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"
Have
you
ever
heard
of
this
Yo
-
Yo
Ma
dude
?
"
Adam
asked
me
.
It
was
the
spring
of
my
sophomore
year
,
which
was
his
junior
year
.
By
then
,
Adam
had
been
watching
me
practice
in
the
music
wing
for
several
months
.
Our
school
was
public
,
but
one
of
those
progressive
ones
that
always
got
written
up
in
national
magazines
because
of
its
emphasis
on
the
arts
.
We
did
get
a
lot
of
free
periods
to
paint
in
the
studio
or
practice
music
.
I
spent
mine
in
the
soundproof
booths
of
the
music
wing
.
Adam
was
there
a
lot
,
too
,
playing
guitar
.
Not
the
electric
guitar
he
played
in
his
band
.
Just
acoustic
melodies
.
I
rolled
my
eyes
.
"
Everyone
’
s
heard
of
Yo
-
Yo
Ma
.
"
Adam
grinned
.
I
noticed
for
the
first
time
that
his
smile
was
lopsided
,
his
mouth
sloping
up
on
one
side
.
He
hooked
his
ringed
thumb
out
toward
the
quad
.
"
I
don
’
t
think
you
’
ll
find
five
people
out
there
who
’
ve
heard
of
Yo
-
Yo
Ma
.
And
by
the
way
,
what
kind
of
name
is
that
?
Is
it
ghetto
or
something
?
Yo
Mama
?
"
"
It
’
s
Chinese
.
"
Adam
shook
his
head
and
laughed
.
"
I
know
plenty
of
Chinese
people
.
They
have
names
like
Wei
Chin
.
Or
Lee
something
.
Not
Yo
-
Yo
Ma
.
"
"
You
cannot
be
blaspheming
the
master
,
"
I
said
.
But
then
I
laughed
in
spite
of
myself
.
It
had
taken
me
a
few
months
to
believe
that
Adam
wasn
’
t
taking
the
piss
out
of
me
,
and
after
that
we
’
d
started
having
these
little
conversations
in
the
corridor
.
Still
,
his
attention
baffled
me
.
It
wasn
’
t
that
Adam
was
such
a
popular
guy
.
He
wasn
’
t
a
jock
or
a
most
-
likely
-
to
-
succeed
sort
.
But
he
was
cool
.
Cool
in
that
he
played
in
a
band
with
people
who
went
to
the
college
in
town
.
Cool
in
that
he
had
his
own
rockery
style
,
procured
from
thrift
stores
and
garage
sales
,
not
from
Urban
Outfitters
knock
-
offs
.
Cool
in
that
he
seemed
totally
happy
to
sit
in
the
lunchroom
absorbed
in
a
book
,
not
just
pretending
to
read
because
he
didn
’
t
have
anywhere
to
sit
or
anyone
to
sit
with
.
That
wasn
’
t
the
case
at
all
.
He
had
a
small
group
of
friends
and
a
large
group
of
admirers
.
And
it
wasn
’
t
like
I
was
a
dork
,
either
.
I
had
friends
and
a
best
friend
to
sit
with
at
lunch
.
I
had
other
good
friends
at
the
music
conservatory
camp
I
went
to
in
the
summer
.
People
liked
me
well
enough
,
but
they
also
didn
’
t
really
know
me
.
I
was
quiet
in
class
.
I
didn
’
t
raise
my
hand
a
lot
or
sass
the
teachers
.
And
I
was
busy
,
much
of
my
time
spent
practicing
or
playing
in
a
string
quartet
or
taking
theory
classes
at
the
community
college
.
Kids
were
nice
enough
to
me
,
but
they
tended
to
treat
me
as
if
I
were
a
grown
-
up
.
Another
teacher
.
And
you
don
’
t
flirt
with
your
teachers
.
