couch.
She sighed. “I was feeling so good about the song and my chances for getting cast—”
“Exactly!” I interrupted. “You
have
to get the cheerleader part. No one else in the school can sing like you.”
“That’s what I was thinking … then I saw
this
.” She held up a picture of the cast of
Cats
. Not the Broadway musical, but the one we did at synagogue. There in the front row was me (in a full split) as Old Deuteronomy and right in back (next to the rabbi’s wife, who was a sixty-year-old Jennyanydots) was Becky, working her natural green cat eyes in her Grizabella catsuit.
She brandished the photo in its frame. “I’m dreading another horrible performance.”
“Oh, stop it, Becky. You weren’t horrible,” I lied.
“Yes, I was. My version of ‘Memory’ stank.” Then she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just thankful it wasn’t recorded.”
Note to self: delete bootleg of synagogue
Cats
performance from iPod
.
“Well, stop worrying. Your voice sounds incredible now.”
“Justin,” she said with her hands on her hips. “Didn’t I sound incredible in
Cats
rehearsal?”
“Yeah …,” I said tentatively.
“Don’t I sound great at
all
rehearsals?”
“Yes, you do,” I said, dreading what was coming.
“OK. Now name me one
performance
in which I’ve sounded incredible.”
Ouch.
“Um …”
Must. Fill. Silence.
“Well, Becky, there was that concert … that time … during the … thing.…” I nodded like I had just completed a coherent sentence.
“Forget it, Justin. I have ears. I know that every time I get in front of an audience, I suck.”
She was right. But obviously she had a great voice. If she always panicked during performances and lost all of her vocal talent, there had to be some reason for it.
“I’m
not
going to audition,” she said firmly.
True, there had to be some reason for it, but why find out? Lincoln Center, here I come!
“Um … are you sure?” I forced myself to ask. I did this mostly to placate Spencer, who I knew was going to go over this exchange with a fine-tooth comb searching for my karma.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said, taking the Whitney music off the piano and sending my heart soaring. “I came here today in denial. You can tell Chuck I went home.”
And with that, she went out the front door.
And left Chuck.
Alone.
In my HOUSE!
He walked into the living room.
Here’s my chance
, I thought. I took a deep breath and—
He looked around. “Did Becky leave?”
“Well, Chuck, I think she did. Perhaps you and I—”
“Oh, man,” he interrupted. “She was supposed to pay me back the ten bucks she owed me.”
I didn’t know what to say. “That’s too bad …,” I offered.
He looked crestfallen. “That’s exactly how much more money I need to be able to buy those new sneakers. You know, the ones with the double air cushions.”
I didn’t know anything about sports sneakers, but I did know he looked adorable when he was sad.
“Justin, would you”—he moved closer—“could you …” He was right in front of my face. I could have reached out with my lips and touched his. He suddenly moved away. “Nah … I couldn’t ask you to lend me money.”
Yes, he could, if it meant he would come that close again!
“Chuck, it’s no problem.” I ran to get my wallet.
One minute later, I handed him a twenty-dollar bill.
“That’s all I have,” I explained. “Do you—”
Before I could ask him for change, he yelled, “You’re the best!” and grabbed his coat. “Thanks, Justin. I’m hittin’ the mall!”
He waved and ran out my front door.
I stood and thought about his powerful leg muscles propelling him to the mall.
Well, propelling him to the shuttle bus that stopped at my corner and would take him to the mall.
I took a deep breath.
Wow.
I just experienced Chuck flirting with me.
Things are moving along as planned.
And
I’m going to the Lincoln Center show.
Things are
She sighed. “I was feeling so good about the song and my chances for getting cast—”
“Exactly!” I interrupted. “You
have
to get the cheerleader part. No one else in the school can sing like you.”
“That’s what I was thinking … then I saw
this
.” She held up a picture of the cast of
Cats
. Not the Broadway musical, but the one we did at synagogue. There in the front row was me (in a full split) as Old Deuteronomy and right in back (next to the rabbi’s wife, who was a sixty-year-old Jennyanydots) was Becky, working her natural green cat eyes in her Grizabella catsuit.
She brandished the photo in its frame. “I’m dreading another horrible performance.”
“Oh, stop it, Becky. You weren’t horrible,” I lied.
“Yes, I was. My version of ‘Memory’ stank.” Then she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just thankful it wasn’t recorded.”
Note to self: delete bootleg of synagogue
Cats
performance from iPod
.
“Well, stop worrying. Your voice sounds incredible now.”
“Justin,” she said with her hands on her hips. “Didn’t I sound incredible in
Cats
rehearsal?”
“Yeah …,” I said tentatively.
“Don’t I sound great at
all
rehearsals?”
“Yes, you do,” I said, dreading what was coming.
“OK. Now name me one
performance
in which I’ve sounded incredible.”
Ouch.
“Um …”
Must. Fill. Silence.
“Well, Becky, there was that concert … that time … during the … thing.…” I nodded like I had just completed a coherent sentence.
“Forget it, Justin. I have ears. I know that every time I get in front of an audience, I suck.”
She was right. But obviously she had a great voice. If she always panicked during performances and lost all of her vocal talent, there had to be some reason for it.
“I’m
not
going to audition,” she said firmly.
True, there had to be some reason for it, but why find out? Lincoln Center, here I come!
“Um … are you sure?” I forced myself to ask. I did this mostly to placate Spencer, who I knew was going to go over this exchange with a fine-tooth comb searching for my karma.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said, taking the Whitney music off the piano and sending my heart soaring. “I came here today in denial. You can tell Chuck I went home.”
And with that, she went out the front door.
And left Chuck.
Alone.
In my HOUSE!
He walked into the living room.
Here’s my chance
, I thought. I took a deep breath and—
He looked around. “Did Becky leave?”
“Well, Chuck, I think she did. Perhaps you and I—”
“Oh, man,” he interrupted. “She was supposed to pay me back the ten bucks she owed me.”
I didn’t know what to say. “That’s too bad …,” I offered.
He looked crestfallen. “That’s exactly how much more money I need to be able to buy those new sneakers. You know, the ones with the double air cushions.”
I didn’t know anything about sports sneakers, but I did know he looked adorable when he was sad.
“Justin, would you”—he moved closer—“could you …” He was right in front of my face. I could have reached out with my lips and touched his. He suddenly moved away. “Nah … I couldn’t ask you to lend me money.”
Yes, he could, if it meant he would come that close again!
“Chuck, it’s no problem.” I ran to get my wallet.
One minute later, I handed him a twenty-dollar bill.
“That’s all I have,” I explained. “Do you—”
Before I could ask him for change, he yelled, “You’re the best!” and grabbed his coat. “Thanks, Justin. I’m hittin’ the mall!”
He waved and ran out my front door.
I stood and thought about his powerful leg muscles propelling him to the mall.
Well, propelling him to the shuttle bus that stopped at my corner and would take him to the mall.
I took a deep breath.
Wow.
I just experienced Chuck flirting with me.
Things are moving along as planned.
And
I’m going to the Lincoln Center show.
Things are
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