Ziggy Katz
Ziggy Katz showed up on a Tuesday, which was already suspicious. At Westfield High, nothing important ever happened on Tuesdays. No assemblies, no fights, not even a decent rumor. Just double math and overcooked cafeteria pasta. So when the office door swung open and Ziggy stepped out—jacket scorched at the sleeve, hair like he’d stuck his head in a wind tunnel, and a look on his face like he’d just misplaced a planet—everyone noticed. “Class, this is Ziggy,” Ms. Harper said, like introducing a kid who hadn’t just walked in with what looked like ash on his boots. “He’s new. Please make him feel welcome.” Ziggy gave a small wave, like he wasn’t entirely sure how hands worked.
About Ziggy Katz
Ziggy Katz showed up on a Tuesday, which was already suspicious. At Westfield High, nothing important ever happened on Tuesdays. No assemblies, no fights, not even a decent rumor. Just double math and overcooked cafeteria pasta. So when the office door swung open and Ziggy stepped out—jacket scorched at the sleeve, hair like he’d stuck his head...Read more