Now Mrs Elgin looks decidedly unimpressed.
“Arnelia, who gives you the right to hand out roles a mere ten days before opening night? Have you lost your marbles, girl?”
“But, Ma’am, Dineo knows the whole show. Even better than I do. She’s been here every afternoon watching rehearsals. And knowing her, she’s probably been practising every song and dance move in front of her mirror at home. If you don’t believe me, just give her a chance to show you what she’s capable of!” I look sideways at my friend, who is still speechless. “Neo, please, you have to save the show. I know I’ve behaved like a selfish idiot dropping On a Roll and thinking I could be a star in a musical. We both know I can’t dance. It doesn’t matter how pretty my costumes are, or how wide my smile, or how well I can hold a note – I look like an amateur on stage. Mrs Elgin, you must agree there’s no hope for me! Please! Just give Dineo a chance!”
The drama teacher looks at me solemnly for a minute, then at Dineo, then returns her gaze to me. “It’s unheard of to start meddling with the cast ten days before a show opens. Especially with the leading roles. It’s madness!”
But something tells me she’s considering my proposal. And I am right.
“Dineo, do you want to show me what you can do? Do you know the songs, dialogue and all the movements?” she asks.
“Erm ... I think so, Ma’am,” Dineo says and looks at me. She’s evidently still baffled by what is going on here.
“Baltimore!” Mrs Elgin shouts at the technical team’s sound guys. “One more time, from the top!”
Dineo lies down on the single bed positioned in the middle of the stage for the first act. At first, she’s too nervous and sings far too softly.
Mrs Elgin seems flabbergasted that Dineo knows all the words. Neo’s self-confidence builds quickly. Within minutes the three of us are in no doubt that Dineo Tshamboko is the new star of Hairspray. The role was made for her.
“Arnelia, get changed. Hang up your costume and then come back here, both of you.” Mrs Elgin returns to her chair, punching a number into her cellphone. I can only imagine how much extra work this new development means for her. But she is smiling. Something tells me everything is going to be just fine.
Dineo walks with me to the dressing room and that gives us the chance to make sense of the events of the past thirty minutes.
“Neo, you were amazing!” I gush.
“What’s going on? Why are you doing this? How can you give away something this big?” she asks.
“Because it’s your role, Dineo. It’s your dream, not mine. You’re a far better Tracy than I could ever be! I was hopeless at the dancing. Seeing you here every day, hiding at the back, I was constantly reminded that you deserve to be up on that stage, not me.” The words flow straight from my heart and it is as if all the pent-up heartache, loneliness and guilt slowly drain away while I’m talking.
“But you look like a star in those costumes. You sparkle in the spotlight. I could see how happy it made you. Doesn’t it hurt terribly to give it all to me, just like that? That’s not something I could ever do.” Dineo still doesn’t understand.
“Stealing someone else’s dream doesn’t feel good at all, trust me. You have to find your own dream and work at it. My dream was On a Roll. The time we spent together working on the tuck truck was the best time of my life. No amount of applause comes close to the feeling of being a Trucker. Sorry, but that’s how it is for me. And I threw it all away. I’ve felt terrible about it ever since. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”
Dineo fixes her big brown eyes on me and I see the tears welling up. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, Ari. I won’t disappoint you or Mrs Elgin. I promise I’ll practise day and night in the few days we have left.”
I wriggle out of my costume and Dineo helps me hang it back on the clothing rail. She strokes one of the outfits, a pale-blue sequinned dress with a net petticoat. “You’ll be wearing that now,” I say, smiling.
She envelopes me in a spontaneous, tight hug.
“I missed you so freaking much, weirdo!” she says.
Now it’s my turn to cry.
Other people’s dreams
The best thing about no longer being part of the Hairspray cast is that I get to work in the tuck truck again. My friends and I are united and the world is a much better place. Not that they were waiting to welcome me back with open arms. Quite the opposite. They insisted on a written application and, once they’d received it, I was invited to a meeting in the old shipping container.
“We’ve received your application, Arnelia,” Shaun announced rather formally once we had all found a place to sit. “I’m afraid this is a case of High Treason. Not only did you drop us in the most spectacular way, you also stole a fellow Trucker’s dream. We’re not that sure you deserve a second chance.”
“You’re right,” I admitted. “I don’t deserve to be a Trucker. I plead extenuating circumstances though.” I said this with my eyes turned down, silently thanking my mother for teaching me the word extenuating months ago.
“And what may those circumstances be?” Dineo’s brow furrowed with suspicion.
“I was temporarily blinded by the bright lights of the entertainment world. It’s like a drug, I swear.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Dineo sighed.
Silence ensued.
“Who here can say they have never made a terrible mistake?” I pleaded. “Who hasn’t been swept off their feet by the irresistible charm of something or someone who made them feel good about themselves?” I gave each of my friends a separate, desperate look. I was fighting for my future as a member of the On a Roll team and my destiny was in their hands.
“Come on,” Dineo said after a long silence. “In the end, she handed me the role on a plate. That took guts.”
“It couldn’t have been easy,” Dewald admitted.
Shaun was a harder nut to crack, though. “It does bother me that your loyalty couldn’t withstand the very first temptation. What if that happens again?” He was clearly playing devil’s advocate.
“It won’t happen again. And to make up for my unforgivable behaviour, I’ll put in longer hours at On a Roll. Or take whatever other punishment you can think of. Anything!” I could hear the whine in my own voice.
All four of them got up to confer outside the shipping container, and I was left alone for ten minutes – which felt like an eternity. When they returned, they stood in front of me, shoulder to shoulder.
“Welcome back to the tribe, Trucker,” Shaun said. A big group hug followed. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was bawling like a baby. I wasn’t prepared to face one more day without them.
So much had happened since I left On a Roll. Dewald revised the menu. He removed the pancakes because they simply weren’t good sellers. Captain Curry, our spicy Indian hero roll, is now a pucker mini bunny chow in a hollow bun baked specially for On a Roll by The Golden Oven. It’s our best seller by far. I noticed that Irma Geyer still collected her daily order, hanging around the Kombi like a bad smell. Our chicken hero roll, Chick Norris, could now be ordered with a choice of standard or chilli mayo. Alma’s Awesome Meatballs were officially renamed “Balls with Ball’s” and are still a firm favourite. To the ever-popular blondies and brownies Dewald had now added chunky wholewheat muffins with banana. For customers who feel like something sweet but don’t want to go completely overboard.
Ilana convinced Shaun that she should draw cartoons on the Kombi’s curtains. Not only would it look bright and cheerful, but it would camouflage grease stains till the next laundry day. Inspired by pop artist Roy Lichtenstein, she created fantastic superheroes in action on a dotted background, using fabric paint in primary colours. Speech and thought bubbles drift around them, proclaiming superhero wisdom like “Saving the world from hunger, one takeaway at a time!” and “With great brownies c
ome great responsibility!”
The Truckers want to sell a few extra treats at the three Hairspray shows. There will be candyfloss and sweet popcorn. Instead of the normal hero-roll menu, Dewald has invented a hero roll with warm slices of lamb and sweet onion marmalade. He calls it the “Tracy Turnblad”. It’ll be a hit, no two ways about it.
Every afternoon after school the Truckers go to watch Dineo rehearse. We shout and cheer as if we’re being paid to do so. She soaks it all up. Our gorgeous friend looks amazing in her stage outfits, which Mrs Elgin had to take in here and there. Mostly around the bust area. I’m not the least bit jealous. In fact, I feel immensely proud. Dineo brings the role of Tracy Turnblad – and the entire stage – to life.
Shaun, naturally, sits gawking at Hein Geyer’s athletic body moving through the dance sequences. Every so often he sighs melodramatically just before making a silly love-struck comment. “Poetry in motion” and “Heaven in a blue suit” are two of his favourites. He doesn’t make a secret of the fact that he has a huge crush on Hein. He and almost every girl in our school.
At first, Mom couldn’t understand how I could so easily give up my “fifteen minutes of fame”, as she calls it. But after I’d told her the whole story, she acted as if I had saved someone’s life or got one hundred per cent for maths. She also decided that Ouma Dina should come and visit us anyway, so that she can see me in all my tuck-trucking glory. Of course, she’d see the show too. After all, tickets had been bought ages ago. But Mom didn’t tell Ouma Dina that I wasn’t in the production any more. Just in case that made her decide not to come.
We have a double period of English before home time on Thursdays. About a month ago, Mr Crawford moved me to the very back of the class, on account of him considering me his star pupil. I like my new position back there, because I’m able to stare undisturbed at the back of Dewald Fourie’s head. Naturally, I’d prefer to be staring into his beautiful brown eyes, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Just before the bell rings at the end of the day, Dewald suddenly spins around and catches me mid-stare. I get such a fright that my chin slides right off my cupped right hand, where it has been resting while I was lost in a blissful daydream. But Dewald merely gestures that we should talk after school. I put my thumb in the air to indicate that I’m cool with that.
We walk out of the classroom together.
“Arnie, I need you to taste something for me,” he says. “I wanted to ask you at break, but On a Roll was just too crazy today.”
“Sure,” I say, feeling flushed and important.
He puts down his book bag, rummages around in it and produces a pencil holder. He flashes his skew smile. “You’re not the only one who can store food in your pencil bag,” he says. “Genius idea, by the way.”
I smile shyly. It’s not exactly a secret I wanted to share.
Inside his pencil bag are two small glass jars containing a creamy substance. He opens both lids.
“Use your finger,” he instructs. “Tell me which one you prefer for the Chick Norris hero’s new sauce.” He stands there, holding both options.
Like a MasterChef judge, I drag my index finger through the first sauce. It’s pinkish with a sweet-chilli taste. I close my eyes to really think about what I’m tasting. “Mmmm,” I say. “This should work really well with chicken.” Then I do the same with the second option. The colour is slightly different, almost green, and the sauce has a definite bite to it. It’s good too, but I prefer the first one.
“Number one,” I say without hesitation.
“Why?” Dewald wants to know.
“More people will like the first one. Did you put wasabi in the second?”
“Bingo!” He’s impressed.
“Well, that’s too daring. You’re cooking for school kids, remember. Keep the wasabi for your restaurant one day.”
Now Dewald displays the most beautiful version of his smile – the version he keeps for very special occasions.
“And that’s why I like you, Arnelia van Zyl. You’re so ... refreshingly honest.”
I didn’t really pay attention after “and that’s why I like you”.
Dewald Fourie likes me! He likes me!
My daydream doesn’t last long. Out of the blue, Hein Geyer appears. He walks up to Dewald and stands in front of him like someone looking for trouble. His nose is only a few centimetres from Dewald’s face.
“Dude, I’ve had it up to here with your attitude,” Hein hisses through his teeth.
“What’s your problem, man? What have I done?” Dewald takes a step back to get out of Hein’s face.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. You and my sister. What’s going on with you two? What are your plans with her? She cries herself to sleep every night. Over a piece of trash like you.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” Dewald protests. “There’s nothing between Irma and me. She has a regular order at On a Roll, and she delivers the bread from your parents’ bakery every morning. That’s it, I swear. Cool it, dude.”
“So are you saying my sister’s a liar? Is that what you’re getting at, you little freak?” Hein has lost it. The veins in his neck are red and bulging.
“Everyone knows that you and that other little fruit fly are a couple. Why don’t you just tell my sister? Why do you have to string her along for months? Making a fool of her? Be a man. Or at least act like one, you little poof!”
Hein takes a breath to say something else, but before he can utter one more word, Dewald drops the mayonnaise and punches him in the face, hard.
Hein hits the ground with a dull thud.
“Shit, Dewald ...” I hear myself say. I rehearsed with Hein for weeks and I actually quite like the guy. It looks like I may have been wrong about him.
Blood streams profusely from Hein’s brow. He tries to stop it with his hand.
Dewald is rubbing the knuckles of his boxing hand.
“You don’t deserve her!” Hein gets up. “And you,” he says to me before he turns and walks away, “need to take a reality check, girl. This piece of shit isn’t into you, he’s into guys.”
“Was that really necessary?” I ask Dewald as we’re picking up the jars of mayonnaise.
“I actually think it was.” He seems surprisingly calm. “Hein and his friends have been bullying Shaun ever since primary-school days. It has to stop.”
“You do realise you’ve just made it much worse?” I feel I should point out the obvious just in case Dewald is too upset to figure it out himself. “He’s going to target Shaun now. More than ever before. And what’s the deal with his sister? Are you and Irma not an item? I thought ...”
“Irma Geyer may think there’s something between us. But it’s all in her head, believe me. I’m nice to her because her parents’ bakery supplies the bread for On a Roll. They’re even making mini loaves for the Captain Curry bunny chows now. Irma buzzes around me all day like a mosquito. I wish I could ask her to leave me alone. But what if she convinces her parents to change their mind about their bread donation? I know it sounds stupid, but that’s just the way it is.”
Now I understand a lot more. The way Dewald just accepts Irma’s flirting. The special Captain Curry order that waits for her every day at first break. Dewald isn’t in love with her. It’s an exercise in public relations. Politics are alive and well in our school.
Mrs E is livid, Ari! Hein can’t see out of one eye, the swelling is SO bad. What got into Dewald?
The WhatsApp is from Dineo. They’re at the Hairspray dress rehearsal and she has obviously seen Hein’s face. When I don’t reply quickly enough, she starts guessing.
Was it because of a girl? Are you that girl?
Eish, Dineo. She sure loves intrigue.
Are you crazy? The fight was about Hein’s sister, Irma. She has the hots for Dewald but he doesn’t feel the same.
So
Dewald punched Hein in the face?
It’s a little more complicated. Hein said terrible things to Dewald. So he lost it.
Okay. Gotta go. Fame awaits. But I need details. Later OK?
Dineo wasn’t exaggerating about Hein’s face. It looks like he’s been to war. The Hairspray cast members have taken to calling him ‘Limp Larkin’ and Mrs Elgin is, by all accounts, furious. There are only a few days until opening night, and if his black eye can’t be camouflaged with stage make-up by then, she’s going to have him wear a Captain Hook eye patch. Definitely not ideal for the romantic lead in our school play.
Shame, poor Mrs Elgin. Between Tracy Turnblad jumping ship and Link Larkin getting punched, she has to handle a whole bunch of last-minute crises, which she certainly wasn’t prepared for.
Much worse than Hein’s shiner and swollen brow is his severely bruised ego. The fact that ‘a food fairy’ did such damage has spread through the school like wildfire. To rub salt in his wounds, this morning Shaun, in an exaggerated piping voice, taunted him:
“Ooooh, I believe you and Dewald Fourie have been fighting over me? I never realised you felt that way about me, Handsome!”
Hein just grunted and stalked off, but a large group of kids heard and fell about laughing.
“Why are you doing that?” I ask Shaun while we’re giving the Kombi a good clean before our big night.
“Doing what?”
“Why do you push Hein’s buttons the way you do? Aren’t you afraid he’ll punch you like Dewald punched him?”
Shaun, who always has a witty comeback, is uncharacteristically quiet.
“Did you hear what I said?” I ask.
“Yeah. Don’t worry, Hein Geyer won’t touch me. I know too much.”
“What do you mean?”
Shaun squirts a splodge of Handy Andy onto a sponge and starts cleaning the cast-iron gas burners.
“Ask no questions, hear no lies.” He says it with finality, like the full stop at the end of a sentence. I’m not going to wheedle any more information out of him.
Confessions of a Ginger Pudding Page 11
