Pretenders Read online

  I haven’t seen the Homies since I went Pub. Which is tragic because we were tight. Blake, Hamilton, Legend, Wendi, Maple, Sylvie, and I used to meet for gelato every Wednesday. Even in the winter. We took music, soccer, and art classes at the community center. We had (supervised) coed sleepovers and giggled about our CNN anchor crushes. Legend’s dad, Maverick Lustig—yes, THE Maverick Lustig, four-time X Games champion, pro rider, spokesmodel, and owner of Lord’s Boards—taught us to skateboard. That’s like having Stephen Hawking as a science teacher.

  When Blake heard I couldn’t go to the movie today, he bailed too. He said he had a migraine, but GPS tells a different story. According to Find My Friends, he’s at the mall. Probably meeting Trike on his lunch break. I bet Trike is pirouetting through the fountains because I’m not there. If he knew how many girls check Blake out at school, he’d flip his 40 percent off chambray trilby lid. Especially if he saw the way Vanessa looked at Blake in the cafeteria the other day.

  Why Trike would flip his 40 percent off chambray trilby lid is the part I don’t get.

  As females, we pose no threat whatsoever. Blake says Trike is possessive because his father walked out on him when he was four, leaving him with a bitter mother and heinous abandonment issues. I’m not heartless. I understand how that would mess a guy up. But jealous of girls?

  Whenever I ask Blake why he puts up with Trike’s possessiveness he starts to wheeze. He says I’ll understand when I’m in love, and then changes the subject. I want to tell him I am in love and I still don’t understand. But I’m not ready to tell him about Duffy. So I say, “You’re probably right.”

  Rebooting.

  I haven’t told Blake about Duffy because he, along with the other Homies and the entire Bader-Huffman clan, expects me to marry Seth Cohen from The O.C. Not Adam Brody, the actor who played Seth Cohen. The actual character. They think this because:

  1) Seth Cohen is intellectual, quirky, neurotic, athletically challenged, kind, Jewish, and probably lactose intolerant. So am I.

  2) I was madly in love with Seth Cohen from 2007–2010. I watched every DVD at Blake’s house because we don’t have a TV. I told my parents Seth Cohen was a junior senator so I could hang his picture in my room without getting a lecture on idol worshipping.

  3) Blake said I was obSethed.

  And then there’s Andrew Duffy: the anti–Seth Cohen. He is an all-American athlete. Honey-blond hair. Green eyes. Minimally expressive. Angst-free. A typical male. The boy next door. Conventionally handsome. Quirk-less. Lactose tolerant. Normal.

  As a Jewish Homie with a gay best friend, five worn-out skateboards, a passport stamp from twenty-two different countries, dial-up Internet, and a wardrobe that doubles as flu-wear, I am drawn to “normal” like Odysseus to Sirens. I am over having a life that only six people can relate to. Simply put: I don’t want abnormal to be my normal anymore.

  I want to go to dances and forbidden house parties. I want to cheer for my boyfriend from the bleachers. I want to hold his hand after the game. I want to have unintellectual, stilted, benign conversations. I want to stop using words like “benign.” I want to share non-kosher snack foods with him. Snack foods that are full of preservatives and additives. I want to see formulaic horror films at a multiplex. Films that are called movies. Movies that are not remakes of a foreign version that was far superior. I want Duffy to kiss me on that patch of narrow grass between our houses. I want to build a wobbly wood plank and set it between our windows so we can sneak into each other’s rooms after bedtime. I want to get caught and lectured. I want to shout about not being understood. I want to get grounded. I want Duffy and me to find ways to be together anyway. Most of all I want him to like me because he thinks I’m just like him.

  Back to my paper.

  Feeling = I SERIOUSLY hate waiting.

  I better make Varsity. I have to make Varsity. Twenty-two more hours until Monday, September 17th, and I’ll know if I made Varsity.

  If I can write Varsity forty times in under one minute I will make it. Ready, set, go!

  Varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity varsity vars

  35.

  Feeling = Crap.

  I saw Audri in American History this morning.

  Her T-shirt was the same color blue as her glasses.

  I asked if she bought them as a set.

  Mr. Rosen told us to take our seats before she could answer.

  I spent the entire period jamming a pen into my fingertip. I needed to feel something other than what I was really feeling which was: Jagger, why did you ask about her shirt when what you really wanted to say was, don’t be afraid to hang out with me.

  When class was over Audri said she did not buy her shirt and glasses as a set.

  I thanked her for letting me know. Not because I care if matching things are sold separately or together. But because she remembered I asked. Because she pushed past other boys to catch up with me. Because she wasn’t afraid.

  I wanted to hug her.

  I didn’t.

  She started to giggle.

  I asked her why.

  She said I was holding a FemFresh pen which was weird because I’m a guy and FemFresh is a tampon company.

  I told her it came in the FemFresh case we got for our journals. I asked if she got one too.

  She didn’t.

  I said I thought FemFresh was an organic food company.

  She laughed.

  I thanked her for letting me know and tossed the pen. It landed in an open locker.

  We laughed.

  A: What are you doing for lunch?

  J: Eating.

  I told her she could eat with me today if she wasn’t afraid.

  A: Afraid of what?

  I was going to say Crazy Pat the ex–navy SEAL but why go there?

  J: Afraid of me.

  A: Why would I be afraid of you?

  J: PMS.

  She laughed. She got my reference to the FemFresh pen and laughed! She got me.

  During lunch I told her how hard it is to visit my parents in jail.

  Her eyes teared up.

  Then she started crying.

  I wish I hadn’t told her any of that.

  We are still at lunch. She’s writing her friend Sheridan a note so I decided to write this. Something to do.

  Beats staring.

  September 17th

  Forgive me, Journal, for I have sinned. It has been five days since my last entry.

  Ver? I wasn’t going to write today either. I was going to spend lunch reviewing my Algebra flash cards. When a FemFresh pen literally flew into my locker. If that isn’t a sign to journal25 please tell me what is.

  The honors and awards posting came out last week and it’s full of opportunities. I’m going for:

  Academic Excellence. (GPA of 3.75 or higher)

  Honors Society.

  Principal’s Award. (nominated by the cafeteria cooks, secretaries, and custodians)

  Track Team. (I already made track team. I can’t be captain until my senior year but Coach Speedman26 said he will help me work toward that goal.)

  The Phoenix Five. This opportunity only exists at our school but it’s still really important. Last year’s winners were contacted by college scouts. I took a picture of the flyer. This is what it said:

  FRESHMEN ONLY

  NOBLE HIGH’S PHOENIX YEARBOOK STAFF WANTS TO HONOR FIVE OF TOMORROW’S LEADERS, TODAY.

  NOMINEES MUST BE ABLE TO THRIVE UNDER PRESSURE, ADAPT TO NEW SITUATIONS, MAKE FRIENDS EASILY, STAND OUT IN A CROWD, SET TRENDS, AND ACHIEVE.

  NOMINATIONS BEGIN IN APRIL.

  VOTE FOR THE WINNERS IN MAY.

  OUR FIVE MOST OUTSTANDING FRESHMEN WILL BE NAMED IN THE 2012–2
013 PHOENIX YEARBOOK.

  MAKE YOUR MARK NOW. FIGHT FOR A PLACE AMONG THE PHOENIX FIVE IF YOU PLAN TO PURSUE A CAREER AS A POLITICIAN, CEO, NEWS ANCHOR, PERFORMER, PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE, MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER, BESTSELLING AUTHOR, SPIRITUAL LEADER, OR CELEBRITY CHEF.

  WHO WILL BE THIS YEAR’S PHOENIX FIVE?

  * * *

  * * *

  * * *

  * * *

  * * *

  I signed up for all five spots.

  More later. Wish me luck on my Algebra quiz. I’m craving Benihana.

  Good luck is opportunity meeting preparedness.

  —Deepak Chopra

  9.17.12

  INT. MASTER LO’s TAE KWON DO STUDIO—LATE AFTERNOON.

  SHERIDAN’s O.L.S. has been lifted. Order has been restored.

  Pass the mic, Ms. Justice, there’s a new Victorious in town!

  Mom’s the one freaking out now. She’s pacing Master Lo’s waiting room because H&M are testing for their green belts. Her big fear? One will pass and the other will fail. In which case she’d rather they both fail. How weird is that?

  I was going to call her on it but decided to put quill to paper instead. I’d rather focus on the positive. For instance, I went to school as Sheridan Spencer today and it wasn’t a total disaster. The freshman play was announced and I wanted to be me when I got the news. I didn’t even wear a costume, just skinny jeans, orange ballet flats, a plain white tank top, and a navy cardigan. I pinned back a chunk of hair by my ear and dusted my cheekbones with pink blush. Audri said I looked pretty in a regular way.

  She must have been right because that Zero Direction guy who blamed Audri for the rain on our first day of school came right up to me to talk about Dad’s BMW M5. I thanked him and told him about the dealership. He said I was lucky because he’s obsessed with cars and his dad has a boring job at a law firm. Then he asked if I have ever heard of the M3 GTR. I told him we have the 2013. He said You mean the one in Gran Turismo? I said yep. He said noooooo wayyyyyyyy and then bowed like I was royalty. I felt special.

  How do you know Logan? (Audri.)

  I don’t. How do you know Logan?

  Octavia’s dying to make out with him.

  Too late.

  Why?

  He’s in love with a model.

  Who? (Audri, pushing her blue glasses up her nose.)

  The 2013 M3 floor model.

  We cracked up.

  Anyway, the freshman play is Wicked. Last year I was Elphaba the bad witch and I dream of playing Glinda next. Everyone in drama club said I sound like Kristin Chenoweth when I sing “Popular” so I’ll audition with that for sure. O’course Audri will too.

  Everyone thinks it’s weird that she wants to be my understudy. Then we explain it’s the only way Audri can play lead and they get it.

  Audri is good. She has range, focus, and the unmatched ability to cry on demand. But I’m better. I’m not bragging. It’s a fact. I work harder and am constantly studying the craft. So I always get lead. I knew this bothered Audri so I made her a secret deal. If she’d volunteer to be my understudy I would “act” sick at least one night (more if it’s a long run) so she can have a turn in the spotlight. She cried for real when she heard the offer and said I was the best friend ever. I cried for real too because I was happy she was happy. So we’ve been doing it for the past two years.

  Having played both leads will really round out our list of credits. We’re going to start practicing tomorrow after school. Auditions are this Wednesday. I wanted to start tonight but Mom said I should be here for my brothers because green belt is a big deal. Oh, and Glinda’s not?

  Audri left me a lunch note today! She ate with Jagger. He told her about visiting his parents in jail. Aside from bully beating they are normal and shouldn’t be behind bars. He knows the whole emancipation thing broke their hearts but what choice did he have? He couldn’t exactly run to jail every time he needed a field trip permission slip or report card signed.

  Audri wondered if she was heartless because she couldn’t cry during Jagger’s tragic story. All she could think about was kissing him. She ended up faking it. And the Oscar goes to Meryl Weep.

  Normally hearing that Audri has a crush and wants to kiss would make me feel heavy. I’d wonder why I didn’t have a crush or why kissing still scares me and not her. But I’m not wondering any of that right now. I’m too busy being happy she wasn’t eating lunch with Octavia. Maybe they got in a fight.

  Remember that guy Duffy? The one who was making hearts about me in English? Well, his locker is across from mine and today I heard him whistling. The song sounded familiar but I couldn’t figure out what so I moved closer and listened harder. Then it hit me. It was “I Feel Pretty” from West Side Story. I was shocked.

  Maybe, if I had to stretch my imagination, I could picture Andrew Duffy whistling “Jet Song” or “Cool.” But “I Feel Pretty”? I had to ask.

  I must have freaked him out because he jumped and slammed his locker.

  Huh?

  I said, Are you singing “I Feel Pretty”?

  He turned red and kind of giggled. Oh, I dunno. Was I? Maybe.

  Really?

  Two sisters. He looked down the hall and then leaned closer like he was about to tell me a secret. He smelled girly, like baby powder deodorant. They force-fed me show tunes when I was little. Sometimes I spring a leak and one dribbles out.

  I giggled. It was an odd choice of words for a basketball player. I could tell by the duct tape on his high-tops that he probably had other odd things to say.

  So, do you feel pretty today?

  He flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt and stuffed his hands in his pockets. If you must know I changed the lyrics to I feel happy.

  Why?

  Because I don’t feel very pretty today.

  No, I meant, why do you feel happy?

  I made the Varsity team. So did my best friends.

  Congratulations.

  Thanks. You’re in my English class, right?

  I am.

  You wore red lipstick on the first day of school.

  I looked down at my orange ballet flats.

  I remember that. (Duffy.)

  Really? (Me. Voice shaking.)

  Yeah.

  Wow. Good memory.

  Yeah, well, you smiled and—

  And what? (I knew he had a crush on me! I couldn’t wait to tell Audri.)

  You had red shmeared all over your tooth. Like you got punched in the mouth.

  Oh.

  Normally I would have wanted to cry and die and then reincarnate, cry some more, and die again. But the space between his teeth made me feel like he didn’t expect people to be perfect.

  I’ll make you a deal. (Me.)

  What?

  If you promise to tell me when I have lipstick on my teeth I’ll tell you when you have pee spots on your jeans.

  He laughed and then introduced himself. I did the same.

  Nice to meet you, Sheridan.

  This made me smile because it really was Sheridan he was meeting. And he liked her.

  By the way. (Duffy, locking his locker.) You don’t need lipstick.

  And you don’t need jeans. (Me, slapping my hand over my mouth.) Oh my god, I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t even know what I meant.

  Yeah, right. (Duffy, walking away acting like he wasn’t buying it.)

  Uh-oh. Tae Kwon Do testing is over. Results coming in… and…

  Both boys failed. Mom is relieved. A good day indeed.

  To Be Continued…

  END SCENE.

  Monday, September 17, 2012

  All of the “normal” social clubs were filled by the time I got to school today because normal people signed up online over the weekend. Whereas, I had to send smoke signals, which have yet to arrive.

  Which brings me to another reason I want to be normal. Normal people have parents with cable modems. But my
mom? She sees dial-up as a teaching tool. She says my generation’s dependence on instant gratification will lead to our downfall and some things are worth waiting for.

  “Why?” I argue.

  “Because no one gets what they want the minute they want it.”

  “They do on the Internet,” I tell her.

  “Well, it’s not realistic,” she says.

  “Actually, the Internet is very real.”

  “Don’t be smart, Lily,” my dad says.

  “Then stop teaching me so much.”

  We always have arguments like these. The only one I ever won was when they let me go Pub. Unfortunately, I don’t feel like much of a winner when I’m there so I’m not sure it counts.

  There was one opening left—in the style club—so I went for that. I was told to come back when I get style. Blake laughed. I wanted to cry. But I didn’t until I spotted this super-pretty blonde talking to Duffy at his locker today. Her name is Sheridan Spencer. She could have been CEO of the style club. Her whole “classic-cardi-meets-an-unexpected-pop-of-orange-ballet-flats” had me wondering if she spent the weekend playing dress-up with Trike.

  Blake did, that’s for sure. He showed up today all dapper in a faded gingham shirt, distressed jeans, and pop-of-red New Balance sneakers.

  The style club girls literally applauded him in the halls.

  During lunch (homemade kosher salami sandwich and a pickle) I said, “How can I possibly compete with Pub girls like Sheridan Spencer when I dress like a Homie with mononucleosis?” Naturally, Blake asked if I liked anyone. I said no but I might someday and I want to be ready.

  “How much money do you have?” he asked.

  “None.”

  “Don’t you have nine hundred bucks?”

  “Yeah, but that’s for my laptop.”

  “Can you dip in?”

  “No! I’ve been saving for two years.”

  “Hmmm. I have some old pj’s that might fit you.”