Commentary

 

 

 
There was a time when I couldn’t remember whether it was nilly-willy or willy-nilly.
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The bell rang, chairs scraped, and two students — last names close in the alphabet: Tom Dresser, Joyce Cournoyer — slid into their usual seats. They had shared homeroom for four years, served together in student government, but never really knew each other.
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It begins. Everyone starts marching in a straight line around the room to the beat of an old Chubby Checker recording, but our line soon becomes a doodle, then morphs into an interpretative dance.
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