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A List of Best Intentions
Livin' Life by the Drop
Every year at Tanglewood, there was an event called History Through the Decades. It was one of those things were we had to learn stuff and nobody who actually had a social life went to.
It was basically this activity where there were different stands for each decade since the 1900s, and each one had a bit of info about it. The losers who ran each booth had to dress up in fashion from each decade, or someone who was iconic during that time. And there was food. So that was nice, at least.
Well, for people outside the drama department and AP classes, it was optional. I thought it was, anyway.
Until my history teacher made us do it.
The entire class shared a collective grunt when he broke the news to us. Lord knows I had better things to do on a Friday night.
“I know you’re not all exactly thrilled about this, but it’s gonna be great,” my teacher gushed. “You can dress up, and perform, and…”
“Do we have to?” Bruce whined from across the room.
“Yes, if you don’t want a zero in the grade book,” the teacher explained. “You can just bring food in and leave if you don’t want to stay.”
“Alright. That’s what I’m doing,” Bruce nodded.
“Now hold on, though. If you want extra credit, you can run a booth for the night. You can sign up and choose your decade, too,” the teacher went on.
I raised my hand. “Whoa, hold the phone – you get to pick what decade you can be?”
He looked at me funny. “I just got finished saying that, Kevin.”
An entire world opened up for me.
I glanced over at Cody and we made eye contact; I shot him a knowing smirk. He rolled his eyes with a weak grin. He knew exactly what was up my sleeve.
Later on that day, as you can guess, I signed up to work at the 1990s booth from 7:30 until 8:00 PM. History Through the Decades fell on September 16th, the Friday after Free Hug Day.
I called the people who ran it losers earlier, and then I took it back. ‘Cause to be honest, I was really looking forward to that night. I even conned Cody into sticking it through with me.
“On one condition,” he had said.
“What?” I’d asked.
“The second you make an idiot outta yourself, I’m out the door,” he smiled.
I raised an eyebrow. “I never make an idiot out of myself…”
He hooted a sarcastic kinda laugh that really sealed the deal.
~~~~
Like I’d predicted, History Through the Decades was pretty slammin’.
Of course, it wasn’t the kind of party I would have thrown, but it was pretty interesting. I dressed up as Kurt Cobain (I bought a wig and wore dirty clothes – easy costume) and wasn’t the only one who dressed the part. I ran the 90s booth with a Britney Spears, Alanis Morissette, Eddie Vetter, and Chris Farley. Pretty crazy.
I guess there was somethin’ about the 90s that drew me to it. That’s why I ran that booth. I loved my life as it was and was thankful for it all, and I guess that kinda ties back to why I’m writing this story in the first place. (I still am thankful.)
All night was a blur to me, up until the start of the performances. Much like the arrangements of the booths, each decade had a performer who’d do something related to that era. It was either a skit or some kinda song, and from what I heard from upperclassmen, it was pretty good in general.
When the performances began, my shift was up, so I turned the auditorium upside down lookin’ for Cody. I finally found him sitting by himself, so I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him closer to the stage.
“How was work?” he chuckled.
“Fun,” I said in a rushed answer. I was looking forward to the acts.
They started out a bit slow. From the 1900s to the 30s, they were all just a bunch of skits. And the mics weren’t even workin’, hardly. I gave ‘em all a hand, though. I didn’t have the patience to do that kinda get-up-in-front-of-everyone-and-do-stuff stuff.
For the 40s, though, they finally fixed the microphones only to have a truly lame skit with this one chick who totally wasn’t no actress.
Cody, next to me, yawned when the 40s were up. “I’ve got a great feeling about this, Kevin.”
I grunted.
When the 60s started, my expectations were pretty low. A teacher had walked out to the middle of the stage and spoke into the mic.
“And now, performing the Motown hit ‘Heatwave,’ is our very own junior, Keisha Simpson.”
A weak applause rippled over us. I’d never heard the name before; I didn’t think Cody had, either.
The stage lights went rather dim until a brilliant flash of blue made her way to the middle. She had her dark hair slicked back into a bun at the top of her head; her makeup made her look like a Hollywood actress or something. The dress she wore swept over her feet and sparkled like the sea, reflecting the lights of the auditorium back at us.
She smiled into the mic. Then the music started.
It was a karaoke track, obviously; the music came from the speaker system and couldn’t come from anything made by students here.
Keisha’s grin grew even wider as she sang the first lines.
“Whenever I’m with him
Something inside
Starts to burnin’
And I’m filled with desire!”
She had one hell of a voice. Unlike her predecessors of the night, she totally freakin’ blew everyone away. She was gettin’ into it, too – she had the dance moves and everything, and after that little number, I’m sure everybody knew in that room would remember her. She had a beautiful voice that rang clear and mad powerful and just…perfect. She definitely gave Christina Aguilera a run for her money, that was for sure.
I could tell we were in the presence of something great that night. I just had this little inkling in my head about her. That’s when you know you got a good thing, when you can tell something real early on.
“Yeah yeah yeah yeah!” she sang, making the auditorium tremble under the control of her voice.
I was leaned forward in my seat with my hands folded firmly. Brushing the wig hair out of my eyes, I looked over at Cody. We shared a little smile.
“She’s really good,” he mouthed out.
I nodded. It was good to know we actually agreed on something.
The song felt as though it was thirty seconds long, even though you, me, and Oprah know it was a lot longer. Time flies when you got something awesome – and I mean awesome, bro. We were all in the presence of a pretty talented performer, and it was a shame that we’d never heard her before.
Her applause was huge, and she deserved all of it. The grin on her face was even huger. Nobody knew who this “Keisha Simpson” girl was…
I wanted to change that.
‘Cause number seventeen was to Help a Nobody Become Popular.
~~~~~
As soon as the performance part of History Through the Decades was over, I yanked Cody up and we absolutely flew backstage.
I had a once-in-a-lifetime chance in my hands and I wasn’t gonna pass it up. And what made it even sweeter was that Cody, of all people, wasn’t objecting to this.
There were a few performers who had looked at us funny as we made our way behind the scenes (I still had my wig on), but we ignored them. To the first official-looking person I saw, I asked her, “Hey! Um, hey! Do you know where Keisha is?”
She looked startled, and she pointed to the right. “She’s in the dressing room -”
“Thanks!” Cody nodded.
We shot like a bullet where she told us to go, determined to meet Keisha once and for all, but when we got to the dressing room, we…stopped.
“Do we knock?” Cody whispered.
I yanked the wig off and itched my head. “I dunno! Should we wait for her to come out?”
“No, she’ll be creeped out, idiot!” he shot.
“Then what do we do?!”
“I don’t know…”
“I have to meet this girl,” I went on.
His eyes got wide. “Weirdo.”
“No! I mean, number seventeen – I wanna get her, like…famous!”
Cody smiled a bit and rolled his eyes, knowing what I was referring to. “You know, Kev…she’s got a great voice, but…you’re shooting a little high. I mean, even I think so.”
“That’s the point, man,” I sighed. “Shooting high and goin’ big.”
He paused, then brushed his hair back. “That sounds like something you’d say…”
After that, a bit of a silence fell over us and we went back to thinking about meeting Keisha without looking like stalkers. Though before we could come to a mutual decision, the door to the dressing room creaked open and we both froze.
“Can I help you boys?” a smooth voice asked from the crack.
Cody and I did a double take as it opened further. Standing before us was nobody other than Keisha Simpson herself, her hair down and in waves, and in jeans and a t-shirt. Call me starstruck, but it took a moment for me to pick my jaw up off the floor.
She chuckled a bit. “Ya’ll look like you just saw me naked.”
I stuttered, while Cody saved me from looking like a total moron by speaking up. “Um, er, you’re…you’re Keisha?” he said.
Folding her arms, she leaned against the door frame. “Yep. Who’s asking?”
“Kevin and Cody. Er, Cody and Kevin,” he answered, stammering.
“We’re…we’re sophomores,” I added.
“Mmhmm. Well,” she replied, turning around to show that she was the only one in the room. “You boys here for any reason in particular?”
“Well…um…I got this list,” I said weakly.
Keisha looked over her shoulder at us with her mouth parted slightly as if in disbelief. Then she raised her index finger. “You…you did that Hug Day thing. You’re Slater.”
I smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Yeah.”
“He’s getting famous,” Cody explained.
A lightbulb popped on in my head and reminded me of why I’d come back here in the first place. “Oh, yeah! My list! Um…”
Keisha furrowed her brow.
“Um, one of the things on it is to help someone get famous,” I went on. “And…”
She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips, and man, I swear to God she had to have spawned in the early sixties.
Cody and I kinda looked scared at each other.
“Well, who says I wanna be famous?” she said softly.
We both cocked our heads.
“Come in here. You guys are gonna make me look mean.”
We followed orders and stepped into the dressing room, where she closed the door behind us. And immediately when I turned to look at her again, she broke down laughing.
“Ya’ll can stop dreamin’ about makin’ me famous,” she shrugged. “I’m not getting there.”
“Well, we can try,” I suggested.
She shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t want it.”
Cody raised his eyebrow. “What, fame?”
“Well, fame…I mean, everybody wanna be famous,” Keisha murmured and looked at the ground.
I held my hands up and paired the gesture with a cheesy grin. “So, does everybody include you?”
She smirked. “You’re bein’ cute, aren’t you.”
Cody gave me a bit of a dirty look. Girl envy, I guess.
“But no. I mean, like…no. I don’t wanna end up singin’ songs I don’t mean and bein’ on all them magazines and stuff,” she explained, moving like a movie around the room.
I resorted to somewhat desperate measures. “But…but your voice…”
Keisha, beaming, leaned on her hip. “Yeah?”
“It’s so good,” Cody finished.
“Well, thank you, but you’re too kind,” she spoke quietly.
The room got all silent again. When Cody and I ran backstage to meet her, I can’t say we were expecting to face a stone wall.
“Are you sure you’re not willing to try something?” Cody offered. I looked over at him – he seemed totally serious.
She hesitated. A look of doubt flickered across her face for a moment, and she put a hand over her mouth.
Cody motioned at her expectantly, trying to copy me with the same cheesy grin I used on her a minute before.
“You know…I’m not sure.” She almost whispered the words.
“Keisha, you’ve got the pipes of Aretha Franklin and the look of Mariah Carey,” I told her, walking over and patting her shoulder. “You got the makings of a star.”
She sighed. “I don’t know…”
Cody shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”
“Well, what’s gonna happen? What’ll ya’ll do?” she inquired, a skeptical look sweeping over her face. “Ain’t no record companies here in Tanglewood.”
“That’s one of them things where we just gotta go with the flow. We never know what’s gonna happen, but that’s the beauty of it all,” I replied. “Takin’ chances.”
Keisha took a seat on a chair in front of the mirror and crossed her legs like a girl off the big screen, resting her head on her hand.
“He’s right,” Cody mumbled. “Your voice is too beautiful not to be heard.”
She smiled again bashfully. “I never thought of fame before.”
“Then you should start thinkin’ ‘bout it,” I told her.
“Maybe I will,” she whispered, staring into space.
Cody spoke up again. “We’re gonna make your voice heard by everyone before the world ends.”
She chuckled a little bit. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. I’m okay where I am. But…”
“We do wanna help,” I assured.
Finding a pen and paper in the table nearby, Keisha gathered it and scribbled something on it. Then she handed it to us – her phone number and her address were on it.
“You boys can call if you wanna talk about this anymore. I’m…thinkin’ ‘bout going along with it,” she said.
And so we left the History Through the Decades event at school feeling whole again, Keisha’s information in my hand and her faith coursing through my veins. I had the perfect opportunity and of course, I went after it – and once again, it had to go awesomely. There was no way she could shoot for the moon and just end up among the other stars.
As Cody and I bid farewell outside the auditorium, he asked me, “Um…can I…can I have that number real quick?”
It took me a second, but I caught on to whatever innuendo he was playing at, and I elbowed him. “Ohhh, Cody Thomas…”
“It’s not - ! No. It’s…” he stuttered.
I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to him. “Ladies’ man, huh?”
He only blushed. He could be stubborn as anything when he wanted, but when he knew he lost, he sure gave it away.
It was basically this activity where there were different stands for each decade since the 1900s, and each one had a bit of info about it. The losers who ran each booth had to dress up in fashion from each decade, or someone who was iconic during that time. And there was food. So that was nice, at least.
Well, for people outside the drama department and AP classes, it was optional. I thought it was, anyway.
Until my history teacher made us do it.
The entire class shared a collective grunt when he broke the news to us. Lord knows I had better things to do on a Friday night.
“I know you’re not all exactly thrilled about this, but it’s gonna be great,” my teacher gushed. “You can dress up, and perform, and…”
“Do we have to?” Bruce whined from across the room.
“Yes, if you don’t want a zero in the grade book,” the teacher explained. “You can just bring food in and leave if you don’t want to stay.”
“Alright. That’s what I’m doing,” Bruce nodded.
“Now hold on, though. If you want extra credit, you can run a booth for the night. You can sign up and choose your decade, too,” the teacher went on.
I raised my hand. “Whoa, hold the phone – you get to pick what decade you can be?”
He looked at me funny. “I just got finished saying that, Kevin.”
An entire world opened up for me.
I glanced over at Cody and we made eye contact; I shot him a knowing smirk. He rolled his eyes with a weak grin. He knew exactly what was up my sleeve.
Later on that day, as you can guess, I signed up to work at the 1990s booth from 7:30 until 8:00 PM. History Through the Decades fell on September 16th, the Friday after Free Hug Day.
I called the people who ran it losers earlier, and then I took it back. ‘Cause to be honest, I was really looking forward to that night. I even conned Cody into sticking it through with me.
“On one condition,” he had said.
“What?” I’d asked.
“The second you make an idiot outta yourself, I’m out the door,” he smiled.
I raised an eyebrow. “I never make an idiot out of myself…”
He hooted a sarcastic kinda laugh that really sealed the deal.
~~~~
Like I’d predicted, History Through the Decades was pretty slammin’.
Of course, it wasn’t the kind of party I would have thrown, but it was pretty interesting. I dressed up as Kurt Cobain (I bought a wig and wore dirty clothes – easy costume) and wasn’t the only one who dressed the part. I ran the 90s booth with a Britney Spears, Alanis Morissette, Eddie Vetter, and Chris Farley. Pretty crazy.
I guess there was somethin’ about the 90s that drew me to it. That’s why I ran that booth. I loved my life as it was and was thankful for it all, and I guess that kinda ties back to why I’m writing this story in the first place. (I still am thankful.)
All night was a blur to me, up until the start of the performances. Much like the arrangements of the booths, each decade had a performer who’d do something related to that era. It was either a skit or some kinda song, and from what I heard from upperclassmen, it was pretty good in general.
When the performances began, my shift was up, so I turned the auditorium upside down lookin’ for Cody. I finally found him sitting by himself, so I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him closer to the stage.
“How was work?” he chuckled.
“Fun,” I said in a rushed answer. I was looking forward to the acts.
They started out a bit slow. From the 1900s to the 30s, they were all just a bunch of skits. And the mics weren’t even workin’, hardly. I gave ‘em all a hand, though. I didn’t have the patience to do that kinda get-up-in-front-of-everyone-and-do-stuff stuff.
For the 40s, though, they finally fixed the microphones only to have a truly lame skit with this one chick who totally wasn’t no actress.
Cody, next to me, yawned when the 40s were up. “I’ve got a great feeling about this, Kevin.”
I grunted.
When the 60s started, my expectations were pretty low. A teacher had walked out to the middle of the stage and spoke into the mic.
“And now, performing the Motown hit ‘Heatwave,’ is our very own junior, Keisha Simpson.”
A weak applause rippled over us. I’d never heard the name before; I didn’t think Cody had, either.
The stage lights went rather dim until a brilliant flash of blue made her way to the middle. She had her dark hair slicked back into a bun at the top of her head; her makeup made her look like a Hollywood actress or something. The dress she wore swept over her feet and sparkled like the sea, reflecting the lights of the auditorium back at us.
She smiled into the mic. Then the music started.
It was a karaoke track, obviously; the music came from the speaker system and couldn’t come from anything made by students here.
Keisha’s grin grew even wider as she sang the first lines.
“Whenever I’m with him
Something inside
Starts to burnin’
And I’m filled with desire!”
She had one hell of a voice. Unlike her predecessors of the night, she totally freakin’ blew everyone away. She was gettin’ into it, too – she had the dance moves and everything, and after that little number, I’m sure everybody knew in that room would remember her. She had a beautiful voice that rang clear and mad powerful and just…perfect. She definitely gave Christina Aguilera a run for her money, that was for sure.
I could tell we were in the presence of something great that night. I just had this little inkling in my head about her. That’s when you know you got a good thing, when you can tell something real early on.
“Yeah yeah yeah yeah!” she sang, making the auditorium tremble under the control of her voice.
I was leaned forward in my seat with my hands folded firmly. Brushing the wig hair out of my eyes, I looked over at Cody. We shared a little smile.
“She’s really good,” he mouthed out.
I nodded. It was good to know we actually agreed on something.
The song felt as though it was thirty seconds long, even though you, me, and Oprah know it was a lot longer. Time flies when you got something awesome – and I mean awesome, bro. We were all in the presence of a pretty talented performer, and it was a shame that we’d never heard her before.
Her applause was huge, and she deserved all of it. The grin on her face was even huger. Nobody knew who this “Keisha Simpson” girl was…
I wanted to change that.
‘Cause number seventeen was to Help a Nobody Become Popular.
~~~~~
As soon as the performance part of History Through the Decades was over, I yanked Cody up and we absolutely flew backstage.
I had a once-in-a-lifetime chance in my hands and I wasn’t gonna pass it up. And what made it even sweeter was that Cody, of all people, wasn’t objecting to this.
There were a few performers who had looked at us funny as we made our way behind the scenes (I still had my wig on), but we ignored them. To the first official-looking person I saw, I asked her, “Hey! Um, hey! Do you know where Keisha is?”
She looked startled, and she pointed to the right. “She’s in the dressing room -”
“Thanks!” Cody nodded.
We shot like a bullet where she told us to go, determined to meet Keisha once and for all, but when we got to the dressing room, we…stopped.
“Do we knock?” Cody whispered.
I yanked the wig off and itched my head. “I dunno! Should we wait for her to come out?”
“No, she’ll be creeped out, idiot!” he shot.
“Then what do we do?!”
“I don’t know…”
“I have to meet this girl,” I went on.
His eyes got wide. “Weirdo.”
“No! I mean, number seventeen – I wanna get her, like…famous!”
Cody smiled a bit and rolled his eyes, knowing what I was referring to. “You know, Kev…she’s got a great voice, but…you’re shooting a little high. I mean, even I think so.”
“That’s the point, man,” I sighed. “Shooting high and goin’ big.”
He paused, then brushed his hair back. “That sounds like something you’d say…”
After that, a bit of a silence fell over us and we went back to thinking about meeting Keisha without looking like stalkers. Though before we could come to a mutual decision, the door to the dressing room creaked open and we both froze.
“Can I help you boys?” a smooth voice asked from the crack.
Cody and I did a double take as it opened further. Standing before us was nobody other than Keisha Simpson herself, her hair down and in waves, and in jeans and a t-shirt. Call me starstruck, but it took a moment for me to pick my jaw up off the floor.
She chuckled a bit. “Ya’ll look like you just saw me naked.”
I stuttered, while Cody saved me from looking like a total moron by speaking up. “Um, er, you’re…you’re Keisha?” he said.
Folding her arms, she leaned against the door frame. “Yep. Who’s asking?”
“Kevin and Cody. Er, Cody and Kevin,” he answered, stammering.
“We’re…we’re sophomores,” I added.
“Mmhmm. Well,” she replied, turning around to show that she was the only one in the room. “You boys here for any reason in particular?”
“Well…um…I got this list,” I said weakly.
Keisha looked over her shoulder at us with her mouth parted slightly as if in disbelief. Then she raised her index finger. “You…you did that Hug Day thing. You’re Slater.”
I smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Yeah.”
“He’s getting famous,” Cody explained.
A lightbulb popped on in my head and reminded me of why I’d come back here in the first place. “Oh, yeah! My list! Um…”
Keisha furrowed her brow.
“Um, one of the things on it is to help someone get famous,” I went on. “And…”
She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips, and man, I swear to God she had to have spawned in the early sixties.
Cody and I kinda looked scared at each other.
“Well, who says I wanna be famous?” she said softly.
We both cocked our heads.
“Come in here. You guys are gonna make me look mean.”
We followed orders and stepped into the dressing room, where she closed the door behind us. And immediately when I turned to look at her again, she broke down laughing.
“Ya’ll can stop dreamin’ about makin’ me famous,” she shrugged. “I’m not getting there.”
“Well, we can try,” I suggested.
She shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t want it.”
Cody raised his eyebrow. “What, fame?”
“Well, fame…I mean, everybody wanna be famous,” Keisha murmured and looked at the ground.
I held my hands up and paired the gesture with a cheesy grin. “So, does everybody include you?”
She smirked. “You’re bein’ cute, aren’t you.”
Cody gave me a bit of a dirty look. Girl envy, I guess.
“But no. I mean, like…no. I don’t wanna end up singin’ songs I don’t mean and bein’ on all them magazines and stuff,” she explained, moving like a movie around the room.
I resorted to somewhat desperate measures. “But…but your voice…”
Keisha, beaming, leaned on her hip. “Yeah?”
“It’s so good,” Cody finished.
“Well, thank you, but you’re too kind,” she spoke quietly.
The room got all silent again. When Cody and I ran backstage to meet her, I can’t say we were expecting to face a stone wall.
“Are you sure you’re not willing to try something?” Cody offered. I looked over at him – he seemed totally serious.
She hesitated. A look of doubt flickered across her face for a moment, and she put a hand over her mouth.
Cody motioned at her expectantly, trying to copy me with the same cheesy grin I used on her a minute before.
“You know…I’m not sure.” She almost whispered the words.
“Keisha, you’ve got the pipes of Aretha Franklin and the look of Mariah Carey,” I told her, walking over and patting her shoulder. “You got the makings of a star.”
She sighed. “I don’t know…”
Cody shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”
“Well, what’s gonna happen? What’ll ya’ll do?” she inquired, a skeptical look sweeping over her face. “Ain’t no record companies here in Tanglewood.”
“That’s one of them things where we just gotta go with the flow. We never know what’s gonna happen, but that’s the beauty of it all,” I replied. “Takin’ chances.”
Keisha took a seat on a chair in front of the mirror and crossed her legs like a girl off the big screen, resting her head on her hand.
“He’s right,” Cody mumbled. “Your voice is too beautiful not to be heard.”
She smiled again bashfully. “I never thought of fame before.”
“Then you should start thinkin’ ‘bout it,” I told her.
“Maybe I will,” she whispered, staring into space.
Cody spoke up again. “We’re gonna make your voice heard by everyone before the world ends.”
She chuckled a little bit. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. I’m okay where I am. But…”
“We do wanna help,” I assured.
Finding a pen and paper in the table nearby, Keisha gathered it and scribbled something on it. Then she handed it to us – her phone number and her address were on it.
“You boys can call if you wanna talk about this anymore. I’m…thinkin’ ‘bout going along with it,” she said.
And so we left the History Through the Decades event at school feeling whole again, Keisha’s information in my hand and her faith coursing through my veins. I had the perfect opportunity and of course, I went after it – and once again, it had to go awesomely. There was no way she could shoot for the moon and just end up among the other stars.
As Cody and I bid farewell outside the auditorium, he asked me, “Um…can I…can I have that number real quick?”
It took me a second, but I caught on to whatever innuendo he was playing at, and I elbowed him. “Ohhh, Cody Thomas…”
“It’s not - ! No. It’s…” he stuttered.
I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to him. “Ladies’ man, huh?”
He only blushed. He could be stubborn as anything when he wanted, but when he knew he lost, he sure gave it away.