Doug Wilhelm

a writer and editor living in Vermont; his newest book is the award-winning young-adult novel, Street of Storytellers (Rootstock Publishing, 2019); has written 16 previous books, including The Revealers, which has been the focus of reading and discussion projects in over 1,000 schools across the U.S. and internationally; also a working musician, playing conga drums, percussion and harmonica in musical groups in Vermont’s Champlain Valley

“Welcome! Richard, Richard, it’s fantastic – here you are!” Professor Shaheen said, embracing my dad. “And Luke. Why Luke, you’ve really grown.”

“Hey, bro!” Rasheed shook my hand in both of his, then wrapped me in a quick hug. We stood back and studied each other.

Rashi was two years older than me. During the year that his family lived in our town, when his dad was a visiting professor at the college where my dad teaches, Rashi had been the outsider who talked a little loud, tried a little too hard to impress the cool guys. He was kind of awkward but I liked him okay. We were on the same soccer team; that was two years ago. Now he was seventeen, and he seemed awkward in some new way. His hair was shaggy, he had the not-too-impressive beard, and wore this long thing like an old-fashioned nightshirt of thick rough cloth. It has stripes and a hood pushed back. It didn’t look like anything I had so far seen people wearing around here. I wondered who Rashi was trying to impress these days.

His mom and sister stood on the porch, in vine-shadowed dimness. They were both wearing those pajama-type outfits, thought theirs were nicer than the ones I saw guys wearing in the streets. Professor Shaheen was dressed like a professor, with a tweed old sport jacket. He said, “Richard and Luke, you remember my wife, Zari. And Danisha.”

When I had seen Danisha last, she was a skinny kid who would tease Rashi in a sly way, and sometimes me too. As we came up the steps now, she stood in the shadows with her long hair falling dark and shiny from a silky headscarf, her eyes bright in a way that made my foot catch on a stair and I almost fell on my face.

“Uh… hi.”

Then Rashi smacked me on the back and pushed me past his sister, through the front door into his house.

from Street of Storytellers by Doug Wilhelm (Rootstock Publishing)