Yes, I went to high school with him. City High, home of the Fighting Vornskrs. He was in my class. Mitth'raw'nuruodo, "Thrawn" for short. I always thought he was absolutely gorgeous, but I kept it to myself because he was so far out of my league. He was always at the top of everything, always the first, always the best, but I can't remember him ever really having friends. I think he made everyone else feel stupid or inadequate.

He was our football hero; he'd started at quarterback since our freshman year. Boy, did he look like pure glory in a football uniform--those broad shoulders, the narrow waist, the strong legs, that tight little blue ass. And the way his red eyes used to glow from under that helmet . . . ahhhh. The guy I dated in high school played football, too, and he's the one who told me all this. My boyfriend was the star running back and the second-best player on the team. He wound up with all the popularity, the head cheerleader girlfriend, and all the things that would have been Thrawn's, had Thrawn not been kilometers above it all.

Like I said, I wouldn't have minded being Thrawn's. No way I'd have minded that. But I don't remember him ever dating anyone. I know all my girlfriends and I were afraid of him. Anyway, the whole football thing. He got the starting position as a freshman--stole it right out from under a senior who thought he had it in the bag. But there was no question why he'd gotten it. He was excellent. My boyfriend told me that after Thrawn joined the team, the coach was only there as an adult supervisor. Thrawn rewrote the playbook and ran both the offense and defense. And nobody ever questioned him, because everything he said to do worked perfectly.

He was a brilliant football strategist, according to everyone who played with him, even the coach. At first they thought it was because he was such a good chess player. Thrawn was president of the chess club, too, and nobody dared mock him or anyone else in the club. I tell you, it was the first time our chess club got respect in years. Anyway, his chess talent may have had something to do with it, but my boyfriend found out something really odd. Every week during the football season, Thrawn would cut an afternoon of classes to go over to whatever school we were playing next. But he wouldn't go to spy on their football practice. Get this--he'd go to sit in on their *art* classes!

The strange thing about that was that after seeing their art classes, he'd draw up the game plan for the next game. I don't know what he saw in those art classes, but, like I said, his play-calling was flawless. We didn't lose a game in his four years on the team. He was incredible. Another funny thing about it that I always noticed--he *never* got dirty. Ever. Even when everyone around him was covered in filth, he'd be pristine. And it's hard to play football and not even get a grass stain on yourself, but his uniform was always bright, sparkling blue and white.

Like I said, he was good at everything. Besides being a natural at football and chess, he played several instruments very well, and is probably the only person I've ever met who truly appreciated art. He didn't fancy himself an artist, just really and truly loved art for what it was. During the football off-season, he marched with the marching band. He could've played any instrument in the band, but the band director made him drum major. I think it was for a couple reasons. Firstly, he looked entirely too damn good in that uniform. It was pure white with these gold epaulets . . . ahhhh. Secondly, people always did what Thrawn told them to do. I guess they figured that he always had a good reason to tell them to do whatever he was telling them to do. He never gave orders just because he could. He was quite calm and patient while he was in charge, and never abused his power or got jerky.

Thrawn did everything in that same ultracompetent way, with a cold, surgical accuracy and efficience. He was an excellent writer, but it was just because he could--i don't think he liked to do it. He was in his element when there was something to be planned or directed, though.

He directed me in the school musical our sophomore year. I was surprised, because it didn't seem like his thing at all. But he was an excellent director. He got the best out of everyone; it was the best show I've ever been in. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, but when he wanted to demonstrate how something could've been done better . . . well, he was an excellent dancer. And he sang in this amazing baritone; he had perfect pitch. I think that directing the musical was just something for him to do; that was the only one he did. It was a shame because he was such a *good* director.

I could always tell he was meant to be in charge of something. Not only was he excellent at strategy and telling people what needed to be done and how to do it in the best possible way, he was an excellent planner, too. He decided that he was going to be chairman of our prom committee. I was in charge of refreshments, I think. For me, prom committee was just a way to goof off with my friends in study hall. But Thrawn was in charge, and he worked with all of us to make it the best damn prom City High ever had. I showed pictures to my parents, and they told me that they'd been to high society events that hadn't looked that good or been that well-planned.

I tell you, there isn't one thing Thrawn wasn't good at. Yet he never came across as arrogant or uppity. He didn't apologize for his talent; he wasn't falsely modest at all. He just seemed to have quite a good sense of himself. He knew exactly what he was good at and exactly what he could do, and just seemed to have accepted it. You could tell he was totally comfortable in that lovely blue skin of his. He was sexy as all nine hells, too. Damn, I wish I'd gotten on him in high school.

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