The Twinning Project

by Robert Lipsyte

  There was a line of cars outside, most of them trucks like the one he was in. Kids were climbing out with suitcases. Some of them had wheels. Some kids had them strapped on their backs like the packs Scouts carried on overnight trips. Everybody had those little phones in their hands, and most of the kids were fiddling with them using only their thumbs. There were other Negro kids and lots of Oriental-looking kids, which was surprising, too. He wondered if he would be able to get along with them. On his planet, they’d been fighting wars with Japanese, Koreans, and even Chinese until not long ago.

  When the big car pulled up to the entrance, Alessa’s mom said, “Have a good one, guys.” She kissed the top of Alessa’s head and waved her fingers at Eddie. She had a ring on every finger.

  “Thanks for the ride,” he said. She gave him a big smile, and as he got out, she started talking. He turned back to answer, but she was talking to a little microphone above her head.

  Alessa was waiting for him on the sidewalk outside the school. Kids rushed by. “You never got back to me.”

  “About what?”

  “The plans for today.”

  “What plans?”

  She scowled at him. “Well, you just check your texts. It’s all there.”

  Texts. He remembered they were messages you get on your phone. “I don’t have a phone.”

  “Did you leave it at home?”

  Eddie remembered that he hadn’t seen the little phone in Tom’s bedroom. Had Tom sneaked it along?

  “I’ve got to stop using it for a while.”

  “How can you do that?”

  “The pills I’m taking.”

  “What pills?”

  “I had to take these pills to change my attitude.” He hated to lie, but he was surprised at how easy it was. “And they have these side effects. I can’t play the violin. And I don’t remember things.”

  “Oh, Tom, that’s terrible.” She squeezed his arm. “I’ll help you all I can.”

  “Look who’s here, all dressed up.” A huge kid with a splash of pimples on his forehead made a big deal of looking Eddie up and down but without getting too close. “You running for class president?” He had a snorty laugh, through his nose.

  A bully, thought Eddie, but he seems scared of me. Of Tom. He dimly remembered Tom telling him about some guy he had to stop. Bratzky?

  “Fall back, pizza face,” growled Alessa.

  Eddie said, “Never make fun of how a person looks, Alessa. He can’t help it.”

  That got the kid really angry. He raised his fists and Eddie got ready to duck, but a teacher suddenly appeared. “Better hurry up—bell’s going to ring.” She checked Eddie up and down. “You look like you had a makeover, Tom.”

  It took him a moment to figure out what she meant. Like he had been made over—gussied up, as Grandpa would say. The teacher seemed to be waiting for him to say something, so Eddie said the first thing that popped into his head. “I’m running for class president.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  NEARMONT, N.J.

  2011

  TOM’S school was different from his in ways that made Eddie blink. He couldn’t believe the way teachers dressed here on EarthOne. They dressed worse than kids dressed on EarthTwo! In his school, teachers wore suits and ties or dresses. Here the men teachers wore polo shirts and dungarees, and so did some of the women. The kids were all in T-shirts and dungarees, and some of the dungarees were pretty weird, with rips and colored stitches and even glass beads. And they were tight, not like the baggy dungarees on EarthTwo. Some kids had rings in their noses and lips and eyebrows. That made Eddie wince.

  Right under the flag in the front of the classroom, where the picture of the president usually goes, was a photo of a Negro man. Who could that be?

  Kids weren’t as respectful here, but the teachers didn’t seem to mind. Everybody was jokier. Some kids and teachers greeted each other by slapping palms or bumping fists. It was weird. Nobody slapped Eddie’s palm or bumped his fist, which was just as well, since he wasn’t sure how to do it. They steered clear of him, didn’t look him in the eye. It seemed as if most kids and teachers didn’t like him. Or were afraid of him. Eddie felt sorry for Tom.

  And for myself, Eddie thought. I’m a friendly guy, and hanging out with other kids is the best part of school. That’s why teams are so great. This is really lonely.

  Alessa was in all his classes, so he just followed her from room to room, and she pointed him to Tom’s seat. The teachers didn’t call on him. A good thing, he thought. Math was hard. Forget French. In his school only the eggheads took French. Eddie was taking Spanish.

  At lunch, Alessa said, “I loooved the way you put Britzky down. ‘Never make fun of how a person looks.’”

  Britzky, the kid she had called pizza face, was glaring at them from across the cafeteria.

  “I meant it,” Eddie said.

  “Sure you did.”

  The cafeteria was a pretty neat place. There was a long serving counter with all kinds of hot meals, cheeseburgers, food with Spanish names, salads, different sizes and shapes of spaghetti, a dozen different sodas. Each thing had its own little sign, with its name and the number of calories in it. Eddie knew what calories were, but he had never worried about them. He needed to eat a lot to keep his weight up, especially during football season. When he asked Alessa about the school’s football team and she said the team was disbanded last year because there wasn’t enough interest, he felt let down.

  Eddie got something called a wrap with turkey and cheese inside. He remembered that Grandpa had given Tom a wrap for the slip trip. Back home, most kids brought their own sandwiches to school. Grandpa always packed Eddie monster sandwiches—roast beef, chicken, meat loaf—enough to share with Ronnie. Eddie would buy containers of milk and cupcakes for both of them.

  He followed Alessa to a table at the far corner of the cafeteria near the garbage barrels, which was interesting, because he could see what was going on at all the other tables. Back home, he sat with the team that was in season—football in fall, basketball in winter, and baseball in spring—usually in the middle of the cafeteria near the social kids and the politicians. The other kids watched them.

  At Alessa’s table, Eddie was the only one wearing a shirt with a collar except for one freaky-looking boy who was wearing a black tuxedo and a black bow tie. He had black makeup around his eyes, which made him look like a raccoon. Eddie figured he was in a school play. Back home, he’d better be in a school play or he’d get beaten up for looking like that.

  Actually, most of the kids at his table would have gotten run out of his junior high school. There was a girl with green hair and a boy whose head was shaved except for the hairy letters RU1? on both sides. And their clothes were like costumes: funny plaids, torn pants, pants hanging real low. Back home, everybody dressed pretty much the same—skirts and blouses for the girls, chinos and checked shirts or blue button-downs for the boys.

  “This is kooky,” whispered Eddie.

  Alessa nodded and sighed. She sighed a lot for a kid. Maybe she had trouble breathing. “I feel like we’re living in a reality show.”

  He almost had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t ask her what a reality show was. Maybe a reality show was like a variety show. Like the Ed Sullivan Show.

  Britzky, the kid with the bad forehead, was sitting at a table of jocks—but at the end, like he was the last man on the bench. Eddie had that on his Earth, too, where the worst jock bully was usually a guy who barely made the team, a guy who needed to show off so he could feel like part of the group. Keep that in mind when you deal with Britzky, he told himself.

  “You really going to run for president, Tom?” asked the girl with green hair.

  Eddie shrugged. His mouth was full of the wrapped turkey and cheese, which he liked.

  “Better lose those preppy duds,” said the kid with eye makeup. He was pointing at Eddie.

  “Preppy’s back,” said Alessa. “It’ll be a new look for a new Tom. A
leader, not a troublemaker.”

  “We need troublemakers,” said the green-haired girl. “Don’t you think, Tom?”

  Eddie had no idea what to say, so he said, “I really like your hair.” Lying was getting so easy, he thought.

  “Green is for the environment,” she said. “If we don’t stand up for the environment, the corporations are going to wreck it, just to make money.”

  “I agree,” said Eddie. He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he wanted to start making friends. “We have to think of the whole planet, not just us.” Where had he heard that? Merlyn. The canned-goods drive for starving kids.

  There was a sudden silence at the table, and then everyone was smiling and trying to fist-bump him and telling him their names.

  “My name’s Hannah,” said the green-haired girl, “and what you said is just so right on.”

  Alessa and Hannah got into a discussion about the class president election campaign. They talked about slogans and posters, which Eddie understood, and about podcasts and text blasts, which he didn’t. He began to like the idea the more he thought about it. He’d always been president or vice president of his class back home. Just being a candidate was a good way to meet people and make new friends. Since Tom hadn’t been in this school very long, most people probably wouldn’t notice how different he was.

  He missed Tom. He thought, I wish we could have spent more time together. Tom seemed like a fearless guy, gutsy, and so smart. A cool brother.

  He heard a sweet, silvery voice say, “I think it’s wonderful that you’re running.” He recognized it instantly: Merlyn, the new cheerleader.

  But that was back there, not here.

  He turned. It was Merlyn, all right, with her long black hair that covered one of her bright green eyes. What was she doing here?

  Merlyn said, “This school needs fresh blood.”

  “If you’re a vampire,” said Alessa. She was scowling.

  Merlyn ignored her. “And here’s my campaign contribution.” She put six dollar bills on the table in front of Eddie. “We need to perform together again. Closer to the election.”

  She laughed and walked away.

  “What was that all about?” said Alessa.

  “Beats me,” said Eddie. Have to ask Tom about this. And how could she be in two places? Merlyn must be a monitor.

  “You’re hot,” said the boy with the raccoon eyes. “It’s that YouTube clip.”

  “Give her a break,” said Hannah. “Maybe she’s a Greenie, too.”

  “That Gossip Girl is just playing him,” said Alessa. She was glaring at Eddie. “When did you perform together? What was that money for?”

  Eddie looked right into Alessa’s eyes. “I don’t know what she was talking about.”

  Alessa muttered something under her breath, but she nodded and looked down.

  People usually believed Eddie. He was glad they believed him on this planet, too.

  Suddenly, he felt sick. Was it Merlyn, the turkey wrap, or was Tom landing? Eddie hoped his brother was all right.

  THIRTY-THREE

  NEARMONT, N.J.

  2011

  IN the afternoon there was a class called tech lab. Everyone sat in front of a computer. Alessa showed Eddie how to turn it on. That was as far as he got. Kids were “Googling.” He almost laughed out loud at that word. Sounded dirty. Turned out it was a way of looking up things fast. He wondered if you could get sports scores.

  In science, the teacher was talking about “climate change.” The planet was getting hotter, and she said most scientists thought it was people’s fault. How could people change the weather? Eddie wondered.

  In history, the teacher used her computer to put a chart on the wall. She called it Mrs. Rupp’s Timeline. She was asking when the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq started. Eddie didn’t know where those countries were, much less that there were wars there.

  Then he followed Alessa to the auditorium for the election committee meeting. He sat there shivering, even though it was warm.

  “What’s wrong?” said Alessa. “Are you sick?”

  He couldn’t tell her he was sharing the slipping flu with the real Tom. “The pills,” he said.

  She put her head close to his and whispered, “I went to a shrink once and I took pills like that.”

  “What happened?”

  “They didn’t help me the way they’re helping you. You’re so much more chill. I can’t believe you’re running for office after such a short time in school.”

  You don’t even know how short, he thought. And this isn’t the real Tom’s kind of thing. In just the little time he had spent with him, Eddie could tell that Tom was a loner kind of guy who kept to himself, reading, doing his tech stuff, and playing the violin. Tom didn’t have friends. Eddie wondered how many people would vote for him. He’d have to act different from Tom to get votes. But then he wouldn’t be Tom, he’d be Eddie. His head felt as mixed up as his stomach. He wished he was as smart as his brother.

  A funny-looking guy came strutting out on stage. He was dressed like a kid even though he was old. He wore tight dungarees, sneakers, and a T-shirt. He stopped suddenly, pretending he had just noticed all the kids sitting in the auditorium. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  He looked so familiar.

  I know that guy.

  “Dr. Traum is a buffoon,” said Alessa.

  “Dr. Traum?”

  “Earth to Tom. Dr. Traum. The school psychologist? Our orchestra teacher?”

  How about my school psychologist and the football coach? “Sorry, Alessa, I forgot.”

  “‘Sokay. It’s your pills. Uh-oh. Not her, too.” The history teacher walked out on stage. “Mrs. Rupp is an alien species.”

  Eddie went on alert until he figured out that Alessa was making a joke.

  “Let’s settle down, people,” said Mrs. Rupp. “Dr. Traum and I will be the election commissioners, and I can assure you that this will be a fair process. Nominations are in order for seventh grade student council.”

  Since Eddie didn’t know any of the kids, the nominations didn’t mean much to him. He tuned out, wondering about Tom. Finally, Mrs. Rupp and Dr. Traum got to seventh grade class president.

  Alessa jumped up. “He hasn’t been here very long, but you’ve seen him on YouTube and you know he fights for his rights. He’ll fight for yours, too. Let’s give it up for Tom Canty!”

  Merlyn seconded the nomination. There was some applause and some whistles. Like when the team needs a touchdown and you get a first down, thought Eddie.

  Alessa pulled him to his feet and raised one of his arms. A little more applause.

  That felt good. Not like throwing a touchdown, but good.

  He noticed that both Mrs. Rupp and Dr. Traum were shaking their heads.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  NEARMONT, N.J.

  2011

  ALESSA made Eddie sit through orchestra practice even though he couldn’t play. Dr. Traum smiled at him but left him alone. No question, it was the same guy. Got to talk to Tom about this. And to Grandpa. Dr. Traum and Merlyn on both planets! Thinking about that made his head ache.

  Alessa’s mom dropped him off at Tom’s house. There was a car in the driveway, one of those truck cars, and the lights were on in the kitchen, but no one was around. He ate some leftover Chinese food, cold and greasy—the way he liked it—made himself a peanut butter and mustard sandwich, poured a glass of milk, and went upstairs. While he ate and drank, he tried to turn on Tom’s TV. Couldn’t figure it out. He felt lousy. He lay down on top of the bed.

  Catch a few zzz’s.

  When he woke up, it was dark and the TV was blasting in the living room. He went downstairs. Keith—it had to be him, the Lump, a big guy with red whiskers—was stretched out on the sofa with a can of beer balanced on his stomach, watching a baseball game on the biggest TV Eddie had ever seen. And it was in color! Amazing picture. He couldn’t stop staring at it. The players looked huge. They weren’t wearing baseball stocki
ngs. Their pants went down to their shoes, which weren’t all black.

  You could see their faces clearly. You could see the sweat on the pitcher’s face. The batter needed a shave. He swung, a grounder to deep short, a bang-bang play at first. And then it played again. Instantly. Twice.

  “When did they start doing that?” said Eddie.

  “Baseball? Around two hundred years ago.”

  Eddie laughed. That was pretty funny. “No, playing it over again right away.”

  “Instant replay?” The Lump took a sip of his beer and looked at Eddie as if he wasn’t sure whether he was being a wise guy or not. “In the sixties.”

  Too bad, thought Eddie. I’ll have to wait a few years.

  “You interested all of a sudden? Or just for the postseason?”

  I’ve been a big fan all my life, Eddie wanted to say, but he caught himself in time. The real Tom isn’t a fan.

  “Who’s playing?”

  “L.A. and the Mets.”

  “L.A.?”

  “The Dodgers.”

  “They’re in Brooklyn.”

  “Not since 1957.”

  “They moved?”

  “Obviously. You really do hate sports.”

  I love sports, Eddie thought. In the last century. “And the Mets?”

  “They started in 1962. Before your time.”

  After my time, Eddie thought. Have to wait five more years. Better keep my mouth shut.

  “Grab a soda, watch with me,” said Keith. “You might like it.”

  The only Cokes in the fridge were Diet Cokes, but he took one. He broke off a little ring on top trying to open it, and when he had to use an opener, he nearly crushed the can in his hand, it was so soft. And it tasted funny. He didn’t like it, but he sipped at it while he watched the game.

  “Who are you rooting for?” he asked Keith.

  “Doesn’t matter. Yankees are my team.”

  “Me, too.”

  Keith squinted at him. “Who’s your favorite Yankee?” It sounded like a trick question.