Drama Queers! (13 page)

I’m guessing she got the part about me going to my audition since she wished me good luck…I should probably find out the French translation for “Break a leg!”

“What time’s your appointment?” Stacy asks, after we bid Mrs. Carey
“A demain!”

“Not for another half hour,” I answer, “but I wanna get down to the aud a little early to check out the competition.”

I decided I
am
gonna read for Scrooge, even though I don’t think I’m right for it. I mean, I’m what can be considered boyishly cute, not an old-man-type. But it’s acting, right? It’s all about transforming yourself into something/somebody you aren’t. Besides, I figure that out of the Senior guys, I got the most experience. Dell’s gonna wanna cast somebody he knows can handle playing a lead.

“Well, I hope you get a good part.”

Stacy stops by somebody’s locker, slips a folded-up piece of notebook paper into the slats on the door. It must belong to her boyfriend, Luis Sánchez. His family’s Cuban or Puerto Rican or from some Spanish-speaking place. He’s very cute with dark hair and dark eyes and skin that always looks tan, and he always dresses super sharp…Too bad he’s only a Sophomore.

“What are you doing now?” I ask before moseying on my way.

Stacy rolls her eyes and groans. “Shellee Findlay wants me to go to the mall with her, and Jamie Good, and Betsy Sheffield.”

“So…?”

“So…The last time I hung out with those
cheerleaders
,” Stacy spits, “I wanted to kill them!”

Something major must’ve happened if she’s getting this heated. Stacy Gillespie’s usually such an easygoing person, I can’t imagine what Shellee, Jamie, and Betsy did…So I ask her.

Wanna know what she says?

“They called me
Killer
.”

I can’t help but laugh, she’s sooo fucking cute!

Hard to believe how much Stacy has changed since Sophomore year. When I first met her in French I, she was a Total Punk. She used to sit in the back of Mrs. Carey’s class with a can of Aqua Net in one hand and a Bic lighter in the other, trying to set the curtains on fire. She had this haircut that was super short in back and long on top and it stuck up and off to one side. Jack used to say she looked like she got hit on the back of the head with a board.

Looking at her now, all dressed up in a long black skirt with a charcoal gray turtleneck and these gorgeous pearls draped around her neck, Stacy Gillespie has become a mature young woman. In fact, all my friends are growing up. I stopped at 7-Eleven the other day to buy a pack of cigarettes and I ran into Max Wilson…I barely recognized him without a single zit on his face.

“Try not to let those cheerleaders get to you,” I say, offering my best advice.

“Just to be on the safe side,” Stacy replies, “I think I’ll get high first.”

I wish I had time to join her, but it’s off to the auditorium I go!

AUDITIONS IN PROGRESS—DO NOT ENTER

Despite the sign posted on the double doors, I sneak inside, making my way into one of the back rows. My eyes take a moment to adjust, the only light coming from on stage where I look up to find none other than…Cute Sophomore Guy.

I see he’s chosen to dress for the occasion. Pressed khaki pants worn with a pale blue Polo shirt, perfectly matching his eyes. You should see the way they sparkle. Like sapphires.

Be-stilling my beating heart, I listen as CSG’s about to begin his audition.

“What’ve you got for us today?” Dell asks from his usual spot, front row center.

Sitting beside him must be this semester’s Sophomore Student Director, a slightly chubby girl with curly brown hair and glasses who I think I recognize from somewhere.

“I’m gonna be doing a scene from
The Breakfast Club
,” CSG informs Dell and the dozen Drama Queers scattered about the auditorium. Instantly, we perk up since we all love this (and every other) John Hughes movie ever made.

At first, I think CSG means
monologue
, even though he called it a
scene
, since he’s probably never acted before. Sure enough, when he begins, I can tell he’s totally doing Brian “the Brain,” talking about how he doesn’t like what he sees when he steps outside himself and looks in. Only he switches character, becoming
both
Claire “the Princess,” and Allison “the Basket Case,” responding to what he’s just said as Brian. Then he goes back to Brian talking about getting an F on his elephant lamp, before becoming Bender “the Criminal,” having a back and forth conversation with himself over Trigonometry versus Shop.

If you ask me, it’s fucking brilliant!

The entire auditorium is pin-drop silent for one hundred twenty seconds, clinging to CSG’s every word. Even I can’t take my eyes off him, the kid is sooo fucking cute! There’s no denying he’s got talent…He just better not get
my
part.

Obviously Dell thinks CSG’s done a good job, judging from the way he’s grinning like a Total Geek. “Take a look at the Scrooge/Cratchit scene, would you?”

All smiles, CSG steps down from the stage to receive the sides from our Sophomore Student Director, who he must know since they’re in the same class and all.

Again, I follow his every move.

Nice butt!

I hear him say, “Thanks, Miranda.”

That’s when I realize that SSD is Alyssa Resnick’s younger sister.

One time back when Jack and Alyssa were still going together, me and Luanne stopped by Alyssa’s house, to check up on them. The four of us were hanging out upstairs in Alyssa and Miranda’s bedroom, and I remember thinking how mature Miranda was—for an 8th grader. Did I mention she reminds me of Liza Minnelli?

“Next!”

Mr. Dell’Olio stands up to stretch, surveying the room for his next victim.

I call out, “That would be me,” before making my way down the aisle, and hopping up on stage. Boy, do I feel schlumpy in ripped jeans, my Cure concert T-shirt, and slip-on shoes sans socks!

Note to self: start taking these auditions more seriously.

“Find your light!”

From down below, Dell advises me this.

A few of the older Drama Queers chuckle at my expense. Somehow, I can’t help but think Audrey and Tuesday are out there instigating. Ignoring them, I move to my right, feeling the fresnels fall on my face. I take a deep breath, ready to introduce myself the (quote-unquote) professional way Dell recently taught us.

“Hello, my name is Bradley Dayton,” I begin, even though everybody already knows this. “My selection is from
Tea and Sympathy
by Robert Anderson, the character of Tom.”

Dell reacts with a quick nod of the head, rubbing his chin. “Excellent choice.”

After I finished working on my
Brighton Beach
scene with Rob Berger, Dell decided I should find a decent monologue. Not only for this audition, but to have in my back pocket once it comes time to head out into the Real World. He suggested I head downtown to the DPL and see what scripts they got there. He told me I should look for a role I could easily be cast in (age, type, etc.), and even suggested a few different titles.

The second I came across
Tea and Sympathy
, I knew I found the perfect fit.

Here’s a brief synopsis…

Tom Lee is a 17-year-old student at a boys’ prep school in the 1950s. But he’s having trouble fitting in with the other guys. They all like sports, talking about girls, and listening to “pop” music. Tom prefers classical, he likes to read, he enjoys
theater
. In general, he seems more comfortable in the company of women…Sounds perfect for me!

Of course, all the other guys tease him about liking these things. They call him “Sister Boy,” and even Tom’s father treats him like a jerk. His jock roommate, Al, is the only one at school who’s ever nice to him. Al tells Tom that just because he’s different, it doesn’t make him a homo.

Enter Laura Reynolds, the sexy young wife of the House Master. It seems that Tom reminds Laura of her first husband, killed in World War II—and possibly also a homo. So she befriends the boy, and eventually falls in love with him…I won’t spoil the rest, but that’s the basic jist.

I don’t know if Dell meant to tell me something by suggesting I work on this play, but I’m totally grateful he did. I never connected to a piece more and felt like I was acting less in my life.

Once my two minutes are up, I tell everybody, “Thank you.”

“No, thank
you
,” Dell replies. “Another fine performance, Mr. Dayton.”

His trusty assisant, Miranda Resnick agrees. “Very nice.”

The way she smiles at me, I can tell she remembers who I am…I have to make sure I talk to her at some point and find out how Alyssa’s doing.

“Do me a favor, would you?” Dell says to me now. “Take a look at the Scrooge/Cratchit scene…I’ll pair you up with somebody in just a sec.”

I jump down from the stage to accept the sides from Miranda.

Giddy, I tell her, “Good to see you,” partly because it’s true, and partly because I’m about to kick some Thespian butt.

“As they say in showbiz,” Dell calls out, “‘Time is money.’” Followed by, “Next!”

“Hold your horses!” I hear Audrey Wojczek howl just as I slip into the hall between the auditorium and Choir room to get a little privacy while I look over my lines.

After all of about five seconds, I hear somebody sneak up behind me.

“Hey.”

I’m about to turn around and say,
Who the fuck do you think you are, interrupting an artist at work?
Except as I do, I realize the voice belongs to none other than…Cute Sophomore Guy!

All I can manage to do is say, “Hey, yourself.” Then I just stand there with this totally dumb expression on my face. Same as I did the first time I seen him three days ago.

“Mr. Dell’Olio says he wants us to read together,” he informs me, holding up the Scrooge/Cratchit sides.

After we run thru the lines a couple times, Cute Sophomore Guy pays me a compliment. “Nice scene, Brad.”

Feeling like a dork, I say, “You, too.” Mouth agape, the mind boggles. “I’m sorry…What’s your name again?”

CSG regards me a moment. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Talk about being totally put on the spot!

I nod like one of them old-fashioned bobblehead doll thingies. “From the other day in the Band room…Sure, I do.”

This guy is
not
about to let me off the hook. “I mean, from before.”

Before when?

I give him a hard look up and down, hoping
I
don’t get hard myself in doing so. “Um…” Again, blushing!

It looks like he’s about to say something, but hesitates. Then he replies, “You were my Band Aide.”

I stop to think, so hard I can almost smell wood burning. “At Webb?”

CSG smirks. “Unless you were a Band Aide someplace else.”

Okay, now he’s definitely flirting.

Why can’t I figure out who—?

I look at him again…This time directly in the eyes.

No fucking way!

“Richie Tyler?”

The faggy little 7
^th
grader who played flute in Prep Band and carried his books like a
girl
…He certainly isn’t
little
anymore.

“It’s Rich now,” he declares proudly, in a voice an octave lower than the one I remember.

Wait till Jack gets a load of this!

To make a long story short…

During Freshman year, both me and Jack served as Band Aides to Jessica Clark Putnam of “Friends hold you back” fame. We worshiped the ground she walked on since day one. To be bestowed with the honor of being at Mrs. Putnam’s beck and call, I can’t convey what that meant.

Jack lucked out and got 2
^nd
hour Varsity Band. Me, I got stuck with 3
^rd
hour Prep, which might as well have been
remedial
as far as talent is concerned, and is where faggy little Richie—I mean,
Rich
—Tyler played flute, and afterwards would carry his books like a girl. You know, clutched tight against his chest, as if some bully was gonna come by and snatch them away.