stone banks at the corner of Park—the same way he would have walked with Cara. Maybe it’s his own fault, he delayed too long and someone else sneaked in ahead of him. (Is it someone he knows?)
This might be a good time to consider Lizette’s advice. Get a spine. It wasn’t just Klimchock’s tyranny that made him join the Confederacy, was it?
Café EnJay has a painted red coffee cup on its window, from which wavy lines of steam rise. A waitress leads two people to a window table inside; the red cup eclipses their heads, but when they sit, Karl sees that the girl is Cara and the guy is some kind of rock star–looking person in his twenties, wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt to show off his muscles. This guy has short, rumpled, blond hair and a matching mustache. Even from across the street and through glass, Karl can see that his eyes are intensely blue, and that Cara is enjoying their blueness.
She takes a break from drinking in the splendor of her rock star’s face, and glances out the window. Karl turns his back so fast that his blazer’s tail whips around. He keeps going up State, head turned unnaturally to the right—but peeks back after a few steps, unable to resist. Instead of Cara in the window, he spots Lizette, Jonah, and Matt in the tiny park next to the café.
There’s a tall sweetgum tree by the curb. Karl hides behind its wide trunk and spies on his old friends.
They’re sipping from pink Shake Shack cups, along with a fourth person Karl doesn’t recognize. Matt tosses his cup in a trash can and asks loudly, “Are you ready, Stringbinis?”
The fourth friend, Karl’s replacement, takes out a little video camera, and the Fabulous Flying Stringbinis perform for both passersby and posterity. First comes the Stringbini Handstand: Jonah squats with his hands on the grass in front of him while Lizette and Matt step on his hands with one foot apiece and shout, “Hey!”
Behind his tree trunk, standing in a lake of sweetgum prickly balls, Karl wishes desperately that he could cross the street and join his old friends, even if they do look extremely stupid. He regrets that he ever mocked (even silently, to himself) Jonah’s braces and Matt’s hyperactivity. It would be so much better to clown around with them than to hide behind a tree, humiliated by a pretty girl who couldn’t care less about him.
Here comes the stunt called Falling Down Sideways, which he made up himself. Lizette—a halfhearted Stringbini, it seems—stands straight and tall while Jonah and Matt play a drumroll on their thighs. On the count of three, she raises her arms above her head and falls over, straight as a plank. The others catch her just before she hits the ground, shouting, “Hey!” Without Karl there, her weight surprises them; she hits the grass, and sighs.
Thumping music comes from the café next to the park. Cara’s date turns out to be the singer of the band that’s playing on the small stage. Out in front of the others, he throws his head around as if he were conducting an orchestra with it. Cara smiles like the Mona Lisa.
“Karl Petrofsky, right?”
Huh? Whuh? Who—?
A girl has come up behind him: the weird one from school, with the immobile hair and the plaid slacks that always have a straight crease—the one who drags around a small rolling suitcase instead of a backpack, and therefore looks like a flight attendant as she strides through the halls.
She sticks her hand out straight, to shake his. “Samantha Abrabarba. Nice to meet you. Why are you hiding behind a tree?”
“No reason. I just—didn’t have anything to do.”
“On a Friday night? Tut, tut. But look on the bright side: that means I can interview you. How about this bench— shall we?”
Samantha, it turns out, wants to profile him for The Emancipator , as the quiet genius of the junior class and next year’s presumed valedictorian. The prospect of having the whole school read about his prodigious brainpower appeals to him
This might be a good time to consider Lizette’s advice. Get a spine. It wasn’t just Klimchock’s tyranny that made him join the Confederacy, was it?
Café EnJay has a painted red coffee cup on its window, from which wavy lines of steam rise. A waitress leads two people to a window table inside; the red cup eclipses their heads, but when they sit, Karl sees that the girl is Cara and the guy is some kind of rock star–looking person in his twenties, wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt to show off his muscles. This guy has short, rumpled, blond hair and a matching mustache. Even from across the street and through glass, Karl can see that his eyes are intensely blue, and that Cara is enjoying their blueness.
She takes a break from drinking in the splendor of her rock star’s face, and glances out the window. Karl turns his back so fast that his blazer’s tail whips around. He keeps going up State, head turned unnaturally to the right—but peeks back after a few steps, unable to resist. Instead of Cara in the window, he spots Lizette, Jonah, and Matt in the tiny park next to the café.
There’s a tall sweetgum tree by the curb. Karl hides behind its wide trunk and spies on his old friends.
They’re sipping from pink Shake Shack cups, along with a fourth person Karl doesn’t recognize. Matt tosses his cup in a trash can and asks loudly, “Are you ready, Stringbinis?”
The fourth friend, Karl’s replacement, takes out a little video camera, and the Fabulous Flying Stringbinis perform for both passersby and posterity. First comes the Stringbini Handstand: Jonah squats with his hands on the grass in front of him while Lizette and Matt step on his hands with one foot apiece and shout, “Hey!”
Behind his tree trunk, standing in a lake of sweetgum prickly balls, Karl wishes desperately that he could cross the street and join his old friends, even if they do look extremely stupid. He regrets that he ever mocked (even silently, to himself) Jonah’s braces and Matt’s hyperactivity. It would be so much better to clown around with them than to hide behind a tree, humiliated by a pretty girl who couldn’t care less about him.
Here comes the stunt called Falling Down Sideways, which he made up himself. Lizette—a halfhearted Stringbini, it seems—stands straight and tall while Jonah and Matt play a drumroll on their thighs. On the count of three, she raises her arms above her head and falls over, straight as a plank. The others catch her just before she hits the ground, shouting, “Hey!” Without Karl there, her weight surprises them; she hits the grass, and sighs.
Thumping music comes from the café next to the park. Cara’s date turns out to be the singer of the band that’s playing on the small stage. Out in front of the others, he throws his head around as if he were conducting an orchestra with it. Cara smiles like the Mona Lisa.
“Karl Petrofsky, right?”
Huh? Whuh? Who—?
A girl has come up behind him: the weird one from school, with the immobile hair and the plaid slacks that always have a straight crease—the one who drags around a small rolling suitcase instead of a backpack, and therefore looks like a flight attendant as she strides through the halls.
She sticks her hand out straight, to shake his. “Samantha Abrabarba. Nice to meet you. Why are you hiding behind a tree?”
“No reason. I just—didn’t have anything to do.”
“On a Friday night? Tut, tut. But look on the bright side: that means I can interview you. How about this bench— shall we?”
Samantha, it turns out, wants to profile him for The Emancipator , as the quiet genius of the junior class and next year’s presumed valedictorian. The prospect of having the whole school read about his prodigious brainpower appeals to him
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