Pretenders (13 page)

9.17.12

INT. MASTER LO’s TAE KWON DO STUDIO—LATE AFTERNOON.

SHERIDAN’s O.L.S. has been lifted. Order has been restored.

Pass the mic, Ms. Justice, there’s a new Victorious in town!

Mom’s the one freaking out now. She’s pacing Master Lo’s waiting room because H&M are testing for their green belts. Her big fear? One will pass and the other will fail. In which case she’d rather they both fail. How weird is that?

I was going to call her on it but decided to put quill to paper instead. I’d rather focus on the positive. For instance, I went to school as Sheridan Spencer today and it wasn’t a total disaster.
The freshman play was announced and I wanted to be me when I got the news. I didn’t even wear a costume, just skinny jeans, orange ballet flats, a plain white tank top, and a navy cardigan. I pinned back a chunk of hair by my ear and dusted my cheekbones with pink blush. Audri said I looked pretty in a regular way.

She must have been right because that Zero Direction guy who blamed Audri for the rain on our first day of school came right up to me to talk about Dad’s BMW M5. I thanked him and told him about the dealership. He said I was lucky because he’s obsessed with cars and his dad has a boring job at a law firm. Then he asked if I have ever heard of the M3 GTR. I told him we have the 2013. He said You mean the one in Gran Turismo? I said yep. He said noooooo wayyyyyyyy and then bowed like I was royalty. I felt special.

How do you know Logan?
(Audri.)

I don’t. How do you know Logan?

Octavia’s dying to make out with him.

Too late.

Why?

He’s in love with a model.

Who?
(Audri, pushing her blue glasses up her nose.)

The 2013 M3 floor model.

We cracked up.

Anyway, the freshman play is
Wicked
. Last year I was Elphaba the bad witch and I dream of playing Glinda next. Everyone in drama club said I sound like Kristin Chenoweth when I sing
“Popular” so I’ll audition with that for sure. O’course Audri will too.

Everyone thinks it’s weird that she wants to be my understudy. Then we explain it’s the only way Audri can play lead and they get it.

Audri is good. She has range, focus, and the unmatched ability to cry on demand. But I’m better. I’m not bragging. It’s a fact. I work harder and am constantly studying the craft. So I always get lead. I knew this bothered Audri so I made her a secret deal. If she’d volunteer to be my understudy I would “act” sick at least one night (more if it’s a long run) so she can have a turn in the spotlight. She cried for real when she heard the offer and said I was the best friend ever. I cried for real too because I was happy she was happy. So we’ve been doing it for the past two years.

Having played both leads will really round out our list of credits. We’re going to start practicing tomorrow after school. Auditions are this Wednesday. I wanted to start tonight but Mom said I should be here for my brothers because green belt is a big deal. Oh, and Glinda’s not?

Audri left me a lunch note today! She ate with Jagger. He told her about visiting his parents in jail. Aside from bully beating they are normal and shouldn’t be behind bars. He knows the whole emancipation thing broke their hearts but what choice did he have? He couldn’t exactly run to jail every time he needed a field trip permission slip or report card signed.

Audri wondered if she was heartless because she couldn’t cry during Jagger’s tragic story. All she could think about was kissing him. She ended up faking it. And the Oscar goes to Meryl Weep.

Normally hearing that Audri has a crush and wants to kiss would make me feel heavy. I’d wonder why I didn’t have a crush or why kissing still scares me and not her. But I’m not wondering any of that right now. I’m too busy being happy she wasn’t eating lunch with Octavia. Maybe they got in a fight.

Remember that guy Duffy? The one who was making hearts about me in English? Well, his locker is across from mine and today I heard him whistling. The song sounded familiar but I couldn’t figure out what so I moved closer and listened harder. Then it hit me. It was “I Feel Pretty” from
West Side Story
. I was shocked.

Maybe, if I had to stretch my imagination, I could picture Andrew Duffy whistling “Jet Song” or “Cool.” But “I Feel Pretty”? I had to ask.

I must have freaked him out because he jumped and slammed his locker.

Huh?

I said, Are you singing “I Feel Pretty”?

He turned red and kind of giggled.
Oh, I dunno. Was I? Maybe.

Really?

Two sisters.
He looked down the hall and then leaned closer like he was about to tell me a secret. He smelled girly, like baby
powder deodorant.
They force-fed me show tunes when I was little. Sometimes I spring a leak and one dribbles out.

I giggled. It was an odd choice of words for a basketball player. I could tell by the duct tape on his high-tops that he probably had other odd things to say.

So, do you feel pretty today?

He flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
If you must know I changed the lyrics to I feel happy.

Why?

Because I don’t feel very pretty today.

No, I meant, why do you feel happy?

I made the Varsity team. So did my best friends.

Congratulations.

Thanks. You’re in my English class, right?

I am.

You wore red lipstick on the first day of school.

I looked down at my orange ballet flats.

I remember that.
(Duffy.)

Really?
(Me. Voice shaking.)

Yeah.

Wow. Good memory.

Yeah, well, you smiled and—

And what?
(I knew he had a crush on me! I couldn’t wait to tell Audri.)

You had red shmeared all over your tooth. Like you got punched in the mouth.

Oh.

Normally I would have wanted to cry and die and then reincarnate, cry some more, and die again. But the space between his teeth made me feel like he didn’t expect people to be perfect.

I’ll make you a deal.
(Me.)

What?

If you promise to tell me when I have lipstick on my teeth I’ll tell you when you have pee spots on your jeans.

He laughed and then introduced himself. I did the same.

Nice to meet you, Sheridan.

This made me smile because it really was Sheridan he was meeting. And he liked her.

By the way.
(Duffy, locking his locker.)
You don’t need lipstick.

And you don’t need jeans.
(Me, slapping my hand over my mouth.)
Oh my god, I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t even know what I meant.

Yeah, right.
(Duffy, walking away acting like he wasn’t buying it.)

Uh-oh. Tae Kwon Do testing is over. Results coming in… and…

Both boys failed. Mom is relieved. A good day indeed.

To Be Continued…

END SCENE.

Monday, September 17, 2012

All of the “normal” social clubs were filled by the time I got to school today because normal people signed up online over the weekend. Whereas, I had to send smoke signals, which have yet to arrive.

Which brings me to another reason I want to be normal. Normal people have parents with cable modems. But my mom? She sees dial-up as a teaching tool. She says my generation’s dependence on instant gratification will lead to our downfall and some things are worth waiting for.

“Why?” I argue.

“Because no one gets what they want the minute they want it.”

“They do on the Internet,” I tell her.

“Well, it’s not realistic,” she says.

“Actually, the Internet is very real.”

“Don’t be smart, Lily,” my dad says.

“Then stop teaching me so much.”

We always have arguments like these. The only one I ever won was when they let me go Pub. Unfortunately, I don’t feel like much of a winner when I’m there so I’m not sure it counts.

There was one opening left—in the style club—so I went for that. I was told to come back when I get style. Blake laughed. I wanted to cry. But I didn’t until I spotted this super-pretty blonde talking to Duffy at his locker today. Her name is Sheridan Spencer. She could have been CEO of the style club. Her whole “classic-cardi-meets-an-unexpected-pop-of-orange-ballet-flats” had me wondering if she spent the weekend playing dress-up with Trike.

Blake did, that’s for sure. He showed up today all dapper in a faded gingham shirt, distressed jeans, and pop-of-red New Balance sneakers.

The style club girls literally applauded him in the halls.

During lunch (homemade kosher salami sandwich and a pickle) I said, “How can I possibly compete with Pub girls like Sheridan Spencer when I dress like a Homie with mononucleosis?” Naturally, Blake asked if I liked anyone. I said no but I might someday and I want to be ready.

“How much money do you have?” he asked.

“None.”

“Don’t you have nine hundred bucks?”

“Yeah, but that’s for my laptop.”

“Can you dip in?”

“No! I’ve been saving for two years.”

“Hmmm. I have some old pj’s that might fit you.”

“Ew.”

He took a bite of his cheeseburger. I tossed my thickly sliced salami in the trash and tried to swallow the mustard-covered rye. “If I get perfect on my Algebra quiz today, I’ll get twenty-five bucks. Twenty after my charitable deduction.”

“Maybe Mike can hook you up with his employee discount. You could get some jeans. Or maybe we should start with a shirt. Or shoes. Or a haircut.” He looked at my drawstring pants and sighed. “You’re the charity case. You should pocket the full twenty-five.”

I whipped my mustard rye at his cheek even though Blake was right. I am a mess. So I spent the rest of the period cramming for my $25 Algebra quiz. I’ll ace it. That class is so seventh grade.

Like my clothes.

September 17th