Colors (11 page)

“Who?” we say, in chorus, almost harmonizing in perfect thirds.

“Michael W. Smith,” she repeats. “Big, big Christian music star. Believe me, after last night, the people at my church are buzzing. You left before you heard everything they had to say last night,” she says, directly to me, obviously excluding Zane from any hopes of joining the conversation.

“Really?” I feel a blush begin to rise, forgetting for a moment she is once again being rude to Zane.

“After the service, it took my dad and the other deacons forever to put everything away. Well, anyway, while I was waiting for Dad, more and more people kept coming up to me, telling me how inspiring you were. For a while there, I wondered if I had even sung last night. Over and over, I heard things like, ‘That boy is fantastic,’ and ‘We need to hear more from him,’ and ‘The Lord truly blessed us tonight.’”

“You’re a hit, Neil, babe.” Zane plants an arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I’m flustered. Is it the arm or the praise? Instinctively, in my time-honored self-protective way, I pull myself from Zane’s grip. Why? If I liked his hand on my arm, then why pull away from him now?

“‘Babe’?” Melissa repeats, raising her eyebrows. I look at her and realize I should defuse this Melissa bomb right now. But I do nothing. Zane’s a big boy. Let him take care of himself.

Zane ignores her disapproval. He also doesn’t seem to be bothered by my pulling away from him. Or is he? This is so confusing!

Quickly, he blurts, “What you thinking about, bro?”

Zane’s
bro
is so out of character I feel slapped. “Nothing,” I say, putting my confusion aside, locking it into that deep box where I’ve kept so many of my thoughts these past nine years. “What’s with the
bro
, bro? You practicing a scene from
In the Heights
?”

“Oooooo!” Zane spouts. “I just
adore
that show. So much energy, so
now
.”

Melissa huffs—something she’s doing a lot lately—at Zane, then speaks once again directly to me. “So how about it? You want to join the church? I know Kenny wants you in the choir full time. He told me so.”

“Join the church?” Zane blurts.

“Stay out of this, Zane,” Melissa barks without even taking her eyes off me. I frown at her, and she immediately lightens, knowing why I’m pissed at her. She forces a smile. “Well, what do you think?”

“Funny you mention it,” I say, appeased. “Last night after I got home, I was thinking about that.”

“Joining the church?” Melissa shouts. I see a spark in her eyes, something like what I saw last night when I made her laugh so much. “Great!”

“Now, now, now.” I try to bring her back to ground zero. “I’m not ready to go that far. Can’t I just join the church
choir
for now?”

Her face falls a little. “Okay. Thursday nights at seven.” Then she brightens once again and gives me a quick hug, so quick I can’t react. “You’ll see, though. The Church of Shelton Road is right for you.”

A look of disapproval clouds Zane’s face. I know that look—I see it in Melissa’s face all the time when Zane says something. Now why is Zane echoing her? Over my going to church? Why would he care? Or is it the hug she gave me?

“So,” Zane says, “are you ready for
Oklahoma!
tryouts? They’re not far away. I’ve been working on ‘Lonely Room.’ We could work on our tryout songs together, Neil, if you want.”

“Good idea, Zane. How about tomorrow after school?”

A huge smile lights Zane’s face.

“Sure,” he bubbles. “Wonderful idea.”

“Have you learned ‘Out of My Dreams’ yet?” I ask Melissa. “With his experience, Zane could help you a lot with your tryout number.”

“I still don’t know if I’m going to try out,” she says, giving Zane a dirty look.

“I know you don’t like me much, Melissa….”

“Zane.” I stop him. Not because, like an oracle, he speaks truth, but because I don’t want to hear it. These are my only friends. I need them to get along. And the theater can bring us together. I know that power. So I say, “Melissa likes you, don’t you, Melissa?”

Silence. Total, mind-numbing, tension-filled hot air engulfing us and filling the space silence.

But Zane is unstoppable. He plows on. “But
Oklahoma!
could use you. You’ve got the perfect looks and voice for Laurey.”

The good of the show.
The good of the show.
Zane is willing to put up with Melissa’s attitude for the good of the show. I like that.

“Just come tomorrow. We’ll work with you,” I beg her.

I turn to Zane, lift my eyebrows, pleading for his help in convincing her to come to our session tomorrow.

A strange look—is it disappointment?

Text Messaging: Zane and Cara

Zane:
gypsy, darling! howz rehearsals?

Cara:
z! luving it. val’s a doll.

Zane:
america’s sweetheart. but can she cut it?

Cara:
not half bad. she’ll be swell, she’ll be great… and u?

Zane:
ok

Cara:
u know what i mean

Zane:
u mean my hunk?

Cara:
zackley

Zane:
moving along

Cara:
what zat mean?

Zane:
put my hand on his arm

Cara:
oh-h-h… heavy petting already?

Zane:
u don’t understand. he always pulls away. this time, he didn’t

Cara:
good, good. any more news?

Zane:
working on tryout numbers together

Cara:
progress


Zane:
his girlfriend will be there, 2

Cara:
girlfriend? as in girl, girlfriend?

Zane:
yeah. a real bitch, but they’re not serious

Cara:
watch out, z. don’t get hurt.

Zane:
i won’t. it’s just that neil’s a hottie

Cara:
neil, huh? first time u spoke his name. last name?

Zane:
darrien

Cara:
neil darrien. great stage name. neil darrien, star of stage and screen. mrs. neil darrien. zane darrien. nice ring to it

Zane:
stop it. u’ll jinx it

Cara:
honey, the gf’s already jinxed it

Zane:
don’t think so. i think he wants me. but i did slip up today

Cara:
how so?

Zane:
called him babe. girlfriend heard. he didn’t. or at least he pretended not to. maybe he liked it.

Cara:
just watch out, ’k?

Zane:
yes, mommy

Cara:
gotta run. rehearsal’s in 15

Zane:
ciao, babe

I’
M
RUMMAGING
through my locker, searching in vain for my calculus book. Aunt Jenny is always ragging me about how disorganized I am. I guess I put all my discipline into my art.

“Now, don’t forget this afternoon,” I say. Melissa, through the magic of locker lottery, is right beside me, retrieving her own textbook from her locker. “Zane will be a big help with our tryout numbers.”

“Zane, Zane. Zane is a professional. Zane is a natural. Zane discovered penicillin. Zane, Zane, Zane. All you talk about is
him
.” She slams her locker door shut, the crash reverbing above the pervasive noise of the hallway.

“Well, aren’t
we
touchy today.” I shut my locker door gently and give the dial on the lock a twirl.

“Well, it’s just I’m not all that crazy about Zane.” As we head toward class. Melissa continues her rant—and I let her. “All he talks about is theater, theater, theater. It’s creepy, is all I’m saying.”

“It’s his whole life, Melissa. It’s like someone else I know—” I halt. Stare. Eyes bore into Melissa’s. “—someone who is always talking church, church, church.” I started out trying to let her vent, thinking maybe I could turn her feeling about Zane inside out, make her see he’s a good guy. But now I’m pissed at her. I don’t like the feeling, but I’m human. She’s got to get over this. Zane and I are going to be together a lot, and Melissa has to accept it.

Melissa glares at me. As they say, if looks could kill….

“Well, I think
God’s
a lot more important than
Liza, Chita, and Bernadette
.” Sarcasm cascades off her tongue.

“Look, I refuse to get into this. Theater is important to Zane—” I pause to make my upcoming point. “—
and
me. That’s all.” I do a three-point turn and walk away. To where, I’m not sure, since my class is in the direction we were going in. But I know I have to get away from her.

I’d let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, a long way off, Melissa could make a good wife. She’s a devout, churchgoing person, and isn’t that what a guy would want in a mate? After all, I may not believe all this stuff she and her fellow Christians spout, but it’s supposed to be what you teach your kids, and if we have any, somebody will have to teach them. I don’t know if I’m fooling myself or not, but spending so much time with her at church, performing with her, I’m learning to appreciate Melissa more and more. But this blind spot she has for Zane is sucking all those good feelings dry. I’d yet to admit to her—or to myself really—there might be a future with her; I might be ready to take the leap, declare myself. Not a marriage proposal, but at least a commitment of some kind, other than just high school boyfriend/girlfriend. But this consuming jealousy of hers is killing me. Her total dismissal of Zane screams she will never understand
me
. Zane and I, with our interest in the theater, are so much alike. If Melissa can’t accept him, she’ll never be completely in touch with me. Not really. Not truly.

“Wait, Neil.” Melissa suddenly grabs my arm. “I’m sorry. I know theater is important to you. I respect that. But it’s not my thing, so I’m not going to try out.”

I’m disappointed. I know she has to see it in my face. I wanted her to be Laurey to my Curly and Zane’s Jud Fry. If she were in the show, maybe she’d finally
get it
, this pull the theater has for me and Zane.

“I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you this.” Her words are measured, like she’s rehearsed this moment. “It’s just—” She pauses. “—not… me…. Besides, I have a YFC meeting after school today, so I couldn’t come to your practice anyway.”

“Okay.” I throw up my hands in an
I surrender
gesture. “Truce… theater’s my thing. Youth for Christ is yours.”

Melissa gives me a hug before she ducks into her physics classroom.

Spiders.

“S
O
, S
WINTON
decides to show us
Camelot.
We studied King Arthur weeks ago, but it’s the end of the six weeks, so you know what that means….”

“Video Festival!” Zane and I shriek in unison.

“So there we were in the middle of the movie. Lancelot is singing ‘If Ever I Would Leave You.’ I’m in heaven, listening to the guy. But there’s this kid snoring in the back of the room, a drug deal going down in front, and two girls swapping nail polish right next to me.”

“And the rest are doing homework, writing notes, and checking text messages on their cells.” I know the drill far too well.

“You got it.” Zane points at me, emphasizing his answer. “And there’s Swinton, sitting at his desk,
crooning along
with Lance.”

“And off-key, no doubt.” Zane’s story is too, too funny. Because it’s too, too true. “I had Swinton for Freshman English. Replace
Camelot
with
The King and I
, and nothing else is changed.”

Zane sits at the practice room piano while I lean against it. We’d swapped so many stories we hadn’t gotten much rehearsing done.

“It’s weird how teachers think they’re going to ‘reach out’ to students by showing them videos of musicals,” I say. “You and I are probably the only ones around here who really like them.”

“You’re right.” Zane does a sweeping arpeggio on the keyboard. Another of his many talents, apparently. “
Why is he suddenly singing
?” Zane’s imitation of our classmates is spot-on.

“That’s just not realistic,
” I counter with my best impression of our whining peers. “Who said entertainment has to be realistic?”

“I know exactly what you mean. It’s better since
High School Musical
. Everybody saw that when it came out. But getting them to watch a classic musical is still a hard sell.” He noodles some more on the piano. I’m impressed. “Speaking of reality, you watch
Curtains Up!
?”

“You kidding? My favorite. I love Satine. Hard to believe a girl our age is such a ball of talent!” The fact we both love the show doesn’t surprise me, but we haven’t mentioned it before. It’s just another reason to like Zane.

“And that girl kicks ass. She’s sexy gorgeous to boot,” he says. Zane is full of surprises. Not that he likes Satine as much as I do, but that his description of her is so macho. “What about what she did this week? What’s up with that?”

I hold up my hand. “Don’t tell me. I haven’t watched it yet. Still on my DVR.”

“Well, you’re gonna love it. Best Satine maneuver ever.”

Zane’s delight at Satine makes him look even more like her. I can’t get over those lips he has. I simply gaze at him a moment, thinking of Satine.

“And speaking of,” Zane babbles, “she’s coming, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Satine. The show’s sending Satine’s choir on tour. You think they’ll come anywhere near this podunk town?”

“Well, if they do, you and I will be fifth row center,” I declare.

“Really? You’re not shittin’ me?”

“You’re Mr. Macho today, Z. And no, I’m not messing with you. If Satine comes within 250 miles of here, it’s road trip for the two of us. I know Aunt Jenny will let me take the car. We’ll whisk away to Satine heaven, guy.”