by Tom Leveen
I almost smart-ass him, but then pull back. “Thanks.”
“You know, she’s never cast a sophomore in a role like yours before.”
Am I supposed to genuflect? But again I hold a sarcastic comment back. This is the first not-sucky thing that’s happened to me here. “Oh. Well. Cool.”
He leans a little closer so no one else can hear and whispers, “So don’t fuck it up.”
I can’t help smiling as I say, “Wouldn’t think of it, Lin-Manuel,” and shove past him. Dick.
By the time I get home, though, I’m still liking the idea of Laertes. He’s not actually in the show for a lot of it, but he gets to do all the cool sword stuff at the end. I think that’ll be fun. Too bad Jason gets to kill me, but whatever.
I decide to make the announcement over dinner, where the whole damn family can give me some fucking credit for Getting Involved. So that night, right after we’ve all served ourselves and sat down, I say, “I got ca—”
That’s as much as I can get out between my sister going off about softball season and how she and her best friend are probably in competition for shortstop.
“So I got—”
Strike two. Big Sis has much more important drama to discuss. Sports drama, of course. How we are related, I do not know.
I time my entry again, and this time I simply bellow, “I got cast in the play.”
At last, they all turn to me.
“What?” Mom says.
“Hamlet. I’m playing Laertes. I get to swordfight with Hamlet at the end. And get summarily killed, but hey, look at me, I’m getting involved.”
“You’re what now?” Dad says, mouth full of cooked carrots like orange guts.
“I got cast in the show.”
“What show?”
Jesus. Patiently, I say, “Hamlet.”
“Where at?”
“Broadway, Dad.”
“Nobody likes a smart-ass.”
“Oh, but I do.”
“Nobody needs one. I sure as hell don’t.” He jams beef into his mouth.
“Well,” I say, and spear two carrots with my fork, “try to contain your excitement.”
“I think it’s wonderful,” Mom says, giving Dad an At-least-he’s-not-in-prison look.
Dad sighs and removes his glasses, abandoning his food altogether. “When is it?”
“It opens October twenty-fourth.”
Big Sis says, “Isn’t that a Friday?”
“Yeah. So?”
“There’s a game Friday.”
She says this as if it is the most natural thing in the world. Like she just can’t make herself comprehend that the school probably has more than one event.
“Right,” I say. “Sorry. Forgot.”
I do not mention the performances on Saturday.
“But now that I’m showing school spirit and, I hasten to add again, getting involved, can I please get a new phone?”
“What happened to your old one, again?” Mom says. “You haven’t found it? Have you looked hard enough?”
“Well, that’s an interesting story and one that I don’t care to go into. But suffice it to say it got stolen.”
“Well then we’ll just wait till you can be more responsible,” Dad says.
My head falls back. I check the yellow ceiling for God. Nope. Still not up there.
“Do you know when you lost it?” Big Sis asks, smiling like this is her best attempt at being nice.
“First day of school.”
She just lets that sit there and keeps on stuffing her big old sporto face. Since no one else has anything to add, she mumbles something like “Hope you find it.” And that’s it.
Magnifico.
I finish dinner thinking primarily about Cadence; that she came to the audition, that she might come see the show. She didn’t have to come watch me, but she did. That’s got to mean something. That’s got to mean she’s interested in me. And Big Bad Zach or whoever didn’t make everyone in the whole auditorium laugh. I did. Well, that is, everyone except President Jason, kingshit of the drama department himself, who looked like he wanted to kick my ass for daring to be cast in the show.
Oh, golly, no. Being hunted down by drama geeks. I’m in such peril.
FINAL SCORE
SPARTANS
29
Mustangs
50
Daytime Dilemma (Dangers of Love)
CADENCE
I should probably be more bummed about having to go to school on a Saturday, like a normal person. But the truth, and I am totally okay with it, is that I’m just not the smartest kid in school. I mean, I can read and I can pay attention for most of a class, but I guess things just don’t quite stick all the time.
Sat School is short for Saturday School. I’m sure the term is meant to make it sound cool, but I doubt many people are buying it.
“I’m here for earth science,” I tell Mrs. Cornelius, the librarian, when I get to the library.
Mrs. Cornelius points to a table, where I’m kind of surprised to see two girls I actually recognize. One of them auditioned with Danny on Tuesday. The other is Vivi, the girl with the maybe-boyfriend, Sam.
Vivi’s sitting on one end of the table and the tall girl’s on the other side. I sit across from Vivi and say hi. She looks up from an English textbook and smiles.
“How is Sam?”
Vivi’s smile turns girlie-shy, making me laugh. “Good. How’s … I’m sorry, is it Danny?”
The tall girl whips her head around. Uh-oh.
“Danny, yeah, he’s good,” I say quickly. I don’t want the tall girl to get upset. “Listen—”
But I’m too late. She cuts me off. “You mean Danny Jennings, from the drama department?”
I slide around in my chair to face her. “Yeah. He’s a friend of mine. Your audition was really good.”
She grunts. “It’s okay. You don’t have to kiss up. He walked off with the audition, I know it.”
“Well, he was pretty funny.”
“Uh-huh, noticed that.” She turns back to her science book.
“But he couldn’t have been without you there,” I add. “It’s not like he was by himself up there. He needed you to work with him.”
She studies me for a minute before shrugging, with a little laugh. “If that was a lie, it was a pretty good one. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome! I’m Cadence.”
“Kelly.”
“Hi, Kelly! This is Vivi, do you guys know each other?”
They don’t. Now that I’ve got two older and more experienced women to talk to, I shift in my chair to kind of see them both. “Can I ask you guys a question?”
“Only if it’s about chemistry,” Kelly says. “I’m not good at English.”
“Actually, it’s about boys.”
Kelly laughs out loud, making Mrs. Cornelius snap her fingers. Kelly lifts her shoulders in an Oops! response, and creeps to a chair closer to us. “I doubt I can help. There’s not a line of gentlemen callers at my door. But I’d love to hear the question.”
Vivi nods, too, and just like that, we’re all in cahoots. I don’t know what a cahoot is, but I think this is one.
“There’s a guy I like, but I haven’t really told him yet. He’s older. And tall. Holy crap, he is so freaking tall, you don’t even know.”
Vivi tilts her head. “Brown eyes? Sort of dark blond hair? But doesn’t play sports or anything?”
“Right! His name’s Zach.”
“Zach Pearson. I have a couple classes with him. He seems like a nice guy.”
“You know him? Totally tell me everything!”
Vivi laughs. Only this time, she doesn’t try to stop it. I think she should laugh like that more often. “Nothing to tell. I know English isn’t his best subject, but I think he’s an artist or something. Maybe into engineering or architecture. I’m just guessing, here.”
“Guesses are good!”
“Have you talked to him?” Kelly says. “That’s us
ually a good start.”
“Oh, sure! We talk. When we see each other, which isn’t often. He’s a junior, so we’re not usually on the same sides of the buildings.”
“You could just tell him you like him,” Vivi says, but quietly. “It’s scary, I know. But maybe being direct is best.” After saying it, she kind of looks to the side like she just thought of something.
“Boys like direct,” Kelly adds.
“Hmm. Direct. So just ask him out on a date? Because I kind of did that once and he said we should just hang out on campus first or something.”
“He might be right. Maybe start with lunch,” Kelly says. “Hang out in the cafeteria, or someplace like that. Get a sense of how he feels.”
“See if you can make him laugh,” Vivi says, snapping back into the conversation. “That’s huge. And if you think he’s funny, you need to laugh, too.”
“I can do that!” Since we’re on the topic of boys and laughing, I can’t help but think about Danny. Danny, who for some reason wanted to go out with me.
“Okay. Now, what if another boy likes you and you don’t like him?”
“Well, that takes me out of the conversation,” Kelly says, but like a joke.
“Is the boy Danny Jennings?” Vivi says. “Sam heard he shot up his old school.”
“No, he didn’t. He brought a BB gun to kill pigeons at his friend’s dad’s work. The dad was going to pay them to do it. The BB gun fell out his backpack and he got in trouble. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Vivi says. “That makes a lot more sense.”
“But he’s crushing on you?” Kelly says.
“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s just a friend. But he’s also sad. Like, I’ve never seen him smile, not once. Sometimes it looks like he wants to, but he, like, fights it.”
“Well, his sister’s a giant pain, so that might be part of it,” Kelly says. “Her and all her little clique-y prom queens.”
“Like THE Brianna Montaro,” Vivi says, doodling something in a blank notebook.
“Yes!” Kelly says, pointing a finger at Vivi.
And Vivi replies right back, “Right? What is up with her?”
“Wait a sec,” I say. “People always say her name like that, THE Brianna Montaro, I don’t get it.”
Vivi snaps her mouth shut and keeps doodling. Kelly says, “She’s got some kind of complex about being the smartest person in school. Like if she’s not valedictorian, it will signal the apocalypse or …” Kelly trails off, glancing at Vivi. “Hold on, did you say Sam a second ago?”
Vivi’s entire body seems to tense as she says, “Yeah.”
“Sam, as in, the Sam who used to go out with Brianna?”
Vivi scowls. “Yeah, why?”
Kelly leans back. “Oh. Okay. Well, A, you got a good one. Congratulations. But B, for the rest of us, now we have to deal with Brianna. They went out for five or six months last year, and, man, it was like night and day with her. I don’t know what kind of business he was giving her, but it was sure keeping her calm.”
Vivi’s scowl gets worse, so Kelly hurries to finish. “But then it ended and she went full-on dark side. I don’t think that it had to do with Sam, though. She’s the one who broke it off.”
Vivi is silent for a sec, then says, “Good.” Real short and sharp. It makes me and Kelly both laugh, and then Vivi grins. “It would be a real shame if someone else was first in our class,” Vivi says.
“It would indeed,” Kelly agrees.
One of the Sat School teachers comes over and politely asks who is tutoring and who is studying. I tell him I suck at everything, so Vivi and Kelly say they’re helping me with English and earth science, which they actually do. But then after Sat School shuts down, Kelly drives us to Jamaican Blue and shows us photos on her phone, talking about some friends who’ve all graduated.
I’ll be honest, I’m only half listening. Part of me’s thinking about how to talk to Zach more, while the other part’s trying to figure out how to not hurt Danny’s feelings and still be friends.
VIVI
Sam always walks with me to seventh hour. On Monday, we split up halfway there and head to separate restrooms.
I check my face. Hair. My new shirt, the first since we moved.
I look good. Screw Brianna Montaro.
I’m just closing my stall when the bathroom door opens. Voices and general chaos waft in behind whoever enters. Sounds like more than one person.
“So, what’s it like?” I hear Brianna Montaro say as a faucet starts up.
I freeze. She must be talking to her friends.
Keep still.
Don’t move. Last time I was in here alone with her, I got pinned to a wall and had slut written across my head.
“Vivian?” she says. “I asked you a question.”
Oh, God. God, no.
“What’s it like?” The water shuts off. “Being white trash, I mean?”
Stay quiet.
Say nothing.
Besides … they’re only half right. Ha ha. Joke’s on you. My dad’s Mexican, so I’m only white trash on my mom’s side. Ha ha …
“Do you have, like, special trash-only barbecues?” she goes on, and the two clones laugh. It must be the same two from the other bathroom a couple of weeks ago. Stay quiet, Vivian. Stay quiet.
Except, instead, I say, “I’m not.”
No!
Stupid, stupid, why? Shut up!
“You’re not what?”
“I’m not white trash.”
In my head, I sound like a Norse Viking at the top of a granite mountain, wielding a battle-ax and bellowing my rage.
In this smelly bathroom, it’s more of a mouse fart.
“Um, yeah, you are,” one of the Brianna clones says. “Oh my God, you guys! Did you know that when people like her move into neighborhoods around here, the value of our houses goes down?”
Brianna sucks in a dramatic breath. “Is that true?”
“Oh, yeah, my dad talks about it all the time,” the clone says. “Vivian, I’m not making fun of you, by the way. I’m not bullying you. I’m just telling you how it is. People like you move in, and the rest of us suffer for it. It’s a fact. Look it up.”
The bell rings, and I listen to them walk out of the bathroom together. My new shirt is now a rag. Might as well clean toilets with it. Right, Mom?
When I finally come out of the restroom, Sam is leaning against the wall across from me. He smiles. “So, hey, I was thinking—”
I race past him to the parking lot — gone in sixty seconds. I can’t face him. Not now. Because what if they’re right about me — and because he used to go out with her, what if he thinks the same thing about me, and—
I run.
DANNY
I’m dead.
I’m lying on the floor, looking up, and all I see is darkness.
That’s all that’s waiting up there. Just the dark.
But then the stage lights brighten, and Mrs. Tanner shouts, “Yes, much better! Go ahead, Danny, take it from your last line.”
Still on the stage floor, I hold my paperback script up above my head, scan it, and set it back down.
“It is here, Hamlet,” I say, making sure my voice is loud enough. Jason, playing Hamlet, crosses over to me and kneels by my right side. He lifts my head in both hands, cradling my upper body. “Hamlet, thou art slain. No medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee there is not half an hour of life. The … shit!”
I grab my script again. Jason mutters, “Don’t worry, you got it. How’d you memorize it so fast?”
“Inherent genius.” I read the lines to myself two more times and go on: “The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, unbated and envenom’d; the foul practise hath turned itself on me.”
Damn, this shit is kind of fun! So fucking melodramatic, it’s great.
“The king, the king’s to blame!” I shout at the end of my speech, and then flop over, totally dead.
Jason carefully sets me down a
nd goes on with the show. I have to try hard not to smile as I hear him kill Gertrude.
It’s after six when I get home, and I don’t even feel like taking a pill or anything while I fake swordfight with Hamlet in my room. I stay in there, slashing and cutting with an imaginary rapier until I hear Dad get home a little while later.
And I do mean hear him.
“It’s child pornography!” Dad screams in the kitchen.
Oh, shit. Here we go. I shake my head and go out to explain.
“So, hey—
“Have you lost your mind?” Dad shouts.
For one moment, I am one hundred percent sure he’s going to deck me. He doesn’t. But, man, does he want to.
“I take it you heard about my phone.”
“You’re god damn right I did! Jesus, Danny! What is the matter with you? What am I doing wrong?”
Whoa. He’s really going off the rails. I choose not to answer his question directly, though the temptation is overwhelming.
Mom tries to help. “Danny,” she says to me, “it’s against the law.”
“Yes, I know. Fortunately, I didn’t take the picture, so. Yay.”
“You are out of that damn show,” Dad says, his face red. “You are going to school and coming straight home and doing your god damn homework— and that is it until I say otherwise.”
“Well,” I say slowly, carefully, “that would be fair, except, again, I didn’t do it.”
Mom shakes her head, clearly Disappointed In Me. “It was on your phone, Danny.”
“Which someone stole.”
“We’re done,” Dad barks. “You’re either at home or you’re at school. That’s it. Jesus, we’ll probably have to find a god damn lawyer.”
“So is now a bad time to ask for a new phone? Because the police still have mine.”
“Danny,” Mom says. Still Very Disappointed.
I lift my index fingers for emphasis. “You are kidding, right?” I say, quite honestly. “You’re joking with me.”
