The Confessions Of Max Tivoli: A Novel - Plot & Excerpts
It is a humiliation, to say the least, to recite my times tables with this Midwestern crowd of children—five times twelve is sixty—but the hardest part is to keep my voice as quiet as I can, my profile low, so that the teacher (a woman exactly my age) won’t notice that odd boy in the corner scribbling his life’s confession. I’m not the only child who hides this way. Some of the poorer students, with cardboard shoes and nits in their hair, sit in the back with me and glare out the window, or at the wall where seven chromolithographed presidents stare down, each with his signature hairdo. We try to fade into the plasterwork; we are the classroom ghosts. “What’s the capital of China?” the teacher will ask one of us loudly, and we will quake and pause and answer, predictably: “France.” A smirk from the adult, a laugh from the good kids up front, including my own dear son, and we move on to history. In a moment, I will move on with my own. But first, Sammy, let me put down that you love me.
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