8SIX AND A HALF HOURS LATERWhen does a cool teenager...
(The coolest!)
...finally decide to talk it out with his own pinky finger?
When he's got no one else to talk to, that's when.
I guess that's why, after huddling on the bed for a while, lost in thought, Judd finally starts a conversation with me.
(Took him long enough!)
"What's happening to me?" His voice is quiet, very subdued, with what I'd say is a dark edge.
"You mean the weird stuff? The freak shows?"
"Yeah," says Judd. "Have I really lost my mind?"
I tap his palm. "Do you think you have?"
Judd raises his hand so we're face to face. "I don't know. I don't feel crazy. But I'm sitting here talking to you, aren't I?"
If I had eyes, I'd roll them. "Will you get off that?"
"I must be crazy," says Judd. "I don't kno
