4. 1
ONE
James was always a little strange. At the age of
four, he began asserting absurd and startlingly untrue
facts. “The ocean is filled with giant beasts that breathe
through holes on top of their head!” he would say. “They
are the biggest animals in the world, with teeth made of
filters!” he would continue, if allowed.
At first his mother Helvetica laughed and praised
his wonderful imagination at every opportunity. She
spent dinner parties bragging to her friends—and anyone
who would listen—about her son’s wonderful fantasies,
often making them secretly jealous. Just as often, her
friends expressed their jealousy by slipping small pieces
of food into Helvetica’s purse when she wasn’t looking.
As James got older though, Helvetica became
increasingly worried about her son’s fantasies. What she
once took to be an adorable-yet-overactive imagination
slowly began appearing like a shaky grip on reality. And
as James grew, so did his unorthodox ideas—both in
number and in strangeness. Even more troubling, was
that James’ imaginings had moved beyond fantasy
animals and were beginning to involve issues of
increasingly sensitive nature.
When James was seven, he caused a serious stir
by telling his entire second-grade class that the lights in
5. SOD
2
the night sky were not, in fact, fairies who had flown too
high and become stuck in the Great Molasses. Instead, he
informed his increasingly intrigued classmates that stars
were actually giant explosions taking place millions of
miles away and lasted billions and billions of years.
Ms. Abernathy, James’ second-grade teacher, was
a tall, thin woman with a sing-songy voice that turned
slightly shrill as she hit the upper octaves of her
sentences. Each day she wore a long, flowery gown and a
large bow immaculately tied high in her hair. Her shoes
always matched both of these. Meticulously crafting this
outfit took precisely one hour and forty-seven minutes
every morning. For the rest of the day, Ms. Abernathy
spent every spare moment carefully studying her
reflection in the large windows at the rear of her
classroom, looking for any imperfection. On the rare
occasion an imperfection was discovered, silent reading
time was immediately called and she would rush off to
the teachers’ roberoom to correct it.1 This would always
take at least twenty-six minutes.
But at the particular moment in which James was
proudly sharing his view of the Universe, Ms. Abernathy
had completely forgotten her immaculately tied bow. 2
Her well-polished shoes, her dress, and even the
reflection she so cherished, were also—for the first time
in their existence—ignored. Because at that very
moment, Ms. Abernathy was completely and utterly and
magnificently and absolutely aghast.
1
On one occasion, an emergency silent reading time was called during
silent reading time. When asked for clarification by a bewildered student,
they were told to “Just read silent-ier and harder!” before Ms. Abernathy
rushed from the room. Two children fainted from the effort.
2
The Universe being a name for the Great Black Molasses that Ms.
Abernathy had never, not once in her life, heard or imagined hearing.
6. 3
“James!!!” she screeched, her falsetto hitting a
previously unheard high so piercing that half the
classroom covered their ears. “Have you gone completely
mad? I will NOT let you fill your classmates’ heads with
such ridiculous… vicious… insufferable lies! Apologize
to your classmates immediately and then go wait in the
hall!”
James began to protest, but was met with a look
of such seething indignation that all desire to do anything
other than wait quietly in the hall immediately vanished.
So James grumbled a reluctant apology and headed out
into the hall to wait for Ms. Abernathy’s hysterical
castigation and yet another call to his mother. Making
such assertions was dangerous business after all,
especially when your teacher is the head choir director of
the First Fairy Covenant Church. Later that night as
Helvetica once again pleaded with him to be a little more
normal and asked him where he got his strange ideas,
James simply shrugged his shoulders. “It just sort of
came to me, and I thought it made sense.”3
As James grew older he learned to only share his
ideas with his closest friends, and even then was careful
to only humor them with ideas they would find quirky
rather than outright disturbing. He regaled them with
ideas about cars that anyone could hire to whisk you
from place to place. And when no one would hire them?
3
After this event, Ms. Abernathy became deeply suspicious of James.
Once during lunch she noticed James was eating a strange sandwich (he
had accidently dropped it and in his hurry to reassemble it ended up with
the tomatoes on top of his bread). Taking this as an intentional attack both
on her sensibilities and the stability of society as a whole, Ms. Abernathy
made James fix his sandwich on the spot. She then spent the next seven
months he was in her class surreptitiously examining his lunches when he
wasn’t looking, trying to find any evidence of further food-related guerilla
activity.
7. SOD
4
Well then they’d manically drive around the city seeking
out people who needed their service.
His friends always erupted in fits of laughter at
these ideas, rolling around on the living room sod
holding their stomachs as tears of pure joy streamed
from their eyes.
James always smiled and laughed along with
them, pretending to be equally amused. Truthfully
though, deep down in his heart of hearts, James believed
that most of his ideas would actually make society better
—especially when it came to the social convention that
filled him with pure revulsion: defecation.4
As was customary, when James’ friends and
family members were confronted with their natural urges,
they would simply slow their walk into a gentle waddle,
hike up their robes, and relieve themselves upon
whatever surface they happened to be traveling. This was
so commonplace that if it caused an interruption in
conversation, people became concerned often offered
unsolicited medical advice usually involving figs. To
James though this practice was, in a word, horrible. So
horrible in fact, that despite his better judgment, James
could not contain his considerably antisocial sentiment.
And so, slowly, an insurrection began.
At age eleven he dedicated a corner of his room
to this foul activity, which Helvetica quickly decided was
bizarre. She pleaded with him to stop, which James
agreed to, instead transferring his preferred fertilization
spot to the top of the sodway stairs rather than the
4
Admittedly though, James had his share of poor ideas. The house
parachute, which could be used to travel between the second and first
floors without the annoying reliance on stairs, was one such idea that did
not turn out as well as hoped.
8. 5
southnorth corner of his room, which had admittedly
begun to ferment and become rather smelly.
Helvetica’s retribution for her son’s cheekiness
was as swift as it was severe. A devastating round of
blackberry French Toast sanctions was levied against
James until, after several weeks of highly disappointing
breakfasts, he grudgingly agreed to diversify his
evacuation locations.
Though he was set back, this was not a subject on
which James was willing to conform or yield. His very
nature compelled him to rage against it, as those before
him raged against other displays of public stupidity. And
like most of the others that came before him, almost
everyone decided that he was a complete lunatic and
mostly ignored him.
But while James was making absolutely no
headway, he continued with his work. Hundreds of plans
for underground waterways dedicated to the removal of
waste were drawn up in engineering notebooks; colorful
designs of entire rooms designed to enhance the privacy
and reflective nature of such times populated his desk
drawers; and sketches of specialized stone seating
arrangements, specifically constructed to facilitate this
activity littered the corners of his math homework.
Esoteric as his ideas on the subject were, they
were never much of a problem for James’ social life.
Having already accepted his opinions as a bizarre
byproduct of an overactive imagination, James’ friends
were mostly amused by these outlandish designs. Even
kids who bullied him only cared about his ideas insofar as
they could use them as convenient excuses to dunk his
head in the slow, swirling fountain in front of their
school. In fact, while using one of James’ stone-seat
9. SOD
6
designs as a pretense to plunge James back into the
fountain, one thug admitted regret that such a device
didn’t exist, if for no other reason than it would
“perfectly fit your stupid, fat head.”
That was, at least, until a seemingly uneventful
and rather dreary Tuesday.
10. 7
TUESDAY
James had known, or perhaps more accurately
had ‘known of,’ Stephanie since he was five and three
quarters. For some inexplicable reason he clearly
remembered sitting cross-legged next to her on their
schoolroom floor, in the large story-square. His teacher,
who for some equally inexplicable reason he had no
memory of, was reading them a story about a few men
who tried to scam a small, hungry village into making
soup out of rocks.5 When he thought back to that
moment, James could still see Stephanie’s small wisps of
towhead hair, wrangled into two little puffs that stuck
straight out the sides of her head and wiggled as she
chewed on her bright red school robe. He couldn’t
remember how the story had ended, but he could
remember seeing Stephanie looking through the book
later that day and was overcome by a strange desire to
learn everything he could about the gastronomy of
geology.
5
The scam artists were killed and made into soup by the starving villagers,
which sustained the village through an incredibly harsh winter. But that
particularly gruesome detail is left out of the children’s story—in which
the crooks are simply run out of town and everyone learns a valuable
lesson about sharing and how minerals are sorely lacking in nutritional
value.
11. SOD
8
This particular life pursuit lasted until the
postrecess snack time when he was found filling multiple
pots with rocks and water in an attempt to discover
which rocks tasted best. His unremembered teacher
forced him to forfeit all the rocks he had collected and
return the pots to the school kitchen along with an
apology. When the school lunch man Mr. Krkc asked
James why on earth he stole so many pots, James really
couldn’t say other than that it had absolutely nothing to do
in any way with Stephanie Seamster. And to be totally and
completely honest, if he was asked today, he still
wouldn’t have a good answer—although, his brain
maintained a few theories.6
The ‘your son took a story way too literally and
burgled the school kitchen’ incident marked the
beginning of James being strangely aware of Stephanie in
a way that he wasn’t about other kids, or even most
people. James and his closest friend, Castleby Abinforth,
sat next to each other for almost the entirety of fourth
grade before discovering that the other one existed and
that they got along rather well. But during that same year,
James could tell you what classroom Stephanie was in:
two sodways down, on the left, behind a big green door
covered in mostly mediocre children’s drawings. All except
for one particular child’s drawing, which was so beautiful
it had to have been done by someone at least three years
older than any kid in that classroom.
James also knew exactly where he could stand
during the lunch line if he wanted Stephanie to join the
6
One, really. But whenever James’Brain suggested this theory to James,
it was rejected out of hand, and James’Brain was sent back to find
another theory that was ‘anywhere close to true.’Out of a combination of
exasperation and boredom, James’Brain would send back something
absurd that featured robots and global conspiracies—which It found
particularly fun.
12. 9
line near him. Which of course he didn’t. Wanting such
things would have been completely inappropriate
because, as all boys his age knew, girls didn’t have any
cooties. If Stephanie touched him at all, even if their
hands accidently brushed together in the milk line or, if
even more accidentally, their hands stayed touching all
the way to the big milk cooler where they’d have to
choose between regular and banana milk, his cooties
would leap off of him and flee in a fit of terror. James
wasn’t totally sure what cooties were at this point, but
he’d already grown very attached to his.
His general awareness of Stephanie was so
obvious that his friends also became aware of his
awareness, frequently teasing James when he’d
occasionally bring her up. While he hadn’t talked about
Stephanie much to begin with, James nonetheless found
himself speaking of her less and less, all the while
growing more and more aware of her.
But never in his life was James more aware of
Stephanie Seamster than he was at this very moment on
this very dreary and otherwise unremarkable Tuesday.
Because, as was common for most lunch periods on
most days, not just rather dreary Tuesdays that are
unknowingly ripe for remarkable happenings, James had
been in the middle of explaining his latest ideas to his
friends. This particular invention had the very exciting
use of a lever.
“You see? Now we won’t be forced to walk
around all itchy until we find a shower! And we can
finally stop keeping extra robes in our lockers and can
use that space for other things.”
13. SOD
10
Encouraged by unusually positive reactions from
his friends, 7 James leapt from his seat, spun around to
display his newly developed (and really quite clever)
flushing technique and, with a loud whackcrunchscream,
violently collided with Stephanie Seamster’s lunch tray.
Silence resonated across the industrial sod of the
small lunchroom as every eye turned to look at James.
Interesting things didn’t happen very often during school
lunches, but when such an occasion did present itself,
everyone immediately fell silent so they wouldn’t miss a
word. His friends were all frozen in various states of
gleeful disbelief. Only the occasional muffled giggle and
equally muffled shushing broke the silence.
James, still too shocked to fully realize what had
just happened, stared dumbly down at Stephanie. Sautéed
meats, lettuce, and shredded cheese rained down on her
as she lay sprawled across the cafeteria sod, motionless.8
For what seemed like hours, but was really closer to
twenty-seven seconds, Stephanie didn’t move. James
didn’t breathe. Instead he counted the slow, deliberate
breaths Stephanie was taking—each slow rise of her
chest an attempt to calm the rage building inside her.
Finally, time came unstuck and, very slowly,
Stephanie propped herself upon her elbows. James still
wasn’t breathing but had counted the twelve thorough
breaths that Stephanie had taken.
7
Who were humoring him partially because they were, ever so slightly,
becoming swayed by his position, but mostly because it was fajita day at
school which can make anything significantly more tolerable.
8
This was the same look that a particularly lucky ancestor of James had
made when he, quite accidentally, produced fire for the first time.
Unfortunately this discovery was immediately followed by quite a big
commotion, a lot of screaming, and the burning down of pretty much
everything in a twenty-mile radius.
14. 11
When Stephanie finally spoke, she did so one
word at a time. “You. Idiot!”
James tried to offer something like an apology,
which was made considerably more difficult than usual by
a fierce, rising panic compounded by his irresponsible
lack of breathing.
“I’m..asorr..ohgod,” James stammered
apologetically.
“Imasorrogod!?” Stephanie snapped. “What does
that mean? Does it mean ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t actually
speak, because I’m an idiot that can’t speak correctly!?”9
Stephanie was on her feet now. Small bits of
lettuce and spiced meat hung from her large, looping
ringlets of flaxen hair. To all who saw it and happened to
have the summer holidays on their mind, she created the
impression of a very odd, golden Christmas tree. More
concerning to James though, was that this very odd
golden Christmas tree was quickly moving towards him
and looked very, very angry. With as much speed and
agility as he could muster, James tried to navigate
backwards through the small, round, and very wobbly
lunch tables while his classmates silently melted a
pathway for him. Unfortunately the tables refused to
move out of his way, instead wobbling excitedly as James
crashed into them in his attempted escape.
“Well, uh, no…” James sputtered. Sensing
trouble, his brain had decided that this was the perfect
opportunity to take a vacation, and his mouth was
frantically trying to make up for his brain’s absence by
9
Unknown to both Stephanie and James, ‘Imasorrogod’ was actually an
incredibly important word from an ancient language, spoken by a lost and
equally ancient civilization. Roughly translated, it means, ‘this potato is a
bit undercooked.’ Priorities were different.
15. SOD
12
babbling. He made a mental note to take this up with his
brain later.10
“‘Well, uh, no!?’ Ok, then what –exactly— do you
mean?” Stephanie’s words sliced through the air with a
dangerous hiss that was recognized by the deep, primitive
part of James’ brain which formed in a time when minor
disagreements were solved with lots of screeching and
large rocks. She was all he could see now. Either she’d
grown tremendously in size, or the already low, off-
yellow ceilings of the cafeteria had shrunk around him.
Either way, it was terrifying.
“Well, uh… no?” James said with a panic-ridden
half-smile and an equally panic-ridden slight shrug. This
response made no sense, and James made another mental
note to take this up with his brain as well.11
Stephanie recoiled in anger. Her eyes widened as
she drew a sharp, indignant breath and lunged over a
chair towards James. She was now only a few hands
away. The lid she was trying to keep on her anger was
visibly coming off, causing her words to tremble and
occasionally come out as high-pitched screamspeaks that
made James briefly wonder if she was related to Ms.
Abernathy.
“I, now, am covered in Norwegian food and what I
can only hope is Dozen-Island dressing. I am already on
my second robe, which MEANS I am going to have to
get a spare one from the school nurse. And the spares, by
the way, NEVER! FIT! Not to mention I will have to
10
Being in charge of all mental notes, James’Brain made this particular
note into a very nice paper airplane and sent it gently gliding into the
nearest trash bin before getting back to Its business of doing very, very
little.
11
Which was immediately sent gently soaring into the trash bin along with
the first note.
16. 13
have Mr. Walloeski open the locker rooms so I can wash
what was my lunch, OFF OF MY FREAKING SKULL!”
James had backed up between two tables and had
nowhere to go. Stephanie was now standing so close that
James could smell the bits of fajita that were gently
swinging from her hair.
Visibly shaking as adrenaline and rage coursed
through her body, Stephanie closed her eyes for a
moment in an attempt to regain the composure that was
rapidly evaporating from her. “So ‘Well, uh, no’ doesn’t
exactly cover it. Now does it?” Her voice was quieter,
which somehow made it much, much scarier.
“Sorry.” James whispered. The word James had
so long been searching for had finally found its way into
his mouth. Stephanie hovered inches from James’ face,
staring at him like a feral beast deciding if it was better to
kill its prey or let it go. Stephanie closed her eyes. Her
breathing became measured and deliberate, and ever so
slowly her body started to relax. Unfortunately, James’
brain was still away, and his decision-making skills were
at an all-time low. And so, emboldened by the progress
one word had made, James decided adding even more
words could only help.
“ I.. Uh.. like your robe. Is that a cotton-poly
blend?”12
James was wrong.
Caught off guard by what she thought was the
end of the whole affair, Stephanie twitched slightly as her
self-restraint failed. James felt pressure in his chest then
12
James’Brain was so startled by this wildly stupid decision that It
knocked over the margarita It was making in Its rush to get back to the
controls. The spill not only caused an electrical short in Its new machine,
but also stained Its brand-new seersucker shorts.
17. SOD
14
heard a whoosh of wind as Stephanie Seamster pushed him
into a lunch table. The table wobbled once before
abandoning its tableness and depositing James on the
ground. Unexpectedly free of James’ weight and the bolts
holding it together, the table’s top flipped into the air
with an exuberance and freedom that it had only
dreamed about.
James then felt an odd crunch as the table top gave
way to gravity and landed on his face, breaking his nose
and persuading him to give up on the whole
‘consciousness thing’ for a little while.
18. 15
THE HEADMASTER
Headmaster Jlunsong is a distressing sight, even
when you are fully prepared for it. Every line and crease
in his fleshy, jowly face has been magnified by many
years spent indulging in indulgent wines from his
extensive collection and equally decadent foods; Koala
tartar, soaked for eighteen hours in spiced whale milk and
served with nettle-crème reduction sauce was a particular
favorite of his. His doctor, however, is not a fan.
Upon meeting Jlunsong, most people are
immediately reminded of a highly neglected pile of
laundry. His mouth is wide and bass-like, and his skin’s
taken on the look of a wax statue wilting in the sun.
Every natural angle has grown long and begun to run
over the features below it. His high cheeks fold over his
lower cheeks, which pile themselves over and onto his
jowls, which in turn fold over his second chin. And so
on.
His large, flat nose is also—quite puzzlingly—very
wrinkled. It also has the unfortunate condition of barely
protruding beyond its surrounding features and
frequently makes people quietly wonder if it is difficult
for him to breathe.13
13
Not only could he breathe just fine, his sense of smell was actually
quite excellent and helped him become a rather respected authority on
19. SOD
16
Though his hair is always cut short and kept tidy,
it does nothing to hide the heavy folds on which it’s
situated. Instead, it rolls in waves across his head every
time he moves, like a grain field in a slow, rolling
earthquake. And somewhere in the middle of this
evershifting skinscape, surrounded by two very dark and
very tired bags of skin, swim two small, brilliant eyes.
But unlike the rest of his features, which speak of
deep exhaustion, his eyes are an electric, vibrant blue that
burn with aliveness. When they looked at you, for all the
world you’d swear they could see right past your clothes
and flesh and into your naked soul. Understandably this
makes many, many people deeply uncomfortable.
One particularly useful talent of these eyes is their
ability to gather information. When Jlunsong posed a
question to someone, and if that someone happened to
look into his magically bright blue orbs, they would not
only reply but would be overcome by an intense desire to
give a deep and incredibly thorough answer to his
question—along with a brief history of whatever the
subject was.14 Sitting through countless hours of
oftenunnecessary information has made Jlunsong a very
patient man. It’s also yielded several delicious guacamole
recipes.
But this experience is reserved for those who
were well-grounded and prepared to see him. For those
who are disoriented and waking up from a
decadent wines. Because of this position, Jlunsong regularly received
large shipments of very good wines (which he enthusiastically sampled)
from vineyards hoping to receive his endorsement. His doctor was not a
fan of this, either.
14
Occasionally this talent could have rather severe and unexpected
consequences. Jlunsong’s mailman very suddenly quit his job, pursued a
highly advanced degree, and became one of the most popular weathermen
in the country, all because Jlunsong casually asked him about an
unseasonal shift in temperature.
20. 17
bludgeoninduced nap, as James was, Jlunsong’s
appearance often instilled the feeling that you were now
very dead, that the afterlife was very real, and that you
had done something very, very wrong.
So, when James was suddenly thrust back into
consciousness and found his world filled with the rather
concerned version of the headmaster’s face and searing
facial pain, he immediately began screaming. The
headmaster, who had grown used to this reaction after
years of accidentally surprising half-asleep students in the
school’s sodways, was unfazed.
“James,” he said calmly, his low and deep
baritone carrying over James’ bellowing.
“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!” James
continued.
“It seems you might be in need of the nurse.”
Jlunsong continued.
James continued to scream as he weighed his
options. Eternal punishment probably wouldn’t involve
the school nurse. It also probably wouldn’t take place in
his school cafeteria, although he wasn’t quite as sure
about that. Whether or not the afterlife contained
anything resembling Headmaster Jlunsong was a more
open question. Nonetheless, continuing to scream
seemed unnecessary. Besides, James was running out of
air, and screaming made his nose hurt.
James quieted down and lifted a hand to his
tender nose. Agony soared through his face.
“GAAAHHHHH!!!” he repeated, although this
time out of pain rather than soul-shriveling fear.
The headmaster rolled his eyes and sighed as
James bellowed again.
21. SOD
18
“As I said, I do believe that you need to see
Nurse Gardens. She will patch your nose up good as
new, so long as you can resist prodding it. Now, up we
go.
Second lunch is about to start.”
Headmaster Jlunsong extended one of his large,
fleshy paws to James and, with a surprisingly effortless
pull, hoisted James to his feet. The headmaster then
helped steady James as he walked down the maze of
locker-lined corridors towards the infirmary.
22. 19
CARROL GARDENS
Six minutes later, James was prodding his freshly
broken nose on a mustard green bench in one of the
school’s twelve examination cubicles. Though a pastel
floral curtain had been drawn across the doorway for
privacy, he could hear Mrs. Abernathy’s shrill voice
hitting the familiarly shrill notes in which she spoke when
confronted with anything exasperating.
“Of course his friends would say those…things!
Have you heard the sort of stories he’s been making up!?”
she shrilled. “You know where I stand on that boy! I
made that more than clear when he was in my class. But
now
his lies… these lies are spread-ing! It’s only a matter of
time before…”
“My dear Mrs. Abernathy,” Jlunsong interrupted.
“That is quite enough.”
“But, how can you permit…” she stammered.
“I said, that is quite enough” Jlunsong continued
calmly. “I do not doubt that his friends are recounting an
unusual and incredibly unlikely sequence of events. But I
suspect they are only doing it to protect their friend, with
the best tool at their disposal: their minds. Minds which
have been made incredibly sharp, no doubt, by your
excellent tutelage.”
23. SOD
20
Mrs. Abernathy stammered quietly on the other
side of the curtain. While she deeply distrusted anything
to do with James, she was also extremely proud of her
teaching ability. As she wrestled between trying to further
discredit James and accept praise for her students’ ability
to think, Ms. Abernathy’s inner struggle burst from her in
a broken, meandering, and grammatically dubious
sentence.
“Well… I… Yes. I made sure that they achieved
the highest… But you can’t… He spreads… but of course
my students…” Her inner struggle raged unseen through
the pastel floral curtain. “Well. In any case. It’s all
nonsense anyway, and he should be immediately thrown
out for starting a riot!” she concluded with a flourish,
unable to commit to any particular position.15
“And I will take your position on the matter very
seriously as I consider my course of action,” the
headmaster calmly replied. “Thank you for taking the
time to help me get to the bottom of this matter.”
“Of course,” Ms. Abernathy replied curtly. And
with a snorting “hrmpgh!” James heard her leave the
nurse’s office and close the door enthusiastically behind
her.
James had never much thought about the
headmaster before, aside from when he saw him drifting
through the halls between classes. But in those moments
he always seemed calm and collected, and aside from the
occasional distressing nod of acknowledgement, James
had never interacted with him. As a result, learning that
not only did the headmaster know who James was, but
15
If Ms. Abernathy heard any student utter such a sentence, she would
immediately chastise them for not thinking through their position, and she
would make them write a paper clearly exploring sides of their own
argument along with the importance of making up one’s mind.
24. 21
also that he had apparently come to James’ defense
before, gave James a warm but rather uneasy feeling. It
was like finding out monsters under the bed existed after
all, but they spent their time protecting you against giant
spiders.
James’ mulling over this revelation was suddenly
interrupted by the high-pitched screech of metal curtain
rings as the floral barrier was drawn open. Carroll
Gardens, the school nurse, swept into the cramped
examination cubicle and bent over to inquisitively peer at
James’ broken snout. Nurse Gardens was a short, thin
woman with a tight, gray bob of curly hair who always
wore immaculately pressed white examination robes.
Between her personal style and habit of only interacting
with people when they were seated low on her
examination table, most people who met her were under
the impression that she was much taller than they were.
She did this on purpose, as it made her patients more
obedient. It also made her harder to recognize outside of
the nursery.
“How are we feeling now?” Nurse Gardens asked
while tilting James’ head back and shining a small
flashlight up his nose.
Nurse Gardens always used we instead of I, you,
or any other pronoun. At first James thought this was
just her peculiar way of trying to comfort her patients.
But over the years James noticed that she always spoke
this way. Whatever the reason that Nurse Gardens used
we, she was an extremely efficient and thorough nurse.
Frequently she would ask a question then immediately
interrupt any response because she’d already discovered
the answer and moved on to the next question. She often
spent weeks without hearing a student say anything more
25. SOD
22
than “well… I… Um… Sure but… it feels… Ok… Well,
thanks…”
Like so many who came before him, James was
having this very experience as he tried to get a word in
edgewise. He was as successful as anyone—which is to
say, he wasn’t.
And so before James could tell Nurse Gardens
that he was feeling quite hurt, a little scared, and more
than a little hungry, she had already moved on in her
questioning. “Now, can we feel any bones in any weird
places?” she asked, pushing James’ head to one side and
closely examining the side of his nose.
“Well, I don’t…”
“No, it all looks fine, doesn’t it,” she mumbled as
much to herself as to James. “We would notice lumps if
there were. Can we breathe?” she asked as she moved
James head back, making him look at the ceiling.
“I think…”
“The airway does look clear doesn’t it—Oh,
what’s this?” James fought a sneeze as a cotton swab was
shoved up his nose. “Were we having Norwegian food
for lunch?”
“I wasn’t, but…”
“Doesn’t matter.” She moved James’ head back
down, so once again he was staring into her inquisitive
brown eyes. There was no trace of the cotton swab she
had in her hand moments before. “We shouldn’t be
putting any sort of food up our noses now should we?”
“Uh, I...”
There was a quick, sticky noise of paper being
pulled off an adhesive backing, and before James could
understand what was happening, Nurse Gardens had
painlessly and securely fastened a bandage to his nose
and pulled off her examination gloves with a loud snap.
26. 23
“Well, we seem fine,” she said. “Our nose is definitely a
bit broken, but as long as we don’t fiddle with it, we can
probably take the bandage off in a few days. It should be
healed in a few weeks. By the way, the headmaster wants
a word, so we’ll stay right here, ok?”
And with that, Nurse Gardens swept from the
room without so much as a goodbye. James just sat there.
Encounters with Nurse Gardens frequently left you
slightly frazzled, like you had been tossed into a running
tumble dryer full of sheets. Unconsciously James reached
up and touched the bandage on his throbbing nose.
“We said don’t fiddle with it!” Nurse Gardens’
voice bounced into the examination room from
somewhere unseen. James immediately dropped his
hands back to his side.16
And then, as James stared at his hands and tried
very hard not to fiddle with his nose, a shadow fell across
the room. James didn’t have to look up to discover what
was causing the shadow because at that moment the
shadow spoke in Headmaster Jlunsong’s deep baritone.
“James, if I could have a word.”
16
Nurse Gardens was known for her uncanny ability to sense when you
were disobeying her instructions, even if you weren’t in the same room
with her. Rumor had it that she even called Matilda Puff at her parents’
lake house during summer vacation and told her to “quit scratching our
broken arm right this instant, or we’ll have to tell our mother that we’re
using the good salad fork to do it.” Of course, at that very moment
Matilda had her mother’s best salad fork jammed as deeply into her cast
as it would go while still being retrievable. This scared Matilda so badly
that not only did she immediately retrieve the salad fork, wash it, and put
it back where it belonged, but she held her arm in perfect form and didn’t
scratch it for the rest of the summer. It healed wonderfully, but from that
point on Matilda had a severe distrust of salad forks.
27. 24
INTERROGATION
Headmaster Jlunsong sat across from James on the
small stool in the examination cubicle reserved for Nurse
Gardens.17 The tininess of the stool only further accented
the headmaster’s already large size. It would have been
comical if the circumstances were different in almost
every way imaginable.
“We found you unconscious on the cafeteria sod
this afternoon,” the headmaster began in a tone that
made it apparent this was not a mere observation. “After
a few of our distinguished teachers spoke with your
friends and classmates, we have discovered that you fell
rather dramatically after slipping for no apparent reason.
That your chair suddenly collapsed and inexplicably
launched you fifteen hands away from the table and then
promptly disappeared. That you had a sudden sneezing
fit which was so overcoming that you knocked yourself
out, and many more of what I can only describe as the
17
While all the examination cubicles contained a stool for the nurse, no
one had ever seen her use one. Instead she preferred to stand as she poked,
prodded, and otherwise medically manhandled her patients. However, she
did occasionally use them as footrests when she would secretly slip into an
examination cubicle and read one of the many medical romance novels
that she kept hidden in her desk drawers. The Surgeon’s Stethoscope was
her current favorite.
28. 25
most creative and diverse collection of stories I have ever
had the pleasure of hearing.”
James began to nervously fiddle with the bandage
on his nose.
“I thought we weren’t going to do that!” James
heard Nurse Gardens yell from what sounded like three
rooms away.
“Terrance McCronokie, for instance,”
Headmaster Jlunsong continued, ignoring Nurse
Gardens’ prophetic interruption, “is swearing that you
were attacked by a mischievous poltergeist that he helped
you conjure over lunch. Luckily for us all, he also had the
remarkable good fortune of banishing it before anyone
else was attacked—or even happened to see it.”
“OK,” James said, which seemed like the only
safe thing to say at this point.18
To James’ great disappointment, this response did
not satisfy Headmaster Jlunsong’s curiosity. “Well, since
you are what I can only describe as our ‘key witness,’
would you give me the great pleasure of shedding some
light on this most puzzling of mysteries?” the headmaster
inquired.
The image of an enraged Stephanie careened back
into James’ mind, shaking his bowels and tempting him
to partake in the very practice he abhorred.
18
During James’sudden and unexpected unconsciousness, James’Brain
had decided that he had gotten in to far too much trouble when It wasn’t
around, had returned to Its post, and was doing Its best to clean up the
mess that had been created in Its absence. Currently It was telling James
to say as little as possible. Partially this was because it was the only wise
thing to do. But also the fracas had knocked over all of Its files, and It
couldn’t reliably find anything It needed until It had sorted the whole mess
out.
29. SOD
26
Careful not to meet his gaze, James stared down
at the incredibly manicured sod that covered Nurse
Gardens' examination room.
“No,” James started, before doubling back as
quickly as possible.19 “I mean… Yes. That’s exactly what
happened.” James nodded his head eagerly, hoping to
hide his quick reversal and hopelessly feeble answer
under a generous helping of enthusiasm. Maybe, just
maybe, he could convince the headmaster that he was
being very, very honest. Despite James’ enthusiasm, the
headmaster’s incredulity only appeared to deepen.
The headmaster let out a heavy sigh. “I see…” he
said slowly, letting a pause hang in the air before speaking
again. “Forgive my forgetfulness, but which particular
story was the one that took place? Old age, you
understand. Memory is not what it used to be.” Jlunsong
folded his large hands, leaned back into the examination
stool, and waited.
James looked at the large, smiling man in front
of him.20 The headmaster had reposed into a position
that looked well-suited to extended periods of sitting
patiently. And as each second pressed on, Jlunsong’s
legendary interrogational presence also pressed into
James’ ability to keep his composure. The desire to
suddenly tell the headmaster everything was starting to
claw at his insides with ever more ferocity. Soon the
headmaster’s presence would overpower James’ fear of
19
After having a mild panic attack and telling James that this was
precisely the wrong thing to say, James’Brain pushed the remaining files
and figures into a pile and hoped that nothing too insane would happen.
20 After learning that Jlunsong had been defending him behind closed
doors, James’ intimidation was beginning to mix with a bit of confused
admiration. However, this was all relatively new and completely
overshadowed by James’ current predicament and the threat of very
serious consequences.
30. 27
Stephanie’s wrath and then all would be lost—or at least
James would probably have to make another trip to
Nurse Gardens to rebandage his nose after an even
angrier Stephanie Seamster ‘fiddled’ with it again.
Something had to be done. Raising his eyes to
look at the headmaster, James blurted out the only the
thing his mind offered him.20
“I’ll do the fifth thing?”
For a moment, nothing happened. Jlunsong sat
motionless as he tried to make sense of what James had
just said. Then a slow wave of confusion rolled through
Jlunsong’s facial folds and his expression churned from
patiently inquisitive to bewildered, finally settling in a
confused but no less unnerving configuration.
“The fifth? The fifth what, exactly?” the
headmaster asked, obviously lost.
James stared back blankly at Jlunsong. “The Fifth,
you know… Amendment?”
Jlunsong’s face collapsed into disappointment,
giving James the gnawing suspicion that his brain might
have led him astray.21 James could feel the headmaster
staring at him, and when Jlunsong spoke, every word
dripped with dubiousness.
20
Specifically a small freckle slightly below the headmaster’s wrinkled
nose, a trick to avoid looking directly into his eyes that all students learned
from their classmates in hushed whispers—usually within a few days of
starting school. Occasionally someone would ignore these warnings, the
consequences of which were as dramatic as they were reinforcing of the
nose-freckle practice.
21
It had, but It was doing the best It could, given the circumstances. At the
time It should have been learning about Constitutional Amendments,
James was insisting that It spent Its time considering how much cooler
James would be if he rode a motorcycle.
31. SOD
28
“So, let me make sure I understand you. You are
invoking the right to bear arms?” the headmaster asked.
James wracked his brain for an adequate
response. He was sure that he had learned something
somewhere that could help get him out of trouble.
Flashbacks of amendments being involved were there,
but the bit about bears had thrown him off and his brain
still wasn’t working quite right.
“What? No, the one where you don’t have to talk
about stuff. Why would anyone need rights to own bear
arms?”
Jlunsong closed his eyes and leaned back on his
stool to compose himself. “That, James, would be the
Seventh Amendment. And to bear arms is, in this case
…” Jlunsong opened his eyes and sighed “…is
something I will have to discuss with Ms. Hofferman.”22
Although he knew he was on shaky ground, the
only reasonable response James could think of was to
simply keep going and hope he didn’t fly off a cliff. He
wasn’t terribly optimistic about his odds. “Oh. OK.
Good to know. Well, I plead the Seventh then… I
suppose.”
Headmaster Jlunsong slowly nodded. “Yes. I
thought you might. Well, even though our institution
isn’t required to play by the same rules as the nation, I
can only assume you have your reasons to stay silent.”
James said nothing.
22
Ms. Hofferman was the history teacher at James’ school. She was a
remarkably squat, compact woman with a deep penchant for vodka and
cats, the former of which she indulged in deeply on a nightly basis while
composing and choreographing plays for the latter. Often, and much to the
displeasure of her cats, these creative endeavors would extend deep into
the night. Most mornings were spent in ‘Silent Study’ while she rested her
head on her desk. Needless to say, her class’ grasp of history had a few
holes in it.
32. 29
“And since you have not caused any trouble up
until this point,” Jlunsong continued, “aside from ruffling
the sensibilities of various instructors of course, I am
inclined to let you keep silent if that is your wish.” James
still said nothing.
“In the meantime,” Jlunsong wheezed, rocking
his body off the examination stool and onto his feet, “if
you would please be kind enough to try and not provoke
any more poltergeists. My day is really quite busy as it is,
and I would hate to spend an afternoon trying to figure
out how to expel one.”
James continued not saying anything but nodded
fervently in an attempt to communicate that he
understood exactly what the headmaster was saying.
Headmaster Jlunsong was giving James a tentative pass,
and if James had learned anything from the past few
hours, it was that there were some moments where the
best course of action was to keep his mouth very firmly
shut. Without question, this was one of those moments.
Headmaster Jlunsong pulled the curtain back with
another metallic screech and stepped through. Then with
one hand still holding the curtain against the wall, he
motioned for James to exit the examination cubicle.
James hopped up and gathered his things as fast as he
could without causing his nose to throb from the effort.
As he passed by the headmaster, James paused. Not only
had Jlunsong chosen to not throw James out, which he
could easily have done, he hadn’t disciplined him or even
called a parent-teacher meeting. Avoiding the trouble any
of these actions would have caused with Helvetica
(especially being thrown out) was greatly appreciated by
James. He couldn’t just let this generous act go by
without thanks.
33. SOD
30
“Thanks,” James mumbled. He still wasn’t ready
to take any risks.
The headmaster broke into a warm and
surprisingly un-terrifying smile. “You are welcome,
James,” he replied. “And do try and have a pleasant
afternoon,” he continued as James shuffled out of the
infirmary as quickly as possible.
James’ chest untightened as he left the
lowceilinged school administration offices, off of which
the infirmary was attached. Unlike the white-walled
infirmary, the school’s administration offices were
painted a horrible shade of yellow that matched nothing
else in the entire school. James was convinced this was
purposely done to put kids on edge and maintain the
administrators’ perpetual churlishness.23
Safely on sodway, James started making his way
toward his fourth-period class. A quick glance at the wall
clock told him that all the lunch periods were over, so
any chance to swipe some food was out of the question.
His teacher would also probably yell at him for being late,
regardless of the butterfly bandage Nurse Gardens had
positioned on the bridge of his now throbbing and
slightly off-center nose. The feeling was bizarre. Not only
had James never been so intensely aware of any part of
his face, but he could also see it hovering in the bottom
of his vision. It was like a strange hat. With nothing else
to hold his attention as he wandered the school’s
sodways, James began to imagine a world in which
people wore hats on their nose, and was so caught up in
23
It wasn’t. It was actually caused by a slightly dyslexic employee of the
paint company who happened to be taking the order. Once the
administration realized the effect it had on children, however, the color
was immediately embraced and several more buckets of it were ordered.
34. 31
it, he didn’t see a figure emerging from the locker-room
sodway.
“Hey, Fajita Boy.”
SECOND LUNCH
“FUAAAHH!”
James jumped halfway across the hall in surprise,
spinning around midair while looking every direction he
wasn’t spinning to find the source of the voice. All it did
was make his nose hurt more and make the world start
swirling—neither of which were ideal ways to discover
that Stephanie Seamster was standing far too close for
comfort.
She was leaning against the school’s burnt-orange
lockers wearing robes that were several sizes too large for
her slender frame. They enveloped her, draping off her
like damp curtains thrown over the back of a chair. Yet
despite their size, for some reason the robes ended a
good hand and a half above where they were supposed
to, causing her feet and purple socks to comically stick
out from beneath the hem. They were also a stunningly
bright shade of canary-yellow. James wasn’t sure what
Stephanie’s color was, but he was now very sure it was
not canary-yellow.
After the initial shock of seeing Stephanie
Seamster dressed like a sun-worshipping cult member
35. SOD
32
had worn off, James’ brain sent James a brief reminder of
what happened the last time he saw her. Instinctively,
James covered his nose with his hands.24
“Hi?”
“Oh relax,” Stephanie scoffed, scoffingly. “I’m
not going to push you again,” she smirked. “Once a day
is enough...” Unlike her confidence-filled entrance,
Stephanie’s words got softer and trailed off. In an
attempt to regain her hardened exterior, she tried
laughing derisively. What came out though wasn’t
derisive at all, and was even less a laugh. It was forced
and sad, like her heart and brain were in serious
disagreement about what she was supposed to be doing.
She dropped her eyes to the sodway sod and kicked at it
absent-mindedly for something to do.
This Stephanie was different from the whirling
ball of cruelty that had put James in the infirmary earlier.
For one, she wasn’t filling him with deep,
mindvacationing anxiety. James appreciated that. But he
could sense a deeper difference, like experiencing a
serious storm that’s on its way out; the clouds might still
hang black and menacing in the sky, but all their danger
and doom is gone. But still, James wasn’t willing to risk
lowering his guard quite yet. The last thing he needed
was a bigger hat for his nose.
“Uh-huh. Great,” James muffled through cupped
hands and nose bandages. “I think I’ll take my chances.
Over here. Away from you.”
Stephanie uncomfortably shifted her book bag
and returned to studying the divot she was making in the
sod with the tip of her shoe. And then with a sharp
24
Half a school away, quietly filling out forms in the infirmary, Nurse
Gardens involuntarily twitched.
36. 33
breath in and the jittery dance of someone trying to
muster the courage to do something terrifying, Stephanie
looked away from the sod and stared at the wall. Then at
the ceiling. Then down the sodway behind her. Then,
when she had looked absolutely everywhere else, she
looked straight at James. After one of those moments
that aren’t nearly as long as they feel, she sharply
unbreathed and her words tumbled out. “Look I just
wanted to say I’m sorry and I might have overreacted a
little and I shouldn’t have pushed you it was a really
terrible thing to do and I’m sorry and I really probably
overreacted like I said.”
James stood there, stunned. Both by his deep,
deep incredulity, and also by Stephanie’s sentence, which
was taking his brain a little bit of time to piece together.25
Finally after another one of those moments that are really
much shorter then they feel, James’ brain finished the
decoding. He was still dubious.
“A little bit? You broke my nose,” he muffled.
“Well, technically the table broke…”
Stephanie stopped herself, and dropped her eyes
back to the sod and awkwardly rummaged in her book
bag for something, which seemed strange considering she
was holding her next period’s books under her arm.
Finding nothing in her bag aside from a few bits of lint
25
Especially since Its files were still EVERYWHERE. When It had
been offered a lockable file cabinet last year, It laughed. What
could It possibly use THAT for? This thought circled James’Brain
continuously as It continued sorting out the mess, occasionally
bumping into It. Finally, after being poked in the eye for the third
time, James’Brain grabbed the annoying thought and shoved it
into a drawer where it could bump around all it wanted without
blinding It.
37. SOD
34
and an old pen, she returned her gaze to James. She
sighed. She sighed again.
“Yeah, I know. I heard. I’m sorry. Really. Maybe
I overreacted a lot a bit.”
For a moment Stephanie chewed on her lip and
looked nervously around. Was she slightly… pinker than
usual? James suddenly realized she was blushing. Before
he could begin to process this new information, what it
meant, and all of the implications that it could possibly
imply, she spoke again—this time with a new and
waveringly nervous tone in her voice.
“Anyway, I was wondering, if I could… can,
somehow, maybe, make it up to you. In some way.”
At that she retreated a few steps back to the
lockers, and leaned against them with a dull clang. It
looked like she was trying to melt through the metal and
hide in the wall.
All of the things James could want from her
flashed through his mind: perpetual
homeworkindentured-servitude; public humiliation; ten
dollars. But what came out of his mouth was none of
these.
“Lunch?”
Stephanie’s head jerked a little from surprise and
she raised a single eyebrow in an exaggerated way that
James previously assumed only existed in campy,
latenight movies. “Lunch? Are you serious?”
James wasn’t. He wasn’t even sure why he asked
her to lunch, much less if he was serious about it. He had
already eaten most of his lunch when he’d knocked
Stephanie’s lunch all over her. Even if he had meant it,
which he was pretty sure he hadn’t, he knew he really,
really shouldn’t have asked her to lunch now.
38. 35
A strange look of hurt and embarrassment slowly
started to spread across Stephanie’s face, and the light
pink blush that once dusted her cheeks had deepened
into an angry, humiliated red. Stephanie started shoving
the books she had been holding in her arms into her
book
bag with a force that James’ nose recognized.
Immediately it started throbbing again.
“You know!” Stephanie shoved a large brown
book on sodcare into her bag. “I was trying to apologize!
Which is really, really hard to do for me.” “I…”
James needed to do something.
“Especially in these horrible yellow robes!”
Stephanie jammed a large symbology book into her bag.
“But I thought that you…”
Tears were filling Stephanie’s green eyes, the
water threatening to break past the edges of her lids at
any moment. They sparkled, even in the dim sodway
light. And they sparkled in such a heartbroken way that
James’ heart swelled with sympathy as far as it could with
his nose yelling at him.
“…that YOU, of all people would understand what
it’s like…” Stephanie’s book on sky fairies slammed into
her bag, “to want to be taken, a little bit, seriously
when…”
James considered claiming that he had been
joking, but the situation had gone too far for that.
Besides, Stephanie only had one book left, and she was
gesturing wildly with it while she spoke. It also looked
extremely heavy. At this distance, if she decided to throw
it, it would take a very serious effort on her part to miss
his head. His nose also vetoed this idea immediately.
39. SOD
36
“Yes,” he said.
“ …when you are making an honest attempt…”
Stephanie punctuated every point with a sharp swing of
her book.
“I am serious?”
“…to put yourself out there a little...” Something
seemed to click in the back of Stephanie’s brain
“…what?”
“You did break my nose after all.”
“I…” Stephanie stared at James for a long time.
He began to think that he had made a serious error in
judgment, and his nose began to hurt again.
“OK…” she said slowly. “Where?”
James looked at Stephanie, perplexed. “Where
what?”
Stephanie looked at James in disbelief. “Where do
you want to go for lunch?”
James had no idea. He was still reeling from
unexpectedly asking Stephanie to lunch. Things were
rapidly spinning out of control, and if he wasn’t careful,
he was sure something terrible was going to happen. If it
did, he hoped it wouldn’t involve Norwegian food.
“Greek to Me?” he offered. It was his favorite
restaurant, and the only place that floated to the top of
his head. Unfortunately, it was not a place to be taken
seriously—or even lightly for that matter. And given the
circumstances, he had the nagging sensation that, once
again, he might have just made the situation worse.
Stephanie looked at him for a long time without
saying anything. Unlike the times which seemed long but
really were quite short, this long time actually lasted quite
40. 37
a while.26 Then, her face broke into a coy and
mischievous smile. It made James extremely nervous.
“OK. It’s a date. Saturday, two o’clock.”
James said something that he later couldn’t
remember and watched as Stephanie disappeared down
the corridor with as much confident grace as her
canaryyellow robes would allow. After she had turned the
corner and disappeared from sight, James smiled too. He
almost made it all the way back to his fourth-period class
before James’ brain hit him with the enormity of his
situation, causing him to panic.
26
Well, relatively. The actual time was only nine seconds, which under
most circumstances is rather quick. However, when it comes to
conversation, especially rather serious conversation, nine seconds is a
significantly long period of time.
41. 38
RECORDS
Objectively, Saturday was the most beautiful Saturday
of James’ life. Azure skies hung overhead unfettered by
clouds, and the temperature was the unusual mix of warm and
perfect that left you almost uncomfortably comfortable in
whatever you chose to wear that day. The drone of bugs was
a little lazier than usual, and the chirping of birds a little
happier. In fact, everything that particular day was a little bit
brighter and felt ever so slightly better than every other day
for the last hundred years. It was such a good day that almost
everyone who happened to wander outside suddenly
discovered that they were happier than they had been in years,
which was so alarming that local hospitals and doctors’ offices
spent the day reassuring people that sudden happiness was
not a symptom of anything dangerous.
James, however, noticed none of this.
Since Tuesday, James’ Brain had spent its time
examining every possible way the day would end up a
complete disaster and arranged these ways into a long list that
got equally less probable but more terrifying as it went. After
three days reading and rereading the list to James, occasionally
pausing to make a terrifying and bizarre addition, James was
completely frazzled and incapable of noticing anything
outside of his immediate, Brain-induced panic.
42. 39
His Brain, which kept extensive and meticulous
records of its activities, would later find the entry for this
particular day so amusing that It tacked the entry to the wall
next to its desk with a baby-blue thumbtack.27 Whenever It
felt a little sad, or that It wasn’t living up to its potential, or
wondering if It was doing the right thing with Its life, or if it
was just a bit too rainy and damp and gray and depressing
outside, James’ Brain would carefully un-tack this entry from
the wall and re-read it. No matter how down things were
looking, this never failed to cheer It up. At least a little bit:
10:00 a.m.—Wakes James up. He had been having a
very nice dream about stools and other
sitting-based furniture. He slowly drifts
awake with a pleasant smile on his face. Let
him relax and completely forget where he
was, what day it was, and let him begin to
start noticing what a lovely day it was for
roughly fortyfive seconds.
10:01 a.m.—Checks list of things to think about during that
day. Only item on list is to remind James to
continue “worrying about the ever-growing, ever-
27
Often when James’Brain was asked for a record, It would only send through
partial and heavily edited copies of the information, which had most of the
useful bits scratched out and corrected in unreadable handwriting, lists of
unrelated things James hadn’t done but needed to do, a great deal of smudges,
and frequently, for no apparent reason, long and rambling examinations of what
it might be like to be a turtle.
The one thing that these records almost never contained, though, was
the memory or information James was looking for. This, his Brain would send to
him when he was least expecting it several hours (if not days) later, when it was
sure to be no longer useful. This was Its way of getting him back for constantly
getting them both into so much trouble. It was also very, very fun.
43. SOD
40
stranging list of increasingly unlikely, but all
equally horrible, socially stigmatizing, or
downright dangerous outcomes pertaining to,
whether caused by, directly or indirectly, meeting
with Stephanie Seamster.” It cheerfully wrote this
directive on a clean sheet of paper in small, tidy
letters before folding it twice horizontally into a
neat package and dropping in the slot labeled
“directives.”
10:02 a.m.—James stares at the ceiling, paralyzed by gut-
rumbling anxiety. This goes on for seventeen
more minutes. Used the time to get a cup of
coffee and prepare for the rest of the day’s
activities.
10:19 a.m.—Feeling slightly guilty over the intensity of the
distress caused to James (especially on such a nice
day), momentarily distract James with a funny joke
about cats. James laughs but stops paying
attention while getting in the shower and slips.
James grabs shower curtain for stability. Curtain
rod does not fall, but three rings rip out of the
curtain. Helvetica will probably notice.
10:20 a.m.—James desperately tries to fix shower
curtain. Good advice given on “how to fix
the shower curtain.” Advice is, as usual,
ignored. James’ un-advised efforts don’t
help but he does rip out a fourth shower
curtain ring in the process. Helvetica will
definitely notice.
44. 41
10:22 a.m.—Distracted by the fracas with the curtain
rings, James doesn’t pay attention as he
adjusts the water. He immediately burns
himself.
10:23 a.m.—James stands in the shower wondering
what the likelihood is that lightning would
randomly strike a pipe in his house and
incapacitate him enough that he could
avoid this whole mess.28
10:46 a.m.—James manages to get out of the shower
all by himself and somehow avoids
calamity.
10:55 a.m.—James stares blankly into his wardrobe
and wonders how all of his robes suddenly
became unwearably terrible.
11:15 a.m.—James, wearing his arguably leastterrible
robe, makes a gummy bowl of boiled oats
and stares at the table. He does not request
anything, but chews despondently for far
longer than necessary.
11:20 a.m.—James begins muttering ‘… a date. Was
she serious? Is it some sort of trap? Is she
28
It was very, very, almost unfathomably unlikely. So unlikely, that even those
people who believe that there are infinite universes, where an infinite number of
things happen an infinite number of times, would believe that the odds of it
happening at that very moment would be “really quite small.” James himself
could have even guessed this if he had been aware of the weather, which, of
course, he wasn’t.
45. SOD
42
part Greek? Seamster sounds like it could be
Greek…’ No requests made for thought or
analysis.
Note: Seamster is not a Greek name.
11:40 a.m.—James continues mumbling, ‘Why would
she go to a restaurant with me to get
revenge?’ Request made for the likelihood
of restaurant revenge.
Response delivered:
/*Revenge likelihood (5).*/
11:46 a.m.—Request made: ‘Five what? Five out of ten?
One hundred? Five?’ Response delivered:
/*Sea turtles have special glands that help
them remove sea water when they drink.*/
11:50 a.m.—James slips into incoherent mumbling and
more despondent chewing.
12:00 p.m.—James’ mumbling becomes coherent
again. ‘She didn’t smile until after I told
her it was Greek…Oh god. This is a
total five! She’s going to get some sort
of…Greek…food revenge.’
12:01 p.m.—James has first pre-idea of the day. ‘Better get a
poncho anyway, just in case.’ Request made for
location of cheap plastic rain poncho.
Response delivered:
46. 43
/*I don’t own, nor have I ever owned, nor has
anyone in my family ever owned, a plastic rain
poncho—cheap or otherwise.*/
The thought was, unsurprisingly, denied. Initial
request resubmitted with new insistence: ‘I’m sure
we got one when we went to the seaquarium.’
Records re-checked. No record of cheap plastic
rain poncho. Initial thought re-sent and,
unsurprisingly, also ignored.
12:02 p.m.—Inevitably-futile search for cheap plastic rain
poncho initiated. “Locations to search for the
cheap plastic rain poncho” requested. Equally-
futile search locations suggested, along with the
number of times each suggested location was
searched, are as follows: Sodway Closet (5)
Robewash Room (5)
Under Couch Cushions (2 [second suggestion was
ignored])
Under Couch (1)
Under Bed (2)
Shower Room Cabinets (3)
Basement (5)
Back Yard Hammershed (3)
12:40 p.m.—Helvetica begins yelling for James from the
upstairs shower room. Voice is stern. The ripped
shower curtain has almost certainly been
discovered. Request made for best stealth route
out of house. Request ignored until James’
47. SOD
44
agitation reaches 8.3 on AGS Scale and Helvetica
is descending the stairs. James manages to escape
without discovery and makes his way toward the
Electro-Caravan stop that takes him to the city.
12:45 p.m.—James realizes he has a good deal of time before
Electro-Caravan arrives at stop. Request made for
route to best fill time. Request delivered along
with a reminder to:
/*Continue worrying about the evergrowing,
ever-stranging list of increasingly unlikely, but all
equally horrible, socially stigmatizing, or
downright dangerous outcomes pertaining to
meeting with Stephanie
Seamster.*/
12:55 p.m.—James arrives at Electro-Caravan station.
Request made for record of last time he felt this
nervous. Answer delivered with maximum
allowable levels of edits and smudges, along with
five other times he almost felt this nervous and a
fun fact regarding the way turtles blink.
12:57 p.m.—All considerations of turtle-blinking
banished by a quick blast of air horn and
Electro-Caravan driver yelling, “Are you
getting on or not!?” James boards Electro-
Caravan, screaming internally.
12:59 p.m.—Request made for ‘Why do I end up thinking
about turtles so often?’ Request ignored.
48. 45
THE CITY
At their best, the Electro-Caravan’s plastic benches
were hard and uncomfortable. But today they had a certain
draw and comfort that made James want to keep sitting in
them. Because soon the Caravan would stop, open its doors,
and allow James to step out of its hard plastic, steel, and
industrial sod body and into the city. And in this same city,
Stephanie Seamster was now at Greek to Me or would be
headed there at this very moment. On their own, these two
facts didn’t bother James in the slightest. It was the third fact,
the fact that James was also headed, intentionally, to Greek to
Me to meet Stephanie, that filled him with the desire to get on
a boat headed to some other country where no one had ever
heard of him, Stephanie Seamster, or Norwegian food.
It was also this fact that made him suspect that some
creature had crawled inside him and decided to use his
stomach as a swing. This swinging got especially intense every
time he thought about what would happen when he met with
Stephanie, which was most of the time.
“All those going to Picadelle Corner, please
disembark!”
James closed his eyes to find strength as he stepped
off the final industrial sod step and onto the surprisingly soft
and springy sodwalks of the city. The familiar rush of noise
greeted him along with a blast of perfectly pleasant, and very-
49. 46
nearly almost-noticed air. And all at once, all thoughts of
doom or unpleasantness or even people named Stephanie
who filled him with a strange and unfamiliar sense of dread,
for a moment, vanished. Because for all of his misgivings
about society, for all his complaints and alienation and
absolute certainty that he was the only one in the world that
could ever notice what was wrong with the world, he loved
the city.
Red stone walls shot up from the sides of the bustling
sodwalks forming the decorated sides of buildings before
giving way to buttresses and gargoyles that reached across
sprawling sod avenues; skyways connected the buildings,
forming a glittering web of stone and glass that hung
hundreds of hands in the air; gold, brass, and other highly
polished metals accented the spires and sweeping roofs of the
buildings and, when the suns were setting at just the right
angle, they made those roofs shine like another infinite sea of
stars.
But most of all James loved the systems of open
canals and aqueducts that spread water throughout the
metropolis. They fed the sod, of course, but also created a
lattice of lush and sapphire canals that cooled the hot days
and twinkled magically with reflected lights at night.
James looked up at the giant globe clock that rotated
on the tallest spire of the tallest building in the city; it was a
quarter ‘til two.
Crap. He was almost going to be late.
James rushed down the bustling city sodwalk as fast as
he could without drawing attention to himself, almost tripping
over his robes as he rounded the corner
SOD
50. 47
into Little Crete. Two huge, stone minotaurs flanked the
entrance to the district, rising thirty feet into the air, each
holding massive twenty-foot iron axes in their hands.
Greek to Me was located down a small, almost hidden
side street off the main sodway in Little Crete, beneath an
equally small, tattered purple and green awning—the national
colors of Greece. With each nervous step James took toward
the tattered fabric that hung tauntingly in front of the
doorway, the creature in his stomach decided that now was
the perfect time to try and do a complete loop de loop.
As he passed the halfway point down the street,
nerves gave way to borderline panic. Is she there already? Is
she still angry? Is it a five-trap? Will she show up at all? And
why did the idea of her not showing up at all scare him the
most and make him feel like the creature in his stomach had
pulled an important pin somewhere, causing his stomach,
heart, and everything inside of him to drop several despairing
inches? She was the one who hurt him, after all. She was a
danger. A menace. And he should be glad to be rid of
her…right? Then why did it feel so wrong? And who would
pick green and purple for the colors of a country? 29
James tried to focus desperately on the last question
because whatever the answer was, it probably wouldn’t make
him want to throw up.
Without realizing it, James had completely stopped
walking precisely seven hands from the entrance to the
restaurant and was now standing frozen in place, mumbling to
29
The colors were selected at random in a drunken haze after the country had
been founded, and meant absolutely nothing at all. However, that did not mean
there were no conflicts during the affair. Two members of the founding party
had to be physically separated and locked in broom closets after a disagreement
about which shade of green should be incorporated into the colors. This incident
has since been immortalized as “The Clash of Hunter-Fern,” or “That time those
two idiots got into it again for absolutely no reason.”
51. 48
himself as he looked down at the sodwalk. This strange
behavior caught the attention of the man sitting in the
restaurant’s window seat, whose eyes James immediately met
as he snapped back to reality. It was clear from the man’s
expression that he deeply approved of this unusual behavior,
and the man gave James a respectful nod before returning to
his meal.
With a sudden realization of where he was, James
pushed through his nervousness and quickly covered the
distance between himself and the front door. Then with one
last terrified deep breath to steel himself, James shoved the
door open and stepped inside the restaurant.
52. 49
SOD
Greek to Me was a small, well-lit restaurant with
white, age-stained walls and frequently more tables than
people. Those who were there chatted animatedly over large
helpings of heavily spiced food, both with the people they
were sitting with and anyone else in whose conversation they
happened to take an interest.
The waiters spent most of their time gathered near the
kitchen, usually in a loud, unintelligible argument with the
cooks. When not arguing with the kitchen staff, the waiters
would sit at a table with patrons whose arguments they had
overheard and subsequently joined. It was not uncommon to
find every waiter and patron in the restaurant gathered around
a single table, food forgotten, shouting at each other and
standing behind the person whose position they supported.
More than once this had escalated into a good-natured brawl
that left more property damaged than people and ended in a
flurry of life-long bans that were forgotten hours later. James
had personally been banned for life twice.
Every ten minutes or so one of the waiters would
remember what they were supposed to be doing and make a
quick sweep around the heavily sodded floor, bringing food
or drinks to whomever needed it. Then
53. they’d immediately return to their argument, picking up
where they’d left off regardless if the discussion had
moved on since they left. Occasionally a new customer
interrupted an argument to order something.
This was a mistake.
Immediately the entire wait staff (and usually
several customers) would descend upon the person,
loudly demanding apologies for their rudeness while
simultaneously spewing highly creative insults. The
interrupter was usually banned for life, along with
everyone else at their table.
The entire place was chaos incarnate. It was a
place with no rhyme or reason and, instead of attempting
to instill any, met all those who tried to change its nature
with pure insanity and a heavy dose of life-long bans.
James loved it dearly.
After a quick glance around the sparsely
populated tables, it was clear Stephanie hadn’t yet arrived.
James slid into a seat in a large booth near the back of
the restaurant to swallow his nerves and wait. A small
candle sat in the middle of the table, an unsuccessful
attempt by the restaurant’s owner to add some ambiance
to the place. James stared at the tiny flame, wondering
what it would be thinking—if small, poorly applied
candles could think. It seemed happy where it was, even
though it would fit in much better somewhere more
elegant. Somewhere where waiters brought out different
menus for different courses, where fish had their own
forks, where music was played by an old man who had
spent his life learning his instrument instead of being
piped over tinny speakers that were hurriedly tacked into
54. the top corners of a room by waiters who were shouting
at each other.
“I wish I could be like you,” James said to the
candle. “Happy where you are. Things would be so much
simpler then.” The candle flickered back at James in an
attempt to comfort him.
“Do you…make a habit out of talking to
inanimate objects?”
James jumped, knocking over the tiny candle in
his surprise. And for the first time in its life, the candle
began to regret where it was at the time. Stephanie stood
next to the booth, an amused smile on her face.
“You’re burning down the restaurant,” Stephanie
continued.
The candle hadn’t gone out when it was tipped
over and was now slowly, yet menacingly, rolling towards
the napkin holder, bent on revenge for its upset. James
righted the candle as Stephanie slid into the booth across
from him.
“You are a strange one, you know that?” said
Stephanie.
“So I’ve been told. Many times. By pretty much
everyone.”
Stephanie quietly laughed, raising her eyebrows in
a way that implied she wasn’t surprised.
“Well if you’ve found something that ‘pretty
much everyone’ has in common, maybe you can unite the
world and solve its problems,” Stephanie said smilingly.
James laughed. “Maybe. I doubt it. I don’t think
the world wants to be fixed. I’ve found it gets kinda
angry when you upset it.”
55. SOD
Stephanie shrugged, then smiled mischievously.
“Maybe. But maybe the world could use a bit of
upsetting. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“Well, you broke my nose. So, there is that.” The
words were out of his mouth before he realized what he
said.
Stephanie’s face fell and a light pink bloomed
across her cheeks. She tried to hide by picking up a menu
from the table and sinking behind it. Although what he
had said was absolutely true, James still felt bad for
turning this obvious compliment around on her.
“I…Sorry, it’s just…” James started. Stephanie
interrupted him, voice sharp with embarrassment. “No.
Don’t. It’s true. And…I’m sorry. Really. Which is why,
this.” Stephanie gestured at the table while hiding
behind her menu. James could see her intensely staring
at the list of Greek food, although he noticed she
wasn’t reading.
James considered dropping it. But, he had already
brought it up, and if he was ever going to ask about it,
this would be the time.
“I just,” James fumbled with his words, “I just
don’t get why you were so mad. I mean, I know I don’t
really know you, but you’ve never seemed like the angry
type. From what I’ve seen. Which isn’t a lot, but, yeah.”
Stephanie looked at her menu for a long moment
in silence, then nodded and put it down in front of her.
When she spoke, her words were slow and deliberate, like
they had been carefully chosen and rehearsed
56. beforehand. “I’ve… been going through some things
recently that have put me on edge, and I’ve been
behaving a little more emotionally than I normally would.
What I did wasn’t like me, at least not the me I’m used
to. In fact, that me really sucked and I’m really, really
sorry.”
James opened his mouth to ask what she could be
going through that was so traumatic that she would break
his nose over spilled Norwegian food. Stephanie seemed
to sense the question before he asked it and raised a hand
to silence him.
“But no, I don’t want to talk about what’s going
on with me,” she said assertively, a shadow of sadness
crossing her face.
“More importantly,” she said, now a little less
firmly, “it’s not important for this story, which isn’t very
long but is already filled with way too many asides. If we
start going through what’s bothering me, it will get
completely out of control and become even more
unwieldy than it already is.”
James blinked. It was the only immediate reaction
he could really have, because he hadn’t the slightest idea
what she was talking about. “What?” he said in a half
laugh, sure he missing some very odd joke. “This story?
What are you talking about?”
Stephanie smiled, but just simply replied. “That’s
all I’m going to say about that, I think. Sorry. But I’m still
not really feeling like myself yet, so if I were you, I
wouldn’t push it. Otherwise you might get another push.
Maybe into a chair this time.”
The wry smile and glint in Stephanie’s eye made
him believe that she was almost assuredly joking, but, on
57. SOD
the off chance that there was any truth to her threat, he
let the subject drop. Besides, the life seemed be coming
back into her eyes.
“So,” Stephanie picked the menu back up and
started half-interestedly flipping through it as she
attempted to stabilize herself. “While we’re on the
subject, I have to ask. What were you doing flailing about
when you decided to launch my lunch across the room,
anyway?”
James sighed, and tried to divert the subject. “I
don’t think that’s exactly lunch conversation.” It
didn’t work.
“It seemed perfectly fine lunch conversation
Tuesday,” Stephanie pressed, thoroughly enjoying James’
obvious discomfort in the subject.
Realizing there was nowhere to hide, James
relented. “I was trying to convince my friends that
instead of…going, you know, on the ground, we should
use special rooms and a device I invented.”
Now it was Stephanie’s turn to blink, stunned by
her complete unpreparedness for what James had just
said. “A device…” she nodded. “You know, I am
probably going to regret asking this. But what kind of
device, exactly?”
He already knew what was coming. He would
explain. She would look at him like he had just run into
the street completely naked and insisting he was King of
Antarctica, which would be extra ridiculous, since
Antarctica hadn’t had a king in hundreds of years. Then
after a few moments of consideration, she would
completely and unequivocally write him off. But he was
in too deep now. He couldn’t not tell her. So with a voice
filled with resignation that slightly quivered as the
58. stomach creature started swinging again, James
continued.
“Well, it’s…ugh. OK. It’s more like a stone chair
that water runs through. You would sit on it, do
your…thing, and the water would carry it away through
underground canals. Kinda like the ones outside. Only,
they wouldn’t be decorative, because…” he trailed off as
he sensed he’d said enough. No need to dig any deeper
than necessary. James dropped his eyes, not sure he could
stand seeing the mocking disbelief that would be
inevitably be in her eyes.
“Stone?” she asked, her voice worryingly stoic.
“Yeah,” he said, “so it’s sturdy and easy to clean.
It’s not like it needs to be movable…”
Stephanie looked at him for a long time without
speaking. “That might be the strangest idea I have ever
heard.” James nodded slightly, waiting for the blow.
“But, it makes a little sense. Kinda.”
For a moment, James continued nodding in
resignation, which was his usual response to most
people’s usual reaction. But then, like a ball that’s been
misthrown over a hedge and has silently flown through
the air and towards your face without you ever seeing it
coming, the actuality of Stephanie’s words blindsided
James. Hard. He looked back up at Stephanie in surprise
and shock, so bewildered that when he spoke, it almost
sounded accusatory. “Really?!”
Stephanie put up her hand. “I didn’t say it was a
good idea. I just said it made some amount of sense.” That
was closer to what he expected. James nodded and
picked up a menu trying to act disinterested. Inside
though, he was ecstatic. The stomach creature’s swinging
59. SOD
had now taken on some happier, unfamiliar form of
almost unbearable discomfort. No one had ever said
anything good about any of his ideas before, even half-
interestedly.
Stephanie picked up the menu again. “Now.
What’s good here?”
“I usually go with the Kangaroo,” James replied,
still stunned.
“Really? Considering your general weirdness I
would have assumed you would go with something, I
dunno, a little weirder.” Stephanie remarked “Explains
your fascination with pooping though.”
James laughed. It was the kind of laugh that starts
in your ribs, grabs every feeling of sadness and worry and
fear and disappointment, puts it in a ridiculous pink
dress, and throws it out your mouth.
“Why do you want to reinvent the way things are
run anyway?” Stephanie asked. “Even if your water-chair
does work—which, honestly, it probably would—why
would anyone want it?”
James opened his mouth to offer one of his
standard defenses, then realized he didn’t have any. All of
his arguments revolved around whether or not his idea
would work, or whether or not he was insane and would
be better off cutting street sod rather than spending any
time in school. The question of should his ideas be put in
place was never once was asked, even by him. For a long
moment, James was quiet as he turned the question over
in his head. Finally, without anything better to say on the
subject, he gave the only response he could.
“I don’t know,” James shrugged. “I just sort of
assumed that when people finally saw that it was a good
idea, it would be obvious they should do it.”
60. Stephanie continued perusing her menu. “Well,
sure. But it seems like you’d have to rip up every street in
every city, redo every home, and fire every sod worker, all
to replace a system that most people are already pretty
okay with.”
Stephanie put down her menu casually, like she
wasn’t in any way tossing a whirlwind of hammers into
James’ worldview.
“I mean, why not do something smaller that will
have a similar outcome…like running some of the canal
water down the side of the sodwalks for people to use?
Everything gets swept away, so everything is clean, but
with none of the citywide destruction.”
James leaned forward with interest. “Well, sure,
that would help I guess. But wouldn’t getting rid of the
problem completely be better than just making it slightly
better?”
“Maybe. But the best ideas in the world don’t
mean anything if no one wants to be a part of it.
Chicken.”
Until she had said chicken, Stephanie had been
making an unsettling amount of sense. What chicken
could have to do with the current subject was beyond all
of James’ comprehension, even his wildest
comprehension, which was far wilder than most people
could comprehend.
James stared at Stephanie, confused, head tilted
slightly to the right like a dog who’d suddenly become
self-aware while looking at itself in the mirror and was
understanding its own dogness for the first time.
Stephanie, noticing the change in James, stared
back at him with equal confusion. After a few moments
61. SOD
of exchanging strange and somewhat startled looks,
Stephanie spoke slowly.
“And I think he wants the kangaroo.”
The waiter, who had gone completely unnoticed
by James while standing mere inches from his shoulder
nodded slightly, then wandered off giving them both a
look of confusion. Unlike James and Stephanie however,
the waiter was not confused. He knew precisely what he
was doing and was merely pretending to be confused to
put them both at ease.30
The waiter didn’t have time for any silliness, as a
table across the restaurant was anxiously waiting for him
to return and finish his thoughts on whether bumblebees
were arrogant, which it seemed obvious they were.
All of this went completely unnoticed by both
James and Stephanie who were too busy being baffled by
each other’s bafflement. Then, as suddenly as they had
become confused, they both realized what was happening
and snapped out of it. Except for James, who once again
snapped back into it upon realizing Stephanie had
ordered chicken.
“Chicken?” he said. No one ate chicken. He was
surprised they even had it on the menu and more
surprised that he hadn’t noticed it until now. Chicken was
30
The waiter did this because he knew that nothing could upset a group of
deeply confused people more than having logic and reason enter the
situation. More often than not (at least in Greece, the waiter’s homeland)
coherent people who tried to quell large swells of mass confusion were
run out of town so as not to disturb the status quo and were only let back
into the community when they were as equally confused as those who ran
them off. Sometimes, if the unconfused person was well liked, the town
people would yell nonsense at the poor, competent person, so they might
get a head start on their confusion and be able to return sooner. Ironically,
the act of the entire town getting together for the singular cause of running
someone out of town often ended the mass confusion all at once.
62. about as exotic as anything he could imagine, aside from
maybe beef.
Stephanie smiled. “Yeah, chicken. But usually
Greek Restaurants call it bála pou féroun as a kind of code
so it doesn’t weird anyone out.”
“Bála pou féroun?” James asked, partly for
clarification, but also partly because what was happening
was so unexpected that asking for clarification was all he
could bring himself to do at the moment.
“Flying ball.”
“Ah.” James was still looking at Stephanie like her
head had just sprouted wings and flew a lap around the
room.
Stephanie noticed. “My dad’s friend made it for
us once when he was visiting from Greece. He put it in
some sauce and didn’t tell me, so I didn’t even know I
was eating it until after I was already enjoying it. If he had
told me what it was at the beginning, I probably would
have responded the same way you did just now. Which
would have been a shame, because chicken is delicious.”
James gave Stephanie a skeptical but amused look.
“You’re not talking about chicken, are you?”
Stephanie nodded. “Hey, that story’s true! And
I’m not saying your water chair thing is a bad idea. It
isn’t. But you should know better than anyone that
people don’t like change, so why not make something
that they’d find convenient, that they might actually want
and doesn’t make them feel judged. Or something.
Unless you’re just coming up with ideas you know people
won’t like on purpose.”
James sat in stunned silence for a long time,
looking at Stephanie as her words sunk in. Could it be
63. SOD
true? Had he gotten so used to the idea of being an
outcast that he needed people to react poorly to him to
reinforce his belief that he was surrounded by idiots who
couldn’t see past their own archaic customs? Were others
right, even in their wrongness, to consider him odd? He
didn’t think so, but then again, he had never thought
about it before either, which was worrying.
James had unconsciously dropped his gaze to a
small stain on the tablecloth. He still didn’t say anything
but rather pursed his lips slightly, deep in thought. As the
silence stretched on, Stephanie began shifting
uncomfortably in her seat.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that last bit seriously, it
was more…”
“No, no,” James interrupted her. “It’s… fine? I
had just never thought about it that way. No one has ever
taken me seriously before, so this is all kinda new. I’m
not saying you’re right, I’m just saying it’s something to
think about.”
At that moment, their food arrived and abruptly
ended all conversation regarding James’ inventions and
instead turned it to Stephanie fruitlessly trying to get
James to try chicken. They then talked about the
strangeness of perfectly normal things, the normalcy of
strange things, and the neither strange nor normal, but
complete alienness of Headmaster Jlunsong.
Eventually, as is the unfortunate way with most
happy meals, time slipped by without notice and soon
James and Stephanie found themselves on the sodwalk in
front of the restaurant, about to go in different
directions. James’ mind raced furiously, hoping to rest
upon something clever to say. Something that could
express how much he enjoyed himself. How for the first
64. time in a long time he felt free to be himself. How he
couldn’t remember having more fun with someone,
especially someone he felt so inexplicably drawn to,
possibly ever. Something which could say all of this
without coming across as weird.
Little did he know, Stephanie was doing precisely
the same thing. Unfortunately for James, Stephanie had
been less rattled by the whole experience, and so spoke
before James had the chance.
“That was fun.” It was first, not golden.
James smiled, “Yeah. Thanks.”
Though they had just spent the last few hours
deep in unbroken conversation, at this particular moment
James was unable to say anything more. He knew what
he wanted to say. But what if she laughed? What if she
said ‘No’? What if she said ‘YES’?
“OK, well, maybe I’ll see you at school
Monday?” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was the
best he could do right now.
The smile that spread across Stephanie’s face was
unlike any other she had given him that day. There was
no slyness, no cleverness. No apology or misdirection. It
was a smile in its purest form; one with no hesitation or
memory of unpleasantness, born from a moment of
sheer happiness.
“Yeah. OK.”
Then, before either of them could do anything
stupid, like say what they were both actually thinking,
Stephanie turned on her heel and with a “See you soon,”
waved goodbye over her shoulder and headed down the
sod towards her home.
65. SOD
James stood there, unable to move, and for a
brief moment understood what it must be like to be a
statue. Because even though it seems that statues are
incapable of movement, this is entirely untrue. They can
move whenever they wish. But they are so enraptured in
the moment they were created to display that they simply
have no desire to move, for even the slightest movement
would break the spell and the purity of the feeling would
vanish.
Unlike statues though, James did not have the
luxury of standing fixed in his spot, reveling in an endless
feeling. And so with a deep sigh and a smile equal in
sincerity to Stephanie’s, James turned his back on the
restaurant and headed down the labyrinthine streets that
would lead him home.
As he reached the corner of two narrow winding
avenues, he turned to try and catch one last glimpse of
Stephanie before she dissolved into the buildings. Soon
his eyes found her, partially obscured by other people
making their way across the sod and silhouetted by the
dimming golden sunset. And at that instant of a moment,
before becoming obscured by the sea of traffic and
people, James watched as Stephanie slightly hoisted up
her robe and relieved herself upon the sodwalk.
66. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to all of the wonderful people who inspired
me and helped me write this small, strange story.
Without you this would have never made it out into the
world. Specific thanks to Nicole, Elliott, Dhiya, Kelly,
Franny, Richard, and Pete for reading, giving feedback,
supporting me, and generally putting up with my
weirdness. To Mike who turned my manuscript red with
editing ink. To the very talented Caitlin Rose, who
designed the cover. To my parents who managed to find
a way raise me without killing me and make it look like
an accident. And to my brother Forrest, who
consistently reminds me not to take myself too
seriously.
67. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Morgan Perrine is a writer and copywriter living in
Brooklyn. He didn’t go to a prestigious school and
hasn’t won any awards to speak of, but can roast a
chicken that’s routinely praised as far above average.
He also isn’t quite sure what people are looking to learn
from this section, but the exercise has taught him that
writing about himself in the third person is deeply
uncomfortable.
