Am I bad?
I feel bad.
“And after she helped you with your math!” Mother says, rubbing it in.
“You know what you might do?” Father says.
“Yes. I’ll call her and tell her I’m sorry, then, if she hasn’t already hung up on me, I’ll offer to tutor her in acting. Though I doubt she’ll want me to. Right now she despises me.”
“Maybe the apology will help,” my mother says. Then she actually smiles. Wow. We don’t see
that
very often these days. She sets her hand on mine.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I ask.
“Because I’m proud of you. You’re being a good role model for Abby.”
“Bluh!” Abby says.
I laugh. “Think so?”
Mother nods, and wipes a tear off my cheek that I didn’t even know was there.
I didn’t call, but that’s only because I’m better in person. I need my face and hands—heck, my whole body—to communicate. I pretended to call, though, in a voice loud enough for my parents to hear, and I’ll tell Eden I’m sorry today without fail.
I didn’t have time to talk to her before school started, and then we were sent to the cafeteria/theater and were busy rehearsing all morning. Aaron’s mother is here accompanying us on piano, so we’ve been working on the play’s songs. Josh broke us up into groups to work on individual scenes. Hannah took some of the groups to talk about moving sets and arranging props.Every time I got Eden’s attention, she stink-eyed me. When we worked on our one scene together, she scowled at me the whole time. She read her lines with more of Calamity Jane’s spirit, probably because she was mad at me. She was still pretty awful, though.
I thought I’d talk to her at recess, but she didn’t go outside with the rest of us. I don’t know where she went, but I guessed the library, to tutor. My next hope was lunchtime, but I couldn’t find her in the lunchroom. More tutoring, I bet. The girl’s a workaholic. Mr. O. kept us busy in the classroom all afternoon, so my only chance to talk to her was going to be after school.
Which is now.
“Eden!” I say after the bell rings.
She quickly grabbed her things and slipped out the door. I run after her, calling her name. Her shoulders shrink up, but she doesn’t look around. In fact, she speeds up. I skip after her. Yes, skip. I’ve decided the tone of this apology is going to be light and breezy.
When I catch her, I take a deep breath, smile wide, and say, “Hey, buddy! I wanted to say I’msorry, right? For the things I said yesterday? What was I thinking? It was
so
stupid. I’m really, really, really,
really
sorry. You’re going to make an awesome Calamity Jane.”
She looks confused, or maybe suspicious. I can’t tell. Her facial expressions are so … expressionless.
“You know I’m not prejudiced or anything. I don’t judge people by stuff like that! I never even noticed before that you’re …” I almost say Asian again.
“Javanese,” she says. “Javanese-American, actually.”
“Oh, cool. So congrats on getting the starring role! You’re doing fantastic.”
“You really think so?” she says, frowning. “I think I’m terrible.”
“You’re not!” I say, though she is. But you don’t say that to people, right? Talk about rude. “You know all your lines. Nobody else does, that’s for sure.”
“You do,” she says. “You’re so good. You should be Calamity Jane. I don’t understand why Josh cast me.”
“He must see something in you. Raw talent. Charisma.”
“Charisma? Really?”
“Look, Josh wouldn’t have given you the lead if he didn’t think you could do it. He has a lot of experience, you know. He’s a professional.”
“But I can’t be Calamity Jane. I’m not the right type. Besides, I don’t
get
her. Why did she like shooting guns? Or dressing like a man?”
“That’s just the way she was. She lived her own way, and made every day an adventure. She loved attention. She loved performing. I think she performed every
I feel bad.
“And after she helped you with your math!” Mother says, rubbing it in.
“You know what you might do?” Father says.
“Yes. I’ll call her and tell her I’m sorry, then, if she hasn’t already hung up on me, I’ll offer to tutor her in acting. Though I doubt she’ll want me to. Right now she despises me.”
“Maybe the apology will help,” my mother says. Then she actually smiles. Wow. We don’t see
that
very often these days. She sets her hand on mine.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I ask.
“Because I’m proud of you. You’re being a good role model for Abby.”
“Bluh!” Abby says.
I laugh. “Think so?”
Mother nods, and wipes a tear off my cheek that I didn’t even know was there.
I didn’t call, but that’s only because I’m better in person. I need my face and hands—heck, my whole body—to communicate. I pretended to call, though, in a voice loud enough for my parents to hear, and I’ll tell Eden I’m sorry today without fail.
I didn’t have time to talk to her before school started, and then we were sent to the cafeteria/theater and were busy rehearsing all morning. Aaron’s mother is here accompanying us on piano, so we’ve been working on the play’s songs. Josh broke us up into groups to work on individual scenes. Hannah took some of the groups to talk about moving sets and arranging props.Every time I got Eden’s attention, she stink-eyed me. When we worked on our one scene together, she scowled at me the whole time. She read her lines with more of Calamity Jane’s spirit, probably because she was mad at me. She was still pretty awful, though.
I thought I’d talk to her at recess, but she didn’t go outside with the rest of us. I don’t know where she went, but I guessed the library, to tutor. My next hope was lunchtime, but I couldn’t find her in the lunchroom. More tutoring, I bet. The girl’s a workaholic. Mr. O. kept us busy in the classroom all afternoon, so my only chance to talk to her was going to be after school.
Which is now.
“Eden!” I say after the bell rings.
She quickly grabbed her things and slipped out the door. I run after her, calling her name. Her shoulders shrink up, but she doesn’t look around. In fact, she speeds up. I skip after her. Yes, skip. I’ve decided the tone of this apology is going to be light and breezy.
When I catch her, I take a deep breath, smile wide, and say, “Hey, buddy! I wanted to say I’msorry, right? For the things I said yesterday? What was I thinking? It was
so
stupid. I’m really, really, really,
really
sorry. You’re going to make an awesome Calamity Jane.”
She looks confused, or maybe suspicious. I can’t tell. Her facial expressions are so … expressionless.
“You know I’m not prejudiced or anything. I don’t judge people by stuff like that! I never even noticed before that you’re …” I almost say Asian again.
“Javanese,” she says. “Javanese-American, actually.”
“Oh, cool. So congrats on getting the starring role! You’re doing fantastic.”
“You really think so?” she says, frowning. “I think I’m terrible.”
“You’re not!” I say, though she is. But you don’t say that to people, right? Talk about rude. “You know all your lines. Nobody else does, that’s for sure.”
“You do,” she says. “You’re so good. You should be Calamity Jane. I don’t understand why Josh cast me.”
“He must see something in you. Raw talent. Charisma.”
“Charisma? Really?”
“Look, Josh wouldn’t have given you the lead if he didn’t think you could do it. He has a lot of experience, you know. He’s a professional.”
“But I can’t be Calamity Jane. I’m not the right type. Besides, I don’t
get
her. Why did she like shooting guns? Or dressing like a man?”
“That’s just the way she was. She lived her own way, and made every day an adventure. She loved attention. She loved performing. I think she performed every
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