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Informationen zum Autor Roderick Townley has written ten books of poetry, fiction, nonfiction and literary criticism. He has taught in Chile and worked as an editor in New York. He now lives in Kansas with his wife, poet Wyatt Townley and their two children. Klappentext Alec Schuyler has two immediate problems: what to do with the rest of his life, and what to do about Suze Matheson. She's his date for the Winter Dance. And she's got trouble of her own. The English teacher, Mr. "Call me Mark" Truscott, has made a move on her, a move which Sky has witnessed from his hiding place in a coat closet.Fifteen-year-old Sky is not one for making scenes -- or even speaking up. Instead he speaks through his music, his jazz piano. This novel, in three sets and an encore, plays all the chords and paradiddles of Sky's life -- at the moment, the life of a runaway in New York City, 1959. So how come he's hiding in a tenth-grade homeroom coat closet? Since his mother died, Sky and his father have had their umpteenth fight about the future. Like many a kid, Sky must leave home to get home. For him it's the world of Beat poetry and cool jazz. Along the way, he discovers an unexpected guide -- a blind musician who shows Sky how to see -- and learns what he has to lose to gain his own voice. Chapter One Every school has them. The invisibles. Not liked, not disliked. How can you dislike what isn't there? It's a clue when you're standing in the lunch line trying to decide about a tuna sandwich and a girl runs right into you, spilling a glob of chocolate pudding on your shirt. This actually happened. "What were you doing there?" she yelled, like he'd jumped out at her from behind a bush. "Um..." The place busted up laughing. You'd think they'd be laughing at her, but he was such an easy target. From the jocks' table came whistles and applause. Sky's face reddened, and you could see the beads of sweat at the base of his dirty blond crew cut. You wouldn't think life could get worse than that. Except Alec Schuyler had another problem, as bad as being invisible. He was inaudible. Hard to say how it started. He just started talking less and less. His grandmother had always accused him of mumbling, but it was well known that she was hard of hearing. In the past couple of years, though, teachers were saying it too, and then school friends. In Truscott's class he didn't speak at all. Truscott was teaching Shakespeare this semester. Alec Schuyler hated Shakespeare. Who could blame him? You'd hate anything Truscott taught you. Lucky his best friends in the world -- all right, his only friends, just about -- Max and Suze, were in the same English section. "Well, class, who can tell me the significance of Hamlet's last words?" Mark Truscott, handsome and erect, clasped his hands behind his back and rose onto his toes and down again, his brown wing tips gleaming. "Uh-uh!" he said, holding up a warning finger. "No peeking!" Half the students, including Sky, immediately stopped riffling through the play. "Well, what are Hamlet's last words? Let's start with that. Mr. Schuyler, will you help us out?" Sky's stomach churned. "Do we need a hint? It starts, 'The rest is...'" He opened his blue eyes wide, ready to receive. "'The rest is...'?" Max's hand shot up. "History?" "The rest is history? Nice try, Mr. Rosen, but no, the rest is not history. And please refrain from answering until you're called on." He turned back to Sky. "The rest, Mr. Schuyler?" Sky looked like he was choking. "Darkness?" Suze called out without even raising her hand. Truscott turned his undeceivable blue eyes on her, like a lighthouse catching a small boat in its beam. He smiled. "Darkness. Very interesting, Miss Matheson. Not your answer, but the fact that you felt compelled to rescue your classmate. But you see, he...
