Pretenders (14 page)

Forgive me, Journal, for I have sinned. It has been less than a day since my last entry so that’s obviously not it. It’s something else. And it’s worse than not journaling.
²⁷

As you know, I had an Algebra quiz today. You also know I studied during lunch so I was prepared. What you don’t know is that the “Before” picture sat beside me in Algebra and completely disrupted my chi.

“You’re too funny,” she said.

“I am?”

“I love how you signed up for every spot on the Phoenix Five. Hilarious.”

“Why?”

“Why? Those blank spaces were rhetorical.”

Foe no you dizn’t!
This was her trying to rile me up before the quiz. It was a total power move. But she’ll have to fight smarter than that if she wants to beat me to the Academic Excellence award, the Honors Society, and the Principal’s Award. As for the Phoenix Five, she can have one spot if she really wants. I’ll take four.

“I really like those bracelets you’re selling.”

“SWAPs.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m sure you’ll be very happy with yours,” I snipped.

“Mine? I didn’t get one.”

“You will.”

“Huh?”

“Your boyfriend bought two.”

“Boyfriend?” She looked confused and then kind of laughed. “You mean Blake?”

I stared at her again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s—we’ve been best friends for years.”

“I think he likes you.”

“There is nothing between us. Trust me.”

“Really?”

“Cross my heart.” She made an X over her ill-fitting shirt. “Never has been. Never will be.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Oh,” I said, like I didn’t really care. But on the inside my cells were popping like kernels in a microwave. Blake was single. He didn’t like Lily!
²⁸

I wanted more intel but Mr. Baskin started handing out the quiz. We had twenty minutes to answer ten questions.

I tried to focus but Blake’s dark eyes waxed in my mind and eclipsed my math knowledge.
²⁹

Still, I finished first. Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds. Instead of taking our quizzes home and grading them like a responsible teacher, Mr. Baskin had us switch papers with the person sitting next to us. Lily got mine and I got hers. He called out the correct answers while we, the students, graded them. It was a total sweatshop move.

Lily got ten out of ten.

I got eight.
³⁰

9.19.12

INT. STARLIGHT AUDITORIUM—BACK ROW.

SHERIDAN as KRISTIN CHENOWETH, Tony and Emmy award winner, exits the stage after her first high school audition. She performed like a hammer and nailed it.

As planned, I sang “Popular” from
Wicked
in 32 bars. I began with the first verse after the intro (“Popular, you’re gonna be popular” thru “everything that really counts to be…”), then cut to the last (“very very popular like me”) and finished strong with “La la la la, you’ll be popular, just not quite as popular as me!”

Coherent sense? Check.

Actable? Check, check.

Set me up for the last big belt note? Don’t make me say it again.… Okay, fine… CHECK!

There, the facts have been documented. My memoirs will be accurate. In a perfect world I’d put quill to paper and record the other stuff that happened during the audition. But I’m way too emotional. And my world is light-years away from perfect.

To Be Continued…

END SCENE.

Friday

Bubbie Libby always says: Andrew, life is like a giant hemroyd (sp?); sometimes it’s up, sometimes it’s down.

ME:
I hear ya.

I only said that because it’s funny when she talks about hemroyds and I don’t want her to stop. But I never actually got it until now.

It’s night. I’m in a tent. Dad is snoring. I can’t sleep. Not after what he told me. I’m watching the campfire, thinking about the hemroydian week I just had. Up one minute, down the next. Right now it’s crazy-down.

Feeling = Good news if you’re a hemroyd. Bad news if you’re me.

It started with me, Hud, and Coops making Varsity. Coach Bammer said it’s the first time ever that three freshmen made his team. Then he pulled me aside and said he’d be watching me. He thinks I have a very bright future in this sport if I want it.

ME:
Of course I want it.

HIM:
Then I’m going to push you.

ME:
Cool.

That was up. The down happened when we were leaving the locker room. I was wondering what that girl Sheridan eats for breakfast when, out of nowhere, this arm grabs Hud’s shirt and pulls him back in.

LOGO:
How much did you pay?

HUD:
For what?

LOGO:
For your pedicure, what do you mean for what? For your spot on the team?

I yanked Hud away.

LOGO:
Wrong answer.

He drew back his fist and aimed it at my face. Just as he was about to strike, Coops sideswiped Logo’s fist with some brown-belt karate action.

COOPS:
Keee-ai!

He landed like he was straddling a toilet.

COOPS:
Prepare for epic battle.

Logo pushed Coops into a locker and grabbed Hud’s uniform for the second time. He flicked the sponsor’s name and said: explain
that
.

HUD:
First Rate Real Estate?

LOGO:
Isn’t that your daddy’s business?

HUD:
So?

LOGO:
So? You sweat freshman piss in basketball but for some straaaaange reason you’re on the Flames and I got cut.

COOPS:
He’s better than you.

LOGO:
Come here and say that.

Coops stepped right up to Logo but instead of saying: he’s better than you, he shouted Keee-ai! and round-housed Logo in the shin. No one saw it coming. Not even me and I’ve known the guy since first grade. It was sick! Until Coops tried to run and wiped on the wet tiles.

He has to wear one of those black Darth Vader boots for seven weeks, maybe more. So he’s out for the season. Logo got his spot.

That

was

a

down

day.

The rest of the week was about drills and schedules. Bammer said we’d be closer than brothers by the end of the year. I said cool because I’m sick of sisters. Everyone laughed. Logo cracked his knuckles.

Feeling = Over that guy.

Other than Logo, everyone seems cool. They know Hud and I have skills and keep saying how the Noble Flames are
going to dominate this year. Greg, one of the seniors, even offered to drive me to practice and stuff so I don’t have to deal with my parents. The way he said it made me think he has annoying parents. I like mine and normally I’m cool if they want to take me to games but Mom has been stressed lately so I said okay.

Like Wednesday after practice. I was in the kitchen swigging chocolate milk from the carton when she showed up. Carrying a laundry basket! Normally she freaks when I drink from the carton but she didn’t even notice. All she cared about was my uniform which I guess she had just washed.

MOM:
Hudson’s parents are sponsoring the Flames?

ME:
Yeah.

MOM:
Since when?

ME:
Dunno.

MOM:
Does your father know?

ME:
Dunno.

MOM:
Well, what
do
you know?

ME:
I dunno. What’s the big deal?

MOM:
The big deal is it costs money to sponsor a team.

ME:
So.

MOM:
So, I guess they’re having a good year.

ME:
Maybe you should get Rosie back.

MOM:
Rosie? What does Rosie have to do with anything?

ME:
You seem kinda… I dunno. Maybe you need help or something.

MOM:
You’re right.

So you know what she did? She handed me the basket and told me to put the clothes away. Then, after tripping over our nameless dogs and shouting the s-word, she went upstairs to take a bath.

I put the basket in Mandy’s room with a note that said, Mom wants you to put these away. Then I played DS.

Feeling = If she wants to wear slick designer clothes she should put them away herself.

Today Coach Bammer sent us home with the parents’ packet. We have to bring it back Monday with everything signed and paid for or we’re off the team. Varsity is that serious. I gave it to Dad right when he got home. He was in my room ten minutes later.

ME:
That was fast. Thanks.

He dropped it on my bed and asked if I wanted to go fly-fishing.

ME:
When?

DAD:
Now.

ME:
It’s Sabbath.

DAD:
We’re not Jewish.

ME:
Oh yeah.

Feeling = Either my parents are dying or they’re getting divorced.

Dad and I have been going on these awesome guys-only fly-fishing trips since I was six. With Varsity we probably won’t have time for them so I brought my journal. I thought it
would be good to take notes so I could remember the good times, just in case my last feeling comes true.

Feeling = It better not.

We listened to the Yankees game for most of the drive. They were down by three in the last inning. Dad turned it off.

ME:
Why’d ya do that?

DAD:
I’m tired of losing.

ME:
I hear ya.

I had no clue what he was talking about.

We pulled off the highway and onto the dirt road that led to our campsite. Twigs snapped under the weight of our 4Runner. Rocks and roots were pressed into the mud. Tree branches scraped along our windows like witch nails. These were the only sounds we heard for the last few miles. I liked it that way.

We pulled into the campground and parked. Dad gripped the steering wheel and lowered his head. He seemed nervous. He wanted to tell me something but was afraid.

Feeling = He’s dying.

I started naming Knicks to stay calm. Carmelo Anthony, Earl Barron, Tyson Chandler…

I got all the way to J.R. Smith before he looked at me.

DAD:
Twenty-five hundred dollars?

ME:
Huh?

DAD:
Are you playing on a team or buying one?

ME:
What are you talking about?

DAD:
The fees. They’re outrageous.

ME:
I hear ya. It’s the travel and motels and stuff. We’re playing fifteen away games. Coach Bammer said it would be double that if First Rate wasn’t sponsoring us.

DAD:
Yeah, I heard about that.

He said it like it was bad news.

ME:
Hey, maybe if Duffy Commercial Realty sponsored us too it would be cheaper.

Dad said “ha” but didn’t laugh.

I started to freak.