by Greg Howard
Mr. Arnold claps his hands twice. “Okay, people, I’m sorry that we ran out of time and all of you didn’t get a chance to rehearse onstage, but nevertheless we go live in five minutes. Five minutes, people, and do not try me.”
“What about my backup dancers?” Julian paces around us and looks like he’s about to cry. “Gaga has backup dancers. So does Beyoncé. And Ariana. Coco Caliente needs backup dancers. What are we going to do, Michael?”
Julian is definitely losing his Coco Caliente confidence, so I have to do something fast. I glance over at Gabby and Lyla, who are off pouting by the back wall. I can’t fix everyone’s dreams today. Gabby and Lyla are young. They’ll have another shot. But this is probably definitely Julian’s last chance to perform as Coco Caliente, Mistress of Madness and Mayhem, in front of the entire student body of North Charleston Middle School and to show all the haters what a drag-kid superstar looks like. And I got him here. I’m not going to let him do it halfway. Pap always says, If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing right. And as much as I’m sure I’m not ready for this, I have to do it for my client. And for Pap, too.
I look over at Colton. “Are you ready to be the wrong kind of middle school popular?”
Colton might already have guessed my plan, because he smiles at me bigger than he ever has before and my stomach goes right back into that blender. On High. Stomach-smoothie time.
“That’s already kind of my thing,” Colton says. “So, sure.”
I turn to Julian. “We’re going to need to borrow some of your clothes. And, Abuela, Julian told me you make all of his Coco outfits. Did you bring your sewing kit?”
She nods, looking confused. “Of course. I never go anywhere without it.”
A look of surprise covers Julian’s face for a moment or two, but finally he lets out a big sigh. His face softens and a mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Come on, girl. Let’s do this.”
We all follow him over to his wardrobe trunk, and weirdly enough, I’m not even a little embarrassed that Julian just called me girl.
27
THE NORTH CHARLESTON MIDDLE SCHOOL END-OF-YEAR TALENT CONTEST
Taylor Hope nails her song.
Chad Charles’s hip-hop dance routine is good enough to be in a movie or on television, and I don’t even mean that just because he’s so cute.
Dustin Parks doesn’t drop any tennis balls and gets one of the biggest rounds of applause yet.
The competition is super-crazy tough and I’m starting to get a little worried for Julian. What if the audience doesn’t get it? Or if they just don’t like him? Or if they’re mean because Julian will be wearing a dress, a wig, and high heels onstage? Heck, the other students might not even recognize him. He’s full-on Coco Caliente, Mistress of Madness and Mayhem, now. I can’t even see Julian anymore when I look at him. And in the end, he went with the sparkly red dress and the blond wig with pink and purple highlights just like we’d always planned. Divas, am I right?
I’m just trying to keep us all out of Mr. Arnold’s sight before we go on. He might call this all foolishness and say we are trying him. So we stand on the opposite side of the backstage area taking turns peeking through the curtains at the audience. I scan the crowd for my special guest, but I don’t see him anywhere yet.
“She found it!” Mrs. Vasquez hurries over to us, looking a little flushed but thankfully smiling. “You did give Miss Troxel the flash drive, Michael. It was on the floor under her chair.”
Whew! Thank you very much, Mrs. Vasquez, and have a nice day!
Julian straightens his wig. “Sorry I yelled at you, Michael. I should have trusted you.”
I shrug like it’s no big deal, but secretly it is. “That’s okay.”
Mrs. Vasquez’s face twists in confusion as she scans me and Colton up and down, and who could blame her. We’re dressed way different than we were when she saw us earlier. Eventually she gets it and a smile explodes on her face.
“Don’t they look great?” Abuela says, smiling at me and Colton. I think she’s really proud of her last-minute handiwork, and she should be.
“You both look adorable.” Mrs. Vasquez takes Abuela’s hand. “We’re going to sit with Gabby, Lyla, and your parents.” She faces Julian and smooths out the sleeves of his dress with her free hand. “Good luck, mijo. You look beautiful. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Julian grins from ear to ear.
He’s so tall in the high heels that he has to lean way down to air-kiss his mom on the cheek. While he’s down there, he gives Abuela one, too.
Brady’s voice booms through the auditorium speakers. “Coming up next, we have a very talented performer, folks. She’s seventy-seven years old, she’s blind, and she has three legs.”
There’s some nervous laughter from the audience, and who could blame them with that setup?
“I’m just kidding, folks.” Brady pauses a beat. “She’s only eleven in dog years!”
The audience laughs a little less nervously now.
“Crap,” Colton says, slinging his bright red wig hair over his shoulder. “It’s time for Sadie and Fifi, but they haven’t found Fifi yet.”
“Yes, they have,” Julian says, pointing to the stage door. Dinesh and Charvi lead Sadie and Fifi over to us. Fifi sniffs everyone, her tail going ninety miles an hour.
“You found her!” I say to Dinesh. “Where was she?”
But he just stares at Colton and me with his mouth hanging open like we’re aliens from another planet.
“Wow, my dude,” he says to me. “Or should I say, my dudette?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Don’t even start.”
“No,” Dinesh says, taking a step back to inspect us. “You both are actually kind of pretty.”
I don’t know whether to say thank you or what to that, so I just act like I didn’t hear him.
Sadie doesn’t give Colton and me a second look. “Charvi was amazing. She sensed where Fifi was hiding.”
Charvi also doesn’t seem all that surprised at seeing me and Colton in makeup, short dresses, and wigs. Weird.
“She wasn’t hiding,” Charvi says. “I just sensed that Fifi might have needed to go to the bathroom.”
“She sniffed her way to the courtyard,” Dinesh says with a crinkled nose. He waves a hand in front of his face. “And, man, did Fifi have to go.” He gives me another look and shakes his head like he still thinks I’m pretty. “I’m going to go find Trey and my parents and sit down. I can’t wait to see where all this is going.”
Brady’s voice interrupts our little reunion with Fifi.
“But don’t feel bad for Fifi the blind pit bull because she only has three legs,” Brady says from the stage. “I mean, that’s one more than we have, am I right?”
There’s actually a decent amount of laughter from the audience.
“Fifi already has a leg up on all of us,” Brady says to more laughter.
Now even Mr. Arnold is chuckling from the other side of the stage.
“You guys are on,” I whisper to Sadie. This should be Lyla’s job as their new agent, but that’s what you get when you go with someone inexperienced and unqualified. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” Sadie says, kneeling and scratching Fifi’s head, I guess for good luck. “Hey, Mikey, I’m sorry about the whole wanting-Lyla-to-be-my-agent-instead-of-you thing. I think I might have made a mistake. I mean she’s pretty smart for a kid, but she can be kind of intense sometimes. Do you think you could be our agent again?”
Michael Pruitt Business Tip #372: There are times to make people sweat a little before you forgive them and take them back, but right before they go onstage to possibly win a hundred dollars for your talent agency is not one of those times.
“Sure, Sadie,” I say with a smile. “That would be wicked cool.”
“The Amazing S
adie and Fifi,” Brady calls out, stepping back and waving Sadie onto the stage.
Colton, Julian, and I peek through the curtains, watching the crowd go crazy when Fifi waddles out onto the stage. Mom and Dad smile and clap from the third row. Julian’s mom, Abuela, Gabby, and Lyla sit beside them. Trey and Dinesh are sitting in the fourth row with their parents, Manny and Stuart on the end of the aisle. The auditorium is packed. Every seat is taken and some parents and teachers stand lining the walls. That’s called standing room only. It’s a real show-biz thing. But I still don’t see my special guest anywhere.
“I wonder where my grandma is,” Colton whispers beside me, lines of worry etched in his face.
“Wait, isn’t that her standing over there by the back door?” Julian whispers, pushing strands of his blond wig out of his face. “Who is that woman with her?”
“Oh yeah,” Colton says, the muscles in his face relaxing. “I see her now. And that’s—my—my—”
I think I know what Colton is trying to say. I put a hand on his shoulder. “Is that your mom?”
But he doesn’t answer me. He just stares out through the curtain, his eyes growing cloudy.
“She came,” Colton finally says, his voice cracking a little. “She actually came.”
I don’t know what to say. My throat closes up and my eyes itch real bad. So I don’t say anything, and that seems okay.
Colton and Julian step away from the curtain, but I keep watching Colton’s mom. Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she stands with her arms wrapped around her stomach. She’s wearing jeans and an orange hoodie with the Clemson Tigers logo on it. She stares out into the audience as Sadie and Fifi wrap up their routine and Miss Bette Midler plows into the big dramatic high part of “Wind Beneath My Wings.” The performance wasn’t quite as good as their audition. Fifi was slow and a little sluggish after all the excitement of being lost. She tripped a couple of times. But I hope it was good enough for the judges.
I’m about to pull the curtain closed when I spot a big man standing just inside the center door of the auditorium, arms crossed tight and high on his chest, and—OMG!—it’s Julian’s dad. He came. He must have gotten my message. I let the curtain fall into place.
“Michael?” Julian says with his arm around Colton. “What is it? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
I don’t know what to say. Should I tell him that his dad is here right before he performs or wait until after? And should I tell my client that I’m the one who invited his dad? I don’t want to get in his head and ruin his concentration right before he goes onstage. But I guess I waited too long.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Julian says, peering out through the crack in the curtain above me. “What’s my dad doing here?”
I step back from the curtain. “I, um—” I say. “I called and invited him.”
Julian’s gaze is ice-cold. “You did what?”
Sadie and Fifi take their bow and the curtain closes in front of them. Sadie’s smile isn’t as big as it usually is after they perform, and neither is Fifi’s. I think they both realize the performance wasn’t their best. I feel bad for them, but I’m more worried about my star client having a meltdown right now. Julian wasn’t expecting his dad to meet Coco today. I hope I didn’t make a huge mistake thinking it would help their relationship if Mr. Vasquez saw Julian perform and how talented he is. But my news has knocked the wind out of Julian’s sails. He stares up into the rafters in a daze.
I touch his shoulder to get his attention. “Julian. Look at me.”
He stares at me like he’s in a trance.
“Coco,” I say, snapping my fingers in front of his face because that seems like the smart thing to do at a time like this. “Coco Caliente. Are you in there?”
It takes a few seconds, but finally Coco’s mascaraed eyes light up like she can hear me from somewhere deep inside Julian’s fear.
“That’s Julian’s father out there, not yours. Because you are Coco Caliente, Mistress of Madness and Mayhem, and Miss Coco isn’t afraid of anything. Coco is the baddest drag kid in all of North Charleston Middle School.”
Colton cocks his head at me. “Are there many other drag kids in North Charleston Middle School?”
“America, I mean,” I say quickly. “In all of America. Heck, the entire world!”
“Thank you, Sadie and Fifi,” Brady says from the stage. “Let’s hear it for them one more time, folks.”
The sound of applause kind of wakes Julian up. His eyes light up as if they’re all clapping and yelling for him. I think applause is like chocolate cake with ice cream for drag queens.
Julian stares into my eyes. “You’re right, Michael. I’m the baddest drag kid in the entire universe.”
And we’re back!
“You’ve got this,” Colton says to Julian, grabbing both his hands.
I nod in agreement. “We know you can do this. We believe in you. You just have to believe in yourself.”
“Why be a drag when you can be a queen?” Julian says.
“Yes!” I exclaim. “Why be a drag when you can be a queen!”
I think he nods just a little bit, but it’s hard to tell under all that blond, pink, and purple hair.
“Go out there and show him how amazing you are. And make your dad see you. Make him see that you matter.”
I don’t know where all that came from, but I think it sounded wicked cool and professional. I think that was my first-ever official talent-agent pep talk. And I think I kind of rocked it.
Michael Pruitt Business Tip #373: Make sure there are reporters or a documentary movie crew around when you give a super-crazy-good inspirational pep talk to your star client.
Brady’s voice breaks through the speakers again. “And finally, our last performer is about to come out, and folks, let me tell you, you’re not going to want to miss this one. So I hope you already went to the bathroom because you might just pee your pants when you see this act.”
“Hill,” Mr. Arnold whispers from behind the curtain as he makes his way over to our side of the backstage area. “Do not try me.”
“Vasquez? Vasquez!” Mr. Arnold says, coming over to us. “You’re up next.”
When Mr. Arnold finally gets a load of me, Colton, and Coco Caliente standing there in our costumes, I think he might pass out.
Mr. Arnold wags a finger up and down in front of us. “What kind of foolishness is this?”
Brady’s voice sounds again, echoing backstage. “Please welcome Coco Caliente, Mistress of Madness and Mayhem.”
Something sparks in Julian’s eyes when he hears Brady announce him, and a determined look hardens his face. Colton and I grab Julian by the hands, scooting around Mr. Arnold and hurrying out to the center of the stage. We must pull a little too hard because Julian wobbles in his high heels and I think he just might topple over before the curtain even opens. Mr. Arnold follows us, whisper-yelling at us the whole way about the school board and his job and the PTA. But the curtains open, stopping him in his tracks.
And there we stand for God and everybody to see—Coco Caliente, Mistress of Madness and Mayhem, and her backup dancers in all our drag glory. The music doesn’t begin right away and I start to panic a little as I scan the audience. At first glance of all the shadowy faces, I feel dizzy—like I’m going to pass out. As the students, parents, and teachers get a good look at us, the room goes quiet, except for the few people who gasp out loud. Then come the giggles and snickers.
My eyes begin adjusting to the dim lighting and I can see a lot of the faces staring back at me are frozen in shock or disgust. I can’t tell exactly which. Mr. Grayson, who stands by the wall near the front, has a sour look on his face. Mrs. Campbell, my homeroom teacher, stands beside him with her hand covering her mouth. I spot Tommy, Trace, and Colby near the back, and of course, they’re laughing their butts off
. Well, Trace and Colby are—Tommy not so much.
Lyla is grinning like crazy, and Mom, Dad, Mrs. Vasquez, and Abuela are all smiling at us. Dad giggles a little bit, but I know it’s not in a mean way. I imagine if Pap could see me now, he might giggle, too. Pap always told me to just be myself. It finally sinks in. And suddenly, I’m not scared. I’m not ashamed. Not even a little bit. I straighten my wig and plant my hands on my hips like Colton and Julian.
So I guess this is it. Whether I’m ready for all of North Charleston Middle School to know I’m gay or not, now they do. I mean, I know that just because you’re wearing a short sparkly dress, a wig, and gobs of makeup it doesn’t mean you’re gay, but let’s face it: In middle school, it pretty much does.
We wait for Julian to give Miss Troxel the cue to start the music, and for a second I think he might have forgotten. But then I see that he has locked eyes with Mr. Vasquez, who looks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. The rest of the houselights die down, sending Julian’s dad off into total darkness, thank goodness. The audience is getting restless, but they’re still mostly quiet. That is until a voice rings out from the back of the auditorium:
“Look. It’s Gay Mikey and the he/she freaks.”
It didn’t sound like Tommy Jenrette’s voice. Maybe it was Colby or Trace. A few kids laugh, but most of the audience members shush them and the heckler. Like, a lot of them do, which is actually kind of cool and helps me to relax a little bit.
Colton and I stand in our starting positions behind Julian, hands on our hips, still waiting for him to give Miss Troxel the cue. I wonder if the hecklers got into his head. Maybe he’s chickening out. I couldn’t blame him if he did.
Finally Julian looks down. Takes a deep breath. Crosses himself like his abuela does sometimes. Then, looking at Miss Troxel in the front row, Coco Caliente, Mistress of Madness and Mayhem, nods once.
And, baby, we were born this way.
28
THE PERFORMANCE
All I can say is that I’m super-crazy glad that Julian didn’t make me and Colton wear high heels.
