Opening night! I can’t believe it’s here. Man, I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been in my life. It’s not that I’m worried I won’t do a good job; I’m worried that I’m going to die. A heart attack at fourteen . . . is that possible? You’d think I’d been eating out of Taco Bell’s Dumpster for the last week the way I’ve got diarrhea. Only one boys’ bathroom in the drama wing, and the dorks are a little fussy that I’m murdering it. I’ve got my fly gangster suit on, my hair is just long enough as of yesterday to slick back, and I look so cool! I’m dressed for the funeral if I do croak.
I watch Jeremy put on his makeup and just do what he does, but when I try to put on the mascara, my hands are shaking so bad that I keep poking myself in the eyeball. Abby must have seen me struggling, because she’s fighting back a smile when she takes the wand out of my hand and orders me to “look up” before applying the junk to my eyelashes. I thank her as Ms. McDougle yells at us to come into the classroom for a pep talk.
Fifteen minutes before the curtain goes up
Everybody involved in the show, from the lighting guys to the mothers who helped sew the costumes, are all holding hands. Jeremy calls it the Dildo Circle—so many hands are trembling it sends a vibration all through the line. Ms. McDougle talks to us with a shaky voice about what a great thing it is to do a play, and how THE THEATER matters. How live theater is the closest thing people get to living out their fantasies. She tells us to enjoy this moment because we may never get to experience anything like it again. How proud she is of us and how we should reach for the stars tonight, and stay relaxed and let ourselves go!
She wouldn’t be so proud of me if she knew what I was about to do to this bathroom. DANG IT! The door’s locked. Crap! I’m not just saying that; I mean “Crap!” I’m going to ruin my fly gangster suit if I don’t find a toilet now. I break out of the drama wing, sprint up the stairs and down the hall. I think it’s a no-no to be outside of the wing in my costume, but I’d rather not do
Guys and Dolls
with a runny steamer in my pants.
The school is empty, and thank God the boys’ restroom is too. If it had a hundred people in it a minute ago, they would be long gone the second I start letting myself go. WHEW! That is terrible! And that is it. Nothing left in the tanks, Captain; you’ve got a show to do.
I look in the mirror on my way out, and I may be a little pale and shaky, my eyeballs may have sunken into my head a bit from dehydration, but I have never looked so cool! I love this. I’m ready for this. For the first time in my life I have no reason to second-guess myself. I’ve worked way too hard to possibly get all caught up in my head and fumble through this play and wreck it all. Nobody would be shocked if I did, because, “It’s just Carter up there, and that’s what Carter does.”
Well, not tonight! Not this Carter; I’m going to do it right. I’m going to be great. I kick the bathroom door open like the singing gangster I am. I step out into the hall like the biggest badass this school has ever known, when I hear a chillingly familiar voice. Not the voice of God, not my own voice, but a voice I know almost as well.
“Carter, what are you doing?” EJ asks in disbelief.
I look over at the last guys you’d ever expect to see at school at 7:55 p.m. on a Thursday night. Eight matching baseball hats, same matching expression: profound dumbfoundedness. EJ, Bag, Doc, J-Low, Levi, Hormone, Nutt, and Andre.
“Hey guys, w-w-what’re you doing here?” I ask as I walk by.
“Just came to see if it was true,” Doc says.
“Abby said you were in the spring musical, and we told her she was crazy,” Bag adds.
“When did she tell you?” I ask.
“About three weeks ago,” EJ explains.
“Why didn’t you ask me about it?”
“Because we never see you anymore, dude,” Bag adds.
I just look at them with my hair slicked back, gangster suit on, and makeup applied, when Nutt asks very seriously, “Well, are ya?”
I have to laugh. “No, dumbass, I just get dressed up like this sometimes and come up to school to goof around.”
The guys laugh like they’ve forgotten why we’re all standing here uncomfortably. Hormone adds, “Ms. Holly is givin’ extra credit for seein’ your play.”
“Makeup, huh?” EJ asks.
“Yep,” I say, without a hint of embarrassment.
Andre looks like he’s doing the potty dance, he wants to burn me so bad. He finally comes up with, “Doin’ a play is gay.”
I nod my head and say, “Yeah, that was a good one. Well, you guys better take your seats. The show’s about to start.”
As I walk away, I hear them chattering like a gaggle of hens. And I don’t care. I can’t believe it, but I don’t. This is it. This is
me
for the first time in my life not caring. Because I’m not doing this for them, or my family, or Ms. McDougle, or even Abby. I’m stepping out onto that stage tonight for one person—me—that’s it. Because this is who I want to be. Not, like, an actor or a singer or dancer, but a guy who does what he wants to do because he wants to do it. Life has made, and will make, me do a lot of stuff I don’t want to do: football, swimming, studying, parties, work, etc. So I think when you tap into something that you really want to do, you have to fight for it, even if the fight is with yourself. I just overcame my one true enemy, and I feel like a new person walking down this hallway. One week and six days before the end of the year, and I finally feel like a fresh man. This is the person I’ve been creating with every step and misstep that I’ve taken this year. I’ve worked harder for this feeling than I ever imagined I could, but these steps are completely effortless.
As I look out onto the stage, the lights come up, the music starts, and the show begins. It’s going better than it ever did in rehearsals. I think back to how bad we were at the beginning—to how everything was so clunky and retarded. I never thought we’d get to this place. The fat guy and his pint-size sidekick are cracking everybody up. The show is better than perfect so far, and it’s amazing to watch. It makes me feel good to know that everybody screws up, but if you just keep going you can get through anything, and you just might be great when you get there. I never thought I’d live through this year at all, and here I am, about to star in the spring musical! I’ll probably always care what people think of me, and want to impress them, but when I walked away from my boys to do a singing, dancing, gangster musical, I realized it didn’t need to be the driving force of my life. I felt a shift, and it feels great. Like, I’m ten feet underwater, looking up at a perfect blue sky in late June. It feels like freedom.
“CARTER, you are killing me! Get on stage,” Ms. McDougle whisper/yells.
She can’t see the epiphany that just happened here. All she can see is that Jeremy said my cue line and I’m staring up at the lights smiling. I step out onstage with my heart racing like I’ve just sprinted a hundred yards on crack, but I know I’ll be okay.
That’s about all I remember. I’m suddenly staring at the back of a curtain, and the audience is going wild with applause. I’m trying to catch my breath and figure out what’s going on. I know I stepped out there and said my first line. I know I talk/sung pretty much when I was supposed to, and I danced up a storm, because I’m drenched in sweat. We just did the wedding scene and sang the big finish number really well.
We step into the curtain-call position, and I take Abby’s hand in mine. She smiles at me as the curtain rips open. The audience jumps to its feet, and I realize that the show is really over and we must have kicked ass, because EJ and the rest of my boys (even Andre) are clapping their hands off! Pam is cheering two rows behind my dad. Mom’s crying, and Brock is jumping up and down like a girl. My sister grabs Brock by the shoulders and shuts down the jumping with brute force.
We finish the bowing, the curtain closes, and Abby tries to let go of my hand. I squeeze it tightly and look over at her. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want this feeling to end. When she finally looks up into my eyes, they’re filled with tears. She gives me a smile, and I release my grip. Abby turns to walk away, then spins around and jumps into my arms. She’s squeezing me so tight that my ribs might break, but I’d let her break every bone in my body before I’d let her go.
“You were great,” she whispers in my ear.
“You too,” I wheeze.
Jeremy runs up, throws his arms around us, and yells, “FIERCE!”
We rock back and forth for a while before he starts to kiss Abby on the cheek a bunch of times. I’m not mad, but I don’t want to be a third wheel, so I let go of Abby and pat Jeremy on the back before retreating into the dressing room to peel my costume off. My gangster suit feels like I’ve been swimming in it for the last couple of hours.
It happened like that for the rest of the run. Diarrhea every night. My family was there for all of the performances. Brock never missed a show, and neither did EJ. And then it was over. I’m glad, because I’m exhausted, but when the curtain closed for the last time on Saturday night, it felt like somebody died. I don’t get to be Sky Masterson anymore and the thought bums me out, terribly. I’ll miss him. I’ll miss the drama nerds. I’ll miss kissing Abby every day and putting on that suit and strutting around. I can’t just bust out a song and dance whenever I want to. I could, I guess, but I don’t really want to be “that guy.”
When things suck, time stands still, but when you have an epiphany and you’re having the time of your life, it goes by in fast-forward.
It’s Sunday afternoon and the
Guys and Dolls
closing party is in full swing at Pizza Barn. Lots of kids, lots of hugging, and lots of noise! The drama kids must not even know about the arcade in the back room. They’re probably all too smart to be into video games, so I break off for a second and pop a quarter into the old Punch Out game. I doubt if anybody has even played this thing since I wasted a quarter on Amber Lee back in August. I knock out the first opponent like I play this game every day, and am stretching my wrist and warming up my punch finger for the next digital chump that needs a “Mighty Blow!” when I feel a tractor beam coming from behind me. I could’ve knocked out the next guy, but I let go of the controls and turn around to grapple with a more worthy, prettier adversary.
“KNOCKOUT!” the machine yells as my guy falls to the canvas.
Abby smiles and groans, “That’s got to hurt.”
“You could take ’em, I bet,” I say.
She nods, and we stare at each other for a couple of seconds. We’re cool again and I know it, so I ask, “You waitin’ for the Punch Out game?”
“No.” She laughs.
“So you’re just back here stalkin’ me?” I ask.
“Ohhh? It’s like that? I could go,” she replies, all sly.
“No, I’m just kidding. I don’t want you to go. I’m done playing games,” I say.
She seems a bit uncomfortable, but, like, in a good way. She finally asks me, “So there’s a party after this, at Gray Goose Lake. Are you going?”
“I don’t know. Gray Goose Lake kinda makes me nervous. I got knocked out myself last time I was there,” I say.
She nods and says, “Yeah, I guess you did. But you’re tougher these days, right? I’ve slapped you at least fifty times since then.”
“Yeah, that’s true; I’m pretty much a total badass now,” I reply.
“So it wouldn’t even be a big deal if I pop you, for old time’s sake,” she says as she cocks her hand back.
I grab her forearm and pull her close to me. “It’s lucky you’re pretty . . . so it doesn’t matter that you’re not funny.”
I’m really close to her, and we both stop kidding around. I’m not sure if it’s a green light, but the back room of the Pizza Barn gets really intense for a second as I look into Abby’s eyes. She shuts it down by looking away, and starts another round of jokes. “I understand if you’re scared to go back, though.”
“No, no, I could maybe stop by. Did that security guard die or something?” I ask.
“No, Jeremy’s house is out there. It’s a drama party,” she clarifies.
“Oh, ohhh, so are you gonna ride over there with Jeremy?” I ask, and break away from her.
“Well, I wasn’t planning on it. I saw your bike out front and was wondering if anybody was riding on your pegs tonight,” she replies.
“No, my pegs are free so far. But, wait . . . I’m confused. Aren’t you
with
Jeremy? It seems like he’s your boyfriend. I see you guys kissing and dancing all the time and giving each other massages. So what’s this?” I ask.
“Oh, Carter, I love Jeremy,” she says, shaking her head. “He’s amazing. He’s my new best friend. He’s got style. He can sing and dance, and he has a car, and . . .”
“Did you know he has a peg leg?”
“He’s also gay.” She laughs.
“Oh . . . What? You mean, he’s gay, like, he’s a dumbass?” I reply. “No, I mean he’s homosexual, like, he’s attracted to boys,” she clarifies. “You’re gay, like, a dumbass.” Man, she’s quick. I grab her by the waist and joke,
“How great would it be if you were funny?”
She gets closer to my face and softly says, “Pretty great.”
That’s a green light if I’ve ever seen one, so I lean in and give her a kiss. I do the leadoff peck like I’m supposed to, but it’s just a formality. We kiss for about twenty minutes when she pulls back and says, “We better get going.”
“Where?” I ask like a dope.
“Gray Goose Lake, remember?”
“You were serious about that?” I ask. “It’s really far.”
“Yeah, but you’re a total badass now, right? So we should get moving.”
I shake my head and say, “All right, I hope you like back sweat.”
She laughs, “We can jump in the lake to cool off when we get there.”
“Oh, I don’t have my trunks,” I reply.
She turns as she’s walking out of the back room, grabs my hand, and says, “Maybe you don’t need them. . . .”
I almost fall down as we walk into the main room. Jeremy runs up, hugs Abby, and says, “You two were back there for a long time!”
Abby laughs and tells him that we’ll see him later on tonight at the lake.
“Do you guys need a ride?” he asks.
“NO, NO! I got it,” I reply as we head for the door.
I’ll regret not taking the ride after about five miles, but if I’ve learned anything this year, it’s that nothing good comes easy, focus is everything, and hard work sucks when you’re doing it, but the payoff is usually incredible. I’m pretty focused on getting to that lake, not needing my trunks, and possibly seeing Abby naked!
I unlock the Redline 500a and throw my leg over the seat. Abby climbs on the pegs, and we roll out like the coolest thing on two wheels. Her arms are wrapped around me tight as we pedal through the streets of Merrian and talk about the upcoming summer and how great it’ll be not to be freshmen anymore. How sweet it’ll be to go off that rope swing, and how great it is that Jeremy is Abby’s new best friend. I just ride and listen to her talk about how Nicky and Amber will always be her girls, but that she kind of deserves better (than those bitches!). And how tough this year was for her, but that she wouldn’t change anything about it because this bike ride might not have been possible without all the heartache.
I tell her that I’m sorry for any role I might have played in that heartache, but I too am so glad to be on this bike with her, and I probably wouldn’t change any of my screwups either.
We may have cruised out to the lake in about an hour, just in time for the sunset, stripped down to buck naked, and swung out on that rope swing twenty feet in the air before splashing down into the clear, refreshing water. We may have made sweet, passionate love on the bank of Gray Goose Lake, on the party dock, in an open boat, in the woods, in the lake, and maybe on the rope swing itself! It may have been incredible, everything I ever imagined it would be. Or we may have ridden the wheels off that damn Redline piece of crap for three hours before realizing we were going the wrong way, sweated out all of our fluids, and gotten severe leg cramps. We may have had to call my dad in complete disgrace to pick us up and take Abby home, without ever making love anywhere or going to any lake or party. Either scenario could have happened. Anything is possible.