Drama Queers! (6 page)

“Will the following Seniors please rise when I call their name?”

Up on stage behind the podium stands our Senior class advisor, Mr. Verlander. The thing only comes up to his waist, the man’s so tall. He must be at least 6’2”. As per usual, he wears a permanent-press shirt with a throwback-to-the-’70s wide tie. The second he speaks, his two-pack-a-day voice makes me totally wish I stopped by Skid Row prior to coming here. Instead, I arrived early to grab a good seat.

One by one, Mr. Verlander announces the “Top 25” for Homecoming ’87…

“Stephanie Adams.”

Co-captain of Vikettes, of course she made it. Stephanie is totally beautiful with long blond hair, green eyes, and legs for days.

“Kimberly Aielli.”

Another Vikette and Stephanie’s brown-eyed Best Friend.

“Jens Andersson.”

The Foreign Exchange student from Sweden.

What the fuck?

I look over to where Jack sits with Max in the center section of seats. They both got Consumer Ec this hour with some teacher I never had before, Mrs. Ireland. From the expression on Jack’s face, I can tell he’s pissed. Meanwhile, Jens doesn’t know what’s happening as he’s cheered on by his fellow Varsity football teammates to stand up.

“Angela Andrews.”

Yet another Vikette.

I can’t believe she was Max’s first girlfriend back in 7
^th
grade. I don’t know how he ever scored her. She was (and is) still totally hot.

“Robert Berger.”

No surprise there!

As a Varsity football player, how could he lose?

“Mitchell Bloodworth.”

Another Varsity football player.

“Derrick Brown.”

And another.

I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my pants. With the announcement of each name, my heart pounds harder in my chest. I mean, it’s not like I’m gonna die if mine’s not called…I’m a Band Fag
and
a Drama Queer, what can I expect?

“Karla Carlson…Melody Carnes…Walter Cieslak.”

Varsity cheerleader…Varsity cheerleader…Varsity wrestler.

I hope I’m not too overdressed
.

Most of the football players got their jerseys on. Maybe I should have worn jeans like them? Here I am in brown slacks, a tan dress shirt, and matching cardigan I stole—I mean,
borrowed
—from Jack. The last thing I want is to look like I’m anticipating my name being called.

Finishing up with the C’s, Mr. Verlander moves onto the D’s…

“Natalie Davis.”

Co-captain of girls’ Varsity basketball.

“Kenneth Daw.”

Co-captain of boys’ Varsity basketball.

“Bradley Dayton.”

Band Fag
and
Drama Que—

Oh, my God…He fucking called my name!

Audrey whacks me on the shoulder. Like a dork, I stand up, trying not to look too enthused, yet wanting to convey how honored I am to be recognized.

Wanna know the totally stupid thing I do next?

I
wave
.

Not like a small see-somebody-in-the-hall sorta motion, but a grand Queen Elizabeth-out-on-the-palace-balcony-greeting-the-peons gesture.

Audrey rolls her eyes.

Thankfully Verlander moves on to the E’s and F’s…

“Rochelle Findlay.”

Told you so!

“Thomas Fulton.”

Varsity football
and
basketball co-captain.

From what I heard, Tom’s also Betsy Sheffield’s date for the Homecoming Dance next Saturday night.

Personally, I can’t stand the guy. Him and Max used to be all buddy-buddy when we were at Webster and early on at Webb. In fact, this one time in 7
^th
grade, me and Max and Jack went over Tom’s house, and we called this phone-sex party line pretending we were
girls
. If I remember correctly, Tom did a pretty good job talking-the-talk to the guys on the other end…Hmmm?

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit Tom’s a decent-looking guy. Now that he’s traded his horn-rims for contacts, started lifting weights, and dressing designer. Right now, he’s got on a heather lamb’s wool sweater over a white Polo shirt with button-down collar, and snug-fitting charcoal slacks. I see he’s also got a new haircut—sorta long and flippy in front, short around the sides and wedged in back. And of course, beautiful blue eyes, a totally perfect smile, square jaw and dimples…See why I hate him?

Now for the G’s…

“Stacy Gillespie.”

Woo–
hoo!

Stacy is my very good friend from French III Independent Study. ’member the girl Mrs. Carey gave her teacher’s edition last year with all the answers? If I wasn’t a homo, I think I’d totally be in love with her. She’s sooo tiny and cute with her short dark hair and chestnut brown eyes. Not to mention she’s super stylish and super smart. Except I don’t think either one of us is gonna learn much taking French III as an Independent Study. Since Mrs. Carey’s not there to preside over us, most of the time we end up sitting around shooting the shit.

By the time I finally spot Stacy amongst the student body, Verlander’s telling us to “Quiet down, people,” so he can move on to the next name…

“Jonathan Glowicki.”

Another Varsity football
and
basketball player.

“Jamieleeann Mary Sue Good.”

Like I said, Jamie is Senior class president. Not to mention Varsity cheerleading captain, secretary of National Honor Society, and don’t forget Chorale. She’s got a beautiful voice. Last year we did a duet at the spring concert, “Friends & Lovers,” by Gloria Loring and Carl Anderson—Liz Chandler-Curtis from
Days of our Lives
, and the original Judas in
Jesus Christ Superstar
.

Jack doesn’t notice me watching him, but I can totally tell he’s sweating bullets waiting for Mr. Verlander to get to the P’s. He’s all dressed up in his navy blue slacks, matching cardigan over gray mock-turtleneck shirt. I know he’s expecting something to happen soon. For his sake, I hope his name gets called. I know how much Jack wants this.

“Fay Keating.”

The other co-captain of girls’ Varsity basketball.

Very sporty and very popular, Fay’s another Freshman-year-transfer from St. Mary’s back at Webb. She’s a totally great girl, but her taste in guys hasn’t always been the best. I’ll never forget she went to the Carnation Dance with Guy Huckabee, this Total Jerk. When I stopped them on the dance floor to take a picture, Guy just gave me this look like,
She’s with me, you fag!

Whatever…

I still have the photo. I just tore Guy outta it.

“Pamela Klimaszewski.”

You can bet Max is drooling all over himself when Pam (and her tits) stand up in the row right behind me. I look over my shoulder and give her a wink. I can’t help but notice she’s got her arms folded across her chest—to hide her rack, no doubt!

Poor Pam…I totally love her. I just think she’s got a thing about her boobs. I guess maybe she’s sorta shy. I mean, she sings alto in Chorale, but I don’t think I ever heard her actually
sing
anything. Since I first met her in Mrs. Malloy’s Sophomore English, she’s always reminded me of a dishwater blond Molly Ringwald. Her boyfriend is this big cross-country champ, Stan Blume. He graduated from HPHS this past June, and is off at Michigan State on a scholarship.

Next, the L’s, M’s, N’s and O’s…

“Donald Olsewski.”

Another Band Fag?

Well, wonders never cease!

Don plays drums and he also DJ’s at most of our school dances. I don’t know him too well, but he seems like a good guy. I’m pretty sure him and Jack were friends back at Longfellow. In fact, Don and his mom live right down the block from the Paternos on Shevlin in Hazel Park. He’s not bad looking, either. He reminds me of Christopher Reeves—I mean,
Reeve
—from
Somewhere in Time
. Only Don’s got shoulder-length hair and isn’t nearly as built as Superman.

Now for the P’s…

“Penelope Page.”

I’ll never forget Penny. She’s the girl I smoked my first cigarette with. A Marlboro Red, back in the winter of 8th grade, in the Jehovah’s Witness parking lot. I felt like a bad ass!

“Joseph Palladino.”

Based on his looks alone, Joey’s gotta be a contender for Homecoming King. Except if he wins, Jack will just die.

Speaking of…

His name should be next.

Fingers crossed!

“Nathaniel Richelieu.”

What the fuck?

I mean, I’m happy for Nate—he’s got great hair and awesome ankles. But what happened to Jack Paterno? Mr. Verlander must’ve made a mistake and skipped a name. Or maybe the alphabetical got outta order?

“Elizabeth Sheffield…Marie Sperling…Tonya Tyler.”

Varsity cheerleader…Vikettes co-captain…Chorale.

Finally, Mr. Verlander concludes with the U’s, V’s, W’s…

No Class Clown, Audrey Wojczek?

And the X’s, Y’s, and Z’s.

Outta all my friends,
I’m
the only one to make “Top 25”?

I can’t fucking believe it!

And from the looks of it, neither can Jack.

Across the auditorium, I see him slump down in his seat, looking like he’s gonna cry…

So am I.

What the fuck is wrong with the fucking people at this school?

Jack Paterno is the smartest guy in our class. Not to mention he’s cuter than most of the so-called popular boys. Not that
I
think he’s cute—he’s like the brother I never had. But there’s no denying Jack is attractive.

So what if he’s not
hot
, like Rob Berger or Joey Palladino?

He’s still my Best Friend.

You are
not
gonna believe what happened.

‘member how I was supposed to go over Audrey’s house to help her and Tuesday Gunderson with their scene from
Gamma Rays?
Well, I did. As per usual, the three of us wound up talking more than we did working on anything. In fact, the girls ran thru the scene all of once, I gave them some notes, and they called it quits.

“Who do you think’s cuter: Will Isaacs or Allen Bryan?” It never failed. All Tuesday Gunderson ever wants to do is talk about guys. Maybe because she’s never had a boyfriend a day in her life.

“Definitely Allen Bryan,” Audrey answered from the kitchen, popping open a bottle of pop.

Tuesday called out from the couch, “You think so?”

“No question,” Aud replied. She poured Diet Dr Pepper into a plastic cup as she entered the room. “Will Isaacs is fat.” She handed the half-empty bottle to Tuesday, who took a swig.

“So is Allen Bryan.” Tuesday belched low and resonant.

Audrey grimaced. Frantically she put thumb to forehead, wiggled her fingers, and shouted, “Skobie!”

Tuesday wiped her mouth and mimicked her friend, mere seconds behind.

“Brad ate it!”

They both informed me of this fact when I didn’t move a muscle, choosing to sit in my comfy armchair next to the fireplace, refusing to play along. I gave them each a look and kept on petting Patches, Audrey’s orange and black and white calico.

“But Big Al plays football,” said Audrey, picking right back up where she left off.

This seemed to be her justification for just about everything lately. If a guy played sports, he could have three heads on his shoulders and Audrey would still find him hot. I think it’s her secret desire to feel a boy’s Varsity jacket wrapped securely around her shoulders.

“Yeah, but Will plays trom
bone
,” Tuesday interjected, making a slide-like gesture.

I gotta say, she shocked me with her apt use of sexual innuendo. I always considered Tuesday a Total Nerd, you know what I mean?

“So…?
Brad
plays trombone,” Audrey reminded.

Hearing my name enter the conversation, I looked up. “What’s that got to do with anything?” I wanted to know. “Are you saying I’m not hot or something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Scratching the inside corner of my eye with my
middle
finger, I cried, “Right here, Wojczek!”

I used to think Audrey’s last name was Wo-check, since it’s Polish and all. Once we became better friends, she beat the proper pronunciation into me: Wo-
seck
.

Whatever…

Go eat another paczki, Wo-seck!

Tuesday piped up. “It’s okay, Brad…
I
think you’re hot.”

“Thanks,” I replied, even though the feeling wasn’t the least bit mutual. Again, not that Tuesday’s not a nice girl. She’s just not my type—male.

Speaking of…

Across the room, I noticed a framed photo of a rather cute red-haired guy wearing a #63 maroon and gray HP Vikings football uniform. I gave Patches a gentle nudge, and he (she?) climbed down from my lap. I moved towards the photo of Audrey’s brother for closer inspection. He looked familiar to me, even though I never met him…Boy, do I
want
to!

“What about Rob Berger?”

You can bet this coming from Tuesday caught my ear.

“What about him?” I asked, focusing my attention on the new topic at hand.

“I asked Aud who she thinks is cuter,” Miss Gunderson reiterated. “Allen Bryan or Rob Berger?”

“That’s like saying, ‘Who’s cuter: Andrew McCarthy or Anthony Michael Hall?’” I said with an air of superiority.

“Who’s Anthony Michael Hall?” asked Tuesday, totally serious.

“You know,” I answered, “Rusty from
Vacation
…As in
National Lampoon’s
.” Only one of my favorite movies ever.

Tuesday’s dark eyes filled with light. “You mean Farmer Ted from
Sixteen Candles?
I think he’s totally cute.”

“Shut the fuck up!” I scowled. “You can’t tell me you think Rusty is cuter than Blane.”

Another blank look beamed from Tuesday.

“Blane from
Pretty in Pink
,” Audrey informed her, coming to my rescue.

Tuesday admitted, “Never seen it…Sorry.”

I found that hard to believe. “Weren’t you at Ava’s party when we watched it on video?”

“What party?” Tuesday wondered in confusion.

“’member, right before Halloween last year? Jack called in sick to work. He came with with Diane Thompson, and Joey Palladino was there…”

Audrey shot me an icy stare.

Oops!
I forgot Miss Gunderson wasn’t invited.

At that moment, I realized I desperately needed a cigarette. I grabbed my Marching Band windbreaker from the hook near the front door and rummaged around in the pockets in search of my Marlboro Lights.

“Your mom’s not home, is she?” I double-checked with Audrey.

“Nope…Pat’s at work.”

That said, I shook out a cig, held it firmly between my lips, and fired it up.

Much better!

A few months ago, Mrs. Wojczek got a job manning the counter at Dunkin’ Donuts across from Universal Mall on Dequindre. Sometimes, I’ll go up there with Audrey and we’ll sit at the counter drinking coffee and eating chocolate cream-filled donuts talking to her mom for days. She’s gotta be close to fifty, but she’s totally awesome. She even goes out on dates sometimes. Mr. Wojczek died back in like ’77. In fact, I’d totally set her up with
my
dad, if he wasn’t such a deadbeat.

“Can I bum one of them?” Audrey reached for the half-empty pack and helped herself to one of my smokes.

Chivalrously lighting it for her, I warned, “Don’t forget the New Year’s Eve incident.”

Audrey made a face, exhaling. “Don’t remind me.”

‘member Luanne “Lou” Kowalski, the lesbian who was in love with Jack’s ex-girlfriend, Alyssa? Well, back in 10th grade, Lou had a party at her house, and Audrey totally singed her bangs trying to light a cigarette on the stove…I since advised her not to wear so much Aqua Net aerosol.

Tuesday coughed. “If all you guys are gonna do is smoke,” she hacked, “I’m going home.”

I kicked back in my favorite chair, feeling totally mellow. “See ya!”

Sure, she’ll sit around talking about boys and
sex
, but a little underage nicotine abuse enters the picture and Tuesday Gunderson goes all Goody Two-Shoes. She should pal around with Jack “Persnickety-Persnick” Paterno.

I guess I should probably feel sorry for the girl. I remember Jack telling me how when he went to elementary school with Tuesday back at Longfellow, the second their teacher walked outta the room, all the kids would say, “Whoever talks loves Tuesday Gunderson!” Right in front of her…Isn’t that bogue?

“I thought she’d never leave.”

Once Audrey’s scene partner made her exit (stage left), she plopped down on the couch across from me and began practicing her French inhaling. There’s a rumor we’re doing
Grease
as the spring musical and Aud
really
wants to play Didi Conn—I mean,
Frenchy
.

I stubbed out my cig and reached for another. There’s nothing quite like that first puff. The taste of the nicotine on your tongue, the smoke filling your lungs, blowing out a beautiful blue-gray plume…Heaven!

“You never answered the question,” I reminded Audrey.

She flicked an inch-long grandma-ash into an amber ashtray. “What was it?”

I watched as she worked her jaw, sending smoke signals about her redheaded head.

“Allen Bryan or Rob Berger?”

Audrey gave me a look, head titled, brow furrowed, lips pursed. “Is there even any doubt?”

Obviously there was on my part or I wouldn’t be asking.

“So you think Berger’s cuter?” I said, wanting to make sure I read her correctly.

“Oh, my God…Have you taken a look at his ass?”

I couldn’t tell if this was a rhetorical question or what. As far as I’m aware, Audrey doesn’t know I’m gay. At least
I
never told her, so I don’t think she was implying anything by asking this. As it stands, the only friend I got that even knows about me (the
real
me) is Jack Paterno, and how that came about is a whole ’nother story!

Not that I’m ashamed of who I am or anything, but I don’t think it’s anybody’s business whose ass I choose to check out or who I have a crush on. Besides, even though I’ve known Audrey for over three years now, I don’t
really
know her.

What if I admitted,
Yes, I’ve taken a look at Rob Berger’s ass on
many
occasions
, and she went and told everybody? I only got eight more months left in that godforsaken school of ours…Why make trouble now?

Somehow, I don’t think Aud would care if she knew. In fact, by asking me this, I wondered if maybe she was giving me the opportunity to finally come clean…Still, I couldn’t do it.

So I said, “I’d probably think Berger is cuter than Big Al…If I was a
girl
.”

Audrey asked, “If you were a
girl?
” as if she didn’t need me to clarify.

Damn!

There she sat, practically giving me the go-ahead, and I blew it. I don’t know what my problem was. I guess being true
to thine ownself
is harder than I thought.

“What the fuck’s up with Berger not having a girlfriend?” Audrey pondered next.

“Who the hell knows?” I replied, having thought the exact same thing myself for a long time now.

“All the Flaggots have been trying to figure that one out…Including Rakoff.”

Rakoff is Zack Rakoff, another Senior in our class. I don’t know why, but after playing piccolo in Marching Band since Sophomore year, Rakoff went and became the only male member of Flaggots—I mean,
Flag Corps
. He’s a bit of an odd bird the way he’s always talking about
Monty Python
and
Doctor Who
.

I’ll never forget the first time I seen him…Like I said, I went to elementary school at Webster with Ava Reese. Well, Rakoff went to Roosevelt, same as Carrie Johnson. The spring of 6
^th
grade, a bunch of us got invited to participate in this all-city Honors Band. We met twice a week after school for X number of weeks, the end result being a concert we put on for our parents up at Hillbilly High.

Well, when you spend seven years going to school with the exact same people, being around a group of new kids is totally bic-citing, you know what I mean? So the night of the concert, I seen this girl I saw for the past X number of weeks sitting in the flute section. A little chubby, but not fat by any means, she had short brown hair, and wore glasses—the kind with the lenses that darkened whenever you went outside. She also wore braces, but she was still pretty cute.

I don’t know why, but I remember thinking how much I
really
wanted to talk to her. Maybe because when I originally signed up for Band, I also wanted to play flute. Until our teacher, Mrs. Isaacs (Will Isaacs’s mom), convinced me I should maybe try trombone because there weren’t any brass players yet.

Finally, I worked up the nerve to go over and introduce myself. She was standing by the punch bowl at this long table full of cookies and cold cuts and three different kinds of Jello (with and without fruit) in the commons outside the auditorium. Looking back, it doesn’t even seem like the same place I spend every day during 5
^th
hour. It feels sooo different now. Much smaller.

“Hi, I’m Brad Dayton…What’s your name?”

I remember thinking how cool it was that this particular little girl’s mother didn’t make her wear a dress to the concert like all the others. Instead, she had on dark slacks and a sweater along with matching suede GASS shoes…I’m sure you can see where the rest of the story is going.