by P. G. Kain
“Well . . .,” I start to respond immediately, but then I realize I actually don’t have a good answer. Why is it that science is so much harder? I probably memorize more copy in a week than in a whole grading period of science class.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I guess commercials just seem to make more sense. Like that Juiced Up commercial spot was a sporty spot. I was a soccer player, so a sporty spot means that I have to act a certain way versus, say, a spot for something serious like a new medicine or something.”
“I see,” he says, “so like the same way certain elements are part of a group. Like some are gases and some are solids.” He takes the flash cards he made and starts grouping them together according to the type of element they are instead of just using the rigid structure of the periodic table. Suddenly I can see each of the elements not just as something made up to torture me but as something real. This is how I’ve always approached every audition I’ve ever been on. I try to make the words real for me, and I try to find ways to have them make sense for me.
“You see,” Nevin continues, “hydrogen isn’t just a gas. When it combines with oxygen you get—”
I finish the sentence for him, “You get H2O, something real. You get water.” Suddenly the elements are not just symbols. They are things, actually things that make up my life as much as anything else. “So if we take your cards and stop using the grid, we can find ways to organize them that makes sense to us and then put them back on the grid after that.”
“Excelsior!” Nevin says.
“Oh, no. Is that an element? I don’t remember that one.”
“Uh, no. It is a Latin term used in Old English. It means, uh . . .” Nevin searches for the right phrase and then says, “You go, girl!”
Hearing something that might come out of a pop diva’s mouth come out of Nevin’s is like hearing Santa Claus curse. It’s strange, and you want to unhear it, but it’s also hysterical. I can’t help laughing.
“Nevin, I think you should stick with Old English. It suits you better. Now, let’s get all excelsior on this periodic table,” I say, and open up our textbook to the place where we left off.
CHAPTER 33
“Oh, please. That’s an easy one,” I say, staring at the worn note card where Nevin has printed the letters for his collection of periodic table study aids. “‘Ne’ stands for neon. It’s the gas commonly found in outdoor lighting. It’s an inert gas, and the atomic weight is ten. It is odorless and colorless, and it goes here on the periodic table.” I point to the eighteenth column on the second row.
“That’s correct, milady.”
After a whole afternoon of studying together, we have taken apart the periodic table and put it back together. It is no longer a jumble of strange letters and weird words. It’s actually something that makes sense to me.
When I realize how long we’ve been sitting at the table, I get up and stretch. The strangest part is that the time has flown by. For the first time since last weekend I was completely focused on one task. I wasn’t thinking about my parents or their news or even Rory and why he hasn’t called me. I was just focused on studying and getting everything right, so the time flew by.
“You know what, Nevin? I think we deserve a treat. There should be some ice cream in the freezer.”
“That sounds like a capital idea,” Nevin says, using his pencil to punctuate his statement.
“I don’t know what that means exactly, but I’m assuming it’s good.” I walk over to the freezer, but when I open it, I suddenly remember that I ate the last pint of Soy Ice we had the other night. “Looks like we’re out,” I tell him.
“Well it was a valiant attempt,” Nevin says, looking a little disappointed. “Maybe next time.”
“No way,” I tell him. “We have earned a treat, and I’m going to get us one. Do you want to go down to Pinkadoodle on Mercer Street and get some frozen yogurt? My treat.”
“With you? You mean, you and me go out in public where there are, you know”—he takes a deep breath—“other people around?”
“Yes, Nevin. Let me grab my purse.” I grab my bag from the back of my chair and suddenly remember a detail that will make this outing much more pleasant. “One thing, Nevin. Can you lay off the milady stuff while we’re in public? Just call me Cassie.”
“Yes. Yes, of course, mi—,” he starts off, but then immediately corrects himself. “Cassie.” Poor Nevin.
“Great, let’s go,” I say.
• • •
I have a green tea yogurt with strawberries and Fruity Pebbles on top. Nevin also has green tea yogurt, but his has pineapple and carob chips on it. The heat from the afternoon has let up, and as the sun begins to set, a calm pink light embraces the city streets and a soft wind gently blows around us. We sit on the bench outside the store, quietly eating our yogurt. I realize how late it’s getting and hope I’m not getting Nevin in trouble.
“Are your parents expecting you home for dinner?” I ask.
“No. My mom has her Pilates tonight, so it doesn’t matter.”
How could I be so stupid? Why did I say parents? I know his parents got divorced about two years ago and that his dad lives in Connecticut while Nevin lives in the city with his mom. I remember my mom telling me to be extra nice to Nevin while his family was going through the divorce. I also remember that advice going in one ear and out the other. I probably treated Nevin the same way I always treat him. How could I have been so cruel? And now here I am, putting my foot in my mouth and reminding him that he doesn’t have parents. He has a mom and he has a dad. But he doesn’t have parents. “I’m so sorry,” I say.
“For what?” he asks, taking another spoonful of his yogurt.
“For saying ‘parents’ when I know you live with just your mom.”
“Oh,” he says. “That’s okay. I don’t really think about it. I mean not anymore. Not too much.”
I don’t say anything. I just stare down at my yogurt and watch it melt. A pink Fruity Pebble falls off the frozen part and joins a small puddle of melted yogurt and strawberry on the side of the cup. I never thought Nevin would be the person I would want to talk about this with, but here I am thinking about asking him questions and telling him things I wouldn’t share with anyone else.
“So what was it like?” I ask.
Nevin puts his spoon in his yogurt. “You mean the divorce, don’t you?” he asks, his voice quiet and soft. I nod my head slowly. “It was hard, but things are better now, and it’s better than it used to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, before my parents were always fighting. I would come home from school and go right to my room to study or play a video game with headphones on, because they would be going at it in the living room, screaming and fighting and yelling at each other. That was the worst. That was worse than the divorce.” Nevin talks like a regular kid for once. He doesn’t use any of his Old English expressions, and even his voice is clearer and less nasal. “And there were some good things. Like when my dad remarried, I finally got a brother, even if José is only a step and thinks that Star Trek: TNG is superior to Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Can you even imagine thinking that?”
I remember that Nevin’s dad remarried a few months ago. His new wife is this very pretty, very young woman from the Dominican Republic named Mercedes. I can’t even imagine one of my parents remarrying, let alone having a new sibling or even a step-sib. The very thought of those things terrifies me, so I just push them out of my mind. I can barely deal with even beginning to think about what might happen to my family.
“Do you miss your dad?” I ask, and wonder if I’m pushing Nevin too much. The divorce happened only a couple of years ago, and the ink is barely dry on the new marriage. I can’t imagine it isn’t still upsetting.
“A little bit.” He pauses and then looks up at the large oak tree planted next to our bench. Then he adds, “Sometimes.” Then finally he says, “Yes.”
I look up at the oak tree also. T
he lights of the city filter through the tree’s leaves and branches, and I decide to tell Nevin what I have been unable to tell anyone else.
“Nevin, my parents are getting a divorce.” I spit each word of the sentence out of my mouth like seeds from a glass of orange juice.
Nevin puts his yogurt down on the other side of the bench and sort of smiles at me and nods his head with this knowing expression on it. He puts his hand on my shoulder but not in a creepy way. It’s like he’s just telling me he’s there, and then he says the exact right thing to me.
He says nothing.
We just sit in the fading light of the summer with our half-eaten yogurts melting.
CHAPTER 34
“So,” Mr. Evans says. “Let’s get started on our little quiz.”
Why couldn’t my callback for Happy Family Cruises be this morning instead of this afternoon? At least then I would have a reason for skipping this quiz. Unfortunately, my afternoon call time means I will have plenty of time to take this quiz and go to the callback.
“Please put all your notes and materials either away in your backpack or under your desk and make sure your cell phones are turned completely off.” He looks directly at me as his says this last part, and I just smile innocently like I have no idea what he’s talking about. As soon as he looks in a different direction, I grab my cell phone out of my bag to make sure it is actually turned off.
I turn it over and see that I have one new text message. Honey already confirmed me for the callback, and Ginger is at Chinese school. Mr. Evans is still shuffling some papers and organizing the quizzes, so I decide to take a second to see who it’s from. Maybe my dad is texting me?
I click the keys to open the text and see:
HI MONIQUE! OK 2 TXT U? FINISHED A CALLBACK FOR CRUISE SPOT WANT 2 GO 2 USQ PARK W ME L8TR?
I gasp out loud, and everyone in class turns to look at me and not in a good way. I look from side to side, thinking of something to say to make everyone go back to what they were doing. Even Mr. Evans is looking at me with a frown and his hands on his hips. “Is everything all right over there, Cassie?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “I just found a piece of bubble gum I’d been looking for in the bottom of my bag.” I close my eyes, preparing for Mr. Evans to raise his voice, since I have just given him the stupidest excuse I’ve ever heard. Instead he says, “That reminds me: extra credit for anyone who can tell me what element from the periodic table is commonly found in bubble gum. Now let’s get started.”
I open my eyes, clear off my desk, shove my cell phone back into my bag, and take out a pencil. I can’t believe that Rory actually texted me. He wants to see me. I realize I should have texted him right back, but with Mr. Evans handing out the quiz, my cell phone is completely off-limits.
Once everyone has their quizzes, Mr. Evans announces, “Begin!” and starts walking around the classroom to make sure no one is cheating.
Everyone begins, and I know I should too, but I’m still thinking about the text from Rory. What exactly did it say? Did he say he was staying in the city or that he was going back home if I wasn’t around? I know he wanted to go to the park, but was it with a bunch of kids or was it just with me? I take my pencil and try to write down the words I remember on the back of my quiz. I write down “USQ” and “callback,” but then I draw a blank. If only I could take my cell phone out of my bag for, like, half a second I could see what he said.
“Cassie,” I hear Mr. Evans’s voice behind me. “If you want to have any chance of passing this quiz, you need to get started. Five minutes are already up, and you haven’t even turned the paper over.” Nevin hears this and snaps his head to look at me. He looks both confused and a bit annoyed.
“Oh, right,” I say, and turn over the quiz. I look at the clock on the wall. I have already lost a significant amount of time. I start bouncing my knee up and down, my nerves getting the better of me. I start reading over the questions. Shoot. Why did I get so distracted by my cell phone? Now my brain is all jumbled up, and the words on the page look familiar, but as I read through the questions, none of the answers really pop into my head.
I look around the room, and all the other kids have their heads bent over their papers and are furiously scribbling the answers to the questions. I just keep flipping through the pages of the quiz, hoping the answer to one of the questions will make itself known to me somehow.
I look over at Nevin, who is sitting across the room from me, and he catches me looking at him. Mr. Evans looks out the window, and Nevin puts down his pencil, then holds his palm out right next to his face and beams this strange and uncharacteristically bright smile at me. Then he goes back to his paper, so Mr. Evans doesn’t see him looking up. What in the world was he doing? He looked like he was auditioning for some demented commercial!
Then it dawns on me. It looked like he was auditioning for some commercial. He is trying to remind me to use what I know from go-sees to help get me through the quiz.
I can do this. I think about each element and how when I was studying with Nevin I turned it into something real. I look back at the clock on the wall. I don’t have that much time, but I’m able to answer at least the questions I know. The clock ticks down until there are only a few minutes left. I try to answer one last question before the end, but Mr. Evans calls out, “Time. Pencils down.”
I drop my head on the desk, exhausted. My hand is cramped, and when I look over my quiz, I notice there are still questions I left blank, but at least the ones I answered I feel I got right. It’s not an A but I’m also pretty sure I didn’t fail.
Mr. Evans collects the papers and dismisses the class. I grab my bag to get my cell phone, but as I’m fumbling for it, Nevin comes over.
“I’m so glad you figured out my signal, milady. How did you do? I know you got the one on neon right, but I thought the question on hydrogen was a rather difficult and perplexing enigma. What thinkest thou?”
I’m barely listening to Nevin, since I’m trying to fish out my cell phone to read the text that Rory sent. Maybe there’s still a chance I can meet him. “Yeah, yeah,” I say to Nevin, and wave him away and walk out of the classroom. I look at my phone and see a new incoming text.
• • •
Once I’m outside the building, I punch the keys on my phone to see the new text.
GUESS MAYBE I MISSED U. C YA
Shoot. I can’t believe I’m going to miss him. I text back:
HEY. HEADED TO USQ BEFORE MY CALLBACK ALSO. WHAT A COINCIDENCE. C U THERE.
I start running up Broadway. At first I am sprinting, and then I start sweating, so I take it down to a slow jog. Then I look at my watch and go back to my full-out run. When I am about a block away, I get another text from Rory.
COOL. C U SOON
Yes! He’s still there. But now I’m looking like I just finished a triathlon. I duck into the Sephora store, which happens to be on my way. He knows I’ll be there, so no reason to show up looking a mess.
Sephora is the perfect place to give myself a free mini makeover and dry off before seeing Rory. I normally don’t use that much makeup, so I only need to get a little color smudge on my eyes to give a more dramatic effect to my usually wholesome features. Since I am there, I also decide to try out a new lip gloss. I pass over the all the fruity and smelly ones for something a bit more mature. I try a darker shade than I usually would, and after I apply it to my lips I have to say I think it looks good. I make a mental note to come back to the store later in the week to buy a whole tube of the gloss.
I stand in front of the full-length mirror next to men’s cologne and sigh. Why do I have to look so plain? The smudged eye color and darker lip gloss help, but the truth is, I still look so ordinary. Honey always tells me that ordinary is a look that sells. “People look at you, and they see their sister or their best friend,” she says. But today I want to look special.
The park is crowded but not unmanageable. I know most of the kids our age hang out by the area just north
of the main pavilion, which is away from the crowds of people shopping for fresh berries or homemade cheese at the farmer’s market. This side of the park is close to where a lot of the agencies and casting offices are, so a lot of the kids, and I assume some of the adults, hang out here between go-sees. I look around and see Brittany Rush. For a second I think about going over to say hi to her, but she’s always scared me a bit, and we didn’t get much closer at the Seven Sails shoot. She is absolutely beautiful and has booked more commercials than anyone I have ever heard of, but I haven’t seen a lot of her on the circuit lately, and since I see she is with Phoebe’s brother, Liam, I decide to leave them alone.
I continue to scan the crowd but still don’t see Rory. I hope I didn’t miss him because of that stupid quiz in my class. I walk around the outside loop of the park, since that will give me a good overview of the area. I try not to look too obvious, because I want to look as if I’ve just sort of shown up here on my own.
I circle the park twice. Nothing. I stop on the north edge again and sit on a bench and tie and untie my shoe about a dozen times, hoping he will just show up and catch me not looking for him but rather tying my shoe. Still no sign of him. I could text him again, but that seems like too much. I guess I’m not going to see him. I took too long at Sephora.
I look at my watch and realize I had better get to my callback. I see that my shoelace is actually untied for real, and I bend down to tie it but realize there is something sticky on the bottom of my shoe. When I grab my foot to get a closer look, I put my hand in a sticky, disgusting piece of chewed gum. Yuck.
Then someone taps me on the shoulder.
CHAPTER 35
“Hey, Monique,” a calm, soothing voice says. I don’t even have to recognize the voice to know that it’s Rory, since no one else would call me Monique. Because my one hand is covered in gum, I try to use my other hand to pull some of the mess off of me before sitting back up and saying hi. But instead of releasing the gum, I have simply spread the sticky goo to both hands, which are instantly joined together as if stuck mid-clap.
