Where’s Mr. Fish with his rag when you need it?
“He means, what do you want?” I whisper, trying to talk without moving my lips, à la Laverne DeFazio from Laverne & Shirley.
Rob’s face lights up. “Oh! What do I want?”
“What does Stanley want?” Dell corrects.
“What does Stanley want?” Rob repeats, like it’s finally starting to sink in. “Beats the hell outta me.”
Thunderous applause!
Finally, the bell rings, signaling the 2:00 PM end of Advanced Drama, putting both me and Rob outta our Brighton Beach Memoirs misery…
“Good scene, you guys.”
Audrey approaches from the aisle, her long red hair swaying behind her back. I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or not.
“Seriously,” Tuesday snorts, bringing up the rear. “You’re a really good actor, Berger.”
“Thanks,” Rob mutters, avoiding eye contact with the ladies.
Tuesday looks at me, forgetting I’m also standing there. “You too, Brad.”
Rob hops off the stage. “Later,” he tells us before making his way towards the box office in the back corner.
I can’t help but notice the way Aud watches Rob’s every move. In fact, Tuesday practically drools down the front of her maroon Flaggots—I mean, Flag Corps—windbreaker till he disappears thru the EXIT doors into the front lobby.
“Lucky you,” Audrey sighs, “getting to work with Mr. Varsity Football.”
“Yeah,” echoes Tuesday. “You sure are lucky.”
I agree, “Yeah…”
What else am I supposed to say in response to their remarks? Now if he’d only make out with me.
After an awkward moment of silence, Audrey asks, “Wanna help me and Tuesday with our scene sometime?”
“I’m free on Saturday,” I offer, since I don’t have to work at Big Boy’s till the evening and I got nothing else going on during the day.
“Awesome!” exclaims Audrey.
I never noticed she’s got a space between her teeth when she smiles, just like a certain football-playing Lesbian—I mean, Thespian—we know.
Tuesday parrots, “Yeah, awesome!”
The girls are working on The Effects of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds. Back in the ’60s, it played Off-Broadway. They also made a movie version with Paul Newman’s wife, Joanne Woodward, which I never seen.
Audrey plays the crazy mom, Beatrice, and Tuesday is the daughter, Tillie, who’s all into science and shit. So far they’re doing a pretty good job, but if you ask me, the play’s totally fucked up. The mom kills the daughter’s pet rabbit for chris’sakes, you know what I mean?
“We can hang at my house,” Aud informs us. “My mom’ll be at work.”
I’m about to follow my classmates’ lead and get my ass moving to 6th hour French III Independent Study when Mr. Dell’Olio stops me on the stairs leading down from the stage.
“Good work today, Dayton.”
I can feel my face matching my hair as I humbly tell him, “Thanks.”
I don’t know why, but I’m a little embarrassed by Mr. Dell’Olio’s praise. I mean, I certainly wanna do a good job. I live for the day others will laud me for my acting ability. Except right now, I don’t know what else to say. So I just stand there with a stupid smirk.
“You’re a natural,” Dell flatters, patting me on the back. “I’ll see you at auditions, won’t I?”
This semester we’re doing A Christmas Carol. You know, by Charles Dickens. Same guy who gave us A Tale of Two Cities and Oliver Twist. The first one, we read in Mrs. Malloy’s English Lit, the other, I seen the musical years ago. Auditions are coming up the second week of November.
“I’ll be there,” I confirm.
I can’t say I read the script yet, but I watched the movie of A Christmas Carol on TV when I was little. I heard the boy who played Tiny Tim is now Artistic Director at Meadow Brook Theatre out in Rochester…God, he must be ancient!
I’m still not sure what part I want. Sure, Scrooge has got the most lines, but I don’t see myself playing an old man. Being that I’m a Senior, I’m sure Dell will cast me in one of the leads…Why wouldn’t he, if I’m such a natural?
“What’s up, Fox?”
In the commons outside the auditorium, I run into Shelly Findlay—I mean, Shellee Findlay. I keep forgetting her and a bunch of the other Varsity cheerleaders officially changed the spelling of their first names. Karla Carlson is now Karlah and Melody Carnes is Mellowdeigh.
Don’t ask!
Me and Shellee go way back to 7th grade at Webb. We used to be in Band together, but like a lot of the junior high Band Fags, Shellee dropped out once we got to high school, which is a damn shame if you ask me because she was a very talented flautist.
I don’t know why, but a lot of people don’t like our HPHS Band teacher, Mr. Klan, just because he’s a Total Fag. Well, we don’t know if he is for sure, but he is over thirty-five and he’s never been married, so the odds are in favor. Not that I want him to be or anything. I don’t find him the least bit attractive. In fact, he reminds me of my dad, which is totally bogue!
“What’s up?” I wonder.
Shellee hands me one of the mimeographed flyers she’s been Scotch taping to the glass doors outside Principal Messinger’s office. Her brunette head bobs back and forth as she cackles at me. “Duh! It’s all right there.”
Sure enough, so it is.
Don’t forget to Vote!
Homecoming “Top 25”
10/1/87
Ah, yes…“Top 25.”
The yearly ritual to pick the twenty-five Seniors at Hazel Park High School most deserving to be elected to Homecoming Court.
Personally, I’m pretty bic-cited (excited).
Back in 10th grade, I had these two Senior friends, Alyssa Resnick and Cheri Sheffield. They were both on “Top 25.” I remember thinking what an honor being singled out by your peers must be. Not that I need validation or anything. For the most part, I already know that people like me…And if they don’t, fuck ’em!
I wish Shellee “Good luck!” even though she’s a shoo-in. She was always Most Popular Girl at Webb Junior High and continues to be to this day.
“You too, Fox!” she replies, waving with pinky, forefinger, and thumb extended. Then she gathers her flyers and moves on to the display case next to the library.
This is where, along with the VFW award, the American Legion award, and the prestigious Erickson Cup, sits the coveted “Thespy.” At least twice a day since Sophomore year, I stop by to stare at it. I imagine how the gold (plated) statuette will feel held in my hot little hand, how my name—BRADLEY JAMES DAYTON—will look engraved on the metal plate marked “1987–88.” What it will mean to be honored as Thespian of the Year.
For those not up on their Drama Queer terminology…Thespis is credited as being the first actor ever to appear on a stage in something like 600 BC. According to Aristotle, Thespis was a singer of dithyrambs, which were songs about mythology that featured choral refrains. He also invented the style that became known as tragedy (as in “comedy and…”), where one single actor performed all the characters in a play, using different masks to differentiate.
Hence the