Chapter 7

The following few weeks saw an incredible change in Sheila. From being the world’s original shrinking violet, she blossomed. Gone was her “camouflage” and in its place was very stylish clothing that looked like she was a walking illustration of what the well-dressed — and very well-heeled — high-school girl should wear.

We had both been back to see Andy, and now Sheila’s hair was styled like mine: an urchin who had been caught by a runaway hedge trimmer. Because Sheila was working on an entirely new head of hair, hers was still pretty short so I had Andy shorten mine to match hers. Initially, Sheila had screamed when she heard me tell Andy to cut mine short, but later in bed she just loved me to death for showing such consideration.

The funniest thing, though, was the reaction of our fellow students. The primary reaction with respect to Sheila was, “Who is this beauty?” Her transformation had been so complete, virtually no one connected her with the old Sheila. Every day on the way home Sheila would regale me with the stories she overhead about the two of us. Her hearing was still as acute as ever.

We were soon referred to as the Red & Gold Twins. (I’m the gold, remember?) I guess it was reasonably accurate, too. We were the same height — five feet nine — and had identical figures. Our clothes were interchangeable, and except for the difference in our coloration we could have just shared the same wardrobe.

But probably the most important difference was her general attitude. Where formerly she hid, now the two of us strode through the halls with a long-legged stride. Sheila, like me, carried her head up proudly and even our mannerisms were similar. I guess the only significant difference — and I’m really not sure it was significant at all — was that the pack of puppies following us around school had roughly tripled in size. But it was fun!

That wasn’t the only change. Formerly, both of us stuck pretty close to home when we weren’t in school. We really didn’t socialize much at all. Together, though, we finally screwed up our courage and began to attend weekend parties that were a social staple at our school. Every weekend someone would have a party on Friday and someone else on Saturday. I guess the scheduling must have been pretty funny sometimes; the cardinal sin would have been to schedule a party the same night someone else did.

Anyway, we started going stag and had a lot of fun. Perhaps the most fun was watching couples necking in dark corners ... or often, right out in the open. What no one else knew was that Sheila and I got our kicks by critiquing the lovemaking. Sheila quickly concluded that virtually without exception they really needed a lot of help. And, of course, with her acute hearing, at times it was all she could do to keep from bursting out laughing when she heard some of the lamest lines imaginable.

“Do you think any girl in her right mind would actually believe that shit?” she asked me disdainfully one time.

“Well...” I replied, stretching out the word trying to sound as thoughtful as possible, “that depends on how horny she is.”

Sheila just cracked up with laughter.

Then one Friday night, something new was added. When she got in the car, the first thing she did was to drop a large case in the backseat. It appeared to be the size and shape of a guitar case, but neither of us played an instrument nor had any musical ability at all ... I thought.

After the party had been rolling for a while, Sheila disappeared and then reappeared with case in hand. She opened it and removed a very fine Gibson acoustic guitar and idly began strumming. Then she began to sing “Shenandoah.”

Suddenly, things came together in my mind. In the first place, I know I’ve previously mentioned the beautiful melodic quality of Sheila’s speaking voice. Well, guess what? She turned out to have an incredibly beautiful and powerful singing voice, too. And guess what else I realized? For reasons that aren’t very clear — or if they are, I don’t know them — great ability in math seems to equate to ability with musical instruments, particularly stringed instruments.

At any rate, after only a few lines of the ballad, there was silence in the room with everyone focused on Sheila. Not only could she play and sing, she seemed to know the music and lyrics for every song ever written! Then do you know what she had the nerve to do? She hauled me into the act! And I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, for heaven’s sake. At least I thought I couldn’t, but it turned out that I was wrong about that, too.

Surprise, surprise! It seems that not only can I sing, I do okay at it. Moreover, our two voices seem naturally to harmonize, mine being very slightly higher in register than hers. Guess what else? It was super fun! The two of us put on an impromptu concert, and the kids loved it.

Sheila kept it going, too. Not only did she know all the songs, she particularly knew all the bawdy ones. She demonstrated that knowledge later in the evening. Anyway, I guess it’s fair to say that we were the hits of the party.

The results of this episode were really funny. Although invitations were almost never given to these gatherings — the word was just put out where and when one would be and people showed up — the Red & Gold Twins became the star attraction at them resulting in our not only being invited, but in fact being begged to attend. I guess it’s a teenage fact of life: Things are either the greatest or they’re nowhere. Everything is black or white, good or bad. Teenagers don’t see gray, I guess. Anyway, that’s the way it worked. Sheila and I had a ball!

There was an unintended benefit from it all, too. It triggered the first visible falling out between Suellen Winslow and brother James. We were singing at a party when Jim and Suellen arrived. Although he had heard about our singing, he’d never actually heard us and he wanted to. Suellen? Hah! She was afraid of being upstaged, so she exited, stage right. We could all hear Jim protesting as he followed her out like a damned puppy.

Thinking about Suellen, I find she’s very funny. Although she liked to think of herself as an independent woman, she was anything but. The fact is that she traded shamelessly on her relationship with Jim. They had been going together since the dawn of time, and she was always “Jim’s girlfriend.” Although I hadn’t been present — being only a freshman and still in junior high at the time — when she was elected cheerleader captain the previous year, she did it on the basis that she was the girlfriend of the star of the team. So much for achieving on one’s own merit.

I can’t help but contrast Suellen with Sheila. Their first names — and mine, too — begin with the letter S. That’s the end of the similarity. For example, with Suellen, the world’s people are divided into two groups: A very small group that she believes could help her at present or in the foreseeable future, and the rest of humanity. To the first group she bows and scrapes; to the second, she utterly ignores them and if that’s not possible, treats them like dirt.

Sheila? Let me tell you a little story. We were going through the lunch line and one of the servers said, “Miss Callaway, that was the nicest thing you did for my four-year-old, Bobby! That little excavator you sent! He utterly adores it. I don’t think it’s been out of his hands since it arrived.”

“I’m so glad he liked it, Mrs. Smith,” Sheila replied with a warm smile. “And I’m very happy because from the sound of it, he’s feeling much better.”

The woman thought for a moment and then beamed. “You know what? I think that toy triggered Bobby’s recovery. He was so happy and excited, I think he just forgot he was sick.”

Any number of significant things are incorporated in that short tale. First of all, Mrs. Smith addressing Sheila as Miss Callaway. That speaks volumes. Our cafeteria workers aren’t the highest-paid people in the land and tend to resent being treated like dirt by so many of the students, most particularly including the likes of Suellen Winslow. To address a student as Miss was an unheard-of mark of respect.

Then, of course, there’s what Sheila did. How did she know a little boy was sick? That’s easy. Again, it’s her phenomenal hearing coupled with her memory. Let’s face it: For a girl who can remember a teacher’s lecture verbatim after hearing it only once, remembering a name and address doesn’t even register as an accomplishment.