License to Spill

by Lisi Harrison

  “Try to have some fun tonight, girls,” Mom said. Then she handed Vanessa a yellowed business card and hugged us both.

  “Come to my room,” I said, “I want to show you something.”

  Vanessa popped the handle on her suitcase.

  “Leave it. You won’t need it.”

  I led her into my bedroom and proudly showed her the Tshirts splayed out on my bed. “Ta-da!”

  “ ‘Seize the Day, Not the A’?” she read.

  “Mandy had them made.” I beamed. “She’s super connected at the mall because of her job. One of them is for you.”

  Vanessa took a step back. “Nah, I’m good.”

  “You don’t want it?”

  Deep-conditioned curls smacked the sides of her face as she shook her head no. “I’m not that into the whole Horace Power thing.”

  “Why not?” I asked, slightly offended.

  “Ver? It gives people an excuse to be lazy.”

  “Taking time to enjoy life isn’t lazy; it’s what we’re supposed to do. It’s why we have senses. So we could experience the world around us.”

  “Wrong. We were born with senses so we could escape predators.”

  “All I’m saying is…” What was I saying? Academic pressure was Mandy’s issue, not mine. Still, it felt good to speak out about something that Pub kids cared about. “I’m saying we need to stop obsessing over achievements.”

  “And do what?”

  “I don’t know. Laugh, explore, experience boredom.”

  Vanessa pursed her lips and considered this. “I’d rather have the A.” Then she asked if I’d help her with her suitcase.

  “We have all week to study,” I pleaded.

  “I’m not smart like you, okay?”

  She phrased it like a compliment but said it like an insult. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, I took eighth-grade math in eighth grade, not fourth. If I don’t study, I fail. You’re the only person I know who gets to have both.”

  “Both?”

  “The day and the A,” she said. “Most of us have to choose one or the other.” Then with a kind smile she added, “If I didn’t like you so much I’d have a real problem with that.”

  I could have made a case for half-a-day and a B+, but she was over it. So I asked what she wanted to study first.

  “Thank you,” Vanessa grinned. “I owe you.”

  “Yeah, that worked real well for us last time,” I teased, referring to the night she was supposed to change my grades, but ditched me instead.

  She rolled her eyes playfully. “I owe you twice, then.”

  After that it was all business.

  Now it’s 12:30 AM and Vanessa just farted in her sleep. I got my giggle.

  Nov. 14.

  The freshman play is on Saturday.

  Wicked.

  Audri will be rehearsing all week.

  She said I probably won’t see her until after the show.

  LIE #62: That sucks.

  I wouldn’t be able to see her much this week anyway and now I don’t have to lie.

  Lie about why I need to be present. Focused. Engaged.

  Why I need to attend one, if not two, Mini Mavericks meetings.

  Why I need to quit taking off at all hours of the night to do lord knows what.

  Why I can, and WILL, kick my drug habit.

  I did more than enough lying to Dr. Lloyd.

  Q: Daniel, what is your drug of choice?

  LIE #63: Tobacco.

  Q: Tobacco?

  A: Ugh. It sounds so ugly when you say it.

  Q: Sorry. Just to be clear we’re talking about cigarettes.

  A: Yes.

  Q: Only cigarettes.

  A: Yes.

  Q: The kind that are legal?

  A: Yes, if you’re over 18. I’m not.

  Q: Have you noticed a shift in your behavior since you started taking, er, cigarettes?

  LIES #64–74: Big-time. I’ve been restless, agitated, jittery. I’m always thinking about my next smoke. Or, where I can get the money to buy them. I’ve got every cashier in every store dialed. I know who will card me and who won’t. Then there’s that smell. I have to hide it from my teachers, friends, family… It’s exhausting. I’m so ashamed.

  Q: Does that mean you’re ready to quit?

  A: Yes.

  LIE #75: I think my behavior has been a cry for help.

  … And on it went.

  After the evaluation Dr. Lloyd told Mother and Father that a treatment facility would not be necessary. He recommended chewing gum, physical activity, and deep breathing.

  I saw him today for a follow-up and urine test.

  He’s pleased to report I am doing great. Not a single trace of nicotine.

  Father bought me an alligator briefcase to congratulate me.

  He has the same one. He uses his for work and suggests I use mine for my Mini Mavericks meetings. But I should feel free to use it at school too.

  –No way, I told him.

  –Why?

  LIE #76: I’d hate for something to happen to it.

  The truth is, it reminds me that I’m a liar. Not only to Audri, but Mother and Father too. And that lying to family, especially when they have always been honest with you, wears on a guy’s conscience after a while.

  They don’t deserve it.

  Fine, maybe they deserve it little bit because they gave me this name.

  Had they just taken an extra minute to think things through they might have realized that mass producing T-words and naming me Daniel Ponnowitz could lead to DanPonn down the road.

  But they didn’t. So here we are.

  11.14.12

  INT. SHERIDAN’s BEDROOM—DESK—NIGHT.

  Channeling CHRISTINA AGUILERA in her latest video, “YOUR BODY,” SHERIDAN wraps a blue bandana around her head and fastens it with one of her brothers’ clip-on ties. The bow is centered perfectly between her eyebrows. Tousled blond hair spills over her shoulders. Her lipstick is pale pink. She is at one with the paused image on her computer screen. She is fierce.

  Christina. I, like you, am ready to own my curves. To celebrate my cravings and indulge my needs—none of which involve putting down this Charleston Chew and hitting the treadmill.

  You see, I’ve spent four days trying to whittle my middle and reduce my caboose, but all I’m losing is steam. Wicked is Saturday and between rehearsals and homework, I don’t have the strength.

  One could argue that I’m an understudy, making jumping jacks in the wings while Octavia is onstage making a mockery of the craft, a viable option. But I am a professional. I have made a commitment to the theater and I will see it through to the best of my ability. If the elastic band on my underwear digs into my lower abdomen as a result, so be it. That’s not to say I won’t slim down for my TV series. I will, starting Monday.

  I just watched “Your Body” again. That Christina is one powerful pear.

  To Be Continued…

  END SCENE.

  November 16th

  I stayed at Lily’s for the past two nights. All I did was study. The only break I took was to sleep, eat, and hydrate. It was awesome. Ver? Now it’s Lily I’m worried about.

  Mandy stopped by yesterday to say that Seventeen magazine and Good Morning America want to interview them about Horace Power. It’s that viral.

  Lily was so excited she couldn’t study anymore. She thinks grades aren’t the be all end all. She’s wearing that stupid shirt.

  I know she’s unequivocally brilliant, but what if she seizes so much of the day her GPA drops? What if she gets pulled from Noble again? I don’t want her to go.

  The bell just rang. Wish me luck, I need to kick some major A’s.101

  You must find the place inside of you where nothing is impossible.

  —Deepak Chopra

  Friday

  Feeling = When a guy gets slam-dumped twice in one week, a gym full of Screamers doesn’t hurt.

  Feeling = It helps. A lot.

&nbs
p; Feeling = It’s also good for business.

  After we slayed the Dragons 44–20 on their own soil, all these girls started saying how hot I was or looked or smelled. I must have sent twenty dudes to the Trendemic site.

  The whole ride back to Noble, the team is busting on me because I didn’t get a single number.

  Feeling = I’m not gonna text some random chick from Woodland because she says, A phone isn’t the only thing your jeans are charging.

  Then I remember that’s what a decent guy would say, and I need to be respected. So I go, I have plenty of numbers already. I can’t handle any more.

  They ask me to share some with them. I say get your own. They say they try, but it doesn’t work. I promise to show them how it’s done after our next game.

  Feeling = I wish I knew.

  11.17.12

  INT. NOBLE HIGH—STARLIGHT AUDITORIUM DRESSING ROOM C—30 MINUTES UNTIL CURTAIN.

  SHERIDAN turns off CHRISTINA AGUILERA, removes her headphones, and sighs. Her green-faced REFLECTION sighs back.

  Will you please move over? (A Munchkin, not the edible kind.) The mirror is for the actors who will actually be onstage.

  Try not to fall off. It’s a far drop for a little guy like you. (Me, wanting to hang him by that stupid red curlicue on top of his head.)

  Witch.

  Extra.

  Understudy.

  Under… everything!

  With that, I went next door to wish Audri broken legs. Because that’s what superlatively good sports do.

  Her dressing room was crackling with nervous energy. Foreheads in hands, nail-biting, pacing. Something more than backstage jitters was at play here. I could see it in the armpits of Mr. Kimball’s shirt. They don’t usually yellow until the middle of act two.

  I was about to ask Audri what was going on. Then I got Octavia’s text:

  GOOD LUCK.

  The words leapt off the screen like flying monkeys.

  She’s not coming? (Me.)

  Last-minute tickets to Justin Timberlake. (Audri.)

  How can she skip out on her role, her cast, her crew, her audience… for a concert? She’s worse than… What’s the animal that eats its young?

  Hamster? (Audri.)

  Not as cute.

  Charlie Sheen? (Mr. Fluvinack, the piano player.)

  Wolf spider? (Audri.)

  Yes. Octavia is a wolf spider. Sorry. I know you guys are tight but—

  We were. Not anymore. Not after this. (Audri.)

  I hadn’t given much thought to what any of this meant for me until Mr. Kimball handed me a black dress and wig and said, It’s show time.

  Those two words canceled out Octavia’s two words. When I stepped onto the stage ten minutes later, only three thoughts entered my mind.

  1. I finally get to play opposite Audri.

  2. I need one more coat of green makeup.

  3. Cheeses, this dress is tight.

  CUT TO:

  INT. STARLIGHT AUDITORIUM—CURTAIN CALL—BEST NIGHT EVER.

  SHERIDAN and AUDRI exchange luminous smiles as they join hands and walk to the foot of the stage. The APPLAUSE is thunderous. The two LEADS bow and then blow kisses to the CAST behind them. Then the ORCHESTRA. Then the sobbing, yellow-pitted MR. KIMBALL. When SHERIDAN and AUDRI bow again, the AUDIENCE stands.

  I’m not kidding. It was superlative on every level. Audri and I had tears in our eyes, it was that magical. Not just the standing O, but the fact that we did it together. The way it was always supposed to be.

  The house lights came on and Mr. Kimball asked everyone to take their seats because there was something he wanted to say. Audri and I turned to go back into the cast line, but Mr. Kimball reached for my arm and pulled me back. What he wanted to say was about me.

  Sheridan Spencer is a true professional. More so than anyone I have ever worked with, be it on Broadway, off, or off-off. She was always on time, always paying attention, and ready to step in at a moment’s notice. She proved that tonight when she was literally given ONE. MOMENT’S. NOTICE.

  MORE APPLAUSE.

  MR. KIMBALL turns to SHERIDAN and speaks directly to her.

  My only regret is not casting you as the lead from the very beginning. One thing’s for sure. I will never make that mistake again.

  MORE APPLAUSE.

  I didn’t care about his pits, I hugged that man hard.

  Sheridan Spencer, will you please take one last bow!

  SHERIDAN bows. As she straightens back up she hears zzzzzrrrpppppp. A chilly breeze licks the left side of her torso.

  What the—

  Your costume! (Mr. Kimball.)

  THE CURSE!

  SHERIDAN pinches the seams, forcing them to meet, but they refuse. A ten-pack of ChipClips and a glue gun can’t save her now. Her chickens-with-glasses underwear, the rolls of flesh; all of it exposed.

  Suddenly, The AUDIENCE seems different; childish and unkind. Like the comedy-tragedy masks of ancient Greece—some laugh, some weep; all in slow motion. SHERIDAN gazes into the white lights, wondering if she is dying. She prays that angels will guide her safely to the wings. But it’s too late. The cell phones have arrived. And they’re hungry. Hungry for a sound bite or a 140-character snack to post at the all-you-can-tweet buffet.

  SHERIDAN opens her mouth to speak. CHRISTINA AGUILERA comes out.

  You are in the presence of a fat girl. Not big-boned. Not jolly. Not bloated. FAT. And guess what? I’m happy. I’d rather be celebrated for my body of work than my body of abs and I got a standing ovation tonight. So I’m not going to run away and hide because I split my costume. I’m going to grin and pear it. Because I am a professional and that’s what we do.

  To Be Continued…

  END SCENE.

  Sunday

  I owed $533.85 to Trendemic before we played the Dragons on Friday.

  After we played I earned $589.00

  Now my I have $55.15 credit.

  Balance Due: $0

  ZERO!

  Zeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeero.

  I am Jay-Zero!

  Meet my wife Beyonc-paid!

  And our lovely daughter Blue Ivy.

  Why Blue? Because I’m not in the red.

  Why Ivy? Because Ivy paid Anton back!

  Feeling = I am freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

  Free to smell like skin again. Free to wear jeans that don’t need to be charged overnight. Free to dialogue with the Screamers and ignore the dudes. Free to hang with my buddies and show them how a real man plays pickup.

  Feeling = Respected.

  Tuesday, November 20, 2012

  Mrs. Martin called her AP students in for one-on-ones to go over our test results before her maternity leave. My B+ average surprised her, but not as much as my reaction.

  “That’s a bummer?” she said. “That’s it?”

  I nodded.

  She sighed. “Lily, I really expected great things from you. Now it seems like you’re just giving up. Is something going on at home?”

  “No. I just can’t handle the pressure. I think I should switch back to the normal program.”

  Was I proud to be messing with a woman who was trying to help me whilst growing a human inside her body? A body that looked like it had been attached to a fire hydrant and filled to capacity? So much so that every time she tried to cross her legs I heard sloshing water? No. I was not proud at all, but I had to consider the alternative.

  A straight-A student—all AP classes—could not go on national television and tout a movement that encourages students to “Seize the day, not the A.” It’s disingenuous.

  When I told Vanessa about my meeting she was more shocked than Mrs. Martin.

  “You asked to be moved?” she said, slamming her locker.

  “I’m tired.”

  “Oh please,” Vanessa said, scratching her arm. “It’s Mandy and that whole Horace Power, isn’t it?”

  “No! I choked,” I said. I spotted Blake and waved him ov
er so we could grab lunch. “Food truck today?”

  “Lily!” Vanessa snapped. “What’s wrong with you? It’s like you don’t even care.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t get kicked out again,” I said. “My parents let me do what I want now. I’m allowed to be normal!”

  “Ugh!” Vanessa shuddered. “Don’t say that word.”

  Blake appeared, wallet in hand. “What word?”

  “I’m not allowed to say it.”

  Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Normal.”

  “What’s wrong with nor—”

  “Don’t say it!” I snapped.

  Blake covered his mouth.

  “Mrs. Martin is making me switch back to the N program.” Vanessa sniffled. “Now I’ll never be a Phoenix Five. I’ll never be the best. I’ll never be—”

  “Overscheduled?” I tried.

  “I like being overscheduled,” Vanessa said. “It’s being N that stresses me out.”

  I put my arm around her, wishing we could switch identities like they do in the movies. She could be the exception and I could be typical.

  “At least we’ll be together,” I tried.

  During lunch we talked about our plans for Thanksgiving, the grossness of raisins in stuffing, and ways to mess with Mike’s customers on Black Friday.

  Vanessa participated, but her mind was elsewhere. Someplace dark and distant. A secret mental lair, where her grandest plans are hatched and her shameless thoughts are hidden. The place she goes to figure out that next big move. I know because I have one too. Those of us plagued by desire often do.

  I went to that dark and distant place before I wrote my exams last Friday. It’s where I decided to botch my answers so I could get released from the AP program. It’s where I will celebrate all the seizing I do from this day forward.

  November 21st

  Wonder Bread Words102 are everyday words that offer zero value. Never attempted to use these words in conversation or writing. They are useless.

  I’m good, how are you?

  What a pleasant day.

  That book was interesting.

  Divorce is normal.

  Now, watch what happens when I replace these Wonder Bread Words with spicier terms..

  I’m invincible, how are you?