Excerpt
A lot can happen in a day, sometimes. Not every day, of course. Most have one event, and thats if youre lucky. Many have less, which seems especially true in our school, which is hard to get into and committed to serving the community but is also, as a rule, unthrilling. Maybe things pick up in eleventh grade, which is when Mr. Frechette, a teacher we like, says our brains have developed to the point where we can grasp irony, accept ambivalence, and acknowledge the deaths head that lurks at the edge of all human endeavor. His exact words; I put them in my phone. Well see, although I trust him.
Mr. Frechette can get sour, but hes also pretty wise.
Maybe todays a preview of next year, then, because a lot has happened in it, even without the deaths head. Schools out. Theo and I are on our way to tae kwon do. Wherever you look, whoever and whatever you see seems glad to be a New Yorker, not just people but buildings, and pigeons, and signs. Theos my best friend, and always has been. He says thats just because hes the only boy in my school whos not named Max or Jake, but thats not it at all (which he knows). Its simple. He bores easily. So do I. But we dont bore each other, and thats since in utero, practically, as our moms met in Lamaze class and got to be friends. He got his name because his mom wrote a book about the loser relatives of famous artists. Theo Van Gogh was Vincent Van Goghs brother; Mrs. Rosen, Theos mom, pronounces the name (I quote Theo here) like she was choking on a rugelach.”). Theo V.G. knew Vincent was the talented one and worked hard to make sure the world knew it, too. I admire that, and hope I would do the same, if I had a brother who was an insane depressed genius, which I dont. Im an only child.