Small Steps

by Louis Sachar

  A woman put her hand on Ginny’s wrist. “I’m just going to take your pulse.”

  Ginny jerked her hand away.

  The mayor also was there, despite repeated suggestions by the head of security that she return to her seat and enjoy the show. Out in the arena the crowd was calling for Kaira and stomping their feet. Armpit could feel the vibrations on the floor.

  “You say he came at you?” the officer in charge asked one of the officers who handcuffed Armpit.

  “I was reaching for the ticket!” Armpit tried to explain, then felt Ginny tremble at his sudden outburst.

  “He made a threatening movement, but I was able to quickly gain control of the situation.”

  “There’s no question he was resisting arrest,” said the other officer.

  “His friend was having a seizure!” the mayor pointed out. “He only wanted to help her!”

  “Please, Mayor. It would be better for everyone if you returned to your seat.”

  “I’m not going to let you justify your actions by blaming the victim,” the mayor said firmly. “Let me ask you something,” she said, directing her attention to the officer. “Would the gesture have been so threatening if he was white?”

  Armpit had to hand it to Cherry Lane. She was one tough lady.

  “Instead of persecuting the victim,” the mayor went on, “you should be back out there, getting the names and phone numbers of everyone seated in that area. Somebody else may have bought tickets from the same scalper.”

  Two more people entered the room: a gum-chewing African American teenage girl wearing a lavender sweat suit, followed by a thirty-year-old well-dressed white guy.

  “Who the hell are you?” demanded the head of security.

  Ginny knew who she was. Her sobs instantly ceased.

  “I heard there was a problem with some tickets,” the girl said. She sat on the cot next to Armpit and asked Ginny her name.

  “Ginny.”

  “Hi, Ginny.”

  “Hi, Kaira,” said Ginny.

  When Armpit realized who she was, he couldn’t believe she was sitting right next to him, her leg almost touching his.

  “Are you feeling better?” Kaira asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” Kaira asked Armpit.

  “She’s fine!” Armpit said, sounding a little too enthusiastic. He couldn’t believe he was talking to her. “It’s happened before. She just needs a little time and space.”

  “I hear that,” Kaira said to Ginny. “It’s a madhouse out there. All these people crowded around, and then they tell you your tickets are no good.”

  “My body w-went to red alert,” said Ginny.

  That made Kaira smile. “You seem okay now,” she said. “Would you like to come backstage and watch the concert from there?”

  “Yes.”

  16

  Armpit wasn’t certain if Kaira’s invitation included him as well, but he wasn’t about to be left behind. Kaira led them out of the security area and down a dark hallway.

  “Sorry I walk so slow,” said Ginny.

  “There’s no hurry,” said Kaira, as out in the arena the audience was stomping and clapping.

  “So are you like her nurse or something?” she asked Armpit.

  “We’re just friends, that’s all,” he told her.

  “He’s my best friend,” said Ginny.

  “I’m so sorry!” Kaira said. Because Ginny was a white girl, and Armpit was older and an African American, she had just assumed he worked for her family. Talk about racism!

  Armpit had no idea what she was sorry for.

  “This is Fred, my bodyguard,” Kaira said. “He’s here to protect me from Ginny. You think you can handle her, Fred? She looks awfully dangerous.”

  Armpit smiled at the joke, but he and everyone else knew Ginny wasn’t the one Fred was closely watching.

  “Just doin’ my job, Miss DeLeon,” said Fred.

  They reached a flight of stairs and Kaira asked Ginny if she could make it up by herself.

  “I need to hold on to someone.”

  “Hold on to me,” said Kaira, extending her hand.

  Armpit was amazed by Ginny’s calmness. She didn’t seem one bit nervous around Kaira DeLeon. He, on the other hand, could hardly think straight.

  Kaira led them up a flight of stairs, then through a door and into the backstage area. Several people hurried toward them.

  “These are my friends,” Kaira said. “Ginny, and . . .”

  “Theodore,” said Armpit, helping her out.

  “We need to set them up somewhere they can see the show.” She turned back to Armpit and Ginny. “David will take care of you.”

  David wore a vest but no shirt. He had red hair, a red beard, and a red hairy chest. Tools of various sorts were attached to his belt and in the many pockets of his vest.

  “Come with me,” David said as a Hispanic woman led Kaira away. “We’ll set you up behind the soundboard.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” said a very pretty woman in a short skirt and tight T-shirt. “Hold on, honey. Let me get you cleaned up first. David, get them some T-shirts.”

  The woman introduced herself as Rosemary and brought them to a makeup area, where the three backup singers were smoking.

  While she was helping Ginny wash up, David returned with a box of souvenir T-shirts. “What color you want?”

  “Red,” said Ginny.

  “One for him, too,” said Rosemary, indicating Armpit.

  “I’m fine,” said Armpit.

  “You’re a mess. Now take off your shirt.”

  David grabbed a couple of folding chairs and led Armpit and Ginny out onto the stage. He walked close enough to the keyboard that he could have played a note.

  The audience, which had been yelling and stomping impatiently, suddenly stopped and applauded, glad that at last something was happening.

  Ginny squeezed Armpit’s hand.

  David set up the chairs behind a large piece of electronic equipment. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll be invisible here.”

  They were near one of the speaker towers, but back behind it, so they wouldn’t be blasted by the sound.

  The soundboard operator introduced himself as Terry. He wore headphones. The soundboard consisted of a panel of switches, dials, and lights. “This is so the band members can hear themselves and each other,” he explained.

  “Cool,” said Armpit.

  David returned a moment later with two souvenir cups filled with lemon-lime soda. He hurried off just as everything went pitch dark, and then the music shook the stage, nearly knocking Armpit out of his chair.

  Strobe lights flashed on the various band members, and then a green spotlight settled on Kaira DeLeon.

  “You’ve heard she’s naughty,

  You’ve heard she’s wild.

  You’ve heard she’s just

  A sweet innocent child!

  “Well, now’s the chance

  for you to find out!

  ’Cause I’m the she

  You been hearin’ about!”

  It was hard to imagine that this was the same gum-chewing girl he had just met a few minutes earlier. She was dazzlingly beautiful.

  “You wake up screaming

  In the middle of the night

  Was it a nightmare?

  Or was it too much delight?”

  The floor beneath him bounced with each beat of the drum, and he could feel the bass vibrating right down to his bones. He hoped it wasn’t too loud for Ginny, but she just stared at Kaira DeLeon, mesmerized.

  “Better open your eyes,

  If you want to find out,

  ’Cause I’m the she,

  You been dreamin’ about!”

  The spotlight on Kaira kept changing colors and her fringed outfit seemed to shimmer and change with each new color.

  “You been warned of her power,

  You been warned of her charm.

  They say when she lov
es you,

  She causes bodily harm!

  “Well, come a little closer,

  If you want to find out,

  ’Cause I’m the she

  They warned you about!”

  If the people in the audience could have come any closer they would not have hesitated. The place was going crazy. Ginny shouted something into Armpit’s ear, but he couldn’t hear her. It didn’t matter. He could feel her excitement.

  When the song ended they both stood up and wildly applauded. Kaira looked over at them and smiled.

  As the concert went on, the songs changed from fast to slow, from funky to sincere, but Kaira maintained a magical hold over the crowd. Even she could feel it. Normally she shut out the audience as she disappeared into the songs, but it was different tonight. It was almost like the audience was part of the band. She fed off their energy.

  “I listen to the radio,” she said. “So much of what I hear is filled with anger and hatred. It’s like guys think they have to be tough and cruel in order to be a man. To me, a man is someone who is brave enough to love, and to let himself be loved.”

  Cotton, on drums, pounded out a driving, steady beat, and Kaira ripped into the next song.

  “Angry Young Man, with your!

  Angry Young Heart, and your!

  Angry Young Eyes, and your!”

  The drum punctuated each line and drove it home.

  “Angry young mouth, [BANG!] spewing

  Twisted cruel words. [BANG!] ’bout the . . .

  People you know, [BANG!] and the!

  Money you make, [BANG!] and the!

  Women you hurt, [BANG!] with your!

  Hateful love.”

  Armpit had heard the song before, but never with such fire behind it. Now, watching her, hearing her, seeing the passion in her eyes, it almost made him cry. The song could have been about him a couple of years ago, before he went to Camp Green Lake. Although it wasn’t really Camp Green Lake that released him from his anger. It was coming home and meeting Ginny.

  “You’ll be a

  Sorry old man, with a!

  Sorry old heart, and two!

  Sorry old eyes, with your!

  Sorry old rage, in your

  Sorry old cage. . . .”

  She followed that with “Imperfection,” and he was reminded of Tatiana. He had forgotten all about her. He was glad he’d ended up going with Ginny instead, and it wasn’t just because he got to be up onstage. Just seeing the look on Ginny’s face as she stared at Kaira made him very happy.

  Kaira started in on “Damsel in Distress,” and Armpit grabbed Ginny’s arm and told her to listen to the words, but it was hard to pick them out. The music was too loud, the audience was screaming, and the backup singers were singing some kind of counterpoint harmony that kept getting in the way.

  “. . . these jewels, these shoes, this dress

  A perfect picture of success.

  No one would ever guess, Armpit,

  A damsel in distress.”

  “Did you hear that?” he asked her.

  She didn’t know what he was talking about.

  Of course she didn’t. He knew that. He knew he had to be hearing something wrong.

  Finally, at the very end of the song everything slowed down. The music got real soft, and the backup singers were silent, and even the audience was hushed. Kaira, under a single spotlight, seemed especially alone and vulnerable as she half sang, half whispered the very last words.

  “Save me, Armpit.

  A damsel in distress.”

  At least, that was what he heard.

  “So?” Armpit asked Ginny as they both stood and applauded.

  “I like that song,” said Ginny.

  Kaira followed that with the fast-paced “Frying Pan,” during which the words seemed to just shoot out of her mouth like bullets.

  “An overworked, underloved, housewife named Myra

  Has dinner in the skillet, and a load in the dryer.

  When a magazine salesman comes to inquire

  If she would like to be a magazine buyer,

  One look in his eyes, and she’s filled with desire.

  She buys a subscription to Time, and one to Esquire.

  ‘Is there anything else, ma’am, that you require?’

  She says, ‘Take me out of the frying pan . . .

  And into the fire!’ ”

  Armpit was amazed Kaira could get all the words out. There were three more verses, and each seemed to be faster than the one before it.

  “Whew!” Kaira exclaimed when the song ended, and the audience laughed and applauded.

  “Golly,” Kaira said. “So many of these songs seem to be about sex!”

  This was greeted by hoots and more applause.

  “You’d never guess I’m a virgin.”

  The crowd went wild over that, and the guitar player made a noise that sounded like he popped a string.

  Every part of the concert was carefully planned and scripted, but Kaira had never said that before. The words just came out of her mouth. For once, she was having fun. She turned and waved to Ginny and her friend. Ginny waved back, but her friend looked stunned, like a deer in headlights.

  The band launched into the next song.

  “I’m gonna take you for a ride,

  And we’re gonna have some fun!

  I’m gonna take . . .”

  Armpit and Ginny turned and looked at each other. This had become their song. They rose to their feet and remained standing throughout the song.

  “Whoo!” Armpit shouted.

  Ginny laughed at him.

  He held her hand as she twirled in a circle.

  “I ain’t never been accused of goin’ too slow,

  So hang on, baby, and don’t let go!

  “Oh, I got no rearview mirror,

  And none on either side.

  Got no rearview mirror,

  And none on either side.

  Ain’t no lookin’ back, babe,

  When I take you for a ride!”

  When the song was over, Kaira announced that she’d like to introduce a couple of friends of hers. To Armpit’s horror, she turned to him and Ginny. He had a hard enough time just standing in the front of the room in speech class.

  “Come on out,” she said, wiggling her finger at them.

  Ginny stood up, but Armpit remained glued to his chair.

  “You better go,” said Terry, the soundboard operator, “or it will just get worse.”

  Armpit held Ginny’s hand as they walked across the stage, but it was hard to say who was helping whom this time.

  “These are my friends, Ginny, and . . .”

  Armpit thought she’d forgotten his name again, but she remembered at the last second.

  “. . . Theodore. They almost didn’t get to see the show tonight. Some low-life ticket scalper sold them counterfeit tickets.”

  Everyone booed.

  “Well, I guess you ended up with pretty good seats after all, didn’t you?”

  She held the microphone in front of Ginny.

  “Yes,” Ginny said, then flinched, startled either by the sound of her amplified voice or by the cheers of the audience.

  “So how do you like the show so far?” Kaira asked her.

  “It’s awesome!” said Ginny, and everyone cheered in agreement.

  “How about you?” Kaira asked, holding the microphone in front of Armpit.

  He didn’t know what to say. “Awesome,” he echoed.

  No one cheered this time.

  “I think it’s awesome too,” said Kaira. “In fact, I think it’s the best damn show I’ve ever done!”

  Cotton rat-a-tatted on the drums in agreement.

  “So, Ginny, what’s your favorite song?”

  Ginny didn’t hesitate. “‘Red Alert!’ ”

  “You heard the lady!”

  The lead guitar whined like a siren as the house rocked with Kaira’s biggest hit.

  “I hear a w-w-warning
sound

  Every time you c-c-come around . . .”

  She was dancing around Armpit and Ginny as she sang, and kept looking at Armpit as if he was the one she was singing about.

  “Should you ch-chance to glance at me,

  Threatens my security.”

  He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

  Ginny was shouting “Red Alert!” right along with the backup singers, although he could only read her lips.

  “Heart’s a-th-thumpin’!

  Red Alert!

  N-n-nerves a-j-j-jumpin’!

  Red Alert!

  All I hear is a s-s-siren sound.”

  At last Armpit managed to ease his way back to the safety of the soundboard, taking Ginny with him.

  “All systems are sh-shutting . . .

  D-d-d-down!”

  Kaira shouted, “Thank you very much! I love you!” and she and the band left the stage.

  The crowd shouted for more, Ginny and Armpit right along with them. The lights remained dark.

  After about five minutes they came back out and did “Just Hold On a Little Longer.” On the last line, “. . . And then I’ll be on my way,” Kaira blew a kiss to the crowd and once again left the stage.

  People continued to shout for more, but this time the house lights came on.

  “Good show, Kaira,” said Duncan.

  Kaira was amazed. He had never said that to her before. None of the band members had. But something special had happened tonight; they could all feel it.

  “What do you say we go back out and do one more?” said Tim B.

  “Sounds good to me,” said Cotton.

  Usually once the band was done, they were done. It was a job to them, nothing more. They did the one planned encore, and that was it.

  “We’ve played all the songs we know,” Duncan pointed out.

  “Then let’s play one we don’t know,” said Billy Goat.