Exiled to Iowa. Send Help. And Couture

by Chris O'Guinn

  Becca smiled patiently. “Sounds fun. You going to do plays and stuff?”

  “We’ll see. Might be just me and your brother and Nick there, which would be too small of a group to put on a production.”

  “Oh, I’ll be there too,” she insisted with that sweet smile of hers that a straighter man would be ensorcelled by. “Otherwise I might never get to hang out with you.”

  I rolled my eyes at her little drama. “Oh, it’s not like my social calendar is full. We can hang out any time.”

  “You mean that?”

  I was surprised by just how happy that made her. “Of course. “ I eyed her askance. “Looks like you’ve been back to The Grab Bag. I’m a bad influence.”

  She colored a little. “My mom went crazy. I think she almost cried when she saw me wearing the stuff you picked out. She insisted on going back with me and she hooked me up with a ton more clothes.”

  In spite of her resigned tone, I could tell she was happy with her new look. It helped that boys were now gawking openly at her and girls were enviously asking where she got the new clothes. While Becca was not one to seek the spotlight, she seemed to be enjoying all the positive attention.

  I suddenly remembered something I had to do. I didn’t feel great about it, but sometimes you have to suck it up. “Oh, by the way, surprise news; Billy apologized for slugging me.”

  “Really? Wow. Why do you think he did that?”

  “Uh….” I eyed her askance. “I think he wants to be your friend, so he thought maybe beating up your other friends wasn’t a good idea.”

  “Huh, weird. Wonder why he cares....”

  “Oh, we boys aren’t that hard to figure out. It’s you girls that have the market cornered on mystery.” I bit my lower lip. “It’s fine if you want to talk to him and stuff, just be careful, okay?”

  “Oh, I don’t have any interest in hanging out with him. But it’s cool he tried to apologize to you.”

  “It was certainly a surprise,” I told her with absolute honesty.

  “So, speaking of hanging out....” Becca looked tense. The change of topic was awkward, but I only smiled at her to let her know it was all right. “Was wondering if you’d be interested in this local event….”

  “Oh, I have just been aching for someone to invite me to my first cow-tipping.”

  She huffed in annoyance. “We’re not Dumbhickville, America, you know,” she told me indignantly.

  “Sorry.”

  “Anyway, the annual Hoedown is coming up....”

  “The what now?” I asked, refusing to believe she had just said what she had said.

  “Hoedown.” She looked pretty uncomfortable bringing it up. “I know, it’s hokey and all. It’s a town tradition. Every year, there’s a big party at this huge old barn. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s kind of fun.”

  “I look silly in a cowboy hat,” I protested, trying very hard not to laugh.

  “Duh. You’d look like a giant thumbtack.”

  “Hey, now....”

  “Anyway, it might be fun for you to get to know people here outside of school,” she nudged. “I don’t think you were meant to be a wallflower.”

  “Oh God no,” I admitted. “I need attention like grass needs a good sprinkler system.”

  Becca was definitely looking uncomfortable. “So, if you wanted to go, we could. You know, as friends and everything.”

  The fact that she was asking me seemed to be costing her, and I wasn’t obnoxious enough to make her feel stupid for inviting me. She wanted to go, and she wanted to go with me, so what was the harm? I’d been to hokier events in my time.

  “Okay, just tell me when and where and what I am allowed to wear.”

  “It’s a week from Friday at seven and you can wear whatever you want. You do know how to square dance, right?”

  I looked horrified and the evil little minx laughed at me. “Oh funny. Ha ha. Square dancing.”

  Becca just smirked and gave me her cell number and then went on her way. I was happy that she was pleased I had agreed to go, since for whatever reason that meant she sort of liked me. Sure, there had been indications, like the fact she hadn’t killed me yet, but now I had something approaching actual evidence.

  My social calendar was quickly looking healthier and I had hope that it would be breathing without the aid of machines soon. It sort of felt like the good old days, when I had friends and activities and something to look forward to besides new ways to avoid getting beaten up. It put me in a very good mood; so much so that I even forgot to hate my new school for hours at a time.

  My day went on much like the previous two; I endured my classes, I ate lunch with Keith and Nick and I chatted with Austin after school. It was a routine I was growing comfortable with. Now that I was no longer scanning for Billy around every corner, I was able to relax and be myself—or some vaguely straight version of myself.

  The following day was Thursday, when I would see for myself just how my new school reacted to the premiere of the Herbert Hoover High Drama Club. According to my research (that is, all the movies and TV I watched) the club would not be received well and anyone joining it would be ostracized forever. However, Mr. Kretchmer had said there were many students who had been unhappy about losing the drama department, so there was a chance at finding one or two kindred spirits.

  Since the auditorium was also the lunch room, we had to meet in Lundquist’s classroom. I gave him a very polite greeting when I arrived, thanking him once again for his time. It was in my best interest to stay on the maniac’s good side, after all. I settled at a desk with my lunch and waited. For the first few minutes, you could hear a pin drop.

  Then Becca came in, followed by her pack of girlfriends. Keith and Nick arrived directly after that, with Nick looking decidedly unhappy about it. I was about to call the meeting to order when to my astonishment more students arrived; then more after that. I hadn’t said anything about free cupcakes or anything, so I had no idea why so many people were there.

  I stared at the crowd that was near to filling the classroom in disbelief. It almost had to be a joke, but I couldn’t figure out what the punch line was. They were from too many different cliques to have conspired to put one over on the new kid. That meant their interest had to be genuine…. So now what was I to do?

  I cleared my throat. “Uh, hi. I’m Collin. This is a meeting for the Drama Club. So, if you were looking for the ‘Young Republicans’ group, you're in the wrong classroom.”

  That got a few chuckles. I was really not comfortable speaking in front of large groups of people I did not know without a script. An even bigger problem was that I had not really put much thought into what to do at the meeting, since I had figured only a couple of people would be there. I found myself gaping like a moron in front of everyone.

  “I think the first order of business is to vote on the club officers,” Lundquist said, taking over without any deadly looks. He got up and wrote down on the chalkboard the four officer names: President, Vice President, Secretary and Treasurer. “So, nominations?”

  “Collin’s got to be the president,” Keith said by way of endorsement.

  My name was chalked down under that heading. As the names were put forward, I got the sense that a lot of these guys knew each other. That’s when I realized they had to be the students from the now-defunct Drama class. It was a bit awkward for me, since their familiarity meant I was the newcomer once again.

  To my surprise, my nomination for President went uncontested. We took care of the voting and before long my cabinet was assembled. A blond girl named Shelly Hobart was my vice president. She was a senior and a cheerleader and had the sweetest smile in the world. My secretary was this bespeckled guy on crutches named Danny Vance. The treasurer’s job went to a junior named Miles Kepper, and I did not envy him. If we were going to make a serious go of this, then we would need cash. He was going to have a big job.

  After that, in what was left of the lunch hour, I decided to have al
l of us take a couple of minutes to introduce ourselves. A lot of them probably knew each other from Drama class, but I didn’t and I was pretty sure there were some other newcomers too. I, in my new capacity as President, went first, talking about L.A. and some shows I had done.

  It helped quite a bit, I think.

  As we were getting ready to leave, I went over to Nick, who still seemed a little annoyed that he had been roped into this meeting. When you are on a middle rung of popularity of high school, you hold it in a death grip. I know that from experience. You might not be at the top, but since things can get so much worse it is stupid to take chances.

  “Hey, Nick, I was going to hit The Grab Bag after school, if you wanted to go.”

  He gave me a fish-eyed look, as if I had sprouted a second head or something. It was then I realized my blunder. Boys of the straight variety do not go clothes shopping with their friends. I had mistaken his asking for my help as him being comfortable with violating that sacred rule. Shopping was a chore to be endured and dispensed with as quickly as possible. It was not a chance to hang out.

  “What? No, man, can’t,” Nick told me uncomfortably.

  I was working on a plan of retreat that would get me behind cover before things got awkward when three of the girls from the club came over. Shawna was the tallest of the three, and definitely the prettiest. I remembered her talking about the time she had played Snow White in the third grade. She had made us all laugh. Her friends were Franci, a girl with a few extra pounds and long brown hair and Jackie, an African-American girl who seemed to have more fashion sense than any of the others.

  “Sorry, did I hear you guys say you’re going to that Grab Bag store? I keep hearing it’s awesome.”

  “Collin discovered it,” Keith told them.

  Shawna smiled at me. “Really? Great. You suppose we could tag along?”

  “Well, Nick’s not going, but—”

  “Actually, yeah, I can go, now that I think about it,” Nick interrupted me.

  Of course, now that cute girls were going, it sounded fun. Straight boys, aren’t they adorable?

  “The more the merrier,” I told her. I looked over at Keith. “You coming?”

  “That would be great!” he said excitedly.

  “Um, bro? You got that dentist appointment,” Becca reminded him.

  “Oh.” He was crushed. “Oh well.”

  “Next time, buddy,” I told him. “Becca?” I asked.

  “Sure, love to,” she replied, looking pleased to be included.

  “Meet by the big oak at three?” I asked my little posse.

  The plan was set. I was floating for the rest of the day. The club was a huge success, people were starting to understand how cool I am, I was going to get more couture and it was nearly the weekend. I totally deserved all this good luck, of course, so it was nice that God or whoever agreed. After a very bad start, it seemed things were looking up here in my place of exile.

  I stopped by the gym after class to explain to Shawn where I was going. Austin frowned as I told him the news as well, and then acted utterly indifferent, like I should not have even bothered explaining to him why our post-school chat was being pre-empted. That confused me, but I was getting used to being baffled by the strange, brooding young man.

  Shawna had her Mom’s SUV, so we rode in style to Old Buford Township. I stayed quiet as the three girls chattered about this and that, just enjoying being included in their group. They seemed like fun people to hang with.

  We arrived at the store and trooped on inside. To my astonishment, the place was now packed with people my age. Jack was running around like a crazy man, trying to help people find things, run the register and get stuff returned to stock at the same time. I watched him zip around like a pinball for a moment before calling out to him.

  He stopped with an armload of clothes and gave me a harried look. “What have you done to me, Collin?”

  “I’m starting a revolution. Didn’t you get your RSVP?” I joked back.

  Jack grinned. “Well, I can’t say I’m not grateful, but this is actual work now. I think I need some help. Need a job?”

  Work had never really appealed to me, as one might guess. Also, I had a very full plate with school, the club and “Project: Shawn.” On the other hand, money meant more fashionable outfits, and the additional responsibility would really please my parents. I tossed it around in my head for a little bit before smiling at him.

  “Do I get a store discount?”

  Jack nodded instantly. “Yes, you pirate. When can you start?”

  “Well, I’m here with friends…. And of course I have to clear it with the ‘rents....”

  “Well, you can help your friends on the clock. We won’t make it official, yet, but consider yourself hired.” He handed me the pile of clothes. “Those need to go back, when you can.” Then he dashed off to the counter to ring out a customer.

  This was icing on the cake. Sure, working sucks, but this was the most awesome job in the whole of the universe, by all accounts. I got to hang with my buds, paw couture and get paid for it. My luck was definitely improving. I took the clothes I had been handed and quickly found proper homes for them. As I was doing so, I remembered Keith. He didn’t have my fashion sense, but Jack could not hope for a better stock boy.

  I would need to talk to them about it.

  I looked for Nick, but found that Jackie had him well in hand. That was likely for the best; he would be a lot less nervous about being dressed by a girl. It would also give him a chance to get her number, since clearly that was on the agenda. Maybe if he got a date out of the experience, he would stop resenting my Drama Club.

  I found the bargain rack and started going through it. I had parlayed the vicious and unprovoked assault upon my person into some spending money for clothes; my dad had balked at giving me anything, but my mom had caved. The cash was burning a hole in my pocket at that very moment. Bargain racks were fun for me. You never knew if you could find that one gem, that one-in-a-million item no one had purchased and was just your size.

  As I focused on my search, I heard an old Avril Lavigne song start up out of the speakers. I have what some might call an obsessive love for all things Avril. I was in such a good mood and feeling so free and at peace in my own skin, the real me snuck out of its cage and took control. My narrow hips started to sway back and forth in time to the beat.

  I even started to sing “la la la” without even being aware of it.

  “Complicated” was one of my favorites, and I knew it so well I could sing it in my sleep. I found a shirt I liked and picked it up for a closer look. It definitely warranted trying on, which made me happy and lowered my guard so far that I started to sing along with Avril.

  I started to sing a little, smiling happily.

  My voice was clear and pitch-perfect. I had never had any formal training, but I had practiced enough to make up for that. I was never going to be a pop singer or even a Broadway star, but I might make it partway through an American Idol season.

  Shawna had snuck up on me, but before I could get embarrassed about going diva, she winked at me and took up the song in her own clear, pretty voice.

  We shared a smile of mutual Avril-love and then we took up the song together. As she did so, she held up a shirt for my inspection. I shook my head and mouthed the words “too blue” before going back to singing. She gave me thumbs up to the shirt I had found and that’s when the chorus broke out and we went into it with glee.

  Jackie had sent Nick off to the dressing room, and she laughed at our antics. To my sincere approval, she took up the next verse with practiced ease. I applauded her masterful notes and then the three of us bounced off, singing together and looking like loons. We descended upon Franci, who was mournfully trying to decide which very boring blouse was more her style. We took those away from her and found some very cute shirts for her to try instead, singing the whole while.

  When the chorus came up again, Franci took over with a
voice so boisterous and diva-esque, I had to bow to her. Then we sent her off to the dressing room and started looking for things for each other to try on. The energy running through us had us grinning like idiots, and the other people in the store listened and laughed at our collective lunacy.

  Even Becca was laughing and shaking her head. We tried to get her to sing along, but she adamantly refused. So we pranced away to the bouncing tune, skipping from rack to rack in search of awesome couture. When the song ended, we got a round of applause from the other customers.

  It was so much fun, being young and free and … me. It also gave me the first glimmer of an idea for what our club might be able to do. I was flushed from the little performance, but giddy inside. All of the misery of the week had been erased and now I saw only sunshine and rainbows ahead.

  I had met my fashion equal in Jackie. We argued, loudly and energetically, and I lost on several fronts. She even got me into an ensemble I would never have dared to try on my own. Where the small town girl had learned it all, I just did not know.

  “Man, how do you do it?” Nick asked as we waited for the girls to make their final purchases.

  “Do what?”

  “You know.... You have those girls just eating out of the palm of your hand.”

  Because they sense I am not after their virtue, I thought but did not say. “I don’t know, man, I just act like me. Girls sometimes like that. Sometimes, I get on their nerves.” I shrugged. “You seemed to get on okay with Jackie. You should ask her to the Hoedown.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “I’m going with Becca,” I told him.

  “Wow. You move fast, dude. You know if you hurt her, Keith will break you in two, right?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yeah, like I could.”

  Why did everyone think that Becca and I were more than friends? Was it so hard to grasp that a boy and a girl could just be friends? Besides, I may have been toning down my flames, but was it that hard to see how very, really, astonishingly gay I was? I know I’m a good actor and all, but I wasn’t trying all that hard and my little impromptu performance at the store should have been a big clue.