Shrinking Violet by Danielle Joseph Page A
Authors: Danielle Joseph
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, People & Places, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Social Issues, Performing Arts, Girls & Women, School & Education, Secrecy, Parents, Schools, Miami (Fla.), Dating & Sex, High schools, Emotions & Feelings, Mothers and daughters, secrets, radio, Disc jockeys, Bashfulness
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name was Randy and the other Kevin.
Jason pulls as many of the requests as he can, and people are loving it. A couple even call back and thank us for throwing their jams on the air.
"I can't believe Garrison didn't have any help." I tally up my requests so far. Forty-five.
130
"And he is still doing his own show, too. Angie from sales helped him out some nights, but otherwise he runs solo," Jason says.
You'd never know he does all this work himself. He is so smooth.
Jason swivels his chair around to face me. "So, Sweet T, are you ready to make an appearance?"
"What do you mean?" I flip my hair back in my best imitation of a clueless girl.
"Just a live station ID. Something small to get you revved up."
"I don't know . . um . ." I've only been dreaming about this day for the past six years, but what if I croak? Or worse, what if I blurt out something so moronic that I send the whole of Miami bursting into hysterics? I already feel the peanut butter lining the inside of my throat.
He gently grabs my shoulder. "You have a great voice. It'll be fine. I'll do my thing, then point to you."
Easy for you to say, you didn't just swallow half ajar of peanut butter. But I nod anyway.
There's something soothing about Jason. Something about him I can really trust, like he'd never let me fall.
I reach for my water bottle and chug. Forty seconds left to find my voice. I have a whole show prerecorded in my head. All I have to deliver is one line. This is Sweet T and you're listening to The Love Shack on 92. 7 The SLAM.
I move closer to Jason and close my eyes. I can do this. Small 131
breaths. One at a time. I hear my ninth grade English teacher, Mrs. Pine, in the back of my head. "Smile when you deliver your speech, and your voice will come across as happy. Frown, and no one will want to listen to you."
"Give it up for Trena Bay with back to back love songs. "Jason draws out the word love, letting each letter linger in his mouth. I can picture the girls swooning over him, cuddled up in their beds or driving along the expressway blasting the volume. "We want to thank you for sharing the love tonight with all your calls. Keep them coming . ." He points to me.
Ohmigod, this is it. I take a deep breath this time and close my eyes, then remember that Helen Keller said to look the world straight in the eye. I can do this. I open my eyes wide and stare at the mike, my entrance to the world. I stretch my lips into a smile and let the words spill out. "This is Sweet T hanging out with Jason Stevens tonight and you're listening to The Love Shack on 92.7 The SLAM."
I don't exhale until I feel the beat of the next tune. It's Maltese, with "Melt Me."
"You did it!" Jason breaks my trance. "You're a pro."
"Yeah, right."
"No, really--you have a knack for radio."
I'm just glad I didn't mess up. He persuades me to go on a couple more times during the show, a few station tags and the phone number to the request line. We take turns grabbing the calls.'
132
Halfway through the show, I kick off my sneaks and pull my legs up onto the chair. It's almost like I'm at home, much different than when Derek's here or even the rest of the staff. When it's only Jason and a couple of engineers hanging around the building, I can chill. Plus, he actually lets me do stuff, which makes me feel important.
Jason picks up a line, then whispers into the phone. "Yeah, I think she's single. Hot, definitely. That, I can't tell you. She's a woman of mystery." He looks over at me and winks.
I wave my hands back and forth no. Please, don't tell them anything else. It'll ruin everything.
He hangs up the phone. "Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?"
"It's weird. People talking about me. I'm not used to it."
"You better get used to it. They like you."
"But I don't want them to know anything about me." I pull the zipper all the way up on my sweatshirt.
"Don't worry. I'll keep your identity a secret. I know the truth."
Instant goose bumps populate my
Jason pulls as many of the requests as he can, and people are loving it. A couple even call back and thank us for throwing their jams on the air.
"I can't believe Garrison didn't have any help." I tally up my requests so far. Forty-five.
130
"And he is still doing his own show, too. Angie from sales helped him out some nights, but otherwise he runs solo," Jason says.
You'd never know he does all this work himself. He is so smooth.
Jason swivels his chair around to face me. "So, Sweet T, are you ready to make an appearance?"
"What do you mean?" I flip my hair back in my best imitation of a clueless girl.
"Just a live station ID. Something small to get you revved up."
"I don't know . . um . ." I've only been dreaming about this day for the past six years, but what if I croak? Or worse, what if I blurt out something so moronic that I send the whole of Miami bursting into hysterics? I already feel the peanut butter lining the inside of my throat.
He gently grabs my shoulder. "You have a great voice. It'll be fine. I'll do my thing, then point to you."
Easy for you to say, you didn't just swallow half ajar of peanut butter. But I nod anyway.
There's something soothing about Jason. Something about him I can really trust, like he'd never let me fall.
I reach for my water bottle and chug. Forty seconds left to find my voice. I have a whole show prerecorded in my head. All I have to deliver is one line. This is Sweet T and you're listening to The Love Shack on 92. 7 The SLAM.
I move closer to Jason and close my eyes. I can do this. Small 131
breaths. One at a time. I hear my ninth grade English teacher, Mrs. Pine, in the back of my head. "Smile when you deliver your speech, and your voice will come across as happy. Frown, and no one will want to listen to you."
"Give it up for Trena Bay with back to back love songs. "Jason draws out the word love, letting each letter linger in his mouth. I can picture the girls swooning over him, cuddled up in their beds or driving along the expressway blasting the volume. "We want to thank you for sharing the love tonight with all your calls. Keep them coming . ." He points to me.
Ohmigod, this is it. I take a deep breath this time and close my eyes, then remember that Helen Keller said to look the world straight in the eye. I can do this. I open my eyes wide and stare at the mike, my entrance to the world. I stretch my lips into a smile and let the words spill out. "This is Sweet T hanging out with Jason Stevens tonight and you're listening to The Love Shack on 92.7 The SLAM."
I don't exhale until I feel the beat of the next tune. It's Maltese, with "Melt Me."
"You did it!" Jason breaks my trance. "You're a pro."
"Yeah, right."
"No, really--you have a knack for radio."
I'm just glad I didn't mess up. He persuades me to go on a couple more times during the show, a few station tags and the phone number to the request line. We take turns grabbing the calls.'
132
Halfway through the show, I kick off my sneaks and pull my legs up onto the chair. It's almost like I'm at home, much different than when Derek's here or even the rest of the staff. When it's only Jason and a couple of engineers hanging around the building, I can chill. Plus, he actually lets me do stuff, which makes me feel important.
Jason picks up a line, then whispers into the phone. "Yeah, I think she's single. Hot, definitely. That, I can't tell you. She's a woman of mystery." He looks over at me and winks.
I wave my hands back and forth no. Please, don't tell them anything else. It'll ruin everything.
He hangs up the phone. "Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?"
"It's weird. People talking about me. I'm not used to it."
"You better get used to it. They like you."
"But I don't want them to know anything about me." I pull the zipper all the way up on my sweatshirt.
"Don't worry. I'll keep your identity a secret. I know the truth."
Instant goose bumps populate my
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