Like Al said, the opportunities are always there; you just have to take them. What if this is me staring through the window when all I have to do is walk through the door?
I go to the bathroom and check my face. I didn’t wear makeup today, but my brows are on point, so whatever. I wash my hands and make sure there’s no food in my teeth. To be sure, I swoosh water in my mouth, and when I leave, I go to Kai’s table and sit in the empty seat next to him.
If I’m going to stand out, then I have to start standing on my own.
I don’t know why my heart is racing—this isn’t nearly as nerve-racking as getting up onstage.
He glances up with cheese caught between his mouth and the pizza. “Hey,” he mumbles. He seems shocked but pleased. “How do you feel?” he asks after he’s done swallowing.
“Pretty awesome. Even if I don’t get anything, it was such a rush, I’d do it again.” I’m not lying; now that all the nerves have gone away, I’m left with the euphoria of having done something worthwhile. Maybe this is how people feel when they go skydiving, except there’s no chance of me crashing headfirst into concrete at the end.
Kai leans in and whispers in my ear. “You’re definitely getting something.” He sighs. “I swear I don’t mean everything I say to sound so dirty.”
I’m laughing. I catch Eli’s eyes as I tilt my head back. I know I shouldn’t think this way, but I feel like I’m doing something wrong. But he’s not my boyfriend, and he was holding hands with that reed-splitting, clarinet-screeching Kara. So I give my attention back to Kai and let him keep it for the rest of the night.
I’m walking through the open door, and I’m not looking back.
Chapter 12
Monday morning, Dré, Eli, and I aren’t the only ones crowded around the theatre. When the door unlocks with a click and Mrs. Gunta opens it, we all flood in. Everyone is quiet. All the drama kids go to the list, check it, and then leave. They don’t say a word. When Dré, Eli, and I finally get there, my finger scrolls down the list...and I almost scream.
My name is there—next to Bianca. The whore. She’s the smallest girl role, but I beat out so many other girls for this part.
Dré is behind me with his body pressed against me as he looks for his name. “Dude. I’m Cassio. Eli—Eli, you got Othello. Holy shit.”
Eli stares at the board on my other side, and just under his name is Kai, who’s playing Othello’s villain, Iago. “I don’t know Desdemona,” he says, looking at Jackie’s name.
She must be a really good actress, because I really don’t see her as the kind of chick who would get smothered with a pillow.
Dré looks at him. “What does it matter? You’re fucking Othello.”
“Language, Mr. Santos.” Mrs. Gunta leans against the wall next to us. “There is no showboating in my theatre.” I look around, and we’re the last ones here. Everyone else is outside shouting and talking a mile a minute. “Still.” She’s smiling at us now. “Congratulations. Very impressive auditions from all of you.”
Dré’s flexing, and she hits him with her clipboard.
“We have a lot of work ahead. Don’t let earning the role be the best you do. I’ll pass it along to an understudy in a heartbeat.”
We’re backing out and nodding as she waves us on. I’m about to burst. I. Got. A. Part. I even have my own song with Dré, and even though it’s a small role, I am in the play. My name will be on the playbill.
Holy shit, I’m in the play.
I went from being nobody—to having my name on a playbill.
Eli pats my back, and I don’t even have to tell him what I’m thinking. “And a star was born,” he says and squeezes my arm.
Fuck cloud nine, I’m so high right now I’m in another solar system—until the girl from the celebratory pizza outing, the one who was talking to Cleo, walks past, saying, “I can’t believe the spaz who could barely get onstage got Bianca. I’m her fucking understudy. Can you believe that? I’m the understudy of the most basic of all bitches.”
She’s around the corner and gone, and I don’t think anyone else heard her; they’re all still going on and on about the list—but fuck that bitch. I join Lennox as she’s hip bumping me. I know I shouldn’t let some nobody take me down a notch, but I can’t help feeling like she’s right. I barely got up on that stage—it took me weeks just to do that one small bit. I can’t unfeel this dread coming over me. And to make matters worse, I’m about to spend the next three months of my life with that girl shadowing me.
ACT TWO
ACT TWO—Scene Three—
I’m No Angel
Desdemona (Cassio):
HE GAVE ME WINGS, BUT I’M STILL A WOMAN
HE GAVE ME WINGS, BUT I’M NO ANGEL (RIGHT?)
Cassio:
IT WAS ONE MISTAKE
BUT LIFE DOES A SOLDIER MAKE
I’M STILL NEW AT THIS, BAD AT THIS
I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE SEES IN ME
BUT I’M BEGGING ON MY KNEES FOR ME
BELIVE IN ME
COME ON, O
DON’T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME
Desdemona:
HE GAVE ME WINGS, BUT I’M STILL A WOMAN
HE GAVE ME WINGS, BUT I’M NO ANGEL
I’M FALLIN’, JUST LIKE YOU
CAN’T SAVE ME, CAN’T SAVE YOU
HIS BELIEF IN ME IS THE WAY THROUGH
BUT I’M TERRIFIED THESE WILL LET ME DOWN
Cassio:
WAS IT THE FAME?
EVERYONE’S FINALLY SCREAMIN’ MY NAME
WHEN DID I TURN INTO A CLOWN AND LET YOU DOWN?
I WAS GIVEN ALL THIS,
NOW I’M FLOPPIN’ LIKE A FISH, OUT THE SEA
WHERE I CAN’T SWIM
NOT WITHOUT HIM
Desdemona:
HE GAVE ME WINGS, BUT I’M STILL A WOMAN
HE GAVE ME WINGS, BUT I’M NO ANGEL
I’M FALLIN’, JUST LIKE YOU
CAN’T SAVE ME, CAN’T SAVE YOU
HIS BELIEF IN ME IS THE WAY THROUGH
BUT I’M TERRIFIED THESE WILL LET ME DOWN
IF I FLY WITH THESE WINGS, I’LL PLUMMET TO THE GROUND
Chapter 13
I’m sitting in a circle onstage with the entire cast of Othello. Mrs. G—she looked at Dré, Eli, and I and told us to stop calling her Mrs. Gunta, because we were saying it wrong anyway. Okay, lady. I see you—is handing out a ton of papers. Our rehearsal schedule, the full script, our songs, and a notecard I’m putting my name, number, and address on. She’s old-school.
I notice on the list of cast members that my understudy—now and forever known as fuck that bitch—has a real name: Angelina. She’s sitting on the other side of the circle talking nonstop, and she’s the reason I add a number 6 to my Fuck It list: Don’t let bitches try me.
The only thing I know about her, besides the fact that she can’t lose with grace, is that she’s loud as hell.
I can hear her from the other side of the stage. “Oh my god, basic Beckys buy a makeup set from Sephora and think they’re witches.” She’s shoving her phone in this other girl’s face.
She’s the reason I don’t have friends that are girls. It’s the constant competition that drives me insane. I know I’m not immune to it; I’m still avoiding Kara at all costs, but that’s because the guy I like likes her, not because she’s got a vagina and breathes. I actually thought Kara was an okay person before the night that shall never be mentioned because it is still scarring me.
Guys are just easier.
Eli’s on my right, looking over his lines. He’s hunched over his paper like he’s already committing the lines to memory. This year I only have band with him, but last year we had all the same classes. He’s studious. The quiet, I keep my book bag organized and take notes with pen and paper while wearing glasses type. It’s adora
ble.
Dré’s on my left and has his hands behind his head and his legs stretched out with his papers on his lap. He’s making faces at the redhead from the audition party. So far, he hasn’t said anything to Lennox, who’s across from me, next to Kai. She’s making faces at me and wiggling her brows at Kai.
I don’t know how she and Dré can be so cavalier. They had sex, and now they’re acting like they don’t even know each other. I want to know if they’re still having sex, but asking Dré is out of the question, and Lennox will take that opportunity to take the topic way further than I want.
I’m not even sure I want to know.
The props and backstage crew go off into their own groups to sort out whatever it is they do. Mrs. G stands in the middle of the circle, and we all stand up with her: The roundtable read starts. We do weird breathing exercises and wiggle our mouths and bodies. At one point, I’m wailing like a siren, and we end the warm-up by massaging each other’s shoulders. I’ve got my hands on Eli, and though I like it when he returns the favor, I kill all the Eli love bells by wondering what Kai’s big hands would be like. I’m a mess—but this is healthy, getting over one crush by crushing on another.
We start the read-through.
These kids are in character even when we’re just supposed to be getting a feel for the play. It’s all modernized, but the essence is still Shakespeare, like in the audition packet, which is cool. But I was not prepared to read it like it’s opening night. Keeping up with everyone’s energy is hard.
Mrs. G ends rehearsal by telling us to practice and study our parts like our lives depend on it. And then she says it again, “But I don’t need to tell you twice, you know what do to.”
“SMASH IT,” everyone yells. Apparently, it’s the drama motto. It means to give it your all or, as Lennox explained, make sure your performance blows the roof off this bitch.
On the way home, I’m going over every moment I screwed up like I can magically change it. I fumbled almost all my lines, and I only have three scenes.
Everyone else just seemed to—get what they were doing? I don’t know why I was the only one who sounded like a complete idiot. It’s like everyone else went to some Disney acting camp and can just turn that shit on. Even Eli and Dré were relaxed with it. I’ve never felt more out of place in my life.
It doesn’t help that I could feel Angelina’s beady eyes on me every time it was my turn to read. Like she was saying, What did I say? The most basic of the basics.
Fuck—how can something I’ve wanted so bad turn out to be so damn hard? I add a note in my phone to add to the list on my mirror:
7. Find some fucking confidence.
“You just gonna ignore me, then?” Dré says. I’m sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window.
“Huh?”
He’s looking at me like I’m playing stupid, but I really don’t know what he said. I’m using the mute button. Sometimes it just turns on by itself when I’m thinking. My mom has thrown so many things at me because of it. Usually a slipper. Nothing like getting a funky, decompressed, dingy, leopard-print shoe to the face to jar you out of deep thought.
“Big Hawaii,” Dré says.
I roll my eyes and then wish I didn’t. I don’t have to know what he said to know what he’s saying. Dré nicknames people for two reasons. Because he likes them, or because he thinks they’re goofy and easy to make fun of.
Now that I think about it, no one really called me Liv until I met him. Now everyone uses it. It’s like he baptized me in his over-the-top personality and made me anew. But I’m taking me back. I’m O now.
“I’m just sayin’. Y’all were talking the other night, you went to his party, and now he’s looking at you like you a pig on luau day.”
Did this motherfucker just call me a pig?
“You can’t be into him, Liv.” Dré’s still going. If he weren’t driving, I’d go full Hulk on him.
Eli and I don’t fight. We rub each other wrong and dance around an apology until we’re just cool again, obviously—but Dré and I fight. I’m talking my-fist-to-his-body action. I attack, and he runs screaming and laughing until I catch that ass and make him say uncle.
He’s laughing now, and I know he can see the crazy in my eyes. “Why you mad?”
Eli’s not saying anything. I don’t know why I’m surprised. He never does.
This is why I don’t—can’t—be a girl around them. They find a way to embarrass me, and instead of feeling like an ugly duckling, I just get mad. “Fuck off, Dré.”
“Oh my god. Liv, it’s not that serious. I just want to know what you see in a dude that looks like he’s about to dance with flames while playing a ukulele. And his hair though—”
Kai is hot. Dré’s mad he’s not the hottest guy in the room. Kai’s a year older and bigger than Dré, in the I’m strong and I look like a man kind of way. Dré still has boy body, despite the muscles, and maybe he’s feeling a little insecure. I don’t know. None of that matters, because he’s taking whatever his nonsense is out on me.
“Shut up.” I turn back to the window.
Dré’s reaching over, flicking my curls. I wore my hair out, with a flower clip pinning half of it off my face. Lennox kept pulling on the jeans my sister gave me, saying, Got flowers in your hair and everything. Go get ya man, girl.
“Stop, Dré. She’s gonna hit you.” Eli says it like we’re his annoying siblings and he’s stuck in the car with us.
Dré pokes my thigh. “Come on. I was joking.” He always touches the biggest part of my body—hell, even my hair is big. I swear to god it’s like he keeps me around for amusement purposes.
“Dré, just leave her alone.”
Oh yeah, thanks, Eli. That’s how you stick up for someone. Never mind you don’t even care that Big Hawaii is into me.
Fucking A.
“I’m trying to apologize. Liv.” Now he’s shaking my whole damn thigh as the car lurches to a stop at a red light.
I turn to face him. “What, Dré?” I get mad at him all the time, and I can’t stand the fact that my irritation doesn’t faze him. He doesn’t ignore me until I get over it. He pesters me until I talk about it or see his side.
“I’m sorry.” He taps my nose. “Seriously, sorry.” He’s close to my face and pinching his lips together between his teeth. The light turns green, but he won’t move.
“Drive, Dré.” Cars start honking behind us.
“Forgive me?”
He’s so annoying. And, to be honest, cute. We can’t be a thing—ever—because we’re on some toxic-level shit. We’d be married, he’d cheat on me, and I’d set his clothes on fire. He’d threaten to jump off a highway bridge if I didn’t forgive his cheating ass—I’m pretty sure that’d be our future.
The honking gets louder as more cars join in.
“Oh my god. Yes. Just drive.” I roll my eyes and Dré hits the gas.
“I love you, too.” Dré keeps looking at me sideways, laughing again.
Just as he’s turning up the music and belting out lyrics in Spanish, I hear Eli mutter, “So fucking annoying.”
I didn’t start my Year of Fuck It just to be mocked for being liked. I know Dré’s not doing it to be mean-spirited; teasing is his thing. But what is the point of saying yes to things that scare me if I’m going to turn around and let my friends put me down for it?
* * *
It’s Saturday and finally a day where I can wear a sweater outside, walk down the street, and not catch fire. I made up my mind to do a thing my sister always talks about from the time she worked as a secretary at a therapist’s office. I’m going to set some boundaries.
One Christmas, my sister attempted to mediate between my mom and my aunt, and I remember how she told my mom she should listen to Aunt Rachel and respect her opinions, even if she disagreed with them. But that didn’t go so
well, because my mom told Aunt Rachel she respectfully thought she was a cheap know-it-all. Aunt Rachel said my mom was bougie and her lace-front looked like a ratty dog.
We don’t talk about that Christmas.
But I have high hopes that setting some boundaries about me and my dating life with the guys will go much better.
I’m opening the door to Dré’s house—they never lock it; I swear to god if I never locked our front door, my mom would tear my ass up from Monday to Sunday.
Dré and Eli actually settled on doing Battle of the Bands, but only if they actually get a band together. Since the auditions for it start in February, the same time as our opening week for Othello, I have no idea when they’re going to find the time to practice. Dré’s cool with skipping out on school and homework, and, well, everything not related to whatever he’s into at the moment, but I don’t know how he got Eli to agree.
Inside, Dré’s house is pristine, and it smells like amber. Gloria, Dré’s mom, burns incense and essential oils nonstop. She’s also into the furniture no one sits on. The sitting room, decorated in colors of brown, white, and turquoise, has never felt the presence of a living soul.
I find Gloria in the kitchen on my way to the garage, where I can already hear Dré messing around on the guitar.
“Que linda. Hey, baby. I haven’t seen you in a minute.” She stops chopping up avocados to give me a hug. It looks like she’s about to make some yellow rice. I can spot a box of Sazón anywhere. “Want some chips and guac? I was making some for the boys. They’ve got people coming over for auditions.” She thinks everything Dré does is cute and silly.
“Does it make me a pig if I keep it all for myself?” I didn’t eat breakfast—too much effort.
Smash It! Page 10