“This should be hard for him!” Mr. Lee shouts. “If he wanted it easy he should have thought about that before—”
“Daddy!” Amber yells, and shoves him.
Nicky mutters, “Here we go again” as Abby grabs my hand to leave. The three of us quietly say good night, but Amber and her dad are yelling over each other, so they don’t hear it. They don’t seem to care that they’re embarrassing themselves. This is their family and their life, and I guess they’re fighting for it.
As we walk down the street, I start wondering if Scary Terry is still on the loose and possibly hunting me, or if he’s back in juvie. I’m also trying to figure out how to get rid of Nicky so Abby and I can make out for a while, but all the sudden, Nicky starts sobbing. “Abby, how can you even think of moving to New York and leaving me to deal with all of this by myself?!”
I hadn’t even considered that Abby’s leaving would affect other people besides me, but it obviously does. Nicky continues, “You’re going to be partying at the Boom-Boom Room while I’m on diaper duty in that miserable house!”
Then Abby starts crying as she replies, “I’m so sorry, Nicky. I feel bad, but honestly, this is one of the things I’m dying to leave behind. It’s just too depressing.”
Well, I guess I won’t be making out with anyone tonight, so I steer our course for QuikTrip while they yammer on about their feelings and blah, blah, blah.
My boys are already hanging out front when we walk up. It almost makes me cry because somehow they’ve brought my bike, but then Nutt yells, “Hey Floppio! The fastest hairdo alive!” and I remember what a bag of dicks I hang out with.
They tell me that Nick Brock started beating the crap out of Scary Terry once my sister got involved, and then the Merrian P.D. swooped in just as Terry was leaving. Which means I’m still being hunted.
A cop car pulls into the parking lot and chirps its siren at us. When we don’t immediately take off running, a deep voice comes over the loudspeaker and says, “This a no-loitering zone.…Move along.”
Whatever “loitering” means, my boys and I are accused of doing it all the time.
My dad calls the Merrian P.D. “lazy” all the time, and I’m starting to see what he means. Some drill teamers are parked at the gas pumps, so Abby and Nicky just climb in with them, and my boys and I ride toward EJ’s house. EJ thinks his dad has some old boxing gloves, so we’re going to start a fight club. We’ll practice beating one another up so we’ll be ready the next time a psycho comes after us. Terry won’t be the only trained fighter around here!
We take a shortcut behind the school and discover a huge party going off in the faculty parking lot (no teachers are present). A group of seniors has decided the best place to get drunk is on school property, and a hundred other kids have joined them. It sucks because my boys would rather do this than teach me how to fight, and I’m going to have to wait for at least an hour for the cops to show up. Rusty is also here, and he’s staring at me kind of aggressively, but Abby and the drill teamers eventually show up. I somehow manage a few moments of alone time with Abby, so I try to make the most of it. “We should really kiss good night now. Because the cops are going to be here any minute, and this is highly illegal, and we probably won’t get the chance to make out with everyone running and screaming and stuff…although that would be pretty badass.”
She smiles, and I take it as a green light.
3. A PIECE OF MY FART
I just sat on the flowers! I was yapping with my drama friends, and I didn’t want them to make a big deal that I’d bought Abby flowers, so I casually set them on my chair. But then I forgot about them and plopped my ass down on the custom mix of lilies and baby’s breath!
Lynn told me I had to get them for Abby because Abby and I have been a little bit off since Bag’s party. I didn’t even notice until Thursday, but then we ran into each other at a field party on Saturday, and I asked her a few questions and everything seemed cool. One of my questions was, “Will you go to homecoming with me?” And she said yes and we made out again…but then back to silence this whole week at school. I don’t know if it’s her possibly leaving me that’s making me weird, or if she’s being weird about it. It could be that I ran away from a fight and she’s lost respect for me.…Whatever it is, we’ve found it easier to not talk about it and pretend everything is fine. Lynn thinks I can get the ship back on course by giving her these (now mangled) flowers and just asking her what is up.
I got the flowers because it’s opening night of the fall play and Abby is one of the lead actresses in the show…and when my sister tells you to do something, it’s just easier to do it than deal with the repercussions of not doing it. I rode my bike all the way to Hy-Vee after football practice (because apparently you can’t buy flowers at QuikTrip) and paid twelve bucks for them. Of course I had to make my own arrangement because all the premade ones were like twenty bucks and were better suited for a funeral than a school play.
The old lady at Hy-Vee was kind of flirty with me, like, “You have exquisite taste!” and “Are these for your girlfriend?”
I almost launched into a monologue about how Abby and I are still in this weird place because of some dumb stuff I did last year, and how she’s leaving me, and how I was hoping these flowers would assist in getting her naked…but the lady started to get creepy on me, like, “I wish I’d had a nice boyfriend like you when I was young.” It was like the opening scene to every sketchy cougar porno (that Nutt has made me watch).
I hustled back to school to make the seven o’clock curtain. I only thought I was wrecking the arrangement on the bike ride. If I’d known I was going to ram my butt cheeks into the flowers, I would’ve just jammed them in my backpack. I wasn’t even that late. I was riding fast because I was nervous…Obviously I still am. For the first time, I’m not even worried about my own problems. I’m actually worried for other people.
The fall mainstage is called A Piece of My Heart. The energy in the auditorium is nuts. The red curtains are drawn tight and everything looks normal out here, but I know that there’s a tornado of activity going on backstage. Every once in a while you’ll see a techie dart out of the orchestra pit and sprint toward the light booth or the drama classroom.
(Techies are drama geeks who didn’t get cast in the show, so they help with lights and props and stuff. They wear all black, like ninjas, but most of them wouldn’t do very well in a fight.) Drama geeks running are always funny because they don’t do it unless it’s an emergency. They usually have some high-maintenance hairdo (kinda like mine…ha-ha, not funny) that they have to hang on to while their legs attempt to move their awkward bodies through space. I don’t mean to sound like a dick; I really dig the drama kids. They’re all cool (in their own way), smart, and funny. They’re also LOUD, so you never have to ask them to repeat themselves. But they don’t play sports for a reason.
I’m not even in the play, and I had diarrhea this afternoon like an adventurous eater exploring a Third World country. I know almost every word of the show because I helped the actors run lines. If any of the actors fall into the orchestra pit (it’s happened…to me), I am ready to jump onto the stage. It would be a little weird because this show is about six girls…but I could do it! There’s only one role for a guy in A Piece of My Heart, and my boy Jeremy got it. He actually plays fifteen different parts in the show, but it’s written for just one actor. If I tried to handle that many characters and costume changes, my ADD would have a meltdown. But Jeremy is an awesome actor. His only issue has been that there is just one of him, and six girls vying for his attention. This would be a dream come true for most guys, but Jeremy is gay and has been “constantly annoyed with these bitches!” So I rolled up my sleeves and pitched in. I ran lines with them on the weekends and after football practice. I also helped build and paint this set.
Even though I’m wearing a Merrian High football T-shirt and my body is bruised and swollen from playing football, I’m totally a drama geek at heart. Do I
regret signing up to play football again? You bet your bruised ass I do! There are a few weird moments when there is no place I’d rather be than on a football field. I see the way other kids gawk at us when we’re in the pads or when we come into the weight room. I know people call us “dumb jocks,” but I also know jealousy when I see it. Nobody should be envious of football, because most of it suuucks, but I have to admit that some of the little stuff, like running out onto the field before games and blasting away your angst, is pretty rad.
The houselights finally dim and the auditorium quiets as the six girls step onto the stage and into their spotlights. They don’t talk right away, to build the drama. Ms. McDougle is awesome with the drama. They just wrote an article about her in American Theater magazine (online).
Abby is playing an idealistic USO performer. She’s rockin’ this yellow dress that’s super short and showing off her legs, like way up. Her makeup is on thick and her hair is all pulled back and up. Abby calls it a beehive, and says that a can of hairspray is required to make it work. She’s wearing these knee-high white go-go boots, and a guitar strap is splitting her boobs down the center, making them even more pronounced. It doesn’t hurt that she’s wearing an old-school push-up bra like they wore in the ’60s. She says it’s uncomfortable, but from my perspective, it’s worth it.
She has this little bit of extra muscle meat just above her knees from being a serious dancer. It’s usually one of my favorite parts of her anatomy, but it’s making me feel bad at the moment because I can see that meat trembling. I feel my mother’s nurturing instincts bubbling inside of me, and I fight the urge to scream, “Relax, sweetie! Just let it flow! You’re gonna be great!”
After the opening monologues, Abby smoothly rotates the guitar around from behind her back and starts to strum it. She learned how to play the guitar just for this show! She only goes back and forth between two chords, but I couldn’t friggin’ do it. She’s been practicing so much—there is no way she’s going to screw this up, but I’m so nervous for her! Then she opens her glossy lips, and the stage microphones pick up the most gorgeous noise my ears have ever heard.
She quietly sings, “‘Come on. Come on…’” and then she gets a bit louder when she asks, “‘Didn’t I make you feeeel like yooouuu were the only maaan?’”
I want to say, “Yes you did!”
By the time she gets to the main part and tells us to, “‘Take another little piece of my heart now, baaabay!’” I’m totally crying. I’m such a bitch, but I can’t help it. It’s just leaky eyeballs. I’m not blowing snot bubbles or convulsing or anything. Thank God none of my friends agreed to come with me tonight and that crying is so acceptable in the drama department.
Maybe I’m crying because she sounds so amazing and I’m proud of her, but it’s probably more like a kid who’s favorite toy has been taken away. She’s leaving, and I’m never going to have sex with her. She’s still saying she “might” go. She’s waiting to find out about that scholarship, but come on! These people are going to bend over backward to get her. I know I have.
The song ends and everyone claps. This show is great and moving and all of that. We learn that war sucks for everyone, but people can come away from it stronger and more connected than if they’d never gone through hell together. I think that was the point of the play; I spaced off a few times, so I’m not positive. The acting was solid, but I couldn’t help but judge the performances in terms of what I would have done differently (even the girl parts).
After the show, I help pick up programs like the drama geek I am. When Jeremy comes out into the auditorium, a few people clap for him again. He takes another bow and says, “Oh, stop. No, don’t!”
He works his way though the crowd and says hello to a guy I’ve never seen before. I may not recognize him because he’s wearing a bandana on his head, like he’s an extra on an ’80s TV show. Jeremy seems into him, though. I may not be gay, but I know flirting when I see it. Eventually, Jeremy comes over to me, and he’s blushing like crazy.
“Breathe,” I instruct.
He sees Abby’s flowers and shouts, “Carter, you shouldn’t have!”
“That’s why I didn’t.”
“Let me hold them for a few minutes and then I’ll give them back,” he whispers.
“Okay,” I say, and hand them over. “You did an awesome job, by the way.”
He throws his arms around me and smashes the damn things even more. I don’t hug any of my other guy friends, but it’s cool in the drama department. In football you’re basically hugging all the time, but you just finish the embrace by slamming the dude to the ground and saying something like, “Not in my house!”
I ask Jeremy, “So, what’s up with Brett Michaels?”
“Who?”
“The bandana boy who’s gawking at us.”
“He does look like a rock star, doesn’t he?” Jeremy giggles.
I was trying to make fun of the guy, but Jeremy is obviously in that phase of the relationship where he’s so into the person that he can’t even hear the sarcasm. He whispers, “He goes to Rockford Boys Academy. I met him at a show choir tournament!”
“I don’t understand private schools. Are the classes that much better? They don’t have girls at Rockford. I mean, I guess I would get more studying done, but would I even get out of bed in the morning?”
Jeremy laughs as if I’ve said something way funnier than I actually did. “You are too funny!”
“Ohhh…you’re not even listening to me. You’re just using me to make him jealous…trying to seem aloof.”
He yells, “Totally!” Then mutters, “Just keep talking, please.”
I do, because he’s my boy. I’ve never tried to make another guy jealous before, but a good wingman is a good wingman, so I say, “Jeremy, your performance was dead-on. I’m really proud of you, man.”
That may have been the wrong kind of “talking,” because it makes him start crying. “I ap-appreciate that more than—”
I give him a playful shove and say, “Pull yourself together, dude.” But then I keep saying, “I thought each character was totally unique and each guy had his own life and problems and—”
He shoots me a mean look and asks, “What are you tryin’ to do? My nose is starting to run!”
“Sorry.”
Abby finally comes out of the dressing room and gives us a wave and a smile, but she doesn’t come right over. And I don’t run over to her because I’m a friggin’ sophomore and I am now able to control my dork instincts. I try to seem engrossed in Jeremy’s story about a costume change that almost went bad, but he’s kind of rambling because he’s keeping tabs on Bandana Boy, who seems to be leaving. I take a few deep breaths to try to focus. I’ve got to play it cool. I’m allowed to tell Abby how good her performance was, but there’s no need to gush!
She’s talking to someone’s parents for a really long time, and she seems really stoked to talk to them…and that’s fine. Jeremy hands me back my flowers and chases after Bandana Boy, so I’m in need of my own wingman all of a sudden. I see Ms. McDougle looking at Abby, so I walk over and ask, “What’s up?”
McDougle replies, “Those are recruiters from the New York Drama School.”
“Ohhh. Is that what it’s called?”
She nods. “They’re either breaking her heart or taking her away from us.”
“The scholarship? When would she leave?”
“Next semester, I think.” She sighs. “Shouldn’t you know this? Aren’t you her boyfriend?”
“We are not into labels. We’re keeping it loose. It’s a bit confusing, actually.”
She smiles.
I ask, “Could I get into that school?”
“I think you’re talented enough, but you have to have really good grades as well.”
“Oh. Never mind.”
Some people come up and congratulate Ms. McDougle on another awesome show, and she starts giving some techies “notes” while I stand around like a boob. Finall
y Abby comes over to us and I hand her the mangled flowers. She thanks me, but my thunder was totally stolen by those recruiters.
“What did they say?” McDougle asks.
“I got it!” she squeals, and jumps up and down.
Her boobs are like pistons…that I’m trying not to look at. I say, “That is great!” But it doesn’t sound like I mean it.
She’s beyond excited. “They want my mom and me to fly out there in a few weeks for a visit.”
She’s stopped jumping and I can’t think of anything to say. McDougle is clearly bummed to lose one of her best actors, but she tries to act happy. “That’ll be fun! It’s a huge opportunity.”
Opportunity to remove my friggin’ heart! If I was truly Abby’s friend I’d be stoked for her, but I’m obviously not much of a comrade. I am in love with her and I’ll be destroyed if she goes.
The disappointment must be written on my face, because she gives me a tight hug and says, “I’ll visit the school and…maybe I won’t like it.”
Now I’m disappointed in myself. She’s not getting to enjoy this awesome moment because of my issues. I don’t want to be this guy, so I say, “Shut up. It’s a drama school; you’ll love it. You’re awesome and you deserve this.”
She gives me another hug. “Thanks. I was so nervous that I barely listened to them.”
Welcome to my world!
She notices Jeremy and Bandana Boy, and asks, “Is that the Rockford Academy guy?”
I nod that it is, and I try to gossip with her and McDougle for a few seconds, but my stomach is cramping like I need to poop, and my heart has been ripped out and I kind of need to cry, so I say, “Hey, I uh, gotta go…study, so…”
No idea why I said that. It’s an excuse most people can break out, but Abby knows that I don’t study unless somebody’s got a gun to my head.
She asks, “Are you okay?”
Carter's Unfocused, One-Track Mind Page 4