The one in the photo? I'll tell you... I never knew him well, or at least, I realized afterward that he preferred not to be well known. His name was Thad, or maybe it was Chet: one of those late eighties white guy names that meant he played basketball for high school until he got kicked off the team for showing up stoned to practice, or that he was still dating my best friend the afternoon he first stuck his tongue down my throat after play practice. We went to the junior prom together; that's where this picture was taken. The photographer was doing portraits of all the couples, but Thad (or was it Chet?) said "That's alright, I'd rather have my portrait taken alone, if you don't mind." And how could I mind? He was a force of nature, like one of those rare late spring snowstorms that meant you got the day off school to go to the mall and look at the puppies in the pet store window and try on some studded belts at Hot Topic. He bought me one of those belts once, for Valentine's Day, but then he said he didn't realize it was going to make my hips look so big, so he returned it and used the seven dollars to get some beer from my friend Tanya's older brother Ronnie. Then he got drunk and made out with Tanya in my dad's garage and threw up on out dog, Skipper, and a litttle bit on Tanya too, which she deserved. But I knew Chet (or Thad) could never be tied down to one woman anyway. He had a destiny that was bigger than any of us in our little town, and he had those awesome sunglasses, and he had the start of a really solid mustache. I wonder where Chet (Thad) is now. I still miss him.

Harvest Henderson 2009