He didn’t look angry.
If anything, he looked calmer than I did.
When the principal called his name, Eli climbed the steps, shook his hand, accepted his diploma, and turned toward the audience.
For one terrible second, the laughter grew louder.
Then Eli looked directly at me.
And started walking down the center aisle.
That was when I knew he was about to do something he hadn’t told me about.
At least, ordinary enough.
Eli and his twin sister, Maya, were finishing their senior year at Westbridge High in a small Pennsylvania town where everybody seemed to know everybody else’s business.
The twins had been inseparable since birth.
Maya was louder.
Eli was quieter.
She talked to strangers in grocery-store lines.
He preferred headphones and books.
She loved bright colors.
