Читать книгу Drama Queers! - Frank Anthony Polito - Страница 14

“I guess there is no one to blame

We’re leaving ground…”

—Europe

Time for the big announcement!

12:00 PM. 4^th hour. The auditorium.

On stage right, sit the “Top 25” girls. On stage left, the “Top 25” guys. Standing at the podium in the center, Mr. Verlander, wearing what I think is the exact same permanent-press shirt and throwback-to-the-’70s wide tie he wore to the all-school assembly last week.

He promises, “We’re gonna make this short and sweet,” addressing the members of the Hillbilly High student body who actually cared enough to come back from lunch for the ceremony.

I look out from where I sit in alphabetical order between boys’ Varsity basketball co-captain Kenny Daw and Varsity cheerleader Raquel Easterle. But nowhere in the crowd do I see my so-called Best Friends, Jack Paterno and Max Wilson. I hope this doesn’t take too long. This gray aluminum folding chair is killing my ass.

“Quiet down, please…Boys and girls.”

Okay, Verlander…I realize you’re almost as old as Methuselah, but come on! Just because we’re still in high school doesn’t mean we’re babies. Most of us have already had sex, you know what I mean? Not that I’m gonna go graphic with all the gory details or anything.

“As you know,” Verlander continues, “we’re here to announce the winners of the ‘Top 5’ Homecoming…”

I think he means, “Homecoming ‘Top 5.’”

Finally, in the fifth row center off the aisle, I spy Jack sitting with Max. No matter how disappointed he may be, I knew he’d be here for what could potentially be the biggest day of my life. Not that I’m expecting to make “Top 5” or anything.

Mr. Verlander taps his front shirt pocket. We can all see a plain white envelope tucked safely inside. “The names I’m about to read,” he tells us, “represent ten of the best students we’ve ever had here at Hazel Park High School…”

Spare me! He says that every year.

“Among them are cheerleaders…”

Like Jamieleeann Mary Sue Good and Shellee Findlay.

“…football players…”

Like Tom Fulton and Rob Berger, maybe?

“…members of Vikettes…”

Marie Sperling or Angela Andrews?

“…members of girls’ Varsity basketball…”

I’m thinking, Fay Keating.

“…and boys’ Varsity basketball…”

Gotta be Kenny Daw! He’s the cutest basketball player HPHS has got.

“As in years past,” Mr. Verlander drones on, “we’re proud to have a member of the Viking Marching Band among our Homecoming Court for 1987.”

Two years ago, the Hillbilly High-ons elected Freddy Edwards, a totally hot sax playing Band Fag who happened to also be captain of Varsity wrestling, as Homecoming King. Freddy served as our Band Aide back in 7^th grade Varsity Band at Webb, and all the girls thought he was a Total Babe…Okay, so did I.

You can bet when I hear this, I look up from the spot I been staring at for what seems like forever. Still, there’s no way in hell Mr. Verlander can be talking about me.

He’s gotta mean Don Olsewski…Doesn’t he?

“Without further ado…”

The auditorium falls pin-drop quiet as Mr. Verlander pulls out the number ten envelope. Breaking the seal with a slide of a finger, he looks over his shoulder. The twenty-five “Top 25” girls sit perched, each one dressed in her Sunday best, hair freshly permed with crown-bangs sprayed to full height.

“Beginning with the ladies,” Verlander says, addressing them en masse. “When I call your name, please stand.” Turning back to the peons in the pit, he advises, “Let’s hold our applause till the end, shall we?”

Fingers crossed at my side, I say a silent prayer for my good friend, Stacy Gillespie. She’s just gotta make “Top 5.” She’s like the cutest and nicest girl in all of HPHS.

“In no particular order,” Mr. Verlander stresses, “first up we have…Rochelle Findlay.”

I told you she’s Most Popular Girl!

Shellee stands, giving her “What’s up, Fox?” wave. Despite strictly being told not to succumb, a spatter of applause spouts from her adoring fans. Mr. Verlander ignores the ruckus and returns to his list.

“Jamieleeann Mary Sue Good.”

Senior class president, Varsity cheerleading captain, secretary of National Honor Society, and don’t forget she’s in Chorale.

“Fay Keating.”

The very sporty and very popular girls’ Varsity basketball co-captain.

Like I said, I been friends with Fay since she came over to Webb from St. Mary’s, so I’m totally psyched for her. Did I mention how awesome she looks since she cut her hair super short and added a few blond highlights?

“Marie Sperling.”

Co-captain of Vikettes…Surprise, surprise!

Don’t get me wrong, I love Marie. In fact, she was my first costar when we did that silent movie skit back in Ms. Lemieux’s 7th grade Enriched English & Social Studies…’member? Thank God she finally broke up with that jerk Tom Fulton. He did not deserve her!

With only one more slot left to fill, I can’t help but worry, who’s it gonna be?

Natalie Davis?

Betsy Sheffield?

Please, God, don’t let it be her, let it be…

“Stacy Gillespie.”

Woo–hoo!

Stacy stands. She brushes a strand of her brown bob behind an ear, forcing a shy smile as she catches my eye.

“Congratulations,” I whisper, hoping Stacy will soon have reason to reciprocate.

Mr. Verlander nods, pleased that he’s made these five particular girls’ day. “Ladies, please remain standing while I announce the names of the ‘Top 5’ gentlemen…”

Today!

He looks over his other shoulder towards us guys. Since I’m sitting in the front row, I can’t speak for those behind me, but I feel Kenny Daw’s leg tense up as it touches mine. I get the feeling he’s as fucking nervous as I am.

“Fellas…When I call your name, please stand.” And to the peons in the pit, Verlander says, “Again, let’s try to hold our applause.”

Fingers still crossed at my side, I say another silent prayer—this time for myself. I may act all devil-may-care, like being on “Top 5” is totally no biggie. To be honest, it’s something I been dreaming of since the day I first heard of its existence during Sophomore year.

“Again in no particular order,” Mr. Verlander insists, “first up…Thomas Fulton.”

Varsity football and boys’ basketball co-captain.

I’m just glad Tom is sitting in the row behind me so I don’t have to see the smug look on his face when he stands and takes in the thunderous applause that erupts from the Peanut Gallery. I mean, why can’t these people pay attention to anything they’re told? “Hold your applause” means “Do not clap!” Clearly, Tom Fulton is the Hillbilly High Homecoming King favorite for 1987…I think I’m gonna puke!

“Jonathan Glowicki.”

Varsity football and boys’ basketball player.

“Kenneth Daw.”

Despite doing his best to act all cool, I can tell Kenny’s totally psyched. So much so, he reaches out and High-Fives me, which comes as a surprise. It’s not every day the co-captain of boys’ Varsity basketball fraternizes with this Band Fag-turned-Drama Queer.

“Mitchell Bloodworth.”

Yet another Varsity football player.

Five seats over, via my peripheral vision, I see a white-blond head nodding up and down on a pair of linebacker’s shoulders. Mitch rises and joins the rest of the ’87 Homecoming Court.

Shit!

That means there’s only one name left.

In his intro, Mr. Verlander clearly stated that one of the names on the list belonged to a member of Marching Band. That means no Rob Berger or Joey Palladino on “Top 5.” I’m totally shocked.

Could it be…?

What about Don Olsewski? He’s in Marching Band…

But so am I!

Time slows to a standstill, like in that moment from my favorite movie, Ice Castles, with real-life skater Lynn-Holly Johnson, and Robby Benson, from Ode to Billy Joe.

After skyrocketing to the top of the circuit, Alexis “Lexie” Winston has become everybody’s darling, prompting her to freak out because people wanna touch her all the time. At a rooftop party, Lexie goes out for a breath of fresh air. What better way to relax than by skating some laps? As a slew of party guests look on, along with her coach, Deborah Machland, and new boyfriend, the sleazy-but-oh-so-cute newscaster Brian Dockett, Lexie makes her way around the ice.

Up to this point, she’s been working on landing the triple, but Coach Deborah keeps telling Lexie she’s not good enough—the bitch! Faster and faster, the music builds. Until everything starts moving in slow-mo as Lexie prepares to make the leap…One. Two. Three.

Clunk!

The blade of Lexie’s skate catches on some stupid chain wrapped around some stupid outdoor patio furniture set up alongside the skating rink. Down she tumbles, smacking her head—hard! Thus causing Alexis Winston’s whole world to come crashing to a halt.

I won’t ruin the rest of the plot. All I will say is…It’s totally tragic.

“And last, but certainly not least,” Mr. Verlander concludes, “the final name on the 1987 ‘Top 5’ Homecoming is…”

Please, God, don’t let it be Don Olsewski, let it be…

“Bradley Dayton.”

Oh, my God…He fucking called my name…Again!

Like a dork I stand up, trying not to look too enthused, yet wanting to convey how honored I am to be recognized. Only this time, I keep my hands at my side. No more waving like fucking Queen Elizabeth!

Unfortunately, I can’t tell you what happens after this.

Next thing I’m aware of is the blinding flash of a flashbulb flashing in my face. I’m standing beside Shellee Findlay. All the “Top 5” girls have been paired up with a “Top 5” boy and we’re having our pictures taken.

“S-H-E-L-L-E-E.”

Miss Findlay reminds the photographer this as he writes down her name with pad and pencil.

“And yours?” I hear a voice say. “Would you prefer Brad or Bradley?”

I blink a few times, hoping to dissipate the fog from inside my head.

“Whatever,” I reply, not even sure if I heard the question.

For the first time, I notice who the guy with the camera standing in front of me is.

None other than the Editor-in-Chief of The Hazel Parker, and my Best Friend since 7th grade: Jack Paterno.

He looks at me, says nothing. Then he walks away.

Somehow, I just knew Jack would be be pissed!

Three days later, I write the following…

October 9, 1987

Jack,

I’m sitting in Adv. Gram/Term Paper totally bored out of my mind. You should see the tarp Mrs. Mayer’s wearing this morning! Right now she’s up there giving one of her “Sugar High” lectures, threatening to ban all candy sales, even though we keep telling her we gotta raise money for Marching Band’s trip to Disney World over Spring Break. (Wish you were coming with!)

I’m writing to ask if you changed your mind about coming to the Homecoming Dance tomorrow. I know it totally sucks what happened, but everybody would like to see you there (me, Audrey, Ava, Carrie, etc.) As we always say, “It will be fun!”

It’s our SENIOR year, Jack. I’d hate for you to miss out on this night. Promise me you’ll think about it, please?

Your Best Friend forever,

Brad

PS—Write back and let me know what you decide.

Either Jack never got the letter or he intentionally ignored my request. Thirty-three hours later, I still haven’t heard from him.

On my way up to the high school, I stop by his house. Maybe I can talk some sense into him in person. At least I hope I can.

Standing outside the door to Jack’s bedroom, I dread what’s about to happen next. How many times in the past have I knocked, thrown back the accordion-fold, and found my Best Friend happily waiting inside? I don’t know why, but I feel this won’t be the case.

“Like sands thru the hourglass…”

On the other side, I hear the voice of Macdonald Carey reciting his Days of our Lives spiel. Rather than giving Jack the opportunity to ask who it is and tell me to get the fuck out, I open the door. The familiar scent of the room hits me full force, making me a tad melancholy.

Jack sits up on his bed, looks over his shoulder. He says nothing once he realizes it’s me.

We exchange some casual pleasantries…

“Hey, Jack…I was in the neighborhood so I thought I’d stop by.”

“Nice suit.”

“I borrowed it from my sister Janelle’s fiancé, Ted…”

I’m not complaining, it’s a nice navy blue suit with pinstripes, but I’m swimming in it. Lord knows I can’t afford to buy my own, just to wear to some stupid dance. Especially since I didn’t get crowned Homecoming King at the football game last night.

That honor went to my favorite person: Tom Fulton.

Surprise, surprise!

Wanna know who his Queen was?

None other than my Chorale partner: Jamieleeann Mary Sue Good.

Add another credit to her resumé!

Standing in Jack’s room feels foreign to me, even though I spent sooo much time here the past five years. I notice he moved his bed from where it used to rest against the side wall to over beneath the window. The same one we once climbed out on the night Jack went with me and Luanne down to Heaven.

For a second, I consider asking him why he never wrote me back, but I decide to be the bigger man. “I was wondering if you might wanna meet me after the dance…I thought maybe we could go down to the bar together or something.”

Jack asks if I think Shellee Findlay’s gonna get pissed at me for skipping out early. I remind him she’s my “Top 5” partner, not my date. Besides, Shellee’s got a boyfriend, Kyle Henke. He graduated in ’87, drives a Corvette, and thinks he’s LL Cool J, even though he’s Caucasian.

“I don’t think I’m up for the bar tonight,” Jack declines.

“Okay…Maybe we can go out next weekend instead?”

Again he refuses. “I shouldn’t be spending a lot of money.”

We stand in silence a moment.

“You’re not still pissed about the whole ‘Top 25’ thing, are you?” I ask, taking a seat on his bed. “Why are you letting it bother you so much, Jack?”

He gives me a look, like I just asked the dumbest question ever.

“All I ever wanted since we got to high school was to be on ‘Top 25,’” he informs me, even though I already knew this. “God knows I deserve it a lot more than those other guys…But because they’re all popular, people vote for them.”

“Would you stop whining for a minute and listen to yourself?” I ask, interrupting his rant. “You know ‘Top 25’ doesn’t mean anything…Nobody cares if you’re on the list or not.”

“Easy for you to say,” he spits. “You’re the one wearing the sash.”

In the five years me and Jack been Best Friends, I think this is the meanest thing he’s ever said to me. What did I do to deserve this treatment?

“You know I had nothing to do with the votes, Jack,” I calmly remind him. “I just about shit my pants when they called my name for ‘Top 5’!”

Jack rolls his eyes. “You weren’t the only one.”

Okay, I tried.

I get up and head towards the door. As I reach out for the handle, I decide to make one final attempt at patching things up. “I thought you’d be happy for me,” I say, turning back. “But you don’t even think I deserve to be on ‘Top 5,’ do you?”

Jack responds with something about the movie Carrie. Does he really think I’m gonna get pig’s blood dumped on me at the dance? No wonder he took up writing…Jack Paterno has got the most overactive imagination of anybody I know!

“Just because people don’t like you, Jack,” I snarl, “doesn’t mean they don’t like me…We’re not the same person.”

His jaw drops. “You think those Jock Jerks at school really like you? Wake up…The only reason they’re even nice to you at all is because your sister Janelle is totally hot and they all wanna fuck her!”

Like the woman in the “Bob and the Kids are Dead” joke, I’ve had enough.

“Fuck you!” I shout, temper rising. “It’s one thing to insult me—I’m your Best Friend, I’ll forgive you…But do not talk that way about my sister, okay?”

I barely comprehend what Jack says next, I’m so pissed. Something about the reason he won’t ever go to parties is because Tom Fulton and all the other Jock Jerks hate him.

Defeated, I throw my arms up. “What reason could anybody have not to like you?”

“That’s what I wanna know!” Jack explodes. “What have I ever done to deserve being treated like this? It’s not like I’m the one going out to gay bars all the time.”

Now we’re getting somewhere!

So that’s what this is really about? The fact that I’m a Big Fag so I can’t possibly deserve to have any friends or even be considered for Homecoming King?

“Your being the way you are has nothing to do with this,” Jack answers, after I confront him.

“Yes, it does!” I snap. “You’re jealous because people like me, even though I’m gay.”

At this point, Jack starts rambling on about me wanting to be a famous actor someday and aren’t I afraid people will find out I’m gay? Not to mention what happened with Rock Hudson dying from AIDS, which is the dumbest thing I ever heard! Until Jack mentions something about spending the last five years of his life busting his ass to convince people he’s (quote-unquote) normal.

I repeat, “Normal?” This is the biggest insult yet. “You think I’m not normal?”

“That’s not what I meant…But it’s your choice.”

Strike three!

“Being gay is not a ‘choice’ you can make.” For a straight-A student, I’m surprised by Jack’s ignorance sometimes. “You either are or you aren’t.”

I realize he’s been going thru a rough patch ever since the whole Joey Palladino/letter from his mom incident. But that happened like a year and a half ago…Get over it!

Remembering what Mr. Dell’Olio told us in Drama the other day about trying new tactics to get what we want, I attempt a new approach.

“I’m not saying this to be mean,” I say softly. “But I’m your Best Friend, Jack, and I really think you are.”

G-A-Y.

He looks away from me, chewing on the inside of his cheek. What I wanna do is reach out and give him a hug, even though I know Jack won’t go for that. Not since what happened between us back in 11^th grade happened, but that’s a whole ’nother story!

“I know you better than anybody else,” I remind him, “but until you can admit the truth about who you really are—not just to me but to yourself—I don’t think we can be Best Friends anymore.”

And with that, I fling open the accordion-fold and walk out the door.

Forever…?