“Me too, Mari,” she said, and then she hugged me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go take a shower. I have an appointment in thirty minutes.”
We both laughed. Today, life had dealt us both a great hand.
Drew
It
was probably true what they said—out of sight, out of mind. I’d been texting Mari all day and she hadn’t responded to one single text. I missed her already, and she hadn’t even been gone twenty-four hours. Before Mari left, she told Jasmine, who told Preston, who told me that Mari had a date for the fall social. Apparently she was going with Jesse Lucas, who was one of the most popular guys at Premiere. He played the saxophone and the drums, and I heard that he could even sing a little bit. I had to admit, I was a little jealous, but I held it together. Didn’t want Jasmine or Preston to see me sweat. But Preston knew me better than anyone.
“Sorry that you had to find out this way, bro,” said Preston.
“It’s cool. I’m not even worried about it.”
“I know in your heart, you wanted to ask her,” he’d said.
“Nah, it was just…you know…I didn’t want her to have to go stag,” I lied.
Despite what I said, it had been my intent to ask Mari
to the dance, but I took for granted that she would still be available. I just assumed that she would go stag with Jasmine, and I’d meet her there. Since it was her first year at Premiere, I figured that nobody else would ask her—after all, she didn’t know anyone.
I missed Mari, but I decided not to focus on her too much; I was becoming too attached, too clingy. After all, she was just a girl. And just a friend—as Preston and I were friends. Instead, I focused on my upcoming algebra exam. Acing that exam was the priority at hand. Nothing else was more important.
I had all weekend to study, so in the meantime, I grabbed Preston and the two of us headed to Central Park for a game of hoops with my old teammates. We’d finally squashed our differences about me leaving the team and they’d convinced me that just because I was pursuing my dream of acting, I shouldn’t give up on the second-best thing in my life—basketball. They were right. I was so busy trying to prove a point—that I was more than just a baller—that I had forgotten that I had a strong love for the game. Basketball was like an old flame that refused to die. I still wanted it; just not full time.
I walked up, with my ball in hand—bouncing it and dribbling it between my legs. Preston took a seat on the bleachers. He was there just to observe.
“What y’all want?” I asked with a wide grin on my face.
My friends had missed me. I could tell by the way they gathered around me and started talking trash.
“Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up!” said Andre.
Andre had been my friend since elementary school. Besides Preston, he was one of my best friends and definitely a confidant. We’d played youth leagues together—baseball, basketball and soccer. I’d spent numerous nights at his house, and he at mine. I couldn’t count the number of times we’d gotten in trouble together. Mostly he got in trouble—I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.
“It’s Drew somebody…I can’t remember his last name,” Kev teased and everybody laughed.
“Just take the ball out, fool!” I yelled and tossed the ball into Kev’s chest.
“Oh, he wants to play,” Antwoine stated. “You mean you still got game?”
“More game than your mama.” I played the dozens.
It wasn’t unusual for us to talk about each other’s mothers. It was what we did. We talked junk on the court. But I had the utmost respect for Mrs. Neal, Antwoine’s mom, and our heckling was done all in fun.
“Okay, let’s make sure that corny school hasn’t turned you into a sissy,” said Andre. “Who you want on your team?”
“I’ll take Kev,” I said, and nobody was surprised. Kev was big—at least six foot three. He was our team’s center and he was great at defense.
Andre looked around the court. “I’ll take Antwoine and Jay.”
“Okay, well, give me Oscar, Dave and…”
“Pick me, Drew,” said Malik, the smallest guy at the park that day.
Malik was a little, annoying kid who used to follow me around the neighborhood. He was my protégé. He was in the eighth grade and usually just sat on the sidelines and watched as the older guys played. But I’d heard that he had game this year, and that he’d even grown an inch taller.
“I’ll take Malik.” I wasn’t sure what I was doing except giving a deserving kid a chance, as somebody did for me when I was his age. Besides, it was just a game.
“Malik?” Andre and Jay asked in unison.
“He’s little, but he’s quick. And what do you care anyway?”
“Do your thing, bro,” Andre said and then picked his final two players.
Malik took the ball out of bounds and the game was on. It felt good running up and down that court, the soles of my sneakers hitting the pavement as I took the ball up in a layup. When the wind hit my lungs, I realized that I was out of shape. In just a few months, I’d gone from playing ball every day of my life to not playing at all. I had become lazy, and I was paying for it now as the rhythm of my breathing increased with every step. I faked it, though. Couldn’t let them see me sweat. I had to bring my best game; otherwise, they would never let me live it down.
As the sun went down and I shot the last three-pointer, I glanced over at the bleachers. Preston was having a conversation with some guy dressed in a navy blazer and a blue-and-gray cap on his head. I wiped sweat from my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt and headed toward Preston.
“What’s up, man? You ready?” I asked.
“How’re you, Mr. Bishop?” The man in the navy blazer held his hand out. “I’m Winn Davis from Georgetown University.”
I shook his hand. “How you doing?” I asked.
“I’ve been watching you play since you were in middle school—eighth grade, to be exact.” He giggled. “You’re an exceptional player.”
“Thanks.”
“Have you decided where you’re going to college?”
“Not exactly.” I hadn’t really given college much thought. I thought that I’d take my time and figure things out. I wasn’t sure if I’d pursue a career in sports or one in acting. I had options, and I still had time.
“When you get a chance, why don’t you schedule a tour of our campus?” He pulled a business card out of his inside jacket pocket. “We’d love to fly you out to D.C. and show you around our campus. Maybe you can even check out a game while you’re there.”
I took the card. “Thanks. I’ll give it some thought.”
“Great meeting you, Drew.” He smiled and then took a look around at all of my friends who had gathered. “You all have a nice evening.”
As Winn Davis walked to his car, I pulled my hoodie over my head; grabbed my basketball from Malik.
“Drew, that was a scout!” Malik exclaimed. “You going to Georgetown?”
“I don’t know, man,” I said. “I might go to Julliard or somewhere that I can cultivate my acting skills.”
“Acting skills?” asked Andre. “Man, you still on that acting trip? How you gon’ go to the NBA if you running around trying to be Shakespeare?”
“I don’t know, man. But I love the stage,” I said and started walking toward Preston’s car; motioned for him to come along.
“You coming back to play tomorrow, Big D?” asked Malik, calling me by my father’s nickname.
“I might,” I told him.
“Can I be on your team again?”
“If I come back tomorrow, yeah, you can be on my team,” I told him.
The gleam in his eye was priceless. Malik Tucker had looked up to me since he first saw me play three years ago. He was ten at the time. And now, at age thirteen, he thought I was his idol. It felt good having a kid look up to me like that; gave me confidence. The scout who I’d just met also gave me confidence. It was good to know that I still had what it took to catch the eye of one of the best colleges in the nation.
Suddenly, I was a little unsure of myself. As I sank into the passenger’s seat in Preston’s car, I wondered if I’d made the right decision—transferring to Premiere.
Marisol
The
room was decorated in silver and red balloons and streamers. So many trays filled with hot wings and pans of pizza were situated around the room. Huge television screens were mounted all over the walls. The music was blaring. Selena Gomez’s voice filled the room and hundreds of kids danced to the music. I could’ve sworn I was dreaming, so I asked Luz to pinch me, just to make sure. She did.
“Ouch! Not that hard,” I told her.
“Mari, this is beyond imagination,” she said as she grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the crowd. “I could never have dreamed this in a million years.”
A dark-haired Hispanic boy approached us. “You want to dance?”
I thought he was talking to Luz until I looked up and his dark eyes were staring straight into mine.
“Me?” I asked.
“Unless you don’t like that song,” he said.
The truth was, I loved Selena Gomez and I was really feeling the song. I bounced out onto the dance floor. My
dark-haired partner kept up with my moves and we danced in the center of the crowded dance floor. He was very handsome in his blue jeans and white T-shirt with a vest. He wore a tan fedora on his head, and I instantly thought of Drew when I saw it.
Drew—my good friend back home in New York. The one who made me laugh when I didn’t even feel like smiling. The boy who made me nervous when I shouldn’t be. The one who I could have a conversation with for hours without end—about everything. The one who I’d forgotten all about until that moment. I’d forgotten to call or text when I’d made it to Los Angeles. There had been too much excitement for one day, but I knew he would understand. Besides, who had time to focus on New York, when Los Angeles was the place to be?
After a late night of dancing, Luz and I retired to our room. We’d grabbed snacks from the hotel’s gift shop— Cool Ranch Doritos, Snickers bars, boxes of Red Hots, Lemonheads and Skittles—and dumped them all on the coffee table in the living room. We removed the cushions from the sofa sleeper and the sheets and blankets from all the beds; created a makeshift bed right there in the middle of the living room floor. Dressed in Victoria’s Secret pajamas, we sat in the center of the floor and reminisced about our fairy-tale night until our eyelids were too heavy to keep opened.
The next morning, the telephone rang at seven o’clock and shook me out of my sleep. I stumbled over to the desk
and fumbled around until I found the phone; picked up the receiver. The voice on the other end of the phone was that of a recording; a woman’s voice stated that she was giving us a courtesy wake-up call. I carefully placed the receiver back into its cradle and stood there for a moment; gathered myself. It was so early, and we’d stayed up so late talking and laughing about everything.
“Luz,” I whispered.
She didn’t budge; just mumbled something in her sleep.
“Luz.” I said it louder this time.
She barely opened her eyes—tried to focus on me. “Is it time to get up already?” she asked.
“It’s time,” I said and then headed for the bathroom; started the shower.
Today was going to be a good day.
A tour was the first order of business at Universal Studios. We toured the set of Steven Spielberg’s movie
War of the Worlds
and took photos in front of the Bates Motel from the classic movie
Psycho.
After the tour, we made our way to the production studio where our movie’s dance auditions were being held. The five of us were nervous, because we knew that only one of us would wind up dancing on the big screen. Four of us would be heading home on Sunday morning and back to a normal way of living. The dreams of four of us would come to a screeching halt very soon, and we all knew it.
I stood onstage in front of the producers of the film. The
music began to resonate through my body and I started moving to it; gave it my best shot. I danced better than I’d ever danced before. With a smile on my face, I took a bow as the music ended.
“Next!” yelled one of the producers.
That was my cue to exit the stage. I stepped down from the platform and took a seat next to Luz. The last contestant, Todd, took his place on the stage. The same song that I’d danced to began to play and Todd’s body began to move to the beat. His routine was different from mine and the other three girls’. It was unique and could be described as almost perfect.
“Cut the music,” one of the male producers yelled. “This is the guy…this is the one.”
What was he saying? That Todd had made the cut?
“You’re in, kid. You’re the one,” the female producer said. “Why don’t you head on over to makeup. Let’s get him in costume,” she yelled to someone who whisked Todd away.
The rest of us sat there speechlessly. There was no time to stew over it. It was just cut and dry—almost heartless. The powers that be had spoken. They had decided our fate in a matter of minutes. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach—as though someone had punched me in it. As if my world had come to a crashing end. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. They were on the brink of falling, but wouldn’t. Instead, my heart pounded uncontrollably, and I wished I could rewind the past five minutes of
my life. Wished I could have another shot to prove that I was worthy of that role in the film. That Todd probably had a better night’s sleep, considering he hadn’t attended the party. I wished I could tell them that they’d made a dreadful mistake. It was me who should’ve been heading over to
makeup
and getting into
costume
. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.
The ride back to the hotel was quiet. No one said anything except for Gloria, who asked if we were hungry. No one was hungry. We were all sad and hurt—four emotional wrecks.
“You should all be proud of yourselves for making it this far,” Gloria said as we pulled into the circular drive of the hotel. “I know you’re disappointed, but this isn’t the end. You’ve all proven that you have what it takes to be stars. Someone once told me this…reach for the moon, and even if you miss, you’ll still be amongst the stars. Each of you is still amongst the stars. You’re all fantastic dancers.”
We listened, but no one responded. Her intentions were good, but nothing she could say would make us feel any better. We all stepped out of the car and headed inside the hotel lobby.
“This is your last night in L.A. Let’s make it one that you’ll remember for the rest of your lives. Meet me in the lobby at five o’clock. I’m going to show you around the city.”
Although we weren’t in the mood for another tour, we all agreed to meet Gloria at the designated time. But for
now, I just wanted to get to my room as quickly as possible; bury my head beneath the pillow and sleep the day away. When my phone buzzed once—a text message—the last thing I wanted to do was read it. And I didn’t. I ignored it.
Luz and I stepped into our room. I grabbed a soda from the fridge and headed for one of the bedrooms. Luz headed for the opposite bedroom, and we each closed our doors. I drew the blinds and then fell into bed. I turned on the clock radio on my bedside table and found a local hip-hop radio station. DJ Khaled’s voice filled the room with the words to the song “All I Do Is Win, Win, Win.” How ironic. The words couldn’t be any more wrong, and I quickly changed the station. Covering my head with the pillow, I prayed for sleep. I didn’t have to pray long. Between jet lag and the three-hour time difference between New York and L.A., sleep managed to find me right away. I didn’t even realize that I had missed Gloria’s fantastic tour.
As the morning sunshine peeked inside my window and crept across my face, I struggled to open my eyes. I’d slept all afternoon and through the night without interruption. It was rest that I clearly needed. I picked up the remote control and flipped on the television. Searched for MTV and tried to catch an episode of
Jersey Shore
before packing my things. After glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand, I knew that our flight was scheduled to leave within a few hours, and we were homeward-bound. I was ready to go home. There was nothing left for me in Hollywood except for heartache.