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92The halls of Montgomery County High School areclean, almost spotless, with the kind of sterile sparkle thatreminds you of a hospital or a mental institution. It’s notthe most inviting aura, which is fitting, I guess, because it’snot the most inviting place. For me, at least. The lazy daysof summer are long gone, and fall is upon us—school hasbeen in session for nearly two months. Cotton cobwebs andplastic skeletons decorate the lines of lockers, in preparationfor Halloween.“…And so I went down, I mean I went down toPearl’s, you know the art supply store across from theStarbucks? And I ask the guy who works the cash register—his name is Sean—if they have any pale olive paint, which Ithink is going to be the perfect color for Mother’s face, youknow. But he says—but Sean says that they don’t have anypale olive. But they do have frosted lime, he tells me. Canyou believe it?”“No,” says Tasha, the girl I love. I can’t tell if I’mboring her or not. She brushes her hair—which is maybea dark saddle brown—behind her ear. I try not to cry. “Sowhat are you gonna do?”“I dunno. Maybe I can order it online or something.But it’ll take ages to get here. I mean ages. I can’t just goand use frosted lime, though, you know? It’s all wrong.Mother was a Mediterranean woman, and the only color thatcaptures that glow, you know that certain glow, is pale olive.So I guess I’ll just have to wait.”MATT MARK PUTTERMAN“I’m sorry, Matt. I know you’ve been trying to finishthat portrait for months, ever since…well, for a long timenow.” She places her hand lightly on my shoulder. I melt,trickle down into a puddle of flesh in my New Balancesneakers. Somewhere far off, the shrill cry of the passingbell sounds. Suddenly I’m human again, muscles and bonesand desires and inhibitions, the whole shebang. By nowthe halls are swarming with all sorts of strange teenagecreatures, buzzing and blowing about like giant, gangly
insects.“Shoot. I’ve gotta go. I’m late for class…Will you be okay?”“Yes. I mean yeah, I’ll be fine.” I tug on the drawstrings of mygreen-gray sweatshirt. “I’ll be fine. I’m going home. I’ve got a—I’ve got alot of work to do anyway.”“Homework?”“No, no. I mean no. Painting. I did manage to get stars foreverblue, you know, for her eyes. I’ve gotta work on her eyes.”“Oh. Okay. Bye Matt. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiles andturns to go.“Oh…g’bye.” I stand and watch her go. She’s wearing a tealsweater, blue jeans and a pair of Converse sneakers. She looks like amillion dollars, I think. Not that I’ve ever seen a million dollars—it’s justan expression. Her hair bobs up and down as she makes her way downthe hall, clutching a stack of books close to her chest. She turns into herclassroom; I dash to my locker, grab my old Razor Scooter, and make forhome.93This is the part of the story where I tell you I have Asperger’s.That’s what Gus says, anyway. I wasn’t going to mention it; I didn’t wantto mention it. Because I knew that once I did, I wouldn’t be just Mattanymore. I’d be Matt, the poor, misunderstood retarded boy, or Matt,the “very special young man.” I know. But I just want to be Matt. I meanI just want to be Matt.It’s not that I’m ashamed to be an Aspie—not at all. I might notbe “normal” like the kids at school, but who wants to be normal? It’sjust I don’t like being treated differently, like I’m stupid or like I needto be coddled. I don’t like it when people talk to me like I’m a child, orpretend I don’t exist. I do exist. I guess I just have a tendency to makesome people uncomfortable. In truth, I’m really not that different frommost people, I like the same things as your average 15-year-old guy: art,books, girls, video games, music. But people hear the way I talk—mydeliberate, sometimes spacey cadences; the way I sometimes repeatmyself; how I can get unexpectedly overemotional—and they thinkthere’s something wrong with me. I guess maybe there is somethingwrong with me; people just don’t understand me. It makes sense, Iguess—I don’t understand them either.Gus says that it’s good for me to get my emotions out, butin constructive ways. I’m not sure exactly what that means, though.
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ill kemmler space5
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8 we came to know. They quivered th
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10emily pederson untitled
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chelsea bryn WIRED
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14 All my best,Glen Clarkson,Assist
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16 speak, and the gray woman cast a
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18 my chest into my stomach, and I
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22 think, I sat across from the kit
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LISA DOMINGUEZ Wan Chai, Hong Kong
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26 your map of birthmarks.The faces
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28After Marta Luisa was murdered in
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30 enough for them to come out to t
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32 “Is that the real work your bo
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34 When Irene glared at him the ski
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36JADE FUSCO DAD
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38 that your bonesare actually made
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40Right in the middle of things, hi
Page 42 and 43: 42 and mind. I was possessed for se
Page 44 and 45: 44 Breslauer was a professor of Ame
Page 46 and 47: 46 another snake this way, stuck, b
Page 48 and 49: 48 thought it was funny and sad. An
Page 50 and 51: SARAH SCHNEIDER STEREO HEAD
Page 52 and 53: 52 so this last daughter can cross
Page 54 and 55: 54It wasn’t a warm day; grey, and
Page 56 and 57: 56 some work, I even convinced her
Page 58 and 59: 58 back home I noticed that they we
Page 60 and 61: 60fluctuations katja krishokI make
Page 62 and 63: 62Mrs. Wagner and her son Ben liked
Page 64 and 65: 64 of childrearing has denied them.
Page 66 and 67: 66 member and his wife. Mrs. Steven
Page 68 and 69: 68 something—her cell phone, perh
Page 70 and 71: 70 there is a shadow now on the tab
Page 72 and 73: 72 his brother to wait through the
Page 74 and 75: 74 “Oh, there,” Mrs. Wagner say
Page 76 and 77: 76 bent, like the waterlogged face
Page 78 and 79: 78west coast gina hongA Hispanic ma
Page 80 and 81: RACHEL WEBB STILL
Page 82 and 83: 82 name, he said. He reveled in his
Page 84 and 85: 84 I undress him and put him in the
Page 87 and 88: off him onto the wood floor like st
Page 89 and 90: For Danny89what the sparrow said ma
Page 91: MATTHEW MORROCCO MOIST
Page 95 and 96: “Okay, I guess. I mean it could b
Page 97 and 98: disconcerted.”“Good. That’s v
Page 99 and 100: “Yeah. I did her eyes today. I me
Page 101 and 102: open mouth. As the pressure in my l
Page 103 and 104: RILEY O’NEILL Hill in Desert
Page 105 and 106: RACHEL WEBB SEARCHING
Page 107 and 108: a cart down the street. A nun reads
Page 109 and 110: says.They reach a lonely bench. The
Page 111 and 112: impressionist gina hong111The only
Page 113 and 114: 113conversationsTaylor antrimlise f
Page 115 and 116: Anna Duensing: Can you give us a ge
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Page 119 and 120: of like if you decide to go to ther
Page 121 and 122: Anna Duensing: One thing that seems
Page 123 and 124: are as humans.Anna Duensing: What i
Page 125 and 126: Professor Jaime Arredondo and I sat
Page 127 and 128: Caroline Owen: How do you feel abou
Page 129 and 130: vision. Would you tell me more abou
Page 131 and 132: Jade Fusco is a Junior at Gallatin.
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