Authors: S. Stevens
Tags: #General, #Fiction
“That just makes him sound like a really good friend.” Here we go – now comes the lecture. “Don’t you miss him?” Wrong again.
I sighed, louder than last time, and turned my head away because my eyes were moist. “Yeah, of course I do, but he’s different now.” I knew she wouldn’t buy that so I elaborated. “We don’t have as much in common now, with him a sports star and me still focused on CDC.”
“So you can’t be friends? Because you don’t do the same activities?”
It sounded so stupid when she said it.
“What makes someone your friend anyway, when you think about it?” I was glad she was musing on this tangent. It gave me time to get my eyes back to normal before turning to face her. “Is it common activities and hobbies, do you think, or common personalities? Or is it opposite personalities like they say in romance – that opposites attract? I think you do have to have the same basic values to be friends with someone, don’t you? I think that’s why we get along. We’re basically both nice, honest people who wouldn’t hurt someone else on purpose, unlike some of the people at school.”
I shrugged. This was dangerous territory. Lately I avoided analyzing my relationship with Alex, or my own motives for that matter, at all costs. “Adrienne, I’m too brain-dead to talk about this now. But when it comes to Alex, maybe we were good friends just because we were next-door neighbors. Maybe it was a proximity-driven friendship.” The thought depressed me, but it could be true.
She nodded and dropped the subject. But I needed to know one more thing. I rubbed my head again and tried not to sound too interested. “So, did he end up with anyone? At the party?”
“I don’t know. Jocelyn was all over him when we left.”
My head pounded at the thought. Time to go be miserable at home. “I have to get going. Thanks for taking care of me last night. And guess what? I forgot to tell you my big news. Nigel is definnitely going to audition for
High School Musical
. Isn’t that great?” I turned up a corner of my mouth in an attempt to smile.
“Lucey finally convinced him?”
I was slightly offended that she was ready to give Lucey the credit.
“No, I convinced him, last night. He’s totally into music, and he sings, so I think he’s going to do it.” I stood up, shakily.
“Oh, that reminds me of something weird he said when I was eavesdropping. He seemed to be looking for a girl that was in CDC. I wonder why that would matter.”
I didn’t care, as it increased my odds with him. “Anyway, won’t that be great if he joins? We need more guys, you know we do.”
Adrienne shrugged. “Yeah, I guess for the show, it’s a good thing. But be careful around him. It sounds like he’s only after one thing.”
I dropped into a lower voice register to imitate Jesse. “All guys are only after one thing.” I switched back to my voice. “As long as we accept that, we’ll be fine. That doesn’t mean I can’t have fun with him.
“Do you know where my phone is? I’ll call my mom for a ride home. Hey, maybe she’ll take me driving later today.” Most of my friends had their junior operator licenses, but I was still trying to log the forty hours of driving needed to advance beyond my learner’s permit.
“It’s right here,” Adrienne said, grabbing my bag from under the table and tossing it to me.
*
A
T HOME, I HAD TO WHINE at my parents to take me driving, which made my head hurt more and – more important -- was really weird. Not the whining part – I’d never been averse to a little dramatic outburst to get my way. But their reaction was weird. They actually started arguing over who had to take me driving. They never argued, at least not in front of me or Jesse. Every now and then, they’d raise their voices behind closed doors, but it always blew over quickly. Mom was too busy and Dad too easygoing to get riled up about much, which Jesse and I figured made them a typical married couple. Or maybe they were so in love the arguments didn’t matter.
Anyway, that day you would have thought I was asking to drive to Florida. Finally, my dad agreed to drive with me for an hour, including a stop at the lumber yard because he needed supplies for his workshop in the garage.
As we pulled out of the driveway, Alex walked by. My father yelled hello and Alex waved, but I focused on my driving.
Alex was so confusing. I was annoyed about his interference at the party, but proud of him and happy that he was doing well in soccer. I felt betrayed by him hanging around with Jocelyn and those girls, because he’d never liked them before. Or maybe it was that they never liked him. Either way, it was like he tossed his old life aside and welcomed a shiny, new life with open arms.
Still, I was a little guilty myself. I hadn’t been very nice to him since he quit CDC. So when I heard him shooting baskets in his driveway later that afternoon, I decided to offer an olive branch, despite his obnoxious behavior at the party. Clamping the leash on Kato, I nonchalantly walked out of the house, acting surprised to see him. He glared at me and blatantly looked away.
“Want to go for a walk with me and Kato?” I asked, in what I hoped was a natural voice.
His icy demeanor thawed instantly. “Wow, I’m surprised you asked, after last night,” he said, walking toward me and quickly adding, “But I’m glad you did. But I can’t.” Kato lurched toward Alex and started nuzzling his old friend. “I have soccer practice soon. The coach is killing us with these weekend practices. He’s convinced we’ve got a chance at winning division this year and he won’t let up.”
“Oh. Okay. No problem.” I tried to pull Kato away but he wouldn’t budge. Alex stopped stroking the dog’s head and backed away. “Have fun at practice. See ya.” I yanked at Kato’s leash with no success. Alex saved me by turning away. Kato finally paid attention to me, falling in step as we walked away from Alex.
“Sadie?” Alex said when I reached the sidewalk. I turned back. “Remember how we always said we’d go to the Homecoming dances together?”
I remembered all too well, although our last discussion about the topic seemed a hundred years ago. I nodded, not daring to show excitement at his question.
“Well, I was wondering--” A song by Muse interrupted us as Alex’s cell phone went off. He held up a hand to tell me to wait while he answered it.
“Hey, Jocelyn,” I heard him say before he turned his back to me. He talked for an eternity, kicking at a bump in his driveway and laughing a few times before hanging up. By that time, I was beyond annoyed, and just wanted to get away. I decided to end the conversation on my terms.
“Actually, Alex, I have plans for the dance this year. I’m going with Nigel Leightly.” Alex’s face darkened, giving me a twisted sort of satisfaction.
“Maybe I wasn’t going to ask you, Sadie,” he said in a quiet voice. “But never mind. I guess it doesn’t matter.” He turned and walked away, the basketball under his arm, leaving me more confused than before.
The chorus of Adam Lambert’s “What Do You Want From Me?” popped into my head as I turned and walked woodenly down the street with Kato.
7: Rollercoaster of Life
I
N HEALTH ED SOPHOMORE YEAR, Mrs. Newman said teenagers are on a kind of emotional rollercoaster suspended between childhood and adulthood, with all the uncertainty and peaks and lows, the thrills and fear, that that limbo brings. The third week of junior year, the ups and downs of my sheer existence made me think the rollercoaster analogy was a good one.
Picture me Sunday morning climbing into the rollercoaster car and buckling up, getting ready for the week, or the ride. I chilled all day, free of the headache and squishy stomach that bothered me all Saturday. I pushed the confusion over my talk with Alex to the back of my mind and focused on Nigel, wondering why he hadn’t called in the past twenty-four hours.
I watched my mother’s old movie
Flashdance
with Kato, my head resting on his black furry back. Since Kato and I were home alone, we got up and danced frantically around the living room to “What A Feeling”, one of the best feel-good songs of all time. Generally I was a better-than-average dancer, but when I danced with Jennifer Beals, I was a star.
After that, I played piano for hours, for the first time in ages. I went through all my sheet music, from show tunes to modern songs, throwing in a few classical pieces I hadn’t played since I stopped taking lessons two years ago, to see if my fingers still moved fast enough. I sang loudly and sometimes off-key, pushing my voice to hit the higher notes in my chest voice, in preparation for CDC auditions. The rollercoaster car chugged along, picking up speed.
Sunday night, Nigel called. The car climbed up the tracks, portending fun and excitement. My hands gripped the bar and I smiling expectantly.
“You were right pissed Friday night, Sadie my love,” Nigel said, puzzling me and making me glow at the same time.
“I wasn’t mad, Nigel. You think I was mad because you gave me the beer or something?” I frowned at the phone.
He laughed. “No, I wouldn’t expect you to be mad about that. It was clear you wanted that last beer, against my better judgment. No, I meant you had too much to drink, to point out the obvious.”
“Oh. Yeah, obviously I did.” And I didn’t want to re-live it. “But I wasn’t pissed off, okay?” I wanted to fix this misunderstanding.
“Sadie, when I say you were ‘pissed’, I mean you were drunk. That’s what the word means to us Brits.” I filed that away. “Let’s move on, shall we?” I nodded into the phone. “Tell me more about this CDC.”
Nigel wanted to know everything about CDC, and seriously wanted to try out for the show. Secretly, I hoped part of his motivation was to be near me. As if hearing my silent wish, he suggested getting together this week to prepare for auditions. The rollercoaster car neared the top of the first incline.
He came over Monday after school. Agreeing we wouldn’t get sidetracked by Echo and the Bunnymen and the rest of my mother’s album collection, we jumped right into
High School Musical 2
mode. He’d never seen the movie, so we cranked up the DVD player. Halfway through, he announced he would audition for Troy. No shrinking wallflower, this one. I’d already told him I wanted the part of Gabriella, or even Sharpay because “Fabulous” was one of the best snobby rich bitch girl songs ever written, right up there with “Popular” from
Wicked
.
Re-playing the songs from the movie, we tentatively sang along. Our initial awkwardness went away when he starting hamming it up, acting stupid while belting out “You Are the Music in Me”. I joined in and soon the silliness went away but we continued belting out the song. And we sounded good. I was in heaven, and the ride was exhilarating. Alex wasn’t that good a singer, but in Nigel I’d found my musical theatre soul mate. He decided he would sing “Bet On It” for the auditions. Zac Efron didn’t have much on Nigel. Nigel wasn’t quite as good-looking but he had an amazing voice and some good moves learned with his band no doubt.
Next up in our preparations was the acting. The audition would include a short reading from the script. Nigel seemed nervous about this part, but his uncertainty only made him more attractive in my eyes. It also boosted my confidence because I was more experienced than him in this area.
Sitting on the couch, feeling brave, I took his hand and thought about how to coach him. Acting was always the easy part for Alex. He was a natural at playing different roles with various accents and personalities, so I’d never had to direct him.
“Did you ever want a different personality?” I asked Nigel.
He looked surprised, almost startled. “Er, no, I’m fairly happy with the one I’ve got.”
I thought some more. “Okay, how about this…you sing in a band.” He nodded. “Do you ever pretend you’re someone else up there on stage? Paul Weller maybe? One of those brothers from Oasis? Come on, there must be times you step outside of yourself and channel one of your heroes.”
He nodded. “Okay, I’m with you.”
“Now, take that feeling to the next step. When you’re acting, you can be anyone, or anything, that you want. You can be more glamorous than you really are, or more vicious, or more conniving.”
“You make it sound like a game.”
“It basically is.” I didn’t say this out loud, but one reason I loved acting is that it didn’t matter if others disliked the personality you presented. In fact, sometimes that was the idea. The social pressure was off.
“So, what do I need to do?”
“Read this scene with me, and let yourself disappear inside the role.”
Nigel quickly got into character, and he memorized the lines in no time. I pulled out more scripts from my pile and we practiced different character voices before deciding we’d done enough preparation for the day.
“That was brilliant, Sadie,” Nigel said when I’d tossed the scripts aside. “I could get used to being Troy Bolton. I’ve always wanted to be a laddish American wanker.”
“Uh, what’s a wanker? Is that as bad as it sounds?”
“Let’s just say it’s not something to aspire to.” His confidence was back.
“Is it like a poser? I’ve heard that word before.”
“No, more like a tosser.” It sounded like tossa the way he said it.
I squinted in confusion. “Translation, please.”
He settled into the couch. “Right. Let me enlighten you about the finer points of the English language.” He adopted the tone of a schoolteacher and continued. “Wanker has origins that I’ll leave to your imagination, but basically today it’s roughly the same as your American jerk. Tosser, or the variation toss-pot, has a similar meaning – jerk, idiot, general loser. Are we clear?”