The Big Gesture
The next few days leading up to opening night flew by. Run-throughs and dress rehearsals were going well, and so was my friendship with TJ. I liked him as much as he liked me, but I was only twelve—too young to have a boyfriend according to my mom. And Dada insisted I couldn’t date until I was thirty years old. I know he was joking about the age, but I wasn’t in a hurry. Right now, TJ and I were great friends. We had our lunches together in the auditorium, we talked and laughed a lot, and everyday he had a new factoid to share with me. “Did you know earthworms have five hearts?”
I began to look up obscure facts to share with him. One day when I had found a good one, I said, “Did you know a lobster’s teeth are in its stomach?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? You want to go head-to-head on a factoid challenge with me?”
I said, “Yeah, buddy, you’re on.”
The obscure factoid competition had begun. Pretty soon the rest of the cast caught on, and we were all popping off odd facts at each other in rehearsals and even when we crossed paths in the school halls.…
“Did you know a male ostrich can roar like a lion?”
“Hot dogs can last more than twenty years in landfills!”
“Gorillas burp when they’re happy.”
“Cat urine glows under blacklights!”
Yes, our factoids grew grosser and grosser, but it was a fun game that bonded the entire cast and crew—especially TJ and me. One afternoon at lunch, I noticed that TJ and I were sitting together while the rest of the Dramanerds were hanging out having their lunch on the other side of the stage. It made me feel strange, like they didn’t want to be around us. On the walk home from school, I asked Izzy about it.
“Don’t worry about it, Mango, everyone is just giving you two space.”
“What? Why? Do they know we like each other?”
“Of course they do!”
“How?”
Izzy smiled and sighed. “The way you two always eat lunch, giggle, and whisper your private jokes together. Everybody thinks it’s real cute—well … almost everybody.”
I looked at her. “Are you talking about who I think you’re talking about?”
“I’m not saying any names, but her initials are Hailey Joanne Pinkey.”
I couldn’t laugh at Izzy’s joke. “I feel horrible about deceiving her the way I did.”
“I’m not the one you should be confessing to.”
“I’ve tried to talk to her, but she won’t answer my phone calls or even stop to speak to me in the halls.”
“Then you have to find a big gesture.”
“Come again?”
“A big gesture. Tía Maria Magdelena always said before she died in the car crash on the way to pay her bookie, ‘Las acciones grande y más que las palabras,’ and she was right.”
“Right about what? Translation, por favor?”
“It means ‘big actions speak louder than words.’ You’ve got to do something to show Hailey Joanne that you’re sorry.”
I thought about it for a moment and said, “Should I write her a letter?”
“Remember when you wrote a letter to Brooklyn? Remember how well that worked?”
Yes, I’d never forget how rejected and humiliated that made me feel. “So, what should I do?”
“Something big. Something public that lets Hailey Joanne and everyone know that you’re sorry and you really care. And it has to be public; that way you’re vulnerable and if she rejects you, you’ll be humiliated. Like the people who propose marriage on the jumbotron at football games with the whole stadium watching. They risk getting rejected. See, you gotta put yourself on the line like that to make it count.”
We arrived at Izzy’s house, and she turned up the walkway. I called after her, “Hey, aren’t you going to help me figure out a big gesture?”
“Uh-uh. You’ve got to come up with that yourself. It’s the price you pay to show you’re really sorry. See ya!”
She went into her house, and I continued on home, trying to think of a gesture big enough to patch things up with Hailey Joanne and maybe—just maybe—help us be friends for real this time.
For the next few days, I tried to run into Hailey Joanne on purpose. The first time I saw her, Izzy and I were on our way to the auditorium, I called out, “Hailey Joanne! Hi!” She just nodded and kept on walking. Izzy shook her head. “Not big enough.”
The day before the show, I got what I thought was a great idea. I rushed over to Hailey Joanne and held out an envelope to her. “This is for you. Two tickets to Yo, Romeo!’s opening night.”
She stepped back as if I were handing her a bag of dog poop. “I already have tickets.” As she walked off, I could hear Izzy in my ear. “Not big enough.”
Finally, it was opening night. Excitement was so high backstage. Everyone was running around, getting into costumes and makeup, making sure their props were where they needed to be. I felt like a jet plane just waiting for the signal from the tower that would let me streak down the runway and take off. This was my first show. I had fallen into it by accident because of a trick that was supposed to humiliate me, but now my time was here. It was time to see if I really had what it takes to be onstage.
As I stood in the wings waiting for the orchestra to begin the overture and the show to start, my stomach was doing flip-flops like never before. I began panting, unable to catch my breath. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. Just then, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to TJ, who should have been on the other side of the stage for his entrance. He smiled at me and said, “Did you know it’s been proven that human boogers taste just like scrambled eggs.”
I said “Ew!” and we both burst out laughing. He gave me a peck on the cheek, said, “Break a leg, rookie,” and took off. Suddenly, all my nervousness and panic were gone. I was ready. This was going to be fun, because I was doing it with my friends.
The show went by at lightning speed. It was as though we were on a carousel going crazy fast. The more the audience reacted, the faster the carousel spun around and around. They applauded the songs, laughed at the funny parts, and got really quiet when Izzy, as my agent, announced that Romeo and Juliet’s plane had disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle. And then the audience’s spirits lifted again when we sang the rocking closing number as ghosts whose talent would live on through the ages. When the curtains closed, the cheers and applause from the audience were tremendous.
The curtains reopened, and it was time to take our bows. TJ and I waited backstage as the chorus walked onstage to applause, followed by the supporting cast. When Izzy stepped out, the applause and cheers ramped up. She deserved the boost, because she was fantastic. When it was time for TJ and me to step out onstage, he took my hand and we ran out to center stage together. The screaming and clapping was so loud, I thought the roof would lift off the auditorium.
As we had rehearsed, TJ stepped forward and bowed. Then it was my turn. This made me even more nervous than I was at the start of the show. As I stepped forward, I let myself look into the audience for the first time and immediately spotted Mom and Dada. They were both on their feet; Dada was cheering and had his arms around Mom, who was clapping and crying. Seriously, her face was shining with tears. I was stunned for an instant. Then I realized she was crying happy tears. I could tell, because she was smiling at the same time.
As I stood up from my bow, TJ stepped toward me with a huge bouquet of red roses that Bob and Mr. Ramsey had handed him from backstage. I accepted the roses, and the entire cast burst into applause for me. I was overwhelmed. I looked at all of them, smiling at me. It was as though I was the center of the universe, and I felt so grateful.
I turned and looked back out at the audience. That’s when I saw her. Hailey Joanne was in her seat, applauding. She had actually come to the show, and she’d liked it. I didn’t really think about what I did next—it just happened, because it was from the heart.
I walked down the stairs at the side of the stage and in
to the audience. The applause petered out. Everyone was watching, wondering where I was going and what I was going to do, but I didn’t worry about it. I just followed my heart—right to Hailey Joanne’s seat. I held out the bouquet of roses to her.
She could have pushed the roses away, or taken them and thrown them on the floor, but she did neither of those things. Hailey Joanne smiled at me and accepted the roses. I held out my arms, and we embraced. I whispered in her ear, “I am so sorry, Hailey Joanne. Can you ever forgive me?”
My eyes filled with tears when she whispered, “Yes. I forgive you.”
As I made my way back to the stage, the audience resumed applauding. I took my place amongst the cast. We did a group bow, and the curtain closed. TJ gave me a big hug, and we headed off to our dressing rooms.
I was in front of the mirror wiping my makeup off when Izzy came up behind me and spoke to my reflection. “Now that’s what I call a big gesture, girl!” She patted me on the back and walked off to take selfies with other cast members.
I looked at my reflection and smiled. If I had to go through all of what I went through to get to this moment again, I believed I would. I truly would, because everything that happened that led me to this place—all the tears, worry, laughs, and drama—everything was worth it.
CHAPTER 22
What Had Happened Was …
It turns out I didn’t have to wait until I was fourteen years old to get a phone after all—Dada and Mom bought me one as an opening-night gift. The first person I texted was Hailey Joanne. We’ve been talking ever since. We’re not besties. Not yet. But we’re friends. And I’ve realized that maybe I don’t need just one bestie anymore. TJ, Hailey Joanne, Izzy, the Chloes, and the rest of the cast—we all keep in touch and hang out and do things together, like seeing movies or just meeting up for lunch or hanging out in Izzy’s basement listening to music.
Having a group of friends feels right for me now.
One Saturday long after the musical ended, Hailey Joanne had Mr. Versey pick me up and drive us out to the country club the Pinkeys belong to. It has an amazing running path around the golf course and through a wooded area that makes me feel like I’m in a fairy tale. Izzy was invited, too, but she had no interest in spending the day running, and Hailey Joanne and I understood.
After a five-mile jog where Hailey Joanne and I kept the pace up by pushing and daring each other, we were completely winded. We plopped down on a cushion of pine needles by a pond where we could see turtles’ heads popping up out of the water.
Hailey Joanne panted, “You know, you’re really getting good. I have to work hard to keep up with you.”
I laughed. “I’m the one who has to work to keep up with you!”
Hailey Joanne reached for her feet, beginning to stretch. “I’m serious. Next year, we’re going to be the queens of GOT. No one will be able to keep up with us.”
That was funny; I hadn’t thought about going back to GOT next year. I kept up my running because I enjoyed it, but mostly because Mr. Ramsey told me it was a great way to increase my lung capacity and breath control for singing.
I started stretching and turned to Hailey Joanne. “You know, I don’t think I’m going back to GOT.”
“Why not? You won’t be suspended anymore.”
“I know—and don’t get me wrong, I love running—but now I think I love singing and performing even more.”
Hailey Joanne put a hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon. “Oh, well, now that you are a star, dahhling!”
I laughed. “I’m not. But there is a drama club that meets after school to work on scenes and acting technique. I want to join that club. I want to study and really get good at it. And maybe when the spring musical comes around, I can audition without getting tricked into it and earn a part in the next show.”
“You’ll get a part, and you’ll be great. But you have to promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“That you’ll keep running with me from time to time. You’re a better motivator than Apps For Laps.”
We giggled. I said, “I promise. Whenever you want a hard run, I’ll be there.”
“Crisp!” She leapt up. “How about now?” Hailey Joanne ran off. “Last one back to the clubhouse is a wet cheeseburger!”
I jumped up and powered after her. Pretty soon, with a little Beyoncé singing in my head, I was caught up and matching my friend stride for stride.
Acknowledgments
Every project I’ve created began as a misty image that led to a journey through the unknown. Along the way, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, I’ve come in contact with folks who have helped and inspired me. Thanks to:
Larry Ramsey, from I.S. 320, whose middle school productions I watched from the audience, wishing I had the guts to be a part of them. Robert A. Levy, Jerry Majzlin, and Janet Lipschultz from John Dewy High School, who introduced me to the joys of theatrical productions. The friends I made doing “what we did for love” and the lessons I’ve learned have stayed with me all my life. We must never stop funding the arts! Mango Delight’s first readers, Maria Perez-Brown and Robin Reid, for their encouragement and assurance that I was hitting the right notes. My writing group members, Jamie Scott, John Meyer, and James Reynolds, who bolstered my confidence with their critique and friendship.
A special thanks to Liz Nealon, who gave me my very first writing job. She has selflessly opened doors for me and has, by example, taught me to be generous, gracious, and humble along the way.
My agent, Kevin O’Connor, and the Charlotte Sheedy Literary Agency for taking a chance on Mango. Kevin’s guidance, direction, honesty, and insight helped me strengthen the narrative and fill in “blanks” I was not aware of in nascent drafts.
There are scores of people who work tirelessly to make a book and its author look their best. I’d like to thank Irene Vandervoort, Kayla Overbey, Brian Phair, Hanna Otero, Ardi Aslpach, and Sari Lampert of Sterling Publishing. A special thanks to Frank Morrison, an artist I have admired for years, for the wonderful cover illustration.
At the head of this amazing Sterling Publishing team is my editor, Brett Duquette. His patience, insight, and enthusiasm have been invaluable to me. He is the man behind the curtain, the Wizard of this journey to Oz.
From the deepest recesses of my heart, I have to thank my daughter, Jamaya Blue Rhoden-Hyman, for inspiring me to stop complaining about the lack of books with images that look like her on their covers and write one. I wrote Mango Delight for her and her rainbow coalition of friends who are hungry to read stories that reflect the new world order of their diverse generation.
To my husband, Ricaldo Ricardo Rhoden, the tornado of love that blew into my life and turned everything all around and upside down and dropped me over the rainbow to a life of love, family, and authenticity. Together, we’ve crawled out onto the skinny limbs of a rapidly evolving society, where we hold on and thrive against all odds. You and me, babe!
Last, but not least, BIG HUNKS OF LOVE to all of you readers out there. Thank you for taking a chance on Mango and me.
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