She stares down at her feet, flats crunching away in the snow as we cross the street. “Oh…”
“Why?” I ask, even though I can totally tell what she’s thinking,
“Nothing…I just never thought of you as much of a John Travolta-type.”
Because I’m gay?
“Why not?”
“I don’t know…Your hair’s red.”
I explain to Stacy how Danny Zuko is a character, and just because Vinny Barbarino played him in the movie doesn’t mean that’s the only way he can be portrayed, you know what I mean?
“Well, I heard Joey Palladino is also trying out.”
Great!
It’s bad enough Joey already took over for me in Faded Flowers, and gets to make out with my boyfriend-who’s-not-really-my-boyfriend, even though I totally want him to be, but now he never will.
Speaking of…
When we sneak back into the building, just as the 3:00 PM bell begins to blare, who do I see waiting for me at my locker?
“What’s up, Ryan?”
I’ll give you a hint…
He’s holding a saxophone case at his side.
“I’m not Ryan anymore, ’member?”
The correct answer would have to be…
“And I wanna know why.”
Richie Tyler.
Didn’t We Almost Have It All?
“A moment in the soul can last forever
Comfort and keep us…”
—Whitney Houston
“There are no small parts, only small actors.”
‘member that old adage?
Well, here we go again!
The morning after auditions, Mr. Dell’Olio posts the following list on the door outside the auditorium.
GREASE
—CAST—
Perhaps you noticed where my name falls?
Fourth one down, after the lead role of Danny Zuko, being played by Joey-fucking-Palladino, who’s never been in a play during his entire three years at HPHS! Maybe it’s just me, but I can’t help think I’m playing Doody because of my Howdy Doody hair, you know what I mean?
I guess what pisses me off is…All the Drama Queers know it was my idea to do Grease in the first place. I been pushing for it since the beginning of the school year, you know what I mean? Well, me and Audrey, who at least got the part she wanted.
Ever since I can remember, I wanted to be Danny. Okay, maybe when I was little I wanted to be Sandy, but Grease has always been my favorite musical. Me and Janelle weren’t allowed to see the movie when it was at the show, but our babysitter, Sheryl “Bionic Woman” Killian, had the record album. Sometimes she’d bring it over when she watched us and we’d listen to it with her.
I remember the cover opened up and it had all them pictures from the movie inside, like they were snapshots laid out on a table at The Frosty Palace, along with a pair of salt and pepper shakers, a malt cup with straw, and a napkin holder. I used to look at it for hours, trying to imagine how each scene played out, based on the different photographs.
Me and Janelle would dance around our family room pretending we were Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta performing “Summer Nights.” Most of the time, I played Danny. But every once in a while Janelle would let me be Sandy, since I was shorter, and my voice was higher. And I could dance “You’re the One that I Want” in high heels without falling on my face—unlike her.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine Joey Palladino would audition for Grease, let alone steal the role of Danny Zuko out from under me. How could I possibly beat him? He’s Italian, for chris’sakes!
Notice who else’s name is on the cast list, second from the bottom? As far as I knew, Richie wasn’t even auditioning for the show on account of he can’t carry a tune, even with a handle. This explains why Dell cast him as Vince Fontaine, host of National Bandstand. ’member, he’s the old guy who judges the dance contest when he’s not roaming around the gymnasium hitting on Marty?
Speaking of…
I just realized Mr. Dell’Olio forgot to include my favorite Pink Lady on the cast list. I don’t know who’s playing the part of Miss Maraschino. (“You know, like in cherry.”) Remind me to find out at our first read-thru this afternoon. I’m also not sure why Dell listed The Sophomore as “Richie” this time around, and not Rich. I’d ask Mr. Tyler himself, but he’s currently not speaking to me…I can’t say I blame him.
I suppose I should elaborate on what exactly went down between us last Wednesday after school, huh?
On the last episode of Life in Hazeltucky…
Our hero, Bradley Dayton, had just returned to Hillbilly High with his partner-in-crime, Stacy Gillespie, after skipping Mrs. Carey’s French III Independent Study—yet again. Upon arriving at his locker, Mr. Dayton found himself greeted by his soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, Richie “The Sophomore” Tyler.
“So what’s up, Brad?”
From the way Richie bit off my name, I could tell he was bound and determined to get an answer outta me as to why I quit Faded Flowers. Of all people, he knew how much I been looking forward to filming, so why would I wanna give it up?
“I said I’ll call you later,” I told him, not wanting to have it out in front of Stacy. Or anybody else, for that matter.
“What’s wrong with right now?” Richie wondered, still on the defensive.
In all these months, I never heard his voice sound so harsh. It reminded me of when my mom got mad at me or my sisters over something one of us did. I hated it.
“Now’s not a good time,” I answered calmly.
If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s seeing those poor cheerleader girls screaming at their football player boyfriends (or vice versa) while everybody passes by. This was starting to happen as more and more kids filled the hall, ready to get the hell outta HPHS for the day.
But Richie wouldn’t back off. “It’s good enough as any.”
At that moment, guess who wandered by?
Jack.
Our eyes met for only a second, but he looked totally surprised to see me talking to Richie Tyler, the faggy little 7th grader from Webb Junior High. I couldn’t help but notice Jack’s new Best Friend was nowhere to be found…Wonder what’s up with him and Tom Fulton, anyways?
Richie snapped, “Let’s talk!” drawing me out of my reverie as Jack disappeared.
“I have to meet Mr. Fish,” I explained. “He’s helping me with my Grease audition.”
“Fuck your Grease audition!”
‘member that scene in Pretty in Pink where Molly Ringwald corners Andrew McCarthy in the hall by his locker, demanding to know why all of a sudden he’s been blowing her off? She’s all like, “What about Prom?” and he’s like, “I don’t wanna talk about this right now,” and she’s like, “I said, What about Prom?”
Finally, she forces him to say he forgot he already asked somebody else. Thus prompting Molly to let Andrew have it with her famous, “You’re a filthy fucking liar!” line, screaming and jabbing him in the chest while everybody and their brother (and sister) looks on. That’s exactly how I felt right then and there, half expecting The Sophomore to haul off and hit me as a small crowd gathered around us.
Luckily, I still had Stacy to protect me. But not for long.
“Good luck with your voice lesson.”
She bid me farewell and went on her way thru the crowd in search of her own boyfriend, Luis Sánchez. I can’t believe they’re still happily going together after all these months. Why do some people have such lucky love lives?
“Tell me why you dropped out of the movie,” demanded Richie, forging ahead.
Before I could think up an excuse, we were interrupted.
“Boys…Is everything all right?
I turned to see Miss Horchik’s beady brown eyes beaming at me from beneath her Pilgrim’s bonnet. I wasn’t sure how much of our conversation she overheard.
“Everything’s fine,” I insisted, hoping Velma would vamoose.
“Is it?�
��
The Sophomore stared down at me, hands on hips. The last thing I needed at that moment was the Holy Virgin reminding me to be true to mine ownself. I could totally tell she could tell something was up. But for whatever reason, she chose not to pry.
“Please tell your mother I miss having you in my class…I always enjoyed sending her my Happy Notes.”
From outta the pocket of her long wool coat, Miss Horchik pulled what can only be called a muff. She buried her hands deep within its faux-fur and headed out into the cold, the world of Hillbilly High fading to black.
Quickly, I came up with a plan. “What are you doing right now?”
“What’s it look like?” Richie scowled. “Having a tea party…One lump or two?” He raised a fist and shook it in my face.
“I’m gonna cancel my lesson with Fish…We can go somewhere and talk.”
“What’s wrong with right here?” he demanded, causing more heads to turn our direction wondering what the hell was up.
A month or two ago, I would’ve killed to have a conversation like this. A lover’s spat with my boyfriend. Now that it was taking place, it totally sucked.
“Don’t do this, okay?” I pleaded. “Please.”
Richie softened. “Fine…I’ll let you drive me home.”
Ten minutes later we pulled out of the parking lot…
“How about some heat?”
“Sorry,” I apologized. “I still haven’t got it fixed.”
Another reason I couldn’t take time off work to make a silly movie. I needed money and I needed it yesterday.
The entire ride over to Richie’s, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I tried making small talk: “How was your weekend?”
He replied, “It sucked,” not even bothering to ask how my Juilliard audition went. What he did say was: “How come you didn’t call me?”
“When?”
“Friday night.”
“We went to dinner and saw a show.”
I explained all about Les Miz, conveniently omitting the part about Les Miz Guy.
“What about after the show? I was home all evening.”
On the corner of Woodward Heights and John R, I noticed a newly built brick wall, the words ST MARY MAGDALEN printed across in silver, a bed of fresh flowers planted in front.
“When did they put that up?”
I couldn’t recall it being there before I left for New York.
Richie turned his head slightly to take it in, but said nothing.
“It looks nice,” I added, even though I didn’t understand what purpose it served.
“Turn right.”
Richie gave me this order once the light changed from ruby to emerald.
“I know…”
Hand over hand I turned the wheel, allowing it to slide back thru my palms the way I was taught in Driver’s Ed. We drove by Doug’s Delight, Truba Carpet, and Daisy Petal. Past Annie O’s, Hazel Park Food Center, arriving at Burger’s & Kreme on the corner of Brickley.
“Left,” Richie commanded, as if I never been over his house.
“I know…”
Blocking traffic always makes me nervous, you know what I mean? It didn’t help that in my rearview mirror, I noticed a line of irate drivers backed up behind me.
When the moment of opportunity presented itself, Richie wailed, “Go!”
This only made me more nervous, freezing my foot to the brake like that kid in A Christmas Story’s tongue to the flagpole.
“Please don’t tell me how to drive,” I requested quietly.
Somebody honked as they pulled around us to the right. If I wasn’t so frazzled, I would’ve totally flipped them off! Taking my time, I completed the left turn on my own terms, waiting till I was good and ready.
“Halfway down the block,” said The Sophomore, again as if I didn’t know where I was heading. “The blue house on the right.”
“I know…”
This time I added the subtext of Do you think I’m stupid? to my tone.
I wanted to talk things over with him, but I wasn’t gonna sit back and let Richie Tyler treat me like I’m a moron. In fact, thinking about his catty comments the entire way over his house made me wanna drop him off and forget the whole thing.
“Aren’t you coming in?” he asked once we came to a stop, sounding totally snotty.
“Not if you’re gonna keep acting this way,” I retaliated.
For the first time, Richie looked at me. “Acting what way?”
“Like a Total Baby.”
“Fuck you!” he spat. “I don’t need your shit.”
I spat back, “Then get the fuck outta my car!”
Richie didn’t move. He just sat in his seat, staring straight ahead.
So did I.
Wouldn’t you know? At that precise moment, Whitney Houston started singing some sappy song on the radio. By the chorus, we were both crying.
Years ago, I used to listen to this program called Pillow Talk on WNIC. The DJ, Alan Almond, had this totally smooth voice, and he played songs like “When I’m with You” by Sheriff and “Somone that I Used to Love” by Natalie Cole. Tune after tune, it tore my heart out. Except back then, I didn’t know what it was to really love somebody…The way I did now.
How is it that a stupid love song can capture the essence of human emotion? How can some singer/songwriter come up with a bunch of words that describe precisely what so many of us are going thru at a particular moment, when they never even met us before?
After what felt like forever, the both of us freezing cold, The Sophomore said softly, “Please come in.”
I wanted to. But I knew I shouldn’t. The last thing I needed was for him to get me inside his house, and start getting all Ryan on me. I’d never be able to say what I knew must be said.
“I can’t,” I decided, opting for better safe than sorry.
“Fine…Then tell me why you’re doing this.”
I assumed he was back to wondering why I dropped out of the film.
Did he really wanna know?
I can’t be in Faded Flowers with you because I don’t want people thinking I’m a fag.
I care more about my acting career than I do about you.
I don’t know what the fuck I want anymore.
“I’m totally broke,” I admitted. “I can’t be taking time off work like I thought I could.”
Apparently, that’s not what Richie was referring to.
“I’m not talking about the goddamn movie, Brad…I wanna know why you’re breaking up with me.”
Hold the fucking phone!
Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you have to actually be somebody’s boyfriend before you can break up with them?
“I wanna hear you say it,” Richie continued, once again in Molly Ringwald mode. “You’re ashamed of me.”
I had to laugh. “It’s not your fault you’re a Sophomore.”
Obviously, he didn’t find my humor funny.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
Suddenly, the subject changed. Again, I felt totally lost.
“The winter of 7th grade…You and Bobby Russell…Green Acres Park…”
That’s all he needed to tell me.
‘member at the beginning of the year when I first met The Sophomore, and I totally didn’t recognize him? Then I ran into him at A Christmas Carol auditions…
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
“From the other day in the Band room…Sure, I do.”
“I mean, from before…You were my Band Aide.”
‘member how embarrassed I was because me and Jack used to refer to Richie as “the faggy little 7th grader who played flute in Prep Band and carried his books like a girl?” But at least we never said anything mean about him to his face…I can’t say the same for Bobby Russell.
On the day in question back in 1985, me and Bobby were on our way over Bobby’s house to smoke some pot (and fuck around after the fact). Richie happened to be lucky enough to c
ross our path, and Bobby decided to be a Total Dick to him. I remember him saying something like, “Where’s your flute, you little fag?” And Richie was like, “I’m not a fag, I’m not a fag,” in the whiny little fag voice he had at the time.
Bobby ended up chasing Richie across the 1–75 catwalk, and cornering him in the Calvary Baptist parking lot where he was all like, “Shut up, you little fag.” And Richie was like, “Make me.” Next thing I knew, I was helping Bobby drag Richie to Bobby’s house where he proceeded to do just that.
Please don’t ask me what went on exactly, just know I wasn’t involved physically.
“We’re not breaking up.”
This was all I could say to Richie at that point as he sat silently in my car.
“We’re not?”
He sniffled a little, wiping the snot from his nose.
“How can we?” I wondered, masking my frustration with more laughter. “We’re not even going together!”
He looked at me point blank. “Then what the fuck’s been happening between us for the past month?”
“We been rehearsing for a film.”
Richie scoffed. “This is just another part you’re playing? None of this means anything more to you? It’s all about some stupid movie!”
“I never said it was stupid.”
He looked at me, puppy-dog eyes pooling. Now it was Richie’s turn to plead. “Don’t do this, okay?”
As much as I hated it, I knew I didn’t have a choice. Especially if what Christopher told me in New York was in fact true.
“I can’t be your boyfriend.”
Tears flowed.
“Why not?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m not a fag.”
Liar!
Only in My Dreams
“Couldn’t see how much I missed you (now I do)
Couldn’t see how much it meant…”
—Debbie Gibson
As if this night couldn’t get any worse!
Wanna know where I’m spending my Valentine’s Day?
Go on, take a wild guess.
“This place is D-E-A-D.”
Sitting at The Gas Station with Miss Peter, drowning our sorrows in high-octane, all the while listening to unrequited love songs on the jukebox. Did I mention Janelle and Ted got married yesterday? Their wedding was nice, but just another reminder of how everybody but me manages to find their True Love.
Drama Queers! Page 25