointed to him. Karen immediately turned around.

She looked almost nothing like her sister. Her hair was dyed dark

maroon and tied back in a bun. Her face was completely white with

powder (an odd trend among people he knew at the time). They

may have had the exact same countenance, in that they seemed to

always carry a facial expression of concern, or impatience, or per-

haps exasperation. Her ears looked painfully perforated and were

half metal rings. She also donned a large amount of jewelry, all of

10

which was skeletal and Wicca-themed and clinked when she moved.

Instead of cannabis insignia, a pentagram lied under her neck.

“You, come with me,” she said. She placed an open palm on his

shoulder to guide him to one of the small rooms that divided the

outside from the inside, which worked remarkably well for private

moments, despite students frequently zipping through. Sherman

reached into his pocket for the note.

“Hey, so… I wanted to—”

“Yeah, so May wants to ask you out but she’s really nervous but

she doesn’t mind you knowing, so… yeah.” She shrugged. “Do what-

ever.”

Sherman took his hand out of his pants. He had only once

caught a glimpse of this May she was speaking of at the C-wing spot

and at no point picked up on any kind of romantic vibe. She had

very dark red lipstick but no other makeup. He recalled her curly

and wet hair and the thin jacket wrapped around her shoulders that

flapped like a sail in the moderately strong wind of that day. He did

not gather that either one found the other particularly appealing.

11

Perhaps this answered his question about Katie, since he as-

sumed that she would have been the subject of their private conver-

sation if there was something to pursue there. It was safe to assume

a purely platonic message, then.

Well, he would find out what this was all about. To his dismay,

the class schedules were starting to normalize, but he successfully

disappeared from Language Arts to seek out his new interest. It

was still the second week and he remembered one time seeing the

blonde-haired May eating lunch alone in one of the anterooms to

outside. Sure enough, he found her in the same place.

She was sitting on a mud-striped doormat speckled with red

pebbles from the gravel paths with a neon blue lunch bag beside

her, studiously eating a cup of ramen when Sherman knocked on

the glass part of the door. He saw her suddenly sit up and throw her

hands out as though from an electric jolt, spilling the entire con-

tents of her noodles and tiny peas and carrots onto the floor. Sher-

man’s heart sank, and he slid down the door while his fingers made a

streaking sound against it.

“Sorry!” he shouted. No response.

12

He looked through one of the side panels and saw that the girl’s

expression was definitely not of anger. It was really more of a smile

than a look of annoyance, although it had elements of both.

Sherman stood up and carefully slipped into the small room.

He stood on his toes to avoid a slowly spreading puddle. He held his

hand over his mouth and had wide eyes while he moved like this.

His pants legs brushed against the red brick wall of the small room

with regular mechanical strokes. He knelt down before the now def-

initely smiling girl.

“I am… I can’t even…”

“Hey, that’s why you always pack a spare.” She then took out a

microwaveable container of what looked to Sherman like stroganoff

noodles and continued eating.

“Wow… That’s… I mean, that’s impressive. Or maybe… I don’t

know. Maybe you were expecting me…?”

She shook her head. “No, certainly wasn’t expecting you.” She

was not looking at him and still eating.

“I see…” Sherman stood up again and then decided to sit back

13

down cross-legged. “I guess, I thought you may have because… Well,

I was talking to Karen… And… you know…”

“Carter?” she tossed her head back and laughed. “Ha-ha. Ah,

that girl…”

Sherman chuckled. “Yeah, that one… Yeah, she—”

There was a loud banging on the door behind him which made

the whole room rattle and he shrieked while he turned his head to

see Karen herself looking very displeased, or maybe content.

“You crazy bitch!” the girl on the ground yelled through the

glass.

“Hey, sorry” the multiply-pierced girl said in a raised voice

through the glass, muffled. “I gotta speak with this dude.”

“No, you can’t have him!”

Karen opened the door and pulled Sherman up by the shirt col-

lar, forcing him to leap adeptly over the ramen pond. They started

walking back to the main hallway until Karen pushed Sherman up

against the wall.

“You idiot! That’s not May!”

14

Katie, the hippie, eschewed makeup. She rejected feminine

norms that dictated how she appear and carry herself. She explained

to him that she consciously declined to move her hips when she

walked, that you would only see her dead carcass in an open cof-

fin dressed up in stockings or heels, that she had seen a good many

former friends one by one lay victim to infusing imposed views of

“womanhood” into their own personalities, always by giving way to

one practice, just some eye shadow to accent the eyes, just some lip-

stick for a little fuller appearance, just some shorter pants because

it’s sweltering, and then another, and then another.

She did not believe she had any true friends, in the truest sense

of the word. The people he saw flanking her during calmer passing

periods were simply people who were always there, and they were

maybe all going to the same destination or they had merely auto-

matically coalesced into that part of the school after a class or some-

thing.

There was no one she could say she actually trusted, with the

exception of Helena, the diminutive girl with glasses he had seen

15

with Katie on numerous occasions in an almost sidekick kind of

fashion. Helena was the closest thing to a friend she had because she

too had the grave misfortune of growing up in a household where

she more and more found herself at odds with her parents’ reason-

ing. Katie explained that she well understood the rebellious streak

that kids are going to have against their parents growing up, but that

Helena’s biological mentors would go through elaborate lengths to

prove some trivial point so as to embarrass her and make life miser-

able.

For instance, Helena, for no really good reason, Katie admit-

ted—but for nothing that warranted abuse, despised onions and was

known to vomit when subjected to vivid oral descriptions of a meal

that featured them. At age 14, during the beginning of her freshman

year, her parents forbade her from purchasing school meals and in-

sisted on packing her lunch in an attempt to wean her off her hatred

of what was clearly an abundant source of vitamin C, potassium and

calcium, and to dissuade her, by force or deception if necessary, to

end this childish phase, they reasoned, Katie told him. And it didn’t

matter to them that whenever they snuck onions into her food, she

would be purging in the bathroom for the next few hours. But the

16

experience that caused her distrust of her parents to peak would oc-

cur a year later when she was presented with what she was told was a

white chocolate birthday cake with coconut shavings. One large and

unguarded bite into a slice carefully carved out by her mom, Hel-

ena would later recount, would result in a sea green stream of liq-

uid spurting from her mouth and shaving a section of icing off and

staining the white plaster under their kitchen stove forever, culmi-

nating in a scene Helena described to Katie as “psychotic shrieking”

by all parties involved.

As a result, Katie told Sherman, she identified with Helena,

who to Sherman always looked very fragile.

Katie loved hippie music and classic rock and roll. She reiter-

ated that it must have been some kind of destiny to see that not

only was Sherman at this school with her, but that he was into Pink

Floyd. He was hesitant to tell her that he had purchased his The

Wall shirt on a whim, as he noticed one day that he was about to en-

ter the second phase of high school and had no apparel promoting

music. He was not all that familiar with any music group before the

90s. His ignorance of the classics was not lost on Katie, who one day

17

approached him with Led Zeppelin IV and asked him to find time to

listen to it from beginning to end.

Katie and Sherman talked a lot, but by the time teachers got

serious and tried to start working through a curriculum, he found it

more difficult to steal time to roam. But Karen and Sherman shared

an Advanced Algebra II class and sat at the same two person table

and would often talk on paper. The following conversation took

place on college-ruled sheets they slid back and forth in room B200

at 11:29AM, October 15, 2000:

¡Hóla! ¿Como estás? Hoy, soy escribiendo con mi bolígrafo fa-

vorito.

Bonjour. Eh bien, c’est beau ...

Um…

Er…

Hey, let’s start over: Hey there, lady!

Hey there, cowboy!

Don’t feel like a cowboy today. Just feel… I don’t know. I’m not

sure what to think. Tell me… what is love?

18

Baby don’t hurt me!

Don’t hurt me…

No more!

Well, let me put it to you this way: So, I have this friend…

Ah, I see. We’ll just call him “Sherman Alexie”.

Hehe. Yeah. So, my buddy, the good Mr. Alexie (brilliant writer,

by the way), he tells me that it’s confusing how the whole… dynamic

works…

The dynamic, huh?

Yes, the very dynamism that defines the eponymously named

Duo.

What are you talking about?

Or actually, I don’t think I’m talking about that kind of dyna-

mism. All I mean is I’m not sure what the best thing to do is…

Regarding what?

Well, I mean, haven’t you been able to tell there’s some kind of…

chemistry, I dare say. That she and I are… that we’re so remarkably…

19

I mean, maybe it’s silly for me to say any of this if it really is so obvi-

ous.

Dude, I have no idea what you are talking about. I think I

understood your Spanish more.

Say, have you ever been infatuated with anyone?

Um, do you listen to like anything I’ve ever said? I talk

about Ben pretty much all the time. You won’t believe it, but

this morning I saw him walking to school and on the bridge

where all those wildflowers are growing out of the sidewalk,

I saw him step on some by accident. And what does he do? He

goes back to straighten them out! Is that incredible or what?

Whoa. Are you sure this dude isn’t a girl?

And did you know he likes Iced Earth? And The Beatles?

Where’d this guy come from?

I don’t think that second one is so rare…. But hey… to some he’s

quite a catch, I’m sure. So, have you been, you know, coming on to

him and all that?

What? No! I can’t talk to him!

20

Yeah, that galoot…

Oh my God, he’s like this huge teddy bear I just want to

hug forever! He’s simply everything that’s perfect…

Well then, you should just go melt into his arms, or whatever. A

pretty girl like you is sure to create a fissure or two in that iceberg-

like behemoth.

Argh. You’re so mean. He’d never talk to me.

Though I don’t share your reasoning, I share your sentiment.

Sometimes the signs aren’t too clear. Although sometimes, they are

all too clear.

Yeah, I really don’t see much happening there.

Hmm… well, tell me. Might you see something happening… here?

Where?

Right here?

Ohh… I see… Sigh… You know… you’re a good bloke.

So my epitaph will read.

You know, sure. Why not?

21

The year was concluding and every sophomore student

crammed into the dark auditorium. Bright lights shined from sil-

ver lamps hanging off the edges of the black painted catwalk. Their

light rays made strands of solid dust clouds visible, and to Sherman

it looked as though that was the entire atmosphere, that they were

only breathing in hair and dead skin. Nevertheless, he took a deep

breath and saw everyone he had every really known all in the same

room. Not quite everyone he ever knew, but the only people at this

point that he could say he was really aware of and personally knew.

He sat in the center seat of the second row in the middle sec-

tion. To his right was Serendipity (the broad tall girl who had

pointed him out to Karen), Mary “Full of” Grace, Dædra, Karl Marx

(so nicknamed solely due to his usually scruffy appearance which

was a symptom of his lightning fast hormone growth, the teasings

of which left the good natured Marx unscathed and his peers im-

pressed), Joane Incognita, and Dalton. To his left sat Katie Carter,

Helena, Karen Carter, Tina “George (of the Jungle)” Xi (a nickname

Tina gave herself for no reason she could ever recall when asked),

Amanda “There is Definitely No Logic to Human Behaviour” Bynes

22

(whose actual name was Amanda Beinhart, having been bestowed

with a joke last name simply due to the prominence of a like-named

celebrity and a more elaborate common nickname, of disputed

commonality, as a parallel mark of her frequently advertised music

interests), and April (who Sherman had mistakenly identified as

May, marking an epoch in his relation to Karen and Katie’s group,

as it were, a period which Sherman insisted on commemorating by

hereinafter referring to her as “June”, so that he might “eternalize the

mistake”, a notion whose farce April assured him she found amus-

ing).

On the stage was a large white projector screen. Slowly, the

whooping and yelling of his colleagues simmered down and the pre-

sentation began. It was a slideshow set to late 20th century California

beach boy guitar music (Jack Johnson and the like) and the crowd

moaned as though on cue. Very high quality still pictures of random

students clinging to each other and generally caught in surprise pro-

gressed and the first few slides elicited light tittering, graduating to

heartier chuckling.

One of the slides was Dalton staring out beyond the camera in

23

his quintessential dead man gaze. The picture was outside and taken

at an angle with a glare that reduced the quality. His eye shadow was

so heavy he appeared to have empty eye sockets and he very much

looked like Hollywood’s take on a zombie, which inspired much

chortling among their classmates.

The pictures seemed to get more entertaining as the slideshow

went on. Not all of them were sophomores, but he recognized al-

most everyone captured. One was of Serendipity standing very up-

right and cross-armed in front of one of the side entrances. A young

boy, whose face you couldn’t see, angled his head up at her in a way

that looked pleading, as though she was silently admonishing him,

or otherwise refusing passage. This made the entire room laugh,

but Sherman couldn’t help but to feel some embarrassment and

guilt, as the picture convincingly made it look like she was an ogre

figure exacting a toll or something like that. Few people in his class

were spared the embarrassment of candid moments on the screen.

The penultimate feature was a photo of the, in Sherman’s opinion,

hilariously photogenic Karl Marx with bushy whiskers, eyebrows

and mustache, dressed in a true flannel suit jacket fumbling with a

hot dog on a bright white plate right on his crotch, although he was

24

standing and quickly attempting to balance it, it appeared, frozen

in a quick desperate combat stance, at some school function where

his soul was suddenly snatched so that it might be broadcast in front

of roaring high-schoolers where no matter how the professorial-

looking Marx was to appear trying to catch a hot dog falling out of

the bun right over what would have to be his gonad and with wide

bent legs not unlike that of someone who had recently stepped off a

horse, it would bring great tears of joy and laughter to them without

fail— that picture froze in view for five solid seconds before the final

feature.

The screen faded to a 50x magnification of a dark young man,

none other than Sherman, leaning over to deliver what was clearly

meant to be a kiss to a dark-auraed girl, indisputably Karen, who

had brought up her hand the instant the photo was taken to block

his advance. This moment of everyday cliché was here immortalized

in the school memoriam and blown up to beyond life-size propor-

tions for the great delight of the audience who laughed the loudest

at that sight. A few seconds later, the second part of the photo scene

appeared where Sherman was again leaning in to kiss the girl but

this time she submits and they are clearly lip-locked and in a state of

25

passion, however brief, to the great consternation of the auditorium

which was promptly immersed in a deafening cacophony of laughter

and jeering.

Everyone gets up and most appear to be giving a standing ova-

tion. Sherman sinks down in his seat but receives an endless barrage

of ruffles of the hair, shoulder massages, and hard pats on the back.

He sees some people wringing their hands in the air in what looks

to him like congratulatory gestures, and a few others wiping away

fake tears. All quite silly, yet flattering. Although he wasn’t sure what

they’d think to learn that he and Karen didn’t last too long, and that

the Kodak moment before them was rather fleeting in reality.

“God damn the paparazzi, eh babe?” Sherman said right before

looking to the left, anticipating having to shout his comment to a

twin a second time.

The sisters’ seats were empty and he saw Helena sitting with

arms and legs crossed, the knee pointing out and her foot shaking.

She wasn’t looking at him or the screen, nor any particular show-

boating teen.

“Hey, where’s um…. where’s uh…”

26

Helena very slowly turned her head towards him. Her look was

blank, as best as Sherman could describe it. She looked the opposite

of pleased. There was nothing she had for him.

“Where are the girls?”

“You really are an ass.”

“We’ll… be talking later. Count on it. But I should mend this

whole… It really is not what it seems. This isn’t the best place… or

you may not be the best person—”

“She probably went to our spot.” Helena kept looking out be-

tween and beyond people. “I’m not going to tell you what to say or

what to do. I really don’t know what all has been going on with you…

three… but yes. Go talk to Katie… or…” She rested her forehead in

one hand and waved him off with the other. “Just go!” she shouted,

still waving him off.

Sherman got out of his seat to leave and was tackled by a stu-

dent whom he, in retrospect, did not believe he had ever actually

met. Before hitting the ground, he saw the young man’s backwards

red cap that placed an MLB logo right above his forehead. He

27

brought him to the floor and planted a big sloppy wet one on his

cheek.

“It was… good cheer.”

Katie said nothing.

“If you regard nothing else—“

“Which is just the kind of regard you show.”

Sherman put his fist to his mouth as he sharply inhaled then

exhaled. He walked over to the large glass panels and the sun was

setting behind the mountains, making the grass, concrete, and the

entire gray and brown interior appear orange. He leaned against one

of these large clear glass sheets.

“Everyone was laughing because it was totally unexpected. And

downright hilarious. I mean, a guy kissing a girl, I mean a black guy

kissing a white girl and initially rebuffed, only to break the barriers

of stigma so that true primal beauty could finally call you to answer

that fire—”

“She’s my sister!”

28

“And so all the more to assume you to be an advocate of such

groundbreaking… Or… now wait… First of all, Karen and I never

really… We were like ‘Hey, let’s go out’, but nothing, you know,

changed. Nothing was actually different between us. And that damn

kiss was simply a joke.”

“A joke kiss?”

“First, who’s to know it’s best to scan the immediate premises

for some school memento paparazzo before play acting an intimate

motion in jest? Secondly, when we actually kissed it completely took

me off guard. But again, there was nothing that ever… I don’t know

what she may have told you, but nothing ever continued—”

“Just stop… please.”

Katie was leaning against the lockers in the farthest corner from

Sherman, who was still up against the glass. She leaned back against

the lockers and started bouncing herself off the wall with her hands

behind her. She continued this while talking.

“Here’s the thing. Admit it. You’re really popular. I mean, did

you see how everyone got up and came over to you? The way people

29

worship you like that and fawn over you is just… it’s disgusting. And

you top it all off by hooking up with my sister and then I have to

watch you… I do not know where you’re coming from, brother.” Ka-

tie stopped bouncing. She stood in silence for about a minute before

springing off the wall of lockers. “Peace, yo. Don’t expect me to talk

to you.”

“When is a conversation ever expected?”

He heard her clanking around the corner and then saw her

through the glass walking down the gravel path. Her head bent

down every so often as though she were shielding the wind of such a

rapid stroll. She was clearly trying to get somewhere very quickly but

dealt with her natural obstacles with a stoic patience.

While Sherman remained frozen in a kneeling jab punch posi-

tion, Katie regained her balance and continued west.