The first time I noticed a real change, I was getting out of the shower. I wiped a hand across the fogged mirror, windshield-wiper style, and started brushing my teeth. As I swayed back and forth, humming through the minty foam in my mouth, I caught sight of my body from the side. The flab of my stomach had all but disappeared, siphoned away by the invisible Liposuction Fairy. Turning this way and that, I looked at myself from every angle. I hadn’t really noticed it happening, but there was a substantial change.
It was not altogether surprising, though. I had been exercising daily. And the novelty of Seaside City junk food had worn off very quickly. After the first few days of cramming myself full of deep-fried everything, I’d taken to choosing from the healthier food options along the boardwalk. I smiled widely at my progress, and a very attractive dribble of toothpaste frothed out of my mouth.
It was a strange feeling, because at that moment I felt like I looked … good. Which was something new for me. My skin was achieving a nice glow, I’d lost the chub … things were looking up for the new me.
. . .
My fondest memory of my first three weeks in Seaside City happened to coincide with the first time Hannah and Daniel met Aunt Nellie.
I was eating with the two of them in the food court (enjoying a healthy Panini sandwich), when I mentioned in passing that I’d taught myself a new song on the piano the previous night.
Hannah all but dropped her hamburger when she heard that. “Excuse me?”
“Uh, yeah, I said that I taught myself a new song on the piano last night.”
She rolled her eyes. “I heard you the first time. I’m just having a bit of a hard time figuring out why in the name of all things musical you refrained from mentioning this earlier.”
“I don’t understand what I did wrong,” I replied with a shrug.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Will,” Daniel assured me.
Hannah sighed exasperatedly. “It’s just that so much time has been wasted already. You should have said something about this on day one.”
“Time’s been wasted for what?”
“Look,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “you know how to play piano. Daniel plays the guitar. So I’m going to get off my sorry, talentless ass and go learn how to play the tambourine or the triangle or whatever, and I’ll stay up all night if I have to, making us kickass spandex jumpsuits … and my dream of starting a totally epic band will become a reality.”
Daniel and I both laughed at that, because Hannah had a new dream or life ambition every day.
“Hannah,” Daniel said, “you should just be one of those Barbie dolls. You know, like actress-chef-doctor-princess-astronaut Hannah.”
I added, “You could come with different outfits.”
“Dream kitchen and Malibu mansion sold separately,” Daniel teased.
Hannah glowered at us and got up to leave, grumbling about us dumb boys not recognizing the urgency of this amazing opportunity we had.
Daniel and I were quite aware that she would not ease up on this idea, because that’s just how Hannah works, and arguing with her is like climbing up a Vaseline-coated wall. So we ran after her, and I promised that we could start our amazing band that evening.
She grinned from ear to ear, happy to have gotten her way. In her mind, her latest dream was on the way to becoming a reality. “Great. Daniel and I will be at your door no later than seven o’clock this evening.”
“Bring your tambourine or triangle or whatever,” I reminded her with a wink.
Her smile faltered a fraction of an inch, and she stormed off, muttering, “Damn tambourine or triangle or whatever …”
Aunt Nellie was thrilled when I told her that I was inviting my friends over. And, bless her heart, she emerged from her room at half past six in a very pretty red dress that I didn’t even know she owned. Her hair was done nicely, and she was actually wearing makeup.
“We’re just gonna hang out in my room,” I reminded her. “We’re not all going out to the opera together.”
She frowned at me and twirled. “I wanted to make a good impression.”
“You look very nice,” I told her. “But you could make a great impression in your sweats and old T-shirt.”
“Aw, kiddo,” she mumbled, pulling me into a hug. When she released me, she held me out at arm’s length and looked fiercely into my eyes. “But I will make a damn good impression in this dumb dress and stupid hair and evil face paint.”
“Okay,” I told her.
At seven, my friends arrived; I knew Hannah wouldn’t be a moment late, because in her eyes, this moment was already a long time coming. I led them upstairs and asked them to ignore the décor; we weren’t closeted fanatics of all things nautical. I also noticed that Hannah was holding a tambourine and a triangle, but there was no “whatever” to be seen.
Aunt Nellie stood at the top of the stairs, an immaculate example of perfect posture. She had her hands clasped in front of her, and she smiled broadly with her red lipsticked lips.
“You must be Aunt Nellie,” Hannah said, ducking past me. My introduction died on my tongue.
Hannah gave my aunt a huge hug and was nothing but smiles. “Will’s told us so much about you. He just adores you, you know. If I’m not mistaken, you’re supposed to be like the coolest person on the planet … possibly in the known universe.”
After a flustered pause, Aunt Nellie’s face exploded into a shimmery supernova of happiness. “That’s very sweet of him.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Hannah said. And the two of them laughed like the best of friends.
I was blushing a terrific shade of scarlet.
“You’re Hannah, of course,” Aunt Nellie said. “And likewise, Will’s told me all about you.”
“That I’m the most amazing best friend he’s ever had, right?” Hannah teased.
Aunt Nellie giggled. She actually giggled. “Of course.”
“Uh.” Daniel coughed. He stepped forward and shook Aunt Nellie’s hand (ever the gentleman … swoon.) To put the chocolate-covered strawberry on top of the caramel brownie cheesecake with whipped cream, he flashed that glowing smile of his. “I’m Daniel, Hannah’s brother.”
“Great to meet you,” Aunt Nellie said. I could tell from her eyes that she was just as spellbound as I was. “What a handsome guy you are.”
“Oh,” Daniel mumbled shyly, “thank you.”
“Both of you kids have got great genes,” she commented.
Hannah gushed, “Aunt Nellie—can I call you Aunt Nellie?—look at you! You look like you just stepped off the runway. You’re beautiful.”
I thought in that moment that I might possibly have just lost my best friend to my aunt. And while that thought tugged anxiously at the back of my mind, I was also thrilled that everyone was getting along.
“And of course it runs in the family,” Hannah added, looking over at me. “Will, you can work what you’ve got.”
“That’s my little guy,” Aunt Nellie said proudly.
“Okay,” I laughed—to hide my embarrassment, “everyone’s gorgeous! Hannah, do you want to get started on our spectacular jam session? Every second we wait is another second that our recording contract could be snatched up by someone else.”
“Right,” she said. “Aunt Nellie, it was great meeting you.”
“Same here,” my aunt told her. “And you too, Daniel. You kids have fun.”
“We will.”
Still somewhat shocked, I gestured toward the staircase leading to the top floor. The Clark twins started up the stairs.
“Will,” Aunt Nellie whispered, beckoning for me to come closer.
“Yeah?”
She smiled. “Your friends are nice.”
“I really like them,” I told her.
“Uh, so are you kids cool to hang out here … if I, u
h, head out for a bit?” she asked, biting her lip.
“Sure. What are you getting up to?”
“Jacob, um, my painting class teacher,” she cleared her throat, “wants to give me a few tips for our Impressionist unit coming up … uh, over dinner.”
“Oh,” I said. “Oh.”
“Yeah …”
I smiled. “So you really did want to make a good impression on someone tonight, huh?”
“Oh, be quiet.” She laughed. “But your friends seemed to have liked me well enough. Did you really tell them that I’m the coolest person ever?”
“I speak only the truth,” I told her, starting up the stairs to the top floor. “Have fun!”
I was happy for Aunt Nellie. In all the year’s I had lived with her, she had never really had a long-term boyfriend. She deserved it. But I just hoped that this Jacob guy kept in mind that if he did anything to hurt my aunt, he wouldn’t be teaching another painting class for a very, very long time.
“She’s even more awesome in person,” Hannah said when I came into my room. She was stretched out on my bed, the pillows comfortably plumped up behind her head.
“Yeah, what was all that about?” I asked.
Hannah looked puzzled. “Is there a law against being nice to your friend’s aunt? I didn’t know I was committing a federal offense.”
“I haven’t brushed up on my Seaside City bylaws recently.” Daniel shrugged.
“Guys, are we going to get this jam session started?” I asked, tapping my foot impatiently and winking at Hannah.
She sat up, crossing her legs. She gestured to her new instruments. “I hope so. I spent good money on this crap.”
“And may your new tambourine and triangle last you all the days of your lengthy career in the music industry,” Daniel muttered. Hannah threw a pillow at him, nailing him right in the face.
“When I make my first million,” she declared with an indignant sniff, “you’re not getting a penny.”
Daniel pouted. “Are you forgetting about that totally legit contract we signed in green crayon when we were little that said we would always share our enormous fortunes?”
“Aw, bro,” she said endearingly. “That’s so cute … I’ll have my lawyer call yours.”
Sensing the tension brought about by the as yet uncreated band and its future success, I dragged the keyboard out of the corner of the room.
“Look at you, eager beaver,” Hannah praised. Turning her nose up at her brother, she said, “Daniel, you and I will solve our financial troubles in court.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said. “I’m coming after you for everything you’ve got.”
“Bring it, baby cakes.”
“Okay,” I refereed. “As supreme judge of the Court of the Bedroom, I declare you both winners in this matter. You’ll both be filthy rich and share with each other. So spread the love. Come on, you guys; let’s hug it out.”
Hannah looked like she wanted to argue, but clearly my high position of authority had her convinced. Begrudgingly, she rolled off of my bed, and Daniel invited her into a hug.
“My work here is done,” I said contently.
“Not so fast,” she told me. “I think the court must be adjourned with a lively song. Would you oblige us, Your Honor?”
“Uh …”
“Come on, Will,” Daniel encouraged. “Sing us a song!”
“I can’t even really sing,” I mumbled.
Hannah was having none of it. “You sit your butt down at that piano and sing for us.”
“Meh,” I grumbled angrily.
“Here,” Daniel said, unlatching his guitar case, “I’ll play along with you.”
“I can offer my eargasmic talents on either the tambourine or the triangle,” Hannah said.
“Fine!” I cried, rolling my eyes and sticking my tongue out.
It is important to note that this is an instance of peer pressure. And though I make a very poor example, it is crucial that you stay your own person and that you do not let your friends force you into anything. This includes illicit activities, drinking, smoking, drugs, sex … or even worse, terrible embarrassment.
But because I was easily influenced, I sat down resolutely on the little folding bench in front of my clunky, old keyboard. I held down the power button and heard the slight crackle from the speakers that told me I was good to go.
I positioned my fingers on the cool plastic keys (because ivory kills elephants … and it’s expensive) and turned my attention away from my friends’ eyes.
And the music flowed from me. I knew the song by heart, and my eyes slipped closed as my fingers pounded on the keys. I sung the lyrics I had listened to a thousand times. It was a catharsis.
“The sun hangs low, another day slipping to a close,
And for what, what’s the point, where did it all go?
Here I am, standing back,
Forehead pressed against the freezing glass.
Looking out at what could have been,
Could have been.
“I saw you, today, walking down the same old hallway.
Bell rings, more class, one more time they kick my ass.
You walk by, sky high, blocking ears,
Can’t hear my cries.
You don’t know, don’t give a chance
You don’t see, not one small glance.
And … how can you know what might have been,
Might have been.
“Look at me, and look at you,
And look at how I see myself.
Not good enough; no way!
Hoping for a better day,
A better me!
“Good-bye, for now, I’ll see you around.
Gotta go … like you care.
The day’s end, my end,
Not death, but the death of a part of me.
I have to make a change,
A new me, and new me and you
Let’s see …
Let’s see …
Let’s see …
What could be.”
Daniel strummed his last chord, and it reverberated into nothingness until a poignant silence hung in the air. My hands shook, a half inch off the keys. I opened my eyes and sucked in a deep breath.
Hannah let out a hiccup of a laugh. “I can’t even really sing. Fuck that, you’re incredible!”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“That was really cool,” Daniel told me. “You can totally sing.”
“Yeah, I would say you’ve got a really hot voice that will break the hearts of girls worldwide,” she said, “but you had such passion and emotion … you don’t really fit into the teen pop-star category.”
My eyes were trained on my lap, where my hands were fidgeting with each other. “It’s my favorite song, ‘What Could Be,’ by a band called The Fuzzy Sweaters.”
“The Fuzzy Sweaters?”
“Yeah,” I answered with a private smile. I thought they were the coolest ever.
“Well, I don’t know who these Sweaters people think they are, but you just gave them a serious run for their money,” Hannah said. “Now, Will, I want you to listen to me very carefully.”
“Okay.”
“You’re going to sing it one more time, I’m going to film it, it will go up on YouTube, and people all over the world will get to see what you just did.”
I laughed. “They most certainly won’t.”
“You have a gift,” Daniel told me.
“But that doesn’t mean I need to sing for the whole world,” I argued.
Now, once again, here is where I should have stood strong against the evil forces of peer pressure. Are your friends forcing your hand into posting a video of yourself singing online? Just say no!
… Because I certainly didn�
�t.
And though I had to watch through my fingers as Hannah uploaded the video, it was secretly thrilling. She titled it: “What Could Be” by The Fuzzy Sweaters—Beautiful Cover.
A couple days later (the three of us having finished our spectacular jam session, and Aunt Nellie having returned from a very nice date), the surprisingly rave reviews started pouring in.
The video hadn’t gone viral and amassed millions of hits, prompting it to be shown and talked about on CNN instead of truly important news, but I’d accumulated around two thousand views.
Better than the number of people who had watched the video were those who had actually taken the time to comment.
Though, because it was the Internet, and people had oodles of spare time on their hands, there were a fair number of trolls:
“the title of this song is actually about the devil and Jesus Can Save You Child! please see the light of god and dont let Satan take you!”
“Go fuck yourself with a rusty crowbar ugly faggot!”
“ewwww … go kill urself honey, do us a favor.”
Despite these people who, I’m sure, ranked much higher on the Cool People Scale than I did, I appreciated the genuinely kind comments:
“OMG ur so good!!!!”
“plz marry me you’re voice is so sexxy!”
“I <3 the fuzzy Sweaters so much glad to finally see a decent cover, good job buddy!”
“keep singing, I would buy your cd…and upload more vids!”
I was totally shocked by the positive feedback, and it was actually a pleasant and much-needed boost to my ego that people seemed kind of … into me.
I ended up printing out my favorite comment and taping it on my bedroom wall:
“uhm, hi. I’m Chase and please don’t be weirded out by this but I’m gay and I just thought I’d tell you that you’re so cute and the way you sang that song just made my heart melt. You seem like the perfect boyfriend, I would love to hear you sing all the time. Send me a private message if ever you wanna talk, xxoo!”
Take that, Daniel Clark! Chase from the Internet thought I was cute and wanted to be with me, even though there was still the 70 percent chance that he was an elderly pedophile. But still!
When I happily showed off the comment, Hannah nodded with a smug look on her face (belting out an enormous “I told you so!”), and Daniel’s face was unreadable, though he congratulated me on my sexual prowess.
The Big Summer Page 15