Jimmy woke up a half an hour before the rest of the house. Stricken with panic, he threw off his sheets, jumped out of bed and slipped into yesterday's T-shirt and slacks. He was officially on a mission. Before heading down the attic stairs, he glanced back at his identical twin brother Billy, who was still in a blissful sleep. Jimmy wished he shared his brother's consistently carefree disposition. After all, they and their friends had just secured their dominion over the town's baseball diamond by winning the big game against their cross-town rivals, "the mob." It was the triumph of the summer and Billy was still caught in the afterglow. Jimmy, on the other hand, was tensed up and distracted from yesterday's uninvited encounter with the opposite sex. The incident was not at all how he had envisioned he, at age thirteen, would take his first major step into puberty.

The girl in question from yesterday's incident was Sarah Armstrong and, while she unmistakably knew Jimmy, he barely knew her, having never paid much attention to girls. Still stressing over yesterday›s incident, Jimmy wondered what, on earth, had possessed this girl to hide behind that tree and spy on his friends and him while they were swimming? Why did she steal his clothes? How was she even able to distinguish Jimmy from Billy so to know whose clothes to steal? Had she been watching Jimmy so long that she had learned to tell them apart? The thought of that was rather disturbing. But the coup de grace of the whole incident, the question that seared Jimmy's mind to the point he could think of nothing else was: why in God's good name did he have to get his first erection while standing there in front of her? Even worse (much worse), why had his private part slipped right out of the opening of his boxers in that moment with her looking on so inquisitively? What was God's plan in submitting Jimmy to such staggering humiliation? Furthermore, their home town of Eugene, Mississippi is a tiny town. Who had Sarah already told about Jimmy's impromptu display?

Jimmy sighed as he tiptoed down two flights of stairs to the kitchen. He knew if he were overheard moving about the house, his plan would be foiled. Fortunately, having lived in the same house his whole life, he knew the exact location of every creaky floorboard. He could have navigated a safe path blindfolded. He also knew the family's Sunday morning routine right down to the minute. Jimmy and Billy's parents, Tom and Ellen, were both out of bed at 7:30. Tom took first dibs on the bathroom while Ellen woke up two-year-old, Jordan. She would then hand Jordan over to Tom so she could use the bathroom before going downstairs to prepare breakfast. At this point, the twin's older sister, Rose, was up and using the bathroom before heading downstairs to help Ellen. Billy was always the last to get up and usually required the extra encouragement of either Tom or Ellen yelling up the stairs.

On this morning, the house seemed unusually dark. As Jimmy passed by the dining room picture window, he looked out. The Mississippi sky was overcast. Something deep within the clouds was brewing. Jimmy pushed through the swinging door from the dining room into the kitchen. The clock on the wall read four minutes after seven giving him a mere twenty-six minutes to complete his mission. Jimmy knew Sarah Armstrong would be at church that morning and so his goal was to make certain that he was not.

Jimmy grabbed the bag of cornmeal from the pantry. On the kitchen counter was a large, blue-striped, Hull mixing bowl. He poured, maybe, half a cup of cornmeal into the bowl. Then, he took two of the brownest bananas from on top of the Victorian highboy icebox. He peeled the bananas, placed them in the bowl with the cornmeal and mashed everything together. If done right, these ingredients concocted a visually convincing batch of artificial vomit. The boys had been performing this procedure for years. They acquired the recipe from their friend, Fist, after he mastered the avoidance of Sunday morning church choir solo performances.

Jimmy carried the bowl of fake vomit up to his attic bedroom and sat down on the floor beside his bed. Billy was still dead to the world. No amount of noise could possibly wake him.

Meanwhile, Ellen was on her way downstairs to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The missing bananas went unnoticed as her attention was focused on boiling water for the grits. Jimmy's ears tuned into Ellen's trip downstairs followed by the sound of a running bathroom faucet. Rose was performing her morning beauty ritual. Considering the extreme weakness of Rose's stomach, now was the perfect opportunity to execute his plan. Jimmy stuffed the mixture into both his cheeks, tore off down the attic stairs and dashed across the hall into the bathroom. Rose was hovering over the sink, applying some sort of gunk across her cheeks, when Jimmy collapsed in front of the toilet and hurled the entire contents from his mouth and into the porcelain bowl. The repugnant sound made Rose want to join him, but instead she quickly exited the bathroom gagging.

"Get Mama," Jimmy moaned and Rose immediately obeyed.

In no time Ellen was upstairs. Before she entered the scene, Jimmy reached up and yanked down the flushing chord. Since Rose had been a witness there was no need for Ellen to actually see the vomit. Ellen did find it strange that there was no odor of vomit but Rose assured her that, "Jimmy definitely threw up."

Ellen knelt down beside her son and began gently rubbing his back. Jimmy leaned back on his knees and took two or three gasping breaths. He made his eyes look weary, and by the sympathy in Ellen's, Jimmy could tell his plan was working perfectly. Ellen grabbed a Kleenex from the box on top of the counter and gently wiped Jimmy's mouth dry. She asked if he had been throwing up all night and Jimmy answered "no." He saw little point in telling more lies.

"Well, you're in no shape whatsoever to be goin' to church today, so I want you back in bed. If there's no more throwin' up in a couple of hours, I'll bring you some dry toast. We'll see if that stays down."

Ellen helped Jimmy to his feet and across the hall to the attic door. Jimmy assured his mother he could make it the rest of the way alone and with a kiss on the forehead Ellen sent him off. Jimmy was relieved his scheme of faking the flu had worked. After the incident at the swimming hole, he could not bear to face Sarah Armstrong at church. But there was still the matter of school. Tomorrow was the first day of eighth grade and Jimmy would see Sarah in class. So he decided to take full advantage of today being the Lord's Day and knelt down beside his bed and prayed that Sarah Armstrong would forget the entire incident and behave as though Jimmy didn't even exist.

Jimmy tried to convince Ellen that he could survive the morning alone but she insisted on staying home to watch over him. Rose took little Jordan out to the car while Tom called for Billy to hustle up.

"You're a lucky dog Jimmy!" Billy congratulated his twin brother.

"Lucky for today," Jimmy acknowledged with a sigh. "But I don't know what I'm gonna do tomorrow." Jimmy paused and then a sudden look of fear came across his face. "If you see her this morning make sure you ignore her."

"I will, but what if she thinks I'm you?"

"Just ignore her. Okay?"

"I don't even know the girl so I ain't got nothing to say to her."

"Billy," Jimmy looked him square...