he was mad at me, but maybe it was okay.
And I told her how I didn’t actually do it but sort of: I knew and I was there and I didn’t do anything. I never do anything, almost never.
Laurel:
Me:
Laurel: So you actually saw her with her shirt all ripped up?
Me: I guess.
She looked at me and then leaned her head against the brick again — her eyes closed. I knew then that she’d never want to be my friend. No one would. It was my fault. It was my fault. I was crapstock.
Her eyes still closed, she said: But sad Eva saved a stub.
Me: What?
Laurel: Duh.
And then I said: Oh.
Laurel: Who’s doing your makeup for the play?
Me: I don’t know.
Laurel: Okay, I’m doing it. Stacy Beck is trying to say she’s the makeup person, but she’s so bad at it. You should have seen the play we did last year for sixth grade graduation. She made all the colonial women look like hookers. Mrs. Porter almost had a cow because she had no idea how awful Stacy was going to be because Stacy was saying she was so good because she lives in a mortuary and sometimes helps with the makeup; she told Mrs. Porter that she had a ton of experience. You should have seen Mrs. Porter’s face when we came out. We still had to do the whole thing like that anyway. Did you guys do a play at your old school?
Me:
And that was it.
I might meet her at the mall for corn dogs this Saturday.
The night before the play I went to Scouts.
I had promised Dr. Benson.
I could do it.
At Scouts nobody talked to me as usual.
We were making canteens out of gourds and mine was really good.
I was carving out the inside when this: One more word out of you and I’m not going to hold back.
It was Jack.
And Bruce.
Bruce: Dad, I just don’t get how to do it.
Jack: I explained it. I showed you all. I even started yours and I’m sick of your whining attitude. Now shut up and carve your gourd.
Bruce: But . . .
Jack: Shut up!
Bruce was turning red and didn’t say anything.
None of us were saying anything and even though I didn’t want to, I sort of felt bad for Bruce.
Five minutes later he said quietly: Dad?
Jack:
Bruce: Dad?
Jack: Bruce, I am warning you.
Bruce: I just have one question.
That’s when Jack hit him.
He hit him hard.
Bruce was on the floor.
We all just sat there.
Sat
Sat
Sat
And Bruce was huddled and sort of crying and Jack was yelling: I told you to shut up. I told you to SHUT UP!
Bruce: But, Dad . . .
Jack: SHUT UP!
And he raised his fist again.
That’s when I yelled as loud as I could.
Everyone looked at me.
Even Bruce.
Me: Leave him alone. LEAVE HIM ALONE!
Silent.
Silent.
And then I left.
The next night:
Peter Pan
opening night.
They were all yelling and screaming so loud.
I didn’t know what to do — how to act or anything — so I just stood on the side of the tree and bowed a bunch of times.
Then tomorrow is the last day of school.
Most of my makeup was on my sleeve because Laurel had put so much on.
She said: You have to have a lot — you’re under the lights.
I guess she was right.
There were a lot of lights.
And the best part was the fight scene because even though I was nervous,
I was sweating and sweating and sweating some more,
we did it just like we practiced, but even the spin move was better than I thought it would be.
And so they were still yelling and even standing up: Mom with her huge stomach, Dad, Mack, Ryan, Dr. Benson (I didn’t really believe he would come) all standing up and yelling and clapping.
Ms. March said it was the best fight scene she’d ever seen in a school play.
Laurel gave me a book called
Palindromes —The Best of the Best
and whispered: You were great.
Next year we’re doing the
Pirates of Penzance
because of all the pirate costumes.
I might be the Pirate King.
That night.
subject: Hey
Date: Today
1 message
From: Logan
To: Zyler
Hey Zy,
We moved. To Judge. Over by the mall. And I’m a lost Boy in the play Peter Pan. It’s pretty cool. I also
And I told her how I didn’t actually do it but sort of: I knew and I was there and I didn’t do anything. I never do anything, almost never.
Laurel:
Me:
Laurel: So you actually saw her with her shirt all ripped up?
Me: I guess.
She looked at me and then leaned her head against the brick again — her eyes closed. I knew then that she’d never want to be my friend. No one would. It was my fault. It was my fault. I was crapstock.
Her eyes still closed, she said: But sad Eva saved a stub.
Me: What?
Laurel: Duh.
And then I said: Oh.
Laurel: Who’s doing your makeup for the play?
Me: I don’t know.
Laurel: Okay, I’m doing it. Stacy Beck is trying to say she’s the makeup person, but she’s so bad at it. You should have seen the play we did last year for sixth grade graduation. She made all the colonial women look like hookers. Mrs. Porter almost had a cow because she had no idea how awful Stacy was going to be because Stacy was saying she was so good because she lives in a mortuary and sometimes helps with the makeup; she told Mrs. Porter that she had a ton of experience. You should have seen Mrs. Porter’s face when we came out. We still had to do the whole thing like that anyway. Did you guys do a play at your old school?
Me:
And that was it.
I might meet her at the mall for corn dogs this Saturday.
The night before the play I went to Scouts.
I had promised Dr. Benson.
I could do it.
At Scouts nobody talked to me as usual.
We were making canteens out of gourds and mine was really good.
I was carving out the inside when this: One more word out of you and I’m not going to hold back.
It was Jack.
And Bruce.
Bruce: Dad, I just don’t get how to do it.
Jack: I explained it. I showed you all. I even started yours and I’m sick of your whining attitude. Now shut up and carve your gourd.
Bruce: But . . .
Jack: Shut up!
Bruce was turning red and didn’t say anything.
None of us were saying anything and even though I didn’t want to, I sort of felt bad for Bruce.
Five minutes later he said quietly: Dad?
Jack:
Bruce: Dad?
Jack: Bruce, I am warning you.
Bruce: I just have one question.
That’s when Jack hit him.
He hit him hard.
Bruce was on the floor.
We all just sat there.
Sat
Sat
Sat
And Bruce was huddled and sort of crying and Jack was yelling: I told you to shut up. I told you to SHUT UP!
Bruce: But, Dad . . .
Jack: SHUT UP!
And he raised his fist again.
That’s when I yelled as loud as I could.
Everyone looked at me.
Even Bruce.
Me: Leave him alone. LEAVE HIM ALONE!
Silent.
Silent.
And then I left.
The next night:
Peter Pan
opening night.
They were all yelling and screaming so loud.
I didn’t know what to do — how to act or anything — so I just stood on the side of the tree and bowed a bunch of times.
Then tomorrow is the last day of school.
Most of my makeup was on my sleeve because Laurel had put so much on.
She said: You have to have a lot — you’re under the lights.
I guess she was right.
There were a lot of lights.
And the best part was the fight scene because even though I was nervous,
I was sweating and sweating and sweating some more,
we did it just like we practiced, but even the spin move was better than I thought it would be.
And so they were still yelling and even standing up: Mom with her huge stomach, Dad, Mack, Ryan, Dr. Benson (I didn’t really believe he would come) all standing up and yelling and clapping.
Ms. March said it was the best fight scene she’d ever seen in a school play.
Laurel gave me a book called
Palindromes —The Best of the Best
and whispered: You were great.
Next year we’re doing the
Pirates of Penzance
because of all the pirate costumes.
I might be the Pirate King.
That night.
subject: Hey
Date: Today
1 message
From: Logan
To: Zyler
Hey Zy,
We moved. To Judge. Over by the mall. And I’m a lost Boy in the play Peter Pan. It’s pretty cool. I also
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