The Scar Boys

THE SONG IS OVER


(written by Peter Townshend, and performed by The Who)




I wasn’t sure what I wanted to accomplish when I sat down to write this essay. Strike that. I know exactly what I wanted to accomplish. I wanted you, Faceless Admissions Professional, to know who I was. You were never going to get that from SAT scores, my GPA, and a two-hundred- and fifty-word essay.

That day in Johnny’s room was nearly six months ago. He never went off to Syracuse and I don’t think he ever will. The four of us have been jamming again, and it’s been great. I’m not sure where it will lead, but this time I understand that it’s not where I end up that matters, but how I get there.

The truth is, while I know I’m supposed to want to go to college, that everyone is supposed to want to go to college, following the pack has never worked out all that well for me. I only filled out your application to please my parents. After everything that happened, it seemed like the right thing to do. What I want is to play music. If you’ve read this far, you’ve probably figured that out. But, did you read this far? I doubt it. And that’s okay. The exercise has been its own reward.

I started out telling you I was a coward, and I probably still am. But maybe I’ve learned something else here, too. I finally know who I am. I’m no longer the shy ugly kid with the scars. I’m the shy ugly kid with the scars who plays guitar, who loves music, and who has friends. And you know what? That’s good enough for me.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS





This book would simply not exist with the love, support, input, feedback, advice, pushing, prodding, cheering—and did I mention love?—of my best friend, live-in editor, and oh yeah, my wife, Kristen Gilligan Vlahos. Without Krissy, I’d still be writing really bad screenplays in the basement.

Carl Lennertz, Allison Hill, and Sarah Darer Littman were all early champions of The Scar Boys; without their editorial input and encouragement, I’d still be writing really bad poetry in the attic.

There were far too many readers of various drafts of The Scar Boys, all of whom provided valuable feedback, for me to remember and name, but I’ll give it a shot. Thank you to Stephanie Anderson, John Bohman, Tom Gilligan, Bobbi Gilligan, Tommy Gilligan, Richard Hunt, Grandwinnie Kalassay, Kathy Leydon, Lauren McCartney, Karen Schechner, Nadine Vassallo and, and … damn, I’m very sorry if I forgot to include you here. Without your collective help, I’d still be writing really bad polemics on the patio. (Yeah, okay, this joke is already stale.)

My outstanding agent, Sandra Bond, never wavered in her faith in this project; and Greg Ferguson, my brilliant editor at Egmont, understood this story from the beginning. His keen insight made The Scar Boys a better book at every turn. I am indebted to both. And thank you to Andrea Cascardi, Margaret Coffee, and the entire team at Egmont for their incredible, and incredibly smart, support.

Thank you to my parents for instilling in me a love of the written word. Thank you, Oren Teicher and everyone at ABA, for the ceaseless encouragement and support, especially Mark Nichols. Thank you, Chris Finan, for all the good writing advice.

I’ve had the pleasure to know many wonderful booksellers throughout the course of my life. Six of the most extraordinary—Becky Anderson, Cathy Berner, Valerie Koehler, Collette Morgan, Matt Norcross, and Andrea Vuleta—were instrumental in helping this book find a home.

And last, but not least, thanks to the real Woofing Cookies: Joe Loskywitz, Scott Nafz, and Chad Strohmayer. The adventures we had together as kids formed the backdrop of Harry’s tale. This story is their story as much as it is my own. Their friendship has and will always mean the world to me.