Status: In progress
Elvis
Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“Tell me more about this Christian stuff.” I’ve been thinking about it all day. Jayesh is a Muslim, but he’s a Christian? It doesn’t make much sense to me. Jayesh looks up from his broken phone he desperately seems to be trying to fix, a startled look on his face as I sit down in the squeaky auditorium chair beside his.
“Well,” he says, “there’s this dude named Jesus. He was born of a virgin, and he was the son of God who…”
“I got all that,” I say. “I mean, like, how can you be both?”
“Be both what?” His full attention is now on me, completely confused.
“A Muslim and a Christian.” And he laughs louder that I’ve ever heard anyone laugh before.
“I’m not both, Davis.” He continues speaking with a huge smile on his face. “I’m just a Christian. I see where you’re confused, though. Many people think Muslim is a race. It’s not. My family is from India. So I’m an Indian. And a Christian. A Christian Indian.”
“Oh,” I say as I start to feel my cheeks turn red. I quickly look away and down at the floor. “Sorry. I won’t ask anymore questions. I obviously don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I want you to ask questions,” Jayesh says. I look up at his face to see that it, and he, is serious. No smile. “I want everyone to ask questions. I’d rather people ask me questions about myself instead of just deciding for themselves who and what I am.”
“Aren’t you guys excited!” Carly screams as she and B walk into the auditorium. For the first time that I’ve ever seen, B looks very nervous. She’s never nervous. Always confident about everything.
“I guess so,” B says. “I just wish it didn’t have to be a musical.”
“What about you, Mary?” Carly asks as she sits on the other side of me and B sits on the other side of Jayesh. Apparently, they have almost every class together and became really fast friends.
“I’m actually sort of excited,” I said. And I am. I’m a decent singer. I get nervous with my anxiety and everything, but if I can get my nerves under control, I know I can do this.
“Hello, my little chickens,” Miss Dew says lovingly as she floats her way onto the stage. “Are we ready to go?” Everyone sits still and doesn’t say anything as she stares out into the crowd of eleven sitting on the front row of the middle aisle of the auditorium. “I’ll take that as a yes. Here’s how it’s going to work. I’ll call your name, you’ll come up to the stage, you’ll sing whatever song you’ve prepared, and then I’ll give you a script, and we’ll read some lines. Sound good?” There are nervous head nods and smile smiles coming from some of us. “Good deal.”
..:::..
“How were auditions,” my dad asks as I sit down in the front seat of this truck and toss my backpack into the back seat. I’d like to say that my audition was amazing. My voice dripped with velvet and I never broke eye contact when I was giving my lines. People applauded and stared at me with wide open mouths after belting out my first illuminous note. I’d like to say all that.
“I tanked,” I reply looking straight ahead and out the windshield. I pick one of the many cracks to focus on. “It was awful. I screwed up.”
“Now, I’m sure that’s not true,” my dad says as he drives out of the school lot and onto the highway. “I bet you did great. You were at least better than B, right?” He starts laughing uncontrollably. “That girl sounds like a heifer giving birth when she sings.” My dad owns a farm, so he uses a lot of nonsensical similes like that.
“A heifer can’t give birth, Dad,” I reply, wiping my face with my left hand. “A heifer is a cow that hasn’t had a calf, yet.”
“Well,” he starts as we begin one of our stupid arguments, “what if the cow is having her first baby? Technically she hasn’t had a cow, yet.”
“Dad,” I say. And then I stop. He’s right. I’m stumped. “You know. I’m not sure if that counts.”
“Point for me.” When we have these disagreements, we like to keep a tally to see who’s winning. I go into the glove compartment and take out the small red notebook. I grab a pen out of the middle console in between me and my dad and put a tally mark under his name. Dad: 6, Mary: 12. Winning.
“Can I stay home from school tomorrow?” I ask as we pull up our long driveway and into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll be feeling really well, and I’m sort of embarrassed about my audition.”
“Sure, Kiddo,” he says as he opens the door that leads into the kitchen. The very large kitchen. We have a pretty big house. I wouldn’t say we’re rich or anything, but we’re definitely more than well-off. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll make ya whatever.”
“Can we have chili?” I ask as I take my shoes off and walk into the adjacent living room. He follows me as we both sit on the couch. I tuck my feet underneath me and grab the remote.
“Sure. Anything else with that? Salad or something?”
“Can we move?” His brows furrow as he looks at me.
“Move?” he asks. “Why would you wanna move?”
“This house is really big,” I reply. “There’s only two of us. It’s kind of depressing. We have two bedrooms that aren’t even being used.”
“You know Nancy?” my dad asks. Yeah. I know Nancy. He’s my dad’s girlfriend. They’ve been seeing each other for a few months. Nancy is really nice. And she has a daughter named Katie who is twelve. She’s sweet, too.
“Yes,” I say slowly as I can sort of picture where this is going. “You’re getting married, aren’t you? And they’re gonna move in here?”
“Are you alright with that, Bud?” my dad asks. “I haven’t asked her, yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I know it’s been a while since your mom died, and you’ve been really cool about everything. So I won’t do anything you don’t want.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Sure,” I say. “I just want you to be happy. And it’ll be nice to finally have some other girls in here. I’m tired of doing your laundry.” I give him a playful shove and he laughs which makes me smile a little.
“Thanks, Kiddo.”
..:::..
Chirp.
Chirp chirp.
Chirp chirp.
I rub my eyes as the bird sound from my phone wakes me up, indicating I have a text message. I take my phone off the charger and roll over onto my back and open my phone. I have five notifications. One from B, two from Carly, one saying that Carly added someone to the group message we always use, and one from whoever’s number it is that she added.
B: Mary! Where are you?
Carly: Why aren’t you at school?
Carly: I have some exciting news!!!
1-518-764-3547: Come on, Davis. Time to get up.
Mary: Feel like trash after yesterday. I’m just gonna lie here and die. Bye!
1-518-764-3547: DAVIS!
And in comes a phone call from the number I have now decided belongs to Jayesh.
“What, Jayesh?” I ask seemingly irritated. “I’m asleep. Go away.”
“Davis,” he says calmly. “You’re Manny.” I sit up rather fiercely. Manny is the name of the main character in the musical. The girl who moves from a small town to a big city looking for a man to marry in the 1940’s.
“I’m Manny?” I ask. “How? My audition was awful.”
“Please,” Jayesh says. “You forgot like three words. You were better than awful. Let’s go with mildly decent.”
“Gee,” I reply, my left eyebrow going up. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he says genuinely. “Rehearsals start tomorrow after school. See ya tomorrow, Davis.” He hangs up, and so do I. I can hear B in my head mimicking him. “See ya tomorrow, Davis.”
..:::..
“I want to introduce you to our new Drama Club member.” We’re all in the auditorium waiting for rehearsal to begin. At the sound of Miss Dew’s voice, we all turn our attention to the stage. And there, standing with her, is Valerie Hu. A cute little Asian girl with glasses that tend to slide too far down her nose and very blue eyeshadow that she obviously doesn’t know how to apply correctly. Who is the most annoying person anyone has ever met. Simultaneously, everyone groans. We do not want Valerie in our extra-curricular activities. She’s a year younger than most of us, so we usually don’t have to deal with her, and we would like to keep it that way.
“They know me,” Valerie says. “I go to school here.” When Valerie speaks, it’s very strange. She’s very short and skinny, and she’s Asian. But her voice has a really strong country twang to it.
“I know, dear,” Miss Dew says, seemingly annoyed. Miss Dew must have her in class, so she probably has to deal with her every day.
“Let’s get started.”
“Tell me more about this Christian stuff.” I’ve been thinking about it all day. Jayesh is a Muslim, but he’s a Christian? It doesn’t make much sense to me. Jayesh looks up from his broken phone he desperately seems to be trying to fix, a startled look on his face as I sit down in the squeaky auditorium chair beside his.
“Well,” he says, “there’s this dude named Jesus. He was born of a virgin, and he was the son of God who…”
“I got all that,” I say. “I mean, like, how can you be both?”
“Be both what?” His full attention is now on me, completely confused.
“A Muslim and a Christian.” And he laughs louder that I’ve ever heard anyone laugh before.
“I’m not both, Davis.” He continues speaking with a huge smile on his face. “I’m just a Christian. I see where you’re confused, though. Many people think Muslim is a race. It’s not. My family is from India. So I’m an Indian. And a Christian. A Christian Indian.”
“Oh,” I say as I start to feel my cheeks turn red. I quickly look away and down at the floor. “Sorry. I won’t ask anymore questions. I obviously don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I want you to ask questions,” Jayesh says. I look up at his face to see that it, and he, is serious. No smile. “I want everyone to ask questions. I’d rather people ask me questions about myself instead of just deciding for themselves who and what I am.”
“Aren’t you guys excited!” Carly screams as she and B walk into the auditorium. For the first time that I’ve ever seen, B looks very nervous. She’s never nervous. Always confident about everything.
“I guess so,” B says. “I just wish it didn’t have to be a musical.”
“What about you, Mary?” Carly asks as she sits on the other side of me and B sits on the other side of Jayesh. Apparently, they have almost every class together and became really fast friends.
“I’m actually sort of excited,” I said. And I am. I’m a decent singer. I get nervous with my anxiety and everything, but if I can get my nerves under control, I know I can do this.
“Hello, my little chickens,” Miss Dew says lovingly as she floats her way onto the stage. “Are we ready to go?” Everyone sits still and doesn’t say anything as she stares out into the crowd of eleven sitting on the front row of the middle aisle of the auditorium. “I’ll take that as a yes. Here’s how it’s going to work. I’ll call your name, you’ll come up to the stage, you’ll sing whatever song you’ve prepared, and then I’ll give you a script, and we’ll read some lines. Sound good?” There are nervous head nods and smile smiles coming from some of us. “Good deal.”
..:::..
“How were auditions,” my dad asks as I sit down in the front seat of this truck and toss my backpack into the back seat. I’d like to say that my audition was amazing. My voice dripped with velvet and I never broke eye contact when I was giving my lines. People applauded and stared at me with wide open mouths after belting out my first illuminous note. I’d like to say all that.
“I tanked,” I reply looking straight ahead and out the windshield. I pick one of the many cracks to focus on. “It was awful. I screwed up.”
“Now, I’m sure that’s not true,” my dad says as he drives out of the school lot and onto the highway. “I bet you did great. You were at least better than B, right?” He starts laughing uncontrollably. “That girl sounds like a heifer giving birth when she sings.” My dad owns a farm, so he uses a lot of nonsensical similes like that.
“A heifer can’t give birth, Dad,” I reply, wiping my face with my left hand. “A heifer is a cow that hasn’t had a calf, yet.”
“Well,” he starts as we begin one of our stupid arguments, “what if the cow is having her first baby? Technically she hasn’t had a cow, yet.”
“Dad,” I say. And then I stop. He’s right. I’m stumped. “You know. I’m not sure if that counts.”
“Point for me.” When we have these disagreements, we like to keep a tally to see who’s winning. I go into the glove compartment and take out the small red notebook. I grab a pen out of the middle console in between me and my dad and put a tally mark under his name. Dad: 6, Mary: 12. Winning.
“Can I stay home from school tomorrow?” I ask as we pull up our long driveway and into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll be feeling really well, and I’m sort of embarrassed about my audition.”
“Sure, Kiddo,” he says as he opens the door that leads into the kitchen. The very large kitchen. We have a pretty big house. I wouldn’t say we’re rich or anything, but we’re definitely more than well-off. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll make ya whatever.”
“Can we have chili?” I ask as I take my shoes off and walk into the adjacent living room. He follows me as we both sit on the couch. I tuck my feet underneath me and grab the remote.
“Sure. Anything else with that? Salad or something?”
“Can we move?” His brows furrow as he looks at me.
“Move?” he asks. “Why would you wanna move?”
“This house is really big,” I reply. “There’s only two of us. It’s kind of depressing. We have two bedrooms that aren’t even being used.”
“You know Nancy?” my dad asks. Yeah. I know Nancy. He’s my dad’s girlfriend. They’ve been seeing each other for a few months. Nancy is really nice. And she has a daughter named Katie who is twelve. She’s sweet, too.
“Yes,” I say slowly as I can sort of picture where this is going. “You’re getting married, aren’t you? And they’re gonna move in here?”
“Are you alright with that, Bud?” my dad asks. “I haven’t asked her, yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I know it’s been a while since your mom died, and you’ve been really cool about everything. So I won’t do anything you don’t want.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Sure,” I say. “I just want you to be happy. And it’ll be nice to finally have some other girls in here. I’m tired of doing your laundry.” I give him a playful shove and he laughs which makes me smile a little.
“Thanks, Kiddo.”
..:::..
Chirp.
Chirp chirp.
Chirp chirp.
I rub my eyes as the bird sound from my phone wakes me up, indicating I have a text message. I take my phone off the charger and roll over onto my back and open my phone. I have five notifications. One from B, two from Carly, one saying that Carly added someone to the group message we always use, and one from whoever’s number it is that she added.
B: Mary! Where are you?
Carly: Why aren’t you at school?
Carly: I have some exciting news!!!
1-518-764-3547: Come on, Davis. Time to get up.
Mary: Feel like trash after yesterday. I’m just gonna lie here and die. Bye!
1-518-764-3547: DAVIS!
And in comes a phone call from the number I have now decided belongs to Jayesh.
“What, Jayesh?” I ask seemingly irritated. “I’m asleep. Go away.”
“Davis,” he says calmly. “You’re Manny.” I sit up rather fiercely. Manny is the name of the main character in the musical. The girl who moves from a small town to a big city looking for a man to marry in the 1940’s.
“I’m Manny?” I ask. “How? My audition was awful.”
“Please,” Jayesh says. “You forgot like three words. You were better than awful. Let’s go with mildly decent.”
“Gee,” I reply, my left eyebrow going up. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he says genuinely. “Rehearsals start tomorrow after school. See ya tomorrow, Davis.” He hangs up, and so do I. I can hear B in my head mimicking him. “See ya tomorrow, Davis.”
..:::..
“I want to introduce you to our new Drama Club member.” We’re all in the auditorium waiting for rehearsal to begin. At the sound of Miss Dew’s voice, we all turn our attention to the stage. And there, standing with her, is Valerie Hu. A cute little Asian girl with glasses that tend to slide too far down her nose and very blue eyeshadow that she obviously doesn’t know how to apply correctly. Who is the most annoying person anyone has ever met. Simultaneously, everyone groans. We do not want Valerie in our extra-curricular activities. She’s a year younger than most of us, so we usually don’t have to deal with her, and we would like to keep it that way.
“They know me,” Valerie says. “I go to school here.” When Valerie speaks, it’s very strange. She’s very short and skinny, and she’s Asian. But her voice has a really strong country twang to it.
“I know, dear,” Miss Dew says, seemingly annoyed. Miss Dew must have her in class, so she probably has to deal with her every day.
“Let’s get started.”