The Twinning Project by Robert Lipsyte Page B

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.
    â€œDr. Traum is a buffoon,” said Alessa.
    â€œDr. Traum?”
    â€œEarth to Tom. Dr. Traum. The school psychologist? Our orchestra teacher?”
    How about
my
school psychologist and the football coach?
“Sorry, Alessa, I forgot.”
    â€œâ€˜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.
    â€œLet’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
    Â 
    A LESSA 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 stockings. 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.
    â€œWhen did they start doing that?” said Eddie.
    â€œBaseball? Around two hundred years ago.”
    Eddie laughed. That was pretty funny. “No, playing it over again right away.”
    â€œInstant 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.
    â€œYou interested all of a