by Cody Wagner
I assumed my mom’s tone and said, “In a few hours, it’ll all be over, and you’ll be glad you did it.”
Jimmy responded by flinging a forkful of “Saving Scrambled Eggs” across the room.
After breakfast, we tried finding a larger space to work in, but the campus was rowdy and bustling. Every student was out and about, making snow angels, or having snowball fights. It had snowed the night before and a fresh layer of fluff lay on top of the frozen mush. The ground made a pleasing crunching as we walked. Jimmy’s whimpers muffled it out.
By 1:15, he could barely function. We reminded him he was performing for just one person—he’d done triple that with me, Cassie, and Roze. It didn’t help, and, as we trudged across campus, Jimmy pouted and stared at the words (he’d written them on his hand). They were smeared from his palm sweat, and he kept saying “back hair” instead of “back there”.
Finally, I couldn’t take it and snapped, yanking his hand down. “You have this memorized. Stop worrying so much. Geez, I hope heart attacks don’t run in your family.”
Cassie took a more practical approach, saying, “That does it. We’re running to the classroom center.” At that, she began jogging. Actually, it was more like flailing; her arms swung like a windmill as she ran. Smiling, I joined her, saying, “Let’s go, Blackwood,” using my Coach Adkins voice. Jimmy groaned but, not wanting to be left behind, sprinted after us.
We ran (and jogged and walked) for a half hour. As we moved, our mouths were like old trains, spitting out steam in bursts. Any time Cassie and Jimmy slowed, I held back, yelling encouragement. When they couldn’t go any farther, we slackened to a virtual crawl. Jimmy poured sweat that melted dots of snow as it fell. Cassie grinned, although her eyes were a bit unfocused.
“I think I’m going to die,” Jimmy said.
“You’re fine. And look where we are.” I pointed at the drama building, right in front of us. That wasn’t the right thing to say; Jimmy began hyperventilating. I guess I should have let him calm down before reminding him of the terror that lay ahead. Apologizing, I ran over and awkwardly started patting his back like he needed to burp.
“I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this,” he said.
“In fifteen minutes, you’ll be finished,” Cassie said. “Then we’ll go get double dessert.”
I started to protest, but quit when I realized I was acting like my mom (“Don’t waste perfectly good exercise with cake!”). Besides, Jimmy’s whimpering softened, and he said, “Even chocolate chocolate chip cookies?”
Cassie nodded and pulled open the door.
The drama section was pretty standard—a hallway with one classroom on each side. That is, except for the double doors at the end. They led into what I later learned was called a black box theater. It made sense as the entire room was painted black. A line of lights, whose casings were also painted black, hung from the ceiling. A tiny stage, surrounded on three sides by rows of seats, was opposite the door.
“It’s called a thrust stage,” Jimmy said.
“Huh?”
“When the stage sticks out and is surrounded on three sides.”
“Oh.”
I turned and peeked at him. Although the space was small, he looked around in awestruck fear. It might as well have been Rockefeller Center. He glanced straight up and squinted, like the ceiling was miles high.
Assuring him once more, Cassie took Jimmy’s hand and we led him to the front. I whispered the monologue to him, just in case. In the first row of seats, we noticed the back of a head, with short, messy hair. Jimmy froze and gripped Cassie’s arm.
It was Darrin.
Of course this would happen, I said to myself. Stupid Murphy’s Law. Darrin must have heard us clunking toward him because he turned to stare at Jimmy. Jimmy shrank under his glare, and I figured Darrin would sneer or poke fun. Instead, he looked put-out, like his being here took soooo much effort.
“I worked really hard on this play. You better not waste my time.” With that, he turned to the front.
“Easy, Darrin.”
We turned to our right and saw Ms. Burton entering from a door near the first row of seats, facing the stage. Darrin didn’t apologize, so Ms. Burton walked up to us and whispered, “He’s really passionate about his writing.”
“I can see that,” I said, sarcastically. Ms. Burton didn’t notice my tone and beamed at Jimmy. She looked very excited—her blue eyes danced as she stuck out a hand.
“Hi, Jimmy.”
Without looking directly at her, Jimmy reached out. “Hello.”
Ms. Burton shook his hand and, when she pulled back, we all noticed the black smears on her fingers. Jimmy must have shaken with his monologue hand. Grimacing, she rubbed at it with her other palm. Jimmy hung his head. Ms. Burton noticed and, trying to help, clapped her hands together and said, “Well, are you ready to wow us?”
Ms. Burton meant well, but she had no idea how insecure Jimmy was, and her words caused him to retreat like a turtle. Oblivious, she smiled and took a seat next to Darrin. Seeing them together, like a two-headed monster, Jimmy pulled his hands into his sleeves.
Cassie snatched his arm, said, “Let’s go up there together,” and led him forward. As they climbed the steps to the stage, I took a seat close to Darrin and Ms. Burton. I hoped, if anything, I could be a focal point for Jimmy. I even practiced my encouraging smile.
It didn’t help; Jimmy was a wilted flower on stage. When Cassie let go of him and sat next to me, I thought he might shrivel into dust right there.
“We don’t have all day,” Darrin said, tapping a clipboard with a pen.
Jimmy kept his eyes on the floor, and I swore he was going to cry. Ms. Burton admonished Darrin (“You do not talk to your fellow thespians that way”), but it accomplished nothing. Jimmy stood there like he’d just been struck with severe soap opera amnesia.
After thirty more seconds of agonizing silence, everyone squirmed in their seats. I could almost hear crickets chirping around us. Ms. Burton, still trying, gave him an encouraging nod and said, “Whenever you’re ready.”
Jimmy opened his mouth and managed to utter the first three words of the monologue before his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. Again, he said only three words before stopping. His eyes grew wide and he frantically looked at me. He had drawn a blank. Trying to be sneaky, he peaked at his hand, but the words were an illegible mess. He tried rubbing at his hand, like the smears would somehow shift into words.
Darrin cleared his throat loudly. Jimmy flinched as if he’d been punched and dropped his arms. He couldn’t do it. Whispering, “Thank you for your time,” Jimmy hid his face and bolted off the stage. We all turned to watch him shuffle back and collapse in a seat near the back.
Simultaneously, everyone faced the front, giving Jimmy his privacy. Ms. Burton looked at us. She didn’t seem angry, but I felt horrible. This was all my idea and I’d just wasted a bunch of peoples’ time and energy. I sat, wondering what I could do to help. Only one idea came to me.
Before I could stop myself, I stood and said, “I promised you an audition and that’s what you’re going to get.”
Cassie grabbed my wrist, saying, “You don’t have to do this.” I yanked away without looking at her (I didn’t want anything to change my mind) and stomped up onto the stage. Ms. Burton clapped her hands and Darrin smiled, scribbling something on his paper. Apparently, I fit the role they needed better than Jimmy.
Looking out at the room, which suddenly seemed much bigger, I watched as Darrin finished writing and looked at me, expectantly. I thought Ms. Burton’s eyes were going to pop out of her head.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she whispered, as if waiting for magic fireworks to explode into the walls.
I didn’t need time to prepare. I’d heard the monologue so many times, I could say it in my sleep. However, I stared at the floor for a second. It was something I’d seen actors do to prepare themselves and I hoped it would inspire m
e. Taking a huge breath, I stuck out my arms and began speaking.
Within seconds, shock blossomed on Ms. Burton’s face. She tried to appear supportive—a hideous fake grin was taped to her face—but her eyes betrayed her. Darrin’s face grew red and, by the time I reached the halfway point, he threw his pencil down.
“I don’t care if you think theater’s a joke,” he yelled. “But making fun of my coming out play? What the hell is wrong with you?”
He actually sounded self-conscious and I felt myself shrinking. He thought I was mocking his play! How bad was I?
“No, that’s not what I was doing,” I said.
Darrin pointed at me. “Maybe it was easy for you, but coming out was freakin’ hard.” He shook his head, lost for words in his anger. Finally, he glared and said, “Let me ask, was that fun for you? Was it fun for you to do that?”
If Roze were there, she would have said something like, “Is it fun for you to pick on the other kids? Is it fun for you to make Jimmy’s life miserable?” But I wasn’t Roze, and I was frozen in place with embarrassment.
A voice began to fill the room. It was only a whisper, but it held such power, it hung in the air like balloons. Every one of us turned back to see Jimmy, standing and speaking. His voice grew louder as he walked to the stage. The monologue was there, back in his head. He delivered it with the same grace I’d seen that morning weeks ago on the auditorium stage.
By the time he got to the stage, Jimmy shouted. It was appropriate, as he was expelling years of the character’s angst. Although I was still on stage, I might as well have been a prop chair or lamp; every eye was on Jimmy.
When he finished, I swore we could still hear every word. They were stuck to the walls and chairs and lights. Ms. Burton had her hands over her mouth and tears brimmed in her eyes. I bet she wasn’t expecting that, I said to myself, grinning. As for Darrin, he said nothing, and stared at Jimmy for a long time. Jimmy smiled back at him, uncomfortably, as if trying to get in on a joke that didn’t exist.
Suddenly, Darrin stood, making us all jump. He walked out of the room and my face dropped. Just before pushing the door open, he turned back.
“The table read is January 4th at 4:00. Rehearsals begin the following day. If you miss a single one, you’re out.” At that, he left the room, letting the door close with a bang.
The second he was gone, Cassie and I rushed the stage. Ms. Burton, not wanting to be left out, ran up and pulled us into a gigantic hug. I guess, being a theater teacher, she loved attention.
“I knew you could do it!” she yelled.
We stood there with her until it became awkward. Cassie made an excuse and we ran out into the snow, practically slamming the door in Ms. Burton’s face. Appropriately, some clouds had retreated, and we saw blue for the first time in what felt like months. Jimmy wore a sloppy grin, but he still trembled.
“What’s wrong?” Cassie said. “You should be thrilled.”
“All I’m letting myself think about right now are those cookies. Let’s go before I throw up.”
Fourteen
Second Semester
The second semester started off pretty much the opposite the first. I didn’t have any of the worries or nerves that accompanied those first days, which was good. On the other hand, every teacher gave us tons of homework right away. So much for easing us back into school life. I didn’t realize how much I missed having nothing to do until a boulder of work fell on me, crushing me like roadkill.
Roze came back the night before school started and I realized how much I’d missed her. Cassie and Jimmy were great, but Roze and I fell right into our bantering, which was fun. Cassie and Jimmy just seemed so . . . wholesome. I don’t mean that as a bad thing. I just needed some edge to offset all the Mary Poppins. It was nice being able to say a sort-of cuss word (“Butt!”) without feeling guilty.
Of course, I wasn’t thrilled at how much Roze loved Jimmy’s audition story, namely my attempt. She especially liked that Darrin thought it was a mockery of the theater. That’s how she put it, anyway.
“You know Darrin and Luke are going to change now that Jimmy’s in the cast,” Roze said, as we walked to dinner from the theater our second week back (we had attempted to steal Jimmy away, but they were already deep in rehearsals).
Cassie nodded and pulled up her scarf. The wind was bitter cold and I wished I hadn’t been so macho as to refuse a hat. I maniacally rubbed my ears and looked between them, confused.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, Jimmy’s doing a good job, right?”
“From what I’ve heard.”
“Is he lying?” Roze asked.
Cassie shook her head. “I don’t think so. He doubts himself so much when it comes to acting. I don’t think he’d make that up.”
“Well then, I think you’re in for a shock.”
Cassie nodded again and I stopped and stared at them.
“Are either of you going to clue me in on what’s going on?”
Roze shook her head at me. “So dense sometimes.”
The next day in Algebra, I got all the proof I needed.
The morning started off like any other. I had just sat at my desk next to Jimmy, who was his usual chatty self. He dove right into his stories, telling me about the previous night’s rehearsal:
“Last night we began blocking the second act. Oh, since you obviously don’t know theater, let me explain. Blocking is where they tell you where to stand and what to do through the entire scene. It was really cool. Darrin actually has a really good sense of the stage and added some really cool crosses.”
For a second, I pictured Darrin placing wooden crosses on the stage. It didn’t make sense; the term must have meant something else. I didn’t get a chance to ask, though, as Jimmy sped on. Even when Ms. Meeks came in and began the assignment, he continued whispering to me.
“Mr. Blackwood,” said Ms. Meeks, throwing up her hands, “Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”
Jimmy froze and, suddenly interested in his textbook, said, “No ma’am.”
Most of the class giggled. I fully expected Luke and Darrin to turn around and make a face or something. Curiously, they didn’t do anything at all. It was like the incident never happened.
A few minutes later, a piece of paper was passed back. It was the latest edition of Blazing Trails. Rolling my eyes, I tore it open. Inside was a drawing of me standing on an enormous stage. Instead of words, my caricature made sounds like, “Duh derp duh duuhhhhh”. An audience full of fancy stick figures with top hats and monocles booed me. I peeked up and saw Luke and Darrin laughing.
“You were pretty bad.”
I glared at Jimmy and shredded the paper, shoving the pieces into my duffel. I wondered why I had even opened them. Maybe it was the artistry. Or maybe I was doing better about not taking them too seriously. I hoped it wasn’t a weird need to pretend they weren’t getting to me.
Shaking it off, I tuned halfway into the lecture, waiting for Jimmy’s comic to come. It never did. When the bell rang, Darrin smiled back at us, saying, “Rehearsal at 3:30 today, Jim.” My head flew up as Jimmy nodded at Darrin.
“Sure thing. See you there.”
At that, Luke and Darrin strolled out of the room, and I realized what Cassie and Roze were talking about. Now that Jimmy was the lead in his play, Darrin was going to be cool to him. My heart sank a little. That meant I was going to take the brunt of their jokes for a couple months. Then when the play was over, they’d turn on Jimmy again. It was a horrible thought, but what made it more frustrating was the fact that Jimmy didn’t seem to get it. Even now, he was smiling after Luke and Darrin as if under a spell.
“They’re not Sirens, Jimmy.” I blurted, without thinking.
I don’t know what caused me to say that. I guess a part of me didn’t want him to get sucked in. Or maybe I was a little jealous. None of that was Jimmy’s fault, though, and I should have been happy for him. And I was. S
omehow, though, the words slipped out.
The second I spoke, I wanted to punch myself. Jimmy turned white and I could see his jaw tense. He shook his head, like he couldn’t fathom how I’d said something so awful.
Panicked and guilty, I said, “I didn’t mean it, Jimmy.”
He nodded and said a quick, “It’s OK,” before speeding out of the room.
I cursed at myself and thought back to the poster. I shouldn’t have brought it up, but couldn’t understand why it bothered him so much. I admit I hadn’t thought about it as much as I should have.
I knew Cassie was still trying to figure things out, though. In fact, when we slept on the floor before his audition, I caught her staring up at him, practically willing him to go on another night excursion.
Seeing Jimmy freaked out like this, I figured it was time to chat.
* * * * *
“What’s the deal with Jimmy and the Sirens?” I asked Cassie in history, later that day.
“Why do you ask?”
I explained the incident in algebra and she gave me her scolding eyes. “You saw how he reacted over Christmas. Why would you even say that?” She stopped me from answering with, “Nevermind, I know why. And I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I didn’t! But he freaked out and ran off.”
“Let me ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you believe in Sirens?”
“In bird women who make ships crash into rocks?” That was all I said. And I kept my question really neutral. I wasn’t about to reveal part of me had concocted a whole Siren scenario. Honestly, I wanted her to talk me out of it, so I could focus on real things. Like my crappy algebra grade.
“Well, not so literally,” she said.
“Then what?”
“In normal-looking women who can control men.”
I shrugged, noncommittally.
