Summer in the City

by Fracaswell Hyman

  I wasn’t going to bite my tongue or pretend everything was okay to avoid conflict. I had to stop doing that. I’d made that mistake too many times before. “You smiled and wiggled your fingers at me as the train pulled out of the station. It was no accident. I may be young, but I’m not a fool.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry. I was just so . . . See? I can’t stand it when people lie to me!”

  “I was following instructions. Frances Francisco told me to tell you that, to tell everyone that!”

  “I know that now. I’m really, really sorry, Mango. Can you forgive me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She put her wet soapy hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please don’t make them fire me. You know how much this show means to me. I’m almost thirty-five, remember? This is my last chance.”

  I couldn’t believe I was actually starting to feel sorry for her. I knew Mom wanted her to be fired, but I didn’t think that was fair. It would be fair only if she were a terrible actress and singer and didn’t do the work, but she was good, funny, and a great belter, too. I wouldn’t say she was better than Izzy in the role, but she more than held her own. I didn’t think it would be fair to fire her just because she was a jerk to me.

  “I’ll go back to being your chaperone,” she continued, still pleading with her soapy hands. “I’ll ask Bob. I’ll do it for free—”

  “No!” I said it so loud, it kind of echoed in the bathroom. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll ask Bob not to fire you if you promise not to ask to chaperone me again.”

  “Oh wow! Thank you, Mango!” She was either a very good actress or truly sincere, because tears were falling from her eyes. “I thought I was done for. Bob was so mad on the phone last night, I thought . . .” She reached up to wipe her tears, forgetting she had soap on her hands and—“Ow! I got soap in my eyes! Ow!”

  I left her there splashing water into her eyes thinking to myself, serves you right!

  When Bob and Larry arrived, they called me out into the hall to speak with them.

  Bob said, “Mango, I’m so sorry about your ordeal last night. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Zippy losing you like that is inexcusable. I thought she’d be more responsible.”

  Larry said, “I think we have to let her go.”

  “No, please don’t. She’s really good in the show and I like coming in early with Acorn, so . . .”

  Bob and Larry looked at each other, then agreed to keep Zippy. I could tell Bob was relieved that all of this didn’t lead to even bigger problems with his family. Before we went back in, I said, “Um . . . I’m really sorry for being so late coming back from lunch yesterday.”

  Bob smiled. “That’s okay. We know there were circumstances beyond your control. Besides, you’re doing a good job.”

  “Good?” Larry said, “You’re doing great, Mango. You’re dancing and singing better than ever. Keep it up.”

  I felt really good as we went back into the studio.

  When TJ arrived, he came directly over to me. He put his backpack down next to my bag, ran his fingers through his Mohawk, and said, “Did you know a group of parrots are called a company?”

  Hmm. Obscure facts. He must be feeling anxious. I said, “I didn’t know that. Why are you telling me?”

  He cleared his throat. “Because, well, all of us in Yo, Romeo! are a company, too. And just like parrots, there’s a whole lot of chatter. Last night, it was mainly about you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Well, I do. I mean, they were saying things like you were acting like a superstar coming back late from lunch and stuff. Plus the fact that I was a little cold to you yesterday when I was leaving.”

  “A little cold? More like Frosty the Showman.”

  He chuckled. “That was so lame.”

  “I know. Anyway, it was my fault. I’m sorry. I should have said something to you before I left with Gabriel Faust, or at least asked if you could come with us.”

  “He wouldn’t have let me.”

  “Maybe not, but . . .”

  “It’s okay, we’re cool. And I’m gonna straighten out the rest of the cast about all the things that were being said on the texts.”

  “Don’t.”

  “But it’s not fair and I’m gonna tell ’em.”

  “No. Don’t. I don’t need you to stand up for me, TJ. I’m trying to learn to handle my own drama, whether it’s in school or here. Show business is hard, so I’ve got to toughen up. At least, that’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

  TJ nodded and smiled, his kiwi green eyes sparkling. “Okay. That’s dope. Do you, Queen.”

  I laughed at the slang he was obviously picking up from his new friends. As he headed away, I called out to him. “Did you know that on average, in their lifetime, an average human will eat seventy assorted insects and ten spiders while sleeping?”

  He cringed. “Yuck! The insects I can deal with, but spiders! Is that true?”

  I batted my lashes. “Of course! Queens don’t lie.”

  The day’s rehearsal went as smooth as whipped butter. I had no interaction with Zippy unless we were in a scene together. When it came to Gabriel Faust, I acted like nothing had happened and so did he. He didn’t apologize for ghosting me, and I didn’t need him to. I was as nice to him as I would be to anyone and concentrated on my work. Also, I decided I would call him Gabriel, not Faustie. I didn’t consider myself a part of his “squad,” and I didn’t want to be—not anymore.

  I had lunch with TJ and the other teen cast members he’d hung out with yesterday when I stood him up. They were all around the same age as we were and played our friends in the show. LaRon was a freckle-faced clown with long locs and hair shaved clean on both sides, Claxton was one of the lead dancers, Chelsea was an amazing singer, and Chanté I found out was my understudy. They had all moved to New York from all over the county to go to a professional acting middle school in the heart of Broadway. All four of them were serious about making it in show business and knew each other from school and auditions.

  I was shy and they were a little standoffish at first, but TJ helped us all relax and before long, we were laughing and throwing shade at each other like we were old friends. It was nice getting to spend more time with kids close to my age. They even invited me to join their group text—Yo, Shady-O! We made plans to have sleepovers and spend our days off together. I guess Acorn was right—my comfort zone was getting bigger and it finally felt like I was starting to belong.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  That’s What Besties Are For

  When Acorn and I arrived at Aunt Zendaya’s that evening, she was sitting on the stoop, dressed in saffron-colored robes. Her skin glistened in the orange sundown light. She had a thermos of iced ginger tea sweetened with agave and offered each of us a cup. We gladly accepted and sat down to join her.

  “Sitting on the stoop takes me back to a time when my life was so simple and free,” Aunt Zendaya said, taking a sip of her delicious tea. “That’s why I chose to live in this old prewar building. Newer buildings don’t have stoops like these. They don’t have places for people to mingle and become more than just neighbors. The stoop is a place where we can chat and grow and become a community.”

  “Did you and Mom have a stoop growing up?” I asked.

  Aunt Zendaya nodded, telling us about how they would sit on their building’s stoop in the summer evenings when the sun and temperature were going down. They’d greet their neighbors, gossip, and joke with their friends. When the streetlights came on, that was the signal to go inside for dinner.

  I asked Aunt Zendaya questions about growing up with Mom, and she griped about the perils of having a bossy older sister, but in a funny way. Still, I hoped Jasper wouldn’t feel that way about growing up with me.

  Acorn told us about his family, that his grandparents had emigrated from Vietnam when his father was very young. Acorn’s father adjusted to life in the U.S. quickly, rebel
ling against his parents and their cultural traditions. I guess it’d take a rebel to name your kids Maple Leaf, Branch, and Acorn. “I wish I were more connected to my Vietnamese heritage,” Acorn confessed. “My dad doesn’t really understand, but I’ve been talking more to my grandparents recently. I know that I’m Vietnamese, but it hasn’t been easy to figure out how that fits with other parts of my identity, to figure out who I am.”

  Aunt Zendaya threw her hands up in the air. “Tell me about it! When I changed my name, my sister called me foolish and still refuses to remember to call me by my chosen name.”

  I piped up, “Mom says that’s because you changed your name so many times.”

  “Of course I did. I was trying to find myself. It took a while for me to grow into Zendaya. And who knows, I might grow into someone with a different name down the road. I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “I might change my name someday, if I find one that suits me better,” Acorn mused.

  Aunt Zendaya said, “I think Acorn is a lovely name.”

  Acorn smiled. “You do?”

  “Yes, it’s unique. Like you.”

  Sitting next to them as they continued to talk, I felt like I was in a movie—with the camera moving past me to zoom in on the two of them. But I didn’t mind not being the star of this show. When the streetlights started to come on, I decided to go in and let the two of them have time to get to know each other. I smiled to myself as I climbed the stairs. Wouldn’t it be amazing if Aunt Zendaya met the love of her life all because of me? I could hear my mother now, “Well, well, well, nuts of a feather flock together.”

  Aunt Zendaya had mentioned that there was a pot of soup on the stove. I wasn’t excited by the notion of another flavorless meal, but a girl had to eat, so I heated the pot, ladled a bowl, and tasted the most fantastic soup I’ve ever had in my life. It was a vegetable medley with corn, carrots, potatoes, celery, okra, squash, and spices that made this magical mixture come to life! Maybe eating cruelty-free wasn’t all bad. I needed to ask her for the recipe so I could make it for Dada when I went back home.

  After gorging myself on two bowls, I curled up on the couch and face2faced Izzy. As soon as she appeared on my screen, I launched into everything that was going on—Aunt Zendaya and Acorn, the blowup with Zippy, getting abandoned and lost on the subway, my new friends, and the Yo, Shady-O text group. I repeated some of the shady jokes we had made, but then I realized Izzy wasn’t laughing. “Guess you had to be there,” I said.

  “Yes,” Izzy said, “I really would rather be there, or in the upside down, or literally anywhere else would be better than being stuck here with my evil doppelgänger cousin.”

  “Doppel-what?”

  “Doppelgänger, like a double of yourself that maybe lives in another dimension or is just evil.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  Izzy mocked me, “Oh, I’m sorry! I don’t need your being sorry, Mango. That doesn’t help.”

  “And you being mean doesn’t help either.”

  We were both silent for a long time. Izzy covered her phone so I couldn’t see her face, but I heard her crying. I said, “Izzy? What happened? What’s going on? Talk to me!”

  “I can’t. I gotta go.”

  “No, wait. Please talk to me. Where is Carmella?”

  “She went to a barbecue.”

  “Why didn’t you go with her?”

  “I wasn’t invited.”

  “Oh. Who invited Carmella?”

  “Hector Osario!”

  “WHAT!” That was the boy Izzy had been crushing on all summer!

  Izzy’s face reappeared on screen, drenched in tears. “I took Carmella to the park to play handball. She saw him. Went over and started talking to him and batting her eyes. This was after I told her how much I liked him, and how I’d been trying to get his attention all summer. And then he invited her to the barbecue.”

  She started sobbing again.

  “Izzy,” I started. “I’m so—” No, I wasn’t going to say sorry again. “Listen, when Marcelle sees Hector with another girl, she’s going to use her gel tips to scratch her eyes out.”

  “No, she won’t,” Izzy sniffled. “She broke up with him last week. She already has a new boyfriend, a barber next door to her mother’s nail salon. OMGZ, Mango, I want to kill her.”

  “Marcelle?”

  “No! Carmella.”

  “Izzy, calm down.”

  “This is all your fault.”

  “My fault?”

  “If you hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have needed Carmella to be my paddleball partner and she would’ve never met Hector. You’re my best friend, and you’ve ruined my life.”

  “No way! Your life is not ruined. Carmella will be gone soon, and you’ll get your chance with Hector.”

  “After he’s kissed Carmella? Oh no, I don’t want no parts of no boy whose lips have touched the body snatcher!”

  “Stop!” I burst out laughing. I was relieved when Izzy started laughing, too.

  “Hey, thanks,” Izzy said.

  “For what?”

  “For listening. I had to get a lot off my chest and I needed my friend. I was mad when I couldn’t get in touch with you last night.”

  “My phone died . . .”

  “And you had a terrible, horrible day and night and blah, blah, blah . . . It doesn’t matter, you’re here now. Sorry I yelled at you.”

  “So what, you yelled, that’s what besties are for.”

  We kept chatting until Aunt Zendaya came upstairs around eleven. I was exhausted from laughing at all the different ways Izzy kept imagining how she could rid herself of Carmella. I think I was still giggling as I fell asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Care and Feeding of the Diva

  We rehearsed Yo, Romeo! six days a week, and it was fun, but also exhausting. When I was in the play at school, we rehearsed for two, maybe three hours after school, then I got to go home. Rehearsing for eight to ten hours a day was brutal! Some nights, my feet hurt so badly when I got home, Aunt Zendaya had to show me how to soak them in hot water and Epsom salt to get some relief.

  Once, in the middle of the night, I woke up screaming. Both of my legs were cramping! It was so painful. Thank goodness Aunt Zendaya was there to give me salt water to drink. It was disgusting, but at least it made the cramps go away. My friend Chelsea told me pickle juice was a good remedy for cramping, so I bought a big jar of pickles and kept them in the fridge. Good thing I liked pickles, so they wouldn’t go to waste.

  The more I worked with Gabriel Faust, the more I realized he was as far from my fantasy BCF as possible. He always arrived late, with Frances Francisco making excuses for him—he had a late recording session; he did a meet-and-greet for charity and his fans wouldn’t let him go; there was a photo session for a fashion magazine spread and that took hours!

  When he finally did show up, he was usually unprepared. We had to do scenes and songs over and over because he couldn’t remember his lines. When he was on TV, he didn’t have to memorize lines. If he made a mistake, they’d just call, “cut!” and do the scene again until they got it right, which I think made him lazy as an actor. It was weird. Once I thought he was the cutest boy on the planet, but the more I got to know him, the more his good looks seemed to fade away—and the more I dreaded having to kiss him onstage. He was always whining and complaining about something. “Why is it so hot in here?” “Turn down the AC, it’s bad for my voice.” “Does everyone have to watch us rehearse? Clear the room!”

  When he wasn’t in a scene, he would leave with Josh and sit in his SUV until he was needed. Acorn would have to call downstairs to get him, and then it would take at least twenty minutes before his majesty would arrive. I started getting headaches and stomachaches whenever I had to rehearse a scene with him. I dreaded the day when I would actually have to kiss him. I tried my best to stay positive and not talk bad about him to my Yo, Shady-O friends, but I didn’t think I was fooling them. TJ and
Chanté had to stay in the room when we rehearsed, because they were our understudies, so they saw all the madness going down anyway.

  The absolute worst day was at the end of the second week of rehearsal. It had been a long week, and Gabriel hadn’t even been there the last day and a half. Now he was running late, as usual, so Larry suggested TJ and I rehearse “Duet Forever.” It was my favorite song in the show, because I really got to belt and hit the high notes like Beyoncé, and TJ’s voice was amazing when his high notes with a hard rock edge would reach the stratosphere. So we were singing our hearts out, having fun, when Gabriel finally arrived. He stood by the door, sulking, as the cast left the room so we could have a private rehearsal.

  Bob asked us to start with the dialogue at the top of the scene and then go right into the song. We were supposed to be in a recording studio where our characters first meet and fall in love—kind of like the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet. We started the scene, but Gabriel wasn’t following the blocking that had been set the week before. He kept walking farther and farther upstage, meaning that to see and talk to him, I couldn’t face where the audience would be.

  A couple of minutes into the scene, Bob finally spoke up. “Gabe, stick to the blocking, please.”

  “Don’t call me Gabe. I hate that.”

  Bob’s face reddened a little, but he stayed calm. “What would you like me to call you? Gabriel?”

  “You can call me Mr. Faust.”

  My stomach started aching, my emotional mango pit getting larger and heavier by the second. I glanced at TJ and Chanté, who rolled their eyes. Bob’s face got even redder. He said, “Okay, Mr. Faust, I would like you to stick to the blocking that we rehearsed last week.”

  “What’s wrong with what I’m doing now? It’s more natural.”

  “You’re upstaging Mango, that’s what’s wrong with it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Bob took a deep breath, stood, and came from behind the table. “When you go so far upstage, she has to turn her back to the audience to see you and talk to you.”