The Cannibals

by Grant, Cynthia D.

  “Maybe so,” she said. “But what if it doesn’t? I don’t want to see you hurt, Tiffy.”

  “Don’t worry.” I gave her a big hug. “I’ll be fine.”

  It’s funny and kind of sad how, as time goes by, you kind of turn into the parent and your mother’s like the child. It’s funny how things switch around.

  “Promise me you’ll put your schoolwork first,” she begged. “You’ve done so well until this year! What’s happened to you, Tiff? You’ve changed so much. You don’t even have the credits to graduate.”

  “Will you please stop worrying about that?” I said. “There’s plenty of time before the school year ends.”

  Then my mother started crying—we’re talking mood swings here—and going on about the mind being a terrible thing to waste; and how easy it is, in this day and age, to get sidetracked and seduced by false values, et cetera.

  “Tiffy,” she finally said, tears in her eyes, “do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

  I gazed into that dear, familiar face, her love for me etched in lines of worry, her careworn cheeks as pale as milk, and said, “Mom, have you ever thought of using blusher?”

  She hit the ceiling. But it got me thinking. At the audition tomorrow, when I start screaming, I should make sure the veins in my neck stick out.

  Chapter Ten

  I got the part! I didn’t even have to try out!

  The auditions were held in the gym after school, and the place was an absolute zoo. Half the town was there: students, parents, the school board, the city council, et cetera, hoping to get a part in the movie.

  Unfortunately, Principal Brown had forgotten to reschedule the basketball game, so the Cubberly Cougars and their fans arrived and were milling around and shouting. Our team, including Campbell, who’s the captain, looked embarrassed. He and the other team’s captain got into an argument.

  Then Principal Brown ran in and apologized for the mix-up, and the Cougars stomped out and got back on their bus, but their coach blew up and claimed we’d forfeited the game! Which was totally unfair.

  Finally the audition got under way, and the one thing that was a tiny bit disappointing was that most of the parts were already taken—by professional actors who aren’t even teenagers! Mr. Goldman introduced them, and they stood up and waved, and they had to be at least in their twenties!

  Mr. Goldman explained that due to labor laws, et cetera, they have to use union members or the movie couldn’t get made. But he said that all we students will be in the movie: in “long shots” in the hallways, and in the prom scene and the dream sequence, when the pool looks like it’s full of blood and hundreds of floating bodies.

  He added that they won’t be using real blood; they’ll color the water, and when the filming is done, they’ll drain and resurface the pool—for free!

  Then Ms. Stuart stepped up to the microphone and said she had a very exciting announcement: The star of the movie will be Little Tina!

  Everybody went crazy and looked around, trying to see her, but Ms. Stuart explained that Little Tina was taping her talk show in New York and would be flying in next week!

  People were cheering and clapping and going nuts, but I took a moment to bow my head and give thanks to the Man Upstairs. Think about it: first Campbell, then the movie, now Little Tina!

  I pray that someday I can make God as happy as He’s made me.

  Ms. Stuart said that, in the past few weeks, they’d been observing all the students and had decided to use several of us to fill small speaking roles—and The Girls and I will play the cheerleaders who get turned into cannibal vampires!

  The Girls and I jumped up, we were screaming and hugging one another. Then somebody said that wasn’t fair; why should the stupid cheerleaders get the real parts when everybody else will just be seen opening their lockers or floating facedown in the pool?

  Some people even agreed! I couldn’t believe it!

  One thing I want to say right now: I am sick and tired of this negative attitude toward cheerleaders. Some people, like my mother, think we’re just a joke. I’ll never forget the look on her face when I told her, in ninth grade, that I’d made the Pep Squad. She looked like she’d swallowed something nasty that was coming back up! Is it my fault that the cheerleaders in her high school were a bunch of mean snobs who pushed her out of the locker room into the hallway in her underwear?

  Believe me, being a cheerleader isn’t easy. In the old days, all you had to do was be peppy and pretty and have firm thighs. Those uniforms are short! But now you must be a superb athlete as well. The Girls and I rehearse for hours. Our routines combine tumbling, juggling, acrobatics, and dance. We could get into the circus with some of these stunts, yet we still have to put up with kids making fun of us and parents who complain that our routines are too sexy!

  People don’t realize that if it weren’t for us, the fans would just sit in the stands like lumps and our teams would not be cheered on to victory.

  But ever since cheerleading was recognized as an official sport, people are taking it a lot more seriously. So I just want to take this opportunity to say a special thank-you to the Olympic Committee.

  Luckily, Ms. Stuart stuck up for us, noting that cheerleaders are experienced performers, and describing all of the legwork I’d done to make Scream Bloody Murder a reality. Then she asked me to stand up and take a bow.

  I can’t describe the incredible feeling that swept over me … not just because people were applauding and screaming; but because I knew, deep inside, where it counts, that I had made this dream come true.

  Hardly anyone booed.

  Then Ms. Stuart and Mr. Goldman answered questions from the audience. They explained that extras who have speaking parts will be paid the standard wage, and that most of the “shooting” on campus will take only a few days, although they’ll probably come back for “retakes,” et cetera. Mimi Durning asked if any frogs or animals would be killed in the film, but Ms. Stuart said no, just teenagers.

  Then Bradley Knight got up on behalf of the Black Students’ Union and said that it was outrageous that they were making this racist film on a public school campus; just wait until the ACLU and NAACP found out, but nobody knew what he was talking about. It turned out he was referring to the cannibals angle, but Ms. Stuart quickly explained that the cannibal vampires aren’t pygmies; they’re white. Then Bradley said that wasn’t fair either; there should be black vampires, too. Ms. Stuart revealed that one of the main vampires will be played by Keanu Mogatu, the center for the New York Knicks, and everybody, including Bradley, applauded loudly.

  Speaking of pygmies, I’m worried about Wally. Apparently a staff member misinterpreted his Cannibals sweatshirt and got mad and chased Wally into the jungle. I have got to call his dad tonight and see if they ever found him.

  Then Ms. Stuart and Mr. Goldman had everybody line up at long tables to fill out cards with their height, weight, Social Security numbers, et cetera. The people staffing the tables were part of the movie’s “technical crew,” all wearing black T-shirts with Scream Bloody Murder in dripping red letters. Mr. Goldman announced that everybody in the movie would receive one of these valuable collector’s items—for free!

  The Girls and I asked Ms. Stuart if she wanted to hear us scream, but she said no, she’d heard us at a pep rally. She said that the writers are still “polishing” the script and that she’ll get back to us as soon as it’s ready. In the meantime, she added, don’t gain any weight. She explained that people tend to photograph heavier than they really are and she looked right at Shelby while she said it. Too bad Shelby can’t get a slight case of the pukes. Just kidding. Bulimia is nothing to joke about, and I’m getting a little concerned about Ashley, even though she insists she’s not trying to throw up, she’s just got a sensitive stomach.

  I wanted to ask Ms. Stuart about my part, and if I’m the head of the Cannibal Vampire Cheerleaders like I am in real life. But she was yukking it up with the school board members, so I
went outside and spotted Mr. Goldman talking to Campbell, who was still in his uniform and dribbling a basketball the whole time Mr. Goldman was talking.

  I hurried over to see what was happening, but just as I got there, Mr. Goldman handed Campbell his card and said, “Think about it.” Then he went back inside the gym.

  “What was that all about?” I queried.

  “He wants me to be in the movie,” Campbell said, shooting a basket, then passing to his teammate, Tim. “He wants me to play the captain of the basketball team.”

  “That’s fabulous!” I hugged him. “You heard what they said; only a few of us will get speaking parts.”

  “No, I didn’t hear them. I was outside,” Campbell said, shooting another basket.

  “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  I couldn’t believe it! How could Campbell act so impossibly childish just because his stupid game got canceled?

  Well, not stupid. You know what I mean.

  I said, “For heaven’s sake, Campbell. It’s only one game!”

  “As usual, Tiff, you’re missing the point,” he said. “You can’t see the forest for the artificial trees.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Will you please stop dribbling?”

  “Tiff, get a grip,” he said. “Who are these people? How do you even know they’re for real? They come in here with this cheesy movie—”

  “It’s not cheesy!” I said. “And they are for real! The chamber of commerce checked them out!”

  He said, “The chamber of commerce would start a stampede downtown if they thought it would attract publicity.”

  “Campbell,” I said, “I’m very disappointed in you. How can you be so selfish?”

  He actually laughed at me! Then he said, “T-Rex, it’s just a movie.”

  Just a movie? How could he even use those two words in the same sentence?

  “‘Just a movie’?” I said. “What about Titanic, or Gone With the Wind? I suppose those are ‘just movies,’ too.”

  “Scream Bloody Murder is no classic,” he said. “It’s just another dead teenager flick, with plenty of naked bodies.”

  I was shocked. How could Campbell be so crude?

  I said, “It may not seem like a big deal to you, Mr. I’m-too-good-to-be-a-model, Mr. Seen-and-done-it-all-in-LA. But try looking at things from my point of view. My dream is coming true! And this is only the beginning! I’m not going to play vampires forever!”

  “Why not?” He passed to Tim. “They never die.”

  “I’m going to do important movies!” I said. “About things that really matter! Like life! And death! And dysfunctional families! You can’t start at the top, you know; you have to start at the bottom and work your way up!”

  “Oh, Tiffy,” Campbell sighed. “You just don’t get it.”

  To my horror, I suddenly burst into tears. They flooded down my cheeks. It was awful.

  “I know what people think of me!” I cried. “They think I’m stuck-up and conceited and phony and don’t care about anyone! But that’s not true! I know that millions of people in the world are starving! I could cry my eyes out, but what good would that do?”

  I was crying my eyes out. Campbell and Tim just stood there, staring.

  “I want to help people!” I wept. “And make this world a better place! With liberty and justice for all! But you can’t do anything if you’re just a normal person, living out a tiny little unimportant life! You’ve got to be big to accomplish something!”

  I thought Campbell, of all people, would understand. I collapsed in sobs. He put his arms around me.

  “Tiffy, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “This is great,” I blubbered. “Now I’m acting like a baby, where everyone can see me!” I pressed my face against his chest to hide my embarrassment. Also, my nose was running.

  “It’s all right, Tiff.” Campbell held me close. “You’ve been under a terrible strain. Worrying about Wally and this movie stuff. I’m sorry, Tiff. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just that sometimes it seems like—I don’t know—like you’re under a spell and can’t wake up.”

  “Then why don’t you kiss me?” I cried.

  Tenderly, so tenderly, Campbell kissed my forehead, and then each tear-streaked cheek. I’m not that into sex, but this is ridiculous. Why doesn’t he ever kiss me on the lips? Could it be that Campbell respects me too much? Or could it possibly—a terrible thought crossed my mind—could it possibly be my breath? Even though I brush and floss and use mouthwash?

  Just to make sure, I coughed into my hand, but all I could smell was Crest.

  Campbell offered to take me home, but I told him I had to be alone for a while. I needed time by myself, to reflect and think, and to absorb the many changes that were taking place in both my personal and professional life.

  Things were happening so fast. Too fast.

  Chapter Eleven

  I was just reading Little Tina’s second autobiography, covering the past three years, age seventeen to twenty. It’s hard to believe somebody that young—good grief! When will my brother stop drumming?

  It’s hard to believe somebody that young could have so many accomplishments in her life, starting with those famous toilet paper commercials when she was three, then soap operas, country music, movies, books, sportswear—not to mention her own TV talk show. A nice one, too, with no punching or screaming. Even the president of our country has been on it!

  She’s also got stuff in there like recipes for her favorite snacks, Weiner Boats with Cheese and Chocolate Haystacks; her thoughts about important issues facing teens today, like sex and drugs and implants; and lots of health and beauty tips. For example: If you’ve been sobbing, take two used tea bags—

  Now my mother’s screaming at my brother. How on earth does she expect me to concentrate and do my homework with all this noise? This family is driving me insane!

  Family is also very important to Little Tina, as is God, who’s her best friend, so we have a lot in common. In fact, I was just arguing with Campbell about God. I’d called him up to say isn’t it great that Little Tina is going to be in our movie, and to try to talk him into taking the part of the basketball captain. Most people would kill to have a real part, and here’s Campbell acting like, Who cares, so what?

  I said, “Can’t you see God wants you to do it?”

  “God wants me to be in a slasher film?” he said.

  “It’s not a slasher film!” I retorted. “It’s a comedy!”

  “What could be funnier than dead bodies?” he said.

  Sometimes I think Campbell just likes to argue. He was really ticking me off, but I concealed it.

  “Campbell, this movie is the opportunity of a lifetime!” I said. “Who do you think made it happen?”

  “You?”

  “Well, sort of,” I admitted. “But I couldn’t have done it without the Man Upstairs.”

  “Your grandpa’s on the roof again?”

  “That’s not funny!” I said. “I won’t even talk to you if you’re going to act like that!”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry I’m being so crabby, Tiff. I’m having some trouble with this math.”

  One thing I admire about Campbell: Not only is he handsome and a fabulous athlete, but he’s also a very serious student. It’s amazing, when you think of it, how much we have in common.

  “What I was trying to say,” I continued, “is that you should feel blessed by this opportunity He’s giving you.”

  “Mr. Goldman?”

  “God!” I said, but suddenly I was filled with dread. “You do believe in God, don’t you, Campbell?”

  “Not really. It seems so unlikely,” he said.

  My heart sank. How could I even think of marrying a man who doesn’t share my faith? What about our children? They have to go to Sunday school! I loved Sunday school when I was little. We sang and drew pictures and drank pink punch. Nowadays I ca
n’t always make it to church, but I know that wherever I am, God is with me.

  “How could there not be a God?” I said. “Otherwise, where did everything come from? The world and all the birds and stuff?”

  “That’s a long story, Tiff,” he said. “And I’ve really got to get this homework done.”

  “Let me ask you one question,” I said. “When you have a basketball game, don’t you pray to God to help you win?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t?” I said. “Why not?”

  “I’m sure God has more important things to do,” he said. “Like wiping out child abuse and famine, for example.”

  “That’s just the point!” I said. “He can do it all! He’s everywhere, like Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.”

  There was a slight pause. I could hear Campbell breathing.

  He said, “You don’t believe in Santa, do you, Tiff?”

  “That’s it,” I said. “End of conversation. But I really feel sorry for you, Campbell, I really do. You must be so empty inside.”

  I hung up the phone and said a quick prayer for Campbell. Then I remembered I should pray for Wally, too. It turns out that he never went back to his school! He’s been spotted running around in the jungle, with paint on his face and his hair all crazy, wearing a loincloth and his Cannibals sweatshirt!

  According to his dad, Wally’s joined some native tribe and may even have taken a native wife! What on earth can Wally be thinking? He’s way too immature to get married. And you’d think he’d at least have the decency to tell me! We haven’t even officially broken up!

  I blame myself—and Shelby—for this. We should never have told him about Campbell.

  When Wally’s dad told me the news, I said that I would be willing to go on worldwide television and plead with Wally to listen to reason and act normal and return to his school.

  I’d tell Wally that I know what it’s like to feel hopeless, and like you don’t have the strength to carry on, but that every cloud has a silver lining, and it’s always darkest before the storm.

  Wally’s dad said that was a very nice offer, but there was one tiny problem: There’s no television reception in the jungle.