CHAPTER FOUR
SEPTEMBER 12, 1960
Last night’s glory was more short-lived than I expected, but for a while, I was James Dean. At school, Janine was hanging on me like an extra sleeve. She said the girls all think I’m “handsome and mature,” and the guys say I’m cool because I dress hip, being from a big city and all. I was feeling great until she turned to me like I was a carnival sideshow attraction and asked how long I’d limp the way I do.
I had no choice but to make up some story about how my old track injury was getting better until a lady on the bus to Greencastle dropped her four-ton suitcase on my leg. I don’t know why I lied that way, but I think Janine had it coming.
When Janine mentioned she had heard some speculation about polio, I told her it was a damn crock. “Even if a perso
