by Yee, Lisa
“Why are you running it?” I ask.
Mom is quiet. I can hear the other golfers teeing off. Finally, she says, “We do it because … we love it. It’s not just a building, Marley. It’s a place of dreams, past and present. There’s a rich history there, and we’re lucky enough to be a part of it. The movies your father shows were meant to be played on the silver screen, in a setting as beautiful as the Rialto.”
“But what if someone really wanted to buy the theater and then, maybe, I don’t know, put up a multiplex or something?”
Mom hands the soda back and stands up. She reaches for her driver and grips it. “Your father and I have worked hard to keep the Rialto going, so the idea of someone just waltzing in and buying it is unthinkable. Marley, no one’s going to take the Rialto away from us. Not without a fight anyway. Okay?”
When I don’t answer, she asks again. “Okay, Marley?”
“Okay,” I say.
“Good. Now, let’s get back to golf.”
I watch as my mother reaches into the bucket and pulls out a ball. She places it on the tee, then takes her stance before bringing the club up behind her. Mom pauses, then executes a strong smooth swing. Thwack! The ball sails across the driving range, arching in the sky.
It’s the last week of school before winter break, which means that all the teachers are cramming exams down our throats. For McKenna’s history test today, I’m going to need all the energy and inspiration I can muster. I’m half dreading it, half looking forward to it.
Digger is waiting at the corner. As always, he’s wearing his Roadrunners jacket. There is no homework for me to pass to him since it’s a test day. We don’t bother with hellos. Instead, he launches into a speech.
“This is how it will go. You will take the test and make sure it’s where I can see it. It’s all multiple choice, so we don’t have to worry about writing stupid essays or anything. Once you’re done, you just sit there and wait. I will turn in my test first. Only then can you turn yours in. Got it?”
When I don’t answer, Digger faces me. “Got it?” he growls. I look at my hand. My WWSD is fading, but I can still read it.
“We’ll see,” I say. Then the light turns green and I take off.
“Okay, class,” Ms. McKenna is saying. She’s wearing snowmen earrings and a reindeer sweater. “Now I want your tests facedown until I tell you to turn them over. But before we begin, I have one more thing to say to you …
It’s the big ol’ test.
You can do your best.
Hope you got some rest.
Sha boom, sha boom!
Did you study a lot?
About the Civil War and battles fought?
Remember what I taught.
Sha boom, sha boom!
Now do your best
On the test.
Sha boom, sha boom!
When Ms. McKenna finally stops rapping, she says, “Students, let’s get serious. You may turn your papers over, and” — she looks at her watch — “begin.”
I scan the exam. There are fifty questions. I know I can ace this. McKenna’s even included bonus questions, so getting 120% correct is not out of the question. Starting at the top, I fill in the answers: B, A, C, A, D, D, B …
Digger clears his throat. I glance over at him. He’s tapping his pencil on his desk. I cover up my test with my arm. He coughs again, then drops his pencil. As he reaches down to pick it up, he hisses to me, “Don’t be a jerk, Marley.”
I look at him before returning to the test. This time, I lean back to give him a clear view of my answers.
As the hour wears on, there’s the usual amount of sniffling and coughing going on in the room. Ms. McKenna sits at her desk in the front. I can only assume/hope she’s playing music in her head, because she’s bouncing up and down with her eyes closed. I get about halfway though the test and am feeling great. I know that I have nailed each and every question so far.
I sneak a peek at Digger. He’s busy copying off my paper. I smile and continue. About half the test is left. I answer a few more questions, then stop to let Digger catch up to me. When I can tell his pencil isn’t moving anymore, I stretch my arms high in the air, then cross them as I wait. And wait. While I’m waiting, I draw a sketch of Spock on the bottom corner of the test.
When Ms. McKenna announces, “You have five minutes left,” I am still waiting. My Spock is looking pretty good. Several kids have already finished. I have thirty-five questions left unanswered on my paper, which means that Digger does too.
“Time’s up!” Ms. McKenna says as she walks up and down the rows and collects the rest of the tests. She has on her red Converse today. “Your paper please, Digger.” Ms. McKenna holds out her hand.
Digger scowls at me, then hands her his paper.
I smile at him, then hand her mine.
The next day at lunch, Digger storms over to the Tragic Tree. I guess I couldn’t avoid him forever. “What was that? What kind of stupid jerk stunt was that?” Digger’s face is as red as his hair. Two of his new Roadrunner goons are standing behind him with their arms crossed, scowling. They remind me of the Gorn, only without the muscles or shaved heads.
I look at the WWSD on my hand, then clench my fist.
As Digger continues to yell, Ramen’s eyes grow so big they look like they’re taking over half of his head. Max has stopped chewing on her dim sum.
“I had a brain fart,” I say calmly. “I just blanked out and couldn’t think of the rest of the answers.” Digger’s eyes narrow. “Really,” I say. “Brain fart.” I make a farting noise. “Brain fart.”
“Don’t mess with me, Marley,” Digger says.
“Brain fart. Brain fart,” I repeat. “Brain fart.”
“If I don’t ace history, I’m in big trouble,” he warns. “And if I’m in big trouble, then you’re in bigger trouble.”
“Brain fart,” I say. “Sorry about the brain fart.”
When Digger and his guys leave, Max lights up and says, “You threw the test on purpose, just so he wouldn’t pass, didn’t you?”
I nod.
“Awesome!” she cries.
Ramen looks like he’s dying to say something, but is holding it in. He still hasn’t spoken to me since I joined track.
“But wait,” Max says. “Then that means you won’t pass either.”
I nod. “It’s worth it though, don’t you think?”
Ramen, Max, and I break into huge idiotic grins. “Dude!” Ramen shouts. “You’re the man! The Force is with you!!!” Then, as if he suddenly remembered something, Ramen gets all sullen again. “But it’s not like you still aren’t a traitor.”
As Ramen heads to the library to return a book, Max says, “You did a very Batman thing!”
“Drop it, Max. Batman’s a has-been,” I joke. “They even had him die in the comics, didn’t they?”
Max looks stricken. “Did I say something wrong?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Batman was my dad’s favorite. He loved Bruce Wayne and said that he would live forever. All my classic Batman stuff — it used to be his.”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Any lingering anger I had about her telling Haycorn about me is gone. Max just keeps talking. “I know that in the comics Bruce Wayne died in the Final Crisis #6 series when Darkseid blasted him, but I refuse to believe he’s really dead.” Max begins to blink rapidly. She takes a huge gulp of air, then adds, “I know that he’s going to return someday.”
Her eyes shut, and for a moment I think she’s meditating, she’s so still. Then suddenly, Max starts crying. Her shoulders shake with each sob. I would almost rather have the Gorn hitting me than stand here watching Max in pain. I pat her on the head, but this doesn’t seem to help.
WWSD? What would Spock do? WWKD? What would Kirk do? As I watch her cry, I feel helpless.
WWMD?
What would Marley do?
I give Max an awkward hug and let her cry into my shoulder. “It’s okay,” I tell her.
“Batman’s cool.”
Hey, I’ve figured out how to slow down time! Just have Digger stare at you all though history class. The bell rings and I leap up to leave, but am stopped when Ms. McKenna says, “Marley, Digger, I want you to stay after class.” She isn’t bopping around as usual. Instead she is very still and sounds stern. Ms. McKenna is holding our history tests like they’re on fire. “You both got exactly the same grade … D-plus. Coincidentally, you both got all the same answers, and both didn’t finish the test. In fact, you stopped at the same question.”
Digger and I are silent.
“I know one of you cheated off the other. What I don’t know is who. Do either of you want to confess?”
We’re still not talking.
“All right, then, I’m going to ask you some questions and see what you know. Who were the men on the Committee of Five who wrote the first draft of the Declaration of Independence?”
Silence hangs in the room.
Ms. McKenna warns us, “If neither of you speaks up, you both get after-school detention, your parents will be notified, and this goes on your permanent record.”
“Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Robert R. Livingston,” I rattle off. “And Roger Sherman.”
Ms. McKenna nods. “Okay, in December 1776, Benjamin Franklin was dispatched to which country as commissioner for the United States?”
“France.”
“Good, Marley. What is the famous second sentence of the Declaration of Independence?”
I stand up straight. “ ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.’ ”
“Why did Washington cross the Delaware?”
“To get to the other side,” Digger mutters.
Ms. McKenna ignores him and looks at me. I begin, “Washington crossed the Delaware to take Trenton. There were a bunch of Hessian mercenaries there, and they were basically bullies. They didn’t care what the cause was. They were just paid to fight. They were mean and ruthless. At the Battle of Trenton, Washington captured nearly all of them, with little loss of life. It wasn’t about who could beat up who, it was about avoiding too much battle. This boosted morale and was a turning point in the Revolutionary War.”
Ms. McKenna is beaming. “Marley, that wasn’t even on the test!” She turns to Digger. “Go directly to Principal Haycorn’s office.” She scrawls something on a piece of paper. “Give this to him. You, sir, have after-school detention for the rest of the week.”
“Can I finish the test?” I ask Ms. McKenna. “It won’t take long. I know all the answers.”
“I know you do, Marley,” she says. “But no, you can’t retake it.”
“But the only reason I didn’t finish was so that Digger wouldn’t get a good grade.”
“I’m sorry, Marley. I really am. But you’re stuck with that grade. You know, cheating can go two ways. It was wrong of Digger to copy your test, but it was also wrong of you to let him do that. However, maybe you can make up for it on your oral report next week.” When I don’t say anything, Ms. McKenna asks, “You are prepared for your oral report, right?”
I nod, even though I’m not ready for it. Oh sure, I’m almost done with my report about Benjamin Franklin. I know everything about him. But it’s one thing to stand in the Transporter Room in full Franklin garb and expound on him, and another to get up in front of the class and give a speech. I remember what happened to me the last time I stood in front of a class.
“Are you mad at me?” Ms. McKenna asks when I don’t answer right away.
That’s a weird question for a teacher to ask. “No, why?”
Ms. McKenna reaches for a tissue and blows her nose. It sounds like a goose honking. “Well, because I didn’t let you finish the test, and I know some students don’t like me, but I’m not sure why. I go out of my way to be rad. You may not believe this,” she confides, “but I used to be considered dorky when I was in school.”
“Really?” I say, trying to sound surprised.
“It’s true! Marley, I love teaching so much and I want to share what I’ve learned.” Her eyes are now moist. “The American Revolution, the creation of our nation — this is the stuff of life!!!”
Ms. McKenna sinks down into her chair and blows her nose again. She looks dejected. “Maybe I should have been a dentist, like my mother and father.”
As she tosses the tissue into the trash can, I try to think of something to say to cheer her up. Finally, I say, “After AV, history is my favorite subject.”
“It is?”
“Well, sure. Benjamin Franklin, Washington crossing the Delaware, the Constitution, it’s … it’s like it’s another place, another time, only it’s real.” Ms. McKenna nods. “Maybe there’s some way you could make it more real for your students than singing rap songs?”
McKenna sits up. “How, Marley? How would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” I confess. “But, Ms. McKenna —”
“Yes?”
“I like your class.”
“Thank you, Marley. That means a lot to me. Say, would you like a warm fuzzy?”
“Sure,” I say. I mean it. Then I ask, “Would you like an Officer Uhura?” I take the Star Trek action figure out of my pocket and hand Uhura to Ms. McKenna.
“Star Trek?” she asks.
I nod. “I love Star Trek. Space is the final frontier. Up there, anything is possible. Uhura’s the USS Enterprise’s Chief Communications Officer.”
“Thank you, Marley,” Ms. McKenna says.
As I hold my warm fuzzy and Ms. McKenna holds Officer Uhura, we both smile.
“Marley, so nice of you to decide to join us,” Mr. Jiang says. I hand him my late pass. “Are you just visiting, or are you back for good?”
“Back for good,” I tell him. “I quit the track team.”
“Ah,” Mr. Jiang comments. “The allure of wobbly AV cart wheels and tangled cables beckoned you back.”
“Something like that,” I say. I call out to Troy and Patrick, “Hey, guys, I’m back.”
They barely look up from the DVD player they’ve taken apart. “When were you gone?” Patrick asks.
Max gives me a grin. “Tell them what you did,” she says. I blush when I remember how proud she was when I told her the news.
“I got Digger thrown into detention,” I announce.
“Dude!” Troy shouts. “Gimme five!”
I look over at Ramen. I can tell he’s listening. “Hey, Ramen,” I start to say.
“Hey, nothing,” he answers. “Oh, I mean, I’m nobody.”
“Quiet, please,” Mr. Jiang says as he settles in for a nap.
“Are you going to the Star Trek Convention?” Troy asks. He’s now working his way through a giant bag of potato chips and keeps wiping his hands on his pants.
I shake my head. “Not this time. You going?” I ask.
“Heck yeah,” Troy says, giving me the Vulcan sign. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything!”
At the beginning of the year, I would have said the same thing. Only, there is one thing that I would miss the convention for. To look good in front of Emily Ebers. Forget Ramen. He’s acting like a baby. I’m moving up in the world, and if he can’t handle that, then that’s his problem.
After AV Club, there is no Gorn and no Digger to torment me. I wait for Emily at her locker. My hand is in the pocket of my B-Man jacket, gripping the note. I had brought Uhura to help me here, but she’s with Ms. McKenna now. I take a deep breath to build up my nerve. There she is!
“Hi, Marley!” Emily says, giving off a radiant smile. Today she’s wearing a skirt and a pink fuzzy sweater.
“NuqneH!” Oops, gotta stop talking Klingon, that sounds so stupid. “Hello, Jell-O!”
“Do you have big plans for winter break?” she asks. Why is Emily asking me this? Maybe she wants to get together over break?
“Uh, no plans. Just whatever. And you?”
“I’m going to see my dad in New Jersey.”
“Maj! I mean, good! That should be fun,” I tell her. Should I give her the note? Emily’s smiling at me again. “I’ve never been to New Jersey,” I say. “Don’t they have a lot of cows there or something? You know, Jersey cows, New Jersey. Moo.”
Oh man, could I sound like a bigger nerd?
Emily laughs. “Cows? I don’t know, Marley. Maybe. Well, I have to go meet Millicent at the library. It was nice talking to you. See you around!”
My heart is still racing even though it’s been over five hours and thirty-two minutes since I’ve seen Emily. I wonder if she feels the same way? Lavender is talking to a woman who can’t stop thinking about her fiancé. “No matter how hard I try, Orlo’s always on my mind,” she says.
“Hmmm …” Lavender ponders this and continues, “Jennifer, there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“I guess not,” the caller says.
“Well, Jen, and for all of you out there that have a special someone they can’t stop thinking about, here’s the Willie Nelson classic, ‘Always on My Mind’ …”
I still have the note I wrote to Emily. Maybe it’s time to be a man and give it to her.
As I get ready for school, I make sure to wear my Seth the Perfect Boyfriend shirt. I try combing my hair the way Mimi did at the salon. I’m never sure how much gel I’m supposed to put in it. The directions say “a dab.” How much is that? I squeeze the tube twice to be sure to get enough.
Before I leave the apartment I slip on the B-Man jacket. I also put a Captain Kirk action figure in my pocket. Of all the guys on the Enterprise, he has the best luck with the ladies.
Today is E2 Day. Emily Ebers Day. I’m going to give her the note, for sure.
My heart races as I leave the Rialto. Just thinking about Emily is enough to wipe out all other thoughts, until … I stop cold when I see Digger standing on the corner. He doesn’t look happy. I wonder if he is going to kill me now or wait until we’re someplace less public.