by Allen Zadoff
But this actor is looking everywhere, examining things. I’ve never seen her before, or maybe I haven’t noticed her.
I notice her now.
She has long black hair and the most beautiful eyes. I can’t see if they’re blue or gray from here, but I think they’re the kind of eyes that change color depending on the light that hits them. I get this fantasy in my head. I’m a character in a musical, a fascinating character with a troubled past. I slip down the nearest pipe and the characters freeze in place onstage, all of them except the girl with black hair. She steps out and I walk over to meet her. We don’t speak right away. As the music swells, we recognize something in each other, some shared pain.
“What’s your name?” she says.
“Adam Ziegler.”
“Are you the director?” she says.
“Not the director,” I say. “Just a techie.”
Which in the musical would be a lot more noble.
Anyway, that’s the fantasy.
But when that girl looks up again, I don’t do anything but duck behind a pipe.
That’s the reality.
Derek notices her looking around, because he says, “I have a fabulous idea. Would you like to see how the lights work?”
Derek is smooth like that. He’s one of those guys who takes his shot with every girl, actors and techies. That’s totally unheard of in my school because actors and techies don’t mix here. They don’t even speak unless it’s to hurl insults at one another. Derek is the only one who can cross the line between the two.
“I’ve seen lights before,” Wesley says, unimpressed.
“Not like these, you haven’t,” Derek says.
“I’d like to see them,” Miranda says, and she smiles at Derek.
That’s all the encouragement he needs.
“Your wish is my command,” Derek says.
Derek signals the light board operator, Benno.
“Are you sure?” Benno says, stroking his mutton chops. Benno looks like a character from a Dickens novel, the main difference being that Dickens was obsessed with social injustice and Benno is obsessed with large boobs.
“I’m never less than sure,” Derek says.
He should know you don’t turn on the lights during load-in, especially not with actors in the theater. There’s cable all over the place, the board hasn’t been checked, and who knows what’s been plugged in? But Derek doesn’t care about any of that. He cares about looking good.
“Stand by for lights!” Ignacio shouts.
I take my hands away from the cable I’m plugging in.
“Lights, go,” Ignacio says.
Benno types something into the lighting computer.
There’s a loud click, and the theater fills with light, everything to 100 percent at the same time. Nothing is gelled, nothing is focused. There’s burning white light everywhere.
For a second the theater feels like it’s vibrating, light saturating every inch of the space—
Then there’s a loud snap, and it all goes black.
EGMONT
We bring stories to life
First published by Egmont USA, 2009
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 806
New York, NY 10016
Copyright © Allen Zadoff, 2009
All rights reserved
www.egmontusa.com
www.allenzadoff.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Zadoff, Allen.
Food, girls, and other things I can’t have / Allen Zadoff.
p. cm.
Summary: Fifteen-year-old Andrew Zansky, the second fattest student
at his high school, joins the varsity football team to get the attention
of a new girl on whom he has a crush.
eISBN: 978-1-60684-194-5
[1. Overweight persons—Fiction. 2. Popularity—Fiction.
3. Self-perception—Fiction. 4. High schools—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction.
6. Football—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.Z21Fo 2009
[Fic]—dc22
2009016242
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
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