He puts a hand on my shoulder. "What I mean is, it's like your first step into dating.
You're cute. You're eighteen. And you need to have more fun. Consider this prom gig a practice run."
"I never thought of it that way. But I do like someone at school."
"Hello?" He knocks softly on my head. "Then why the hell aren't you going with him?"
"He's seeing Speed Bump play with his brother on the Beach that night."
"Man, that's a bummer. Well, once he hears about this contest, he'll wish he'd went with you."
"Let's hope so." I write Gavin's name on the console with my finger. "Wait, but the prom will be over by then."
Jason cues me, "You're on in thirty."
Gavin, I hope you're listening. The music director added Shrinking Violet to the rotation, so we're not only playing them during the request hour.
"You're on in ten, Tere," Jason reminds me.
I move closer to the mike and breathe deeply. I remind myself 190
that no one can see me. They don't know it's me, Tere Adams, behind the shield of the mike. I'm just Sweet T to them.
The red light goes on and so do I: "Good evening, Miami, you're listening to The Love Shack on 92.7 WEMD SLAM-FM. It's Sweet T in the studio with the one and only Jason Stevens. I hope you liked that fast track, 'Sultry Summer Love' by Moonstar. Before that we had Juice Box with 'Lemonade' and Gracie May with 'Stay' I'm mad for Shrinking Violet and here they are with 'Freeze-Dried Love' . ." Did I say that already tonight? Geez, I feel like an old lady. Maybe I should write down everything before I go on-air.
Jason's busy with the phones, so I tune him out and let Shrinking Violet take over. You're going away, you say, but I still love you so, even if you have to go, we'll work it out, we can take it real slow, I'll freeze-dry your love and pull it out little by little when I'm feeling low
...
I've played this on my iPod over and over, but, still, by the end of the song, I'm almost in tears. How sad. It's hard enough to find someone to fall in love with, but what if they leave? I never thought about that. Maybe I am better off going to the prom with someone that I've never met. That way we don't have to say good-bye and cling to one memory, one special night. If it doesn't work out, then hopefully the night will fade until it turns to tiny particles of dust.
I feel like an electric current is running through my body. It takes me a second to realize it's only my cell buzzing in my
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pocket. I pull it out to take a peek at the screen. Maybe it's Gavin telling me to turn on the radio because Shrinking Violet is playing. My heart skips a beat, then drops to the ground. Ugh, it's Kayla, and it can only mean she's calling about our presentation tomorrow. I totally forgot that in fifteen hours I'll be standing in front of the class in a flowered dress that Kayla's mom wears to PTA functions.
Both Kayla and Gavin get to wear normal clothes. If I had known we were dressing up, I would've chosen a more contemporary author. But I guess since Helen couldn't see, she really didn't give a crap about fashion. You have to admire her, though. She spent her time helping others, not popping pimples or wondering if her boobs were perky enough. Speaking of perky, I better listen to the message from Kayla before she calls me again.
It's just a courtesy call to make sure I haven't flipped out and been rushed to the hospital with pre-presentation palpations. No, Kayla, I have a lot more important things to worry about, like going on a blind date to prom in front of a webcam. Instead of saying something sarcastic, I text her back that I'm practicing at this very moment. That should keep her quiet.
Toward the end of the show Jason asks if I'd mind grabbing a few phone lines. I know I can't avoid them all night, so I take his post next to the spreadsheet and look over his tallies for the night. As usual, most of the calls are for Juice Box, Speed Bump, and Gracie May, but there are a bunch of check marks next to Shrinking Violet, too. I wonder if Gavin was one of the callers. Does he
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know about the contest? Did he wish he was going to the prom now? Fat chance. He seemed pretty set on Speed Bump.
I click on the first line. "92.7 The SLAM."
"Can you play PJ Squid?"
"Sure."
Click.
Next caller.
I slump down in the chair and let my body relax. That wasn't bad. I race through the next few calls and add checks by most of the bands that have been requested all night.
"92.7 The SLAM."
"Is this Sweet T?"
I bite my lip. Just say no. Deepen your voice. Call yourself Bertha. Move on to the next caller. But the person sounds so excited.
"Yes," I say softly.
"Holy crap," he practically screams, "I can't believe I'm really talking to you!"
"Why?"
"Because I've been trying to get through all night."
"What can I do for you?" I try to sound professional.
"I want to know what I should write about in my song so I can win the contest."
Gavin and me. His onyx eyes melting me into a pile of love mush. The kiss that could've been if my mother hadn't honked her horn. "Anything. Just be yourself."
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"What do you like?" It sounds like he's tapping away on a computer. I hope he's not keeping a file on me. How creepy.
"Music." I have to give him more. I look around the room. All I spot is a bowl and Jason's bag of cold Burger King food. "Soup. French fries."
"Okay." The typing stops.
"Great. Can't wait for your entry. Have a good night." I click to the next line before he can say anything else.
The next caller wants to know if I'm really going to the prom or am I going to make a quick appearance and ditch. I wish.
Even though I love working at the station, I'm almost glad when Jason calls me over to sign off with him and hand over the show to Floss, the overnight girl.
"Sweet dreams, Miami. Stay safe and sleep tight," I whisper into the mike.
But how is that possible when I have to stand up in front of the whole class tomorrow and not talk? It might be worse than actually having an author that speaks. I can't believe Kayla wanted me to stuff my mouth with cotton balls. She got me to wear the dress. That's about the most embarrassment that anyone should have to endure in a lifetime.
After Jason drops me home from the station, I just unwind in my room. Both Mom and Rob are at a new club, which is a real relief because I have no energy left to deal with Mom. There's a note on my bed telling me to let her know when I want to go prom-dress shopping. I should shock everyone and wear my
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Helen Keller dress. That'll definitely pump SLAM's ratings up and send the grand prize winner running, while I'd be the number one loser of the whole city.
I crumple up Mom's note and toss it into the garbage. Then I kick off my shoes and fall facedown onto my bed.
Sweet T, what have you gotten me into?
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chapter NINETEEN
I wake up early and shuffle out of the house before I have to deal with Mom. Running into her would only mess up my game-day focus. I stayed up until one a.m. last night, polishing my paper on Helen Keller. I want it to be perfect. Not to mention the English project is 40 percent of this quarter's grade.
I have to be Helen Keller today. I have to channel her enthusiasm for life. As I near the school, I stop under a large palm tree and slip her book out of my backpack. I kiss the cover and whisper, "Helen, give me inspiration." I randomly flip open the book and point my finger to a passage. It's the end of chapter 22, when she talks about feeling isolated and beyond her isolation there is light. How there is joy in "self-forgetfulness."
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I read aloud, "So I try to make light in others' eyes my sun, the music in others' ears my symphony the smile on others' lips my happiness." Then I read it again, even slower, letting every word sink in. I have to forget about Mom, forget about Stacy, and focus on delivering a successful presentation.-Gavin and
Kayla are counting on me, and if Helen's looking down on me, I want her to be proud.
But before I enter Ridgeland, I quickly text Audrey and tell her to meet me under the big oak for lunch. I need to be around a positive force before English class. Things have been so crazy that we haven't hung out in a while. It's nice to have a friend I can trust.
As I'm walking through the main hallway, I close my eyes for seconds at a time and feel around, like I imagine Helen did. I put my hands out on either side as a buffer. I make it halfway down until my foot whaps a hard piece of rubber.
"Ouch, hot," someone yells.
I open up my eyes to see steaming tea dripping down the front of the school nurse's mint-green scrubs. My toe rests on the corner of her sneaker. I quickly remove it.
"I'm sorry. I didn't see you!" I try to mop up the tea on the floor with my sandal.
"It's okay." She fans out her shirt. "But please watch where you're going."
That was definitely a close call. I better try something new. I decide to ignore everyone, instead, which really is nothing
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new for me. I don't listen when Mr. Porter tells me to hurry-to homeroom before I'm late or when Ms. Michaels tries to convince me to sign up to be a senior buddy to the visiting eighth graders.
Of course, Helen had to rely on touch and vibration to know what was going on.
However, if I caress everyone that walks by, someone's liable to yell perv, and I don't need to bring any more attention to myself.
I feel a hand tap my shoulder and I shudder. It's small but firm. Before I can turn around, I hear the words Helen wouldn't have been able to hear. "Can't wait for you to bomb today! No talkie, no grade." Stacy laughs.
Sorry, Helen, but I don't see the light in her eyes.
I quickly hold up my fingers and sign the letters B and I for bitch. Okay, so I never got past J in sign language, but she doesn't have to know that.
"What, you've got the shakes now, too, dorkstag?" Stacy sneers.
Before I can answer, Frank, who's linked to Stacy's arm, elbows her. "Hello, we were talking about Trevor's kegger on Saturday."
She instantly forgets about me and turns to Frank. "As soon as my dad falls asleep, I'll leave. Should be around eleven."
I always thought someone like her was curfew free, free to roam the streets at all hours of the night. Seems like her parents are way stricter than my mom. I don't hear the rest of their conversation
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because Frank has propelled Stacy forward, leading her down the hallway.
I try to erase Stacy's words from my head and float from class to class until it's time for lunch. But I can't seem to break free of her evil grin. When Stacy chooses someone to pick on, she doesn't let up. Thirty more days until school is officially over and I'll never have to see her again.
I pick at my turkey sandwich while I wait for Audrey.
"Hey, girl. What's up?" Audrey flops down next to me.
"This." I pull out the dress I'm supposed to wear in exactly twenty-six minutes.
Audrey scrunches her nose and fingers the polyester garden disaster.
"Told you it was ugly." I quickly shove it back into my bag. "I'll be so embarrassed that I won't be able to move."
"Why don't you wear this with it?" She removes her black cardigan from around her waist.
"It's too small." Audrey is four inches shorter than me and built like a dancer.
"It'll be fine. It's stretchy." She hands it to me. "You don't have to button it up."
"Thanks. And if you have a body double for me, too, we'll be all set."
The back entrance to the band room is flung open and I see Doug, swinging his trumpet case, walking toward us. "Hi, Aud. Hi, Tere." He smiles.
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"No more braces?" I ask. His smile widens. "Just in time for prom."
"Yeah, I told him I'd only go if he got rid of the tracks," Audrey teases.
"Isn't she nice?" Doug grips his trumpet case. "I got to go. I have a meeting with my counselor. Catch you guys later."
A few months ago Doug offered to set me up with one of his buddies for prom, but I said no. I wasn't up for another band date disaster. Funny that now I'm going on a real blind date. At least with a band guy, I would've known what I was getting myself into.
My shoulders are rigid. Audrey pats me. "I'm sure you'll do great. You've had so much practice on the radio."
"Yeah, but I don't see those people."
Audrey takes a sip of her Coke and sets it down. "Helen was blind. So don't make eye contact, and pretend you're speaking into the mike. Make like you're back at the station.
Or even better, alone in your room."
"That's not such a bad idea. I knew I was friends with you for a reason."
"Are you going to eat that?" Audrey points to the other half of my sandwich. "No, it's all yours."
"I knew I was friends with you for a reason, too." She laughs. Before class Audrey and I pull together mascara, sparkly lip gloss, and eye shadow, and motor to the bathroom.
"This is the
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best mask I can get you," she says applying the eye shadow to my lids. I do the mascara myself. Short, swift strokes, I remember Pop-Tart saying. Then I spritz my hair with water, but this time I let the tap run slowly so I don't end up drenched.
I flip my hair back just as the bell rings.
"You look really nice." Audrey smiles.
"Thanks." I pucker my sparkly lips. "At least when they find me dead, I'll look good."
"It'll be over before you know it." Audrey grabs her stuff and heads to the science wing.
"See you after school."
I pass the language lab on my way to English and peer in the glass window at the door.
Mrs. Tripp is walking up and down the aisle, placing workbooks on each desk.
"Guten Tag," I say to her, even though she can't see or hear me. Maybe Audrey's right: this presentation won't be as bad as I thought.
Okay, then why is my hand shaking as I open the classroom door? And why is my heart playing ping-pong with the rest of my insides? I rush to my seat and try to savor every moment before Ms. Peters makes my death sentence official and we're forced to start class.
I summon Sweet T by writing my radio name over and over in my notebook. I write it in bubble letters, cursive, and 3-D. I figure if I do it enough times, then maybe I'll become Sweet T . for the performance.
"Hey, Tere. Are you ready?" Gavin sits down next to me.
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I flip my notebook over. "I just have to put the dress on. I'll sneak out last minute to do that. I don't want to wear this thing any longer than necessary."
"I hear you." He nods and leans in closer. "But it's kind of sexy! A woman in full floral gear." He grins.
This is not funny. I will be the one sporting the floral number in less than twenty minutes! "I'm feeling ill." I grab my stomach.
"It'll be fine." Gavin reaches for my hand and squeezes.
His grip is strong. It's soothing to be holding hands. I don't want to let go. I look over at him. He smiles. I'd give anything to kiss those soft lips again, to finish where we left off.
"Just promise me that if I have a mental breakdown, they don't send me to the loony bin in the floral dress," I whisper.
Gavin laughs. "You're going to be great."
Does he know something that I don't know? It seems like he has more confidence in me than I do.
"Okay, class, settle down." Ms. Peters breaks up our party for two.
Gavin and I instantly drop our hands. Kayla plops down next to me. "Where's the dress?"
she whispers.
In the incinerator. "Here." I point to my bag.
"Well, hurry," she says frantically.
I nod in Ms. Peters' direction, who is still talking.
Kayla waves her hand back and forth like a drowning swimmer stuck in the middle of the ocean until Ms. Peters stops talking and nods at her. "Can Tere go change?"
/>
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God, could Kayla be any louder? I try to sink down in my chair, but there's nowhere to go. The girl in front of me is barely five feet, hardly a boulder of protection.
"Yes, quickly, while the first group sets up," Ms. Peters says.
I grab my bag and rush to the door. When I'm halfway down the hall, I hear footsteps behind me.
I turn around. It's Kayla. "What are you doing?"
"Thought you might need some help."
"Getting dressed?"
"No, just thought you might . ." She looks away from me. "Spaz? Ditch? Puke?"
"Yeah," she admits.
Does everyone think I'm a freak? I can handle this. I won't see these people after next month and if need be, I'll move far, far away. I can broadcast my own after-hours radio show for freaks-- Live From the Dungeon, I'll call it. "Tune in if you dare ..."
"I'll be fine," I tell Kayla and myself.
I quickly change in the stall. I throw on the dress and Audrey's cardigan. I do up the first three bottom buttons, which hides the granny lace around my waist. I'm so glad Audrey gave me this, but if she had given me a garbage bag, I would've thrown that over the dress, too.
"Hurry up," Kayla calls from the door. "We don't want to miss the first group."
I close my eyes. I try not to think about how I look. Instead, I think about how this will all be over in less than an hour, about
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the same time it takes to get a cavity filled. I hear Kayla tapping her foot restlessly and realize I better open the door before she has someone break it down.
I avoid the mirror and rush out of the bathroom. If Helen couldn't see herself, I don't need to see what I look like either.
When we get back to the classroom, the first group is still setting up. I catch Stacy's empty seat out of the corner of my eye. It would be sweet if she ditched class today.
I take out the script that Kayla printed for us and mentally run through the movements.
After the first group starts, I hide the paper half under my notebook. Every so often I glance at the sheet. I know the order by heart, but there's something comforting about having it right in front of me. I peek over at Stacy's seat. Still empty. I breathe a sigh of relief.
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