Shrinking Violet (7 page)

The light goes off, but my stomach is back to the limbo. I just stand there for a moment.

I can do this. I have to do this.
I grasp the

76

door handle before I change my mind. Derek's at the board with his back to me.

I don't move from the door, hoping he'll eventually turn around. But instead, he leans over the laptop plugged in next to him. The lights on the request lines are blinking, but I know he has two interns down the hall answering those calls, I shuffle to the center of the studio now and rustle the keys in my pocket. Finally Derek swings around. "Oh, hi. Tere, right? Rob told me you'd be stopping by."

Derek reaches out his hand and shakes mine. His palms feel like sandpaper. I quickly pull away.

He's wearing the same orange shirt as last Friday, with the first three buttons undone. A gold chain rests between the hairs on his chest. It's a figure of a woman with huge breasts. Actually, it would be more accurate to say, it's a pair of gigantic boobs with a woman's body attached to them.

So I shouldn't be surprised that he's staring at my chest right now. I let go of his hand. If he needs someone to drool over, Pop-Tart has a pretty nice set.

"Like what you see?" He laughs. "They don't call me Dynamite Derek for nothing."

I cringe. There's nothing dynamite about this guy. Yeah, he still has his hair and is in good shape for forty, but if he walked into a room full of high school girls, we'd all think he was some lounge singer hired to entertain the teachers at a retirement party. He's got a good on-air voice, though. I'll give him that.

77

Derek goes back to his laptop, so I just continue standing in the middle of the room like a coatrack. I need to talk to him. Otherwise, he'll tell Rob I hung around here like a fungus.

"Thanks," I mutter.

He doesn't answer me, so I try it again. "Thanks . . for letting me chill here."

"Damn," he says to the computer. At least I think he's talking to the computer.

Finally he turns around. "Sorry, thought I had the wrong commercial loaded. Those plastic surgery people are always counting to make sure all their slots run." He plays with a few levels on the board. "Oh, and you're welcome. Anything for the boss's kid."

He laughs. "Sit down." He points to the chair a few feet away from him.

I sit. It's one of those swivel office chairs. It'll make a good getaway vehicle if needed.

"You want to be a DJ?" he asks.

I nod but realize he doesn't have eyes on the back of his head, so I clear my throat and say, "Yeah."

"Got to pick out a name first. What do you want to be called?" Derek turns around to face me and leans back on the console, exposing even more chest hair. Something I didn't think was possible. "Trixie? Bubbles? Baby?"

Wait, is this a strip club or a radio station? I instinctively pull up the neck of my scoop tee. "Sweet T."

If I had a turtleneck with me, I'd put it on right now.

78

"That'll work. A name and a voice is all you got out here in radio land." Derek fades down the Maltese track and brings up Gracie May.

"Now that's a sexy woman. I wouldn't mind getting into her pants." Derek grins.

I don't say anything and it's not because I don't have anything to say, it's just that I have nothing nice to say.

"You don't talk much," Derek says.

"Nope." I cross my arms.

"That can be a good thing, too." He winks at me. His brown eyes are soulless.

God, I know he's good at his job, but one dose of him is enough to send anyone into cardiac arrest.

Just when I think he's done talking, he swings his chair around again. "By the way, you're in violation of the dress code."

"Huh?" I look down at my Little Miss Trouble tee and jeans. Since when does anyone other than the salespeople dress up at a radio station?

He points directly at my breasts and laughs. "So you're trouble? That's a provocative statement. You can't wear anything
suggestive
here."

Does he really think he's funny? I'm trashing this shirt as soon as I get home.

Jason, Derek's producer, busts into the studio with a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

"Here you go, dude." He slaps them on the console next to Derek. Unlike Derek, Jason's very clean-cut.

79

He's tall, with blond hair and hazel eyes. He's GQ to Derek's Unpopular Mechanic.

"Man, you're good." Derek pulls out a glazed and takes a huge bite. Before he's even finished chewing, he asks, "You want?"

"No." I grab my bottle of water to clear out my throat. He is so gross.

Derek's halfway through a second doughnut when the song ends and he has to go back on the air. "Good evening, South Florida, it's Dynamite Derek helping you survive the drive home . ."

Jason mouths to me. "Who are you?"

I make a
T
sign with my hands.

He mouths, "Time-out?"

"Intern," I say softly. It makes things easier.

"Ahh." He nods and jumps onto the computer. As soon as he's finished, he swivels around to face me. "Since I'm sure Derek didn't tell you what a studio intern's duties are, I'll fill you in."

"Thanks," I say and pull a small notebook and pen from my backpack.

Jason brushes away the paper. "Nothing formal. When you get here, just check the commercials loaded on the computer against the printout for the show. You'll find the printout next to the console."

That's all?

Jason continues, "You'll help on phones as needed and anything else that comes up during the show, promotions, giveaways, etc. Any questions?"

80

"No." I shake my head, and before I can think of anything else to say, Jason is back to the computer, pulling up a song for Derek.

That's what I like about radio, there's no downtime. You talk, listen to music, do a few shout-outs and before you know it, it's time to sign out and hand the mike over to the next DJ. I still don't know how I got the guts to talk Rob into letting me give this radio gig a try. But I'm glad I did. Despite the fact that Derek is a major slime dog, I think I'm going to like it here.

81

Gavin looks different today. I'm not sure why, though. Piece -of hair hanging over his left eye. Check. Dark brown eyes.

Check. Faded jeans. Check. T-shirt. It's red.
Whoa, back up.
That's like me showing up to school in a string bikini. I lean forward and notice that it's a Speed Bump tee. Not exactly alternative music but definitely good stuff. They're one of the groups that Rob's trying to get to play at the SLAM Summer Bash in July.

This is the fifth year in a row that the station is sponsoring a huge outdoor concert at Bayside with over fifteen different artists. The concert starts at noon and goes until eleven at night. I've been for the past three years, and it's such a blast! Of course, it would

82

be better if I could go without my mom, but I can't complain because we always get backstage passes.

I wait until Gavin looks up from his paper.

"Nice," I whisper to his shirt.

"Thanks. My mom was just happy that I wore a color other than black." I laugh.

"I'm going with my brother to see them play in May."

"Really, when?"

"I think it's the second or third weekend. I know it's a Friday."

"Oh." My heart sinks. The small venue on the Beach. They're already sold out. I should've asked Rob for tickets, but Mom always tells me not to be too greedy, that the tickets need to go to his staff, too. Of course, when she wants to go to a concert, she doesn't waste a second to ask for not only the tickets, but also the best seats.

Ms. Peters asks everyone to quiet down and takes attendance. Stacy's absent.
Darn.

We hand in our homework. Then we're instructed to break up into pairs. After being called on to speak in class, pairing up is the next kiss of death for me. I immediately go into invisible mode and stare down at my notebook, my hair covering as much of my face as possible.

Waiting for everyone else to pair up always seems like an eternity. I know the drill: there are a few seconds of
do I have any friends

83

in this class
panic, followed by excited voices calling to each other across the room.

Then, when there's only one person left, they can come and grab me. I resume doodling to look busy, while people crisscross in front and back of me to find their perfect match.

I don't look up because I don't want anyone to see me, feel bad for me. I'm used to being picked last. The only time it sucks is when we have an uneven number and the teacher has to place me with two people who chose each other, leaving me the third wheel. Or worse, I have to partner with the teacher. That thankfully hasn't happened since freshman year science when I burnt the tip of Mr. Cronin's pinkie.

Okay, time to work out the logistics. At the start of the semester there were twenty-eight students in this class, but three got schedule changes and then we got a new guy from another school. That makes us an even twenty-six, which is great except if Stacy's absent that would mean, she'd be . . my partner. No way! I can't let this happen.

Being her partner is like having all my eyelashes plucked out by a tiger.

Gavin, what about Gavin? I like him; he talks to me. I tap his desk and point to him, then me.

"Sorry." He shrugs. "Kayla already asked. We're in history together."

A funny acid taste rises to my mouth. Being Stacy's partner is not an option. I'll have to tell Ms. Peters, forge a note from my mom. Anything.

I close my eyes. I imagine Stacy laughing at me uncontrollably 84

after she has told the whole class that I'm retarded. This is not happening.

"Okay, is everyone paired up?" Ms. Peters asks the dreaded question.

"One extra." Amelia points to me. God, can't she keep her mouth shut?

I sink into my seat and grab hold of the legs of the desk. My hands are sweaty. My head is spinning. "Stacy's absent," Beth says.

Remind me never to vote for her for student office again. "Yes, but we're starting the project in class today." Ms. Peters looks at me with sympathy in her eyes. "You could be her partner," Frank yells.

He might as well shout,
Loser alert, aisle two!
I bite the insides of my cheeks and close my eyes. "Tere could join us," Gavin offers.

A sympathy vote from the cute guy--I'm so humiliated.

Ms. Peters claps her hands. "Excellent. Now get into your groups and I'll pass out the assignment."

"But that means you'll have two groups of three, then," Beth whines.

"That's fine," Ms. Peters says. "And the rest of you will stay in pairs."

I don't move. Chairs are being dragged all around me. I don't want to mess up Gavin and Kayla's perfect twosome. I would give anything to be invisible right now.

85

"Come on, Tere. Move your desk up." Kayla found a seat in front of Gavin and has turned herself around to face us. She doesn't look like his type. She takes photos for the school paper and is really upbeat. She's wearing all pink, even her shoes.

"Okay, I'll do it for you." Kayla shoots up and grabs hold of my desk. I stand up inside it and walk as she slides it closer to her.

Ms. Peters places the assignment on Kayla's desk. Kayla reads aloud, "Each of you needs to pick an author, living or dead, that you admire. Of course, each choice is subject to my approval . ."

"Geez, even teachers have disclaimers these days," Gavin grumbles.

Kayla and I both laugh--she like a lion. Me like a kitten.

Kayla continues reading, "The next step is to read one of their books and find out as much as you can about them. You will prepare your finding in a two-page paper. See attached handout."

Kayla stops reading. "What does this have to do with a group project?"

Ms. Peters is walking around the class and stops in front of her. "Read on."

"Oh, right." Kayla smiles. "You will then become this author and decide what would happen if your two choices met in person. You can perform a short scene, write a poem, sing a song, but whatever you choose, it needs to be done orally. Twelve to fifteen minutes for each project."

Okay, my brain froze when she said perform. No. Way. Do they 86

have any mute authors? Because otherwise I'm not doing this assignment. I can't.

"This'll be fun!" Kayla puts down the paper and pulls a book out of her bag. "I'm Judy Blume, all the way." She holds up the author's photo to her face. "See, we even have the same haircut."

Scary.

"What about you guys?" Kayla asks.

"Definitely Stephen King." Gavin pushes a strand of hair from his face. I watch it fall right back.

Kayla makes a gagging sound. "That guy is gruesome."

"I know." Gavin grins.

Kayla and Gavin definitely don't like each other. I grin, too. "So what about you?" Kayla jabs me lightly with the corner of Judy Blume's
Summer Sisters.

"No performance." I shake my head.

Kayla looks at Gavin and rolls her eyes. "I hope there's not a problem here. I need to keep my 5.0. I'm still waiting to hear from Duke. It's my first choice."

Maybe they shouldn't have let me in their group. I don't want to be the reason that Kayla has to go to community college instead of her dream school.

Gavin doesn't catch her eye rolls because he's busy drawing. Looks like he's as thrilled as me about this project. "Well, I'm already in at the University of Central Florida, so I'll just take the F." He looks up from his paper with a smirk.

Kayla narrows her eyes. "Not funny."

87

"We'll figure something out," Gavin says.

"Like what?" Kayla asks.

"Mute," I offer.

"No, you're not." Kayla sighs.

Gavin stifles a laugh. "Helen Keller."