Chapter 72: Funny Business

Wednesday, March 24, 1982

The Drama kids, or whoever else they’d recruited, had put the posters up last night. That prompted yet another wave of interruptions and questions. People I didn’t know, from all grades (except seniors, who couldn’t have cared less for the most part) were stopping me to ask questions about me, about the slate, about my opponents, whatever.

And those were the sensible people. I also received many variations of ‘What’s Jessica really like?!’ The answer to that was ‘I have no idea; we haven’t gone out and we haven’t even talked that much.’ I received several variations on ‘Why are you trying to rock the boat?’ or ‘We won’t stand for this!’ or, several times, ‘Juniors rule! Sophomores drool!’

Had this always been going on? My guess was yes and no. Yes, for individual candidates, a bit, but mostly no. Not that it was my presence in the race that changed things. No, it was because we were running as a slate, which almost never happened. I think people assumed that, since we were a slate, we must all be best friends and know each other intimately. Right? Yeah, no. That, and I was a sophomore daring to challenge a junior. Never mind that, a year ago, VP was won by a sophomore daring to challenge a junior; now it was heretical.

I was glad we only had a week of this nonsense before the election. I wanted to win, definitely. We could do a lot of good things together. But I certainly didn’t want the craziness to continue.

Rehearsal continued to go well. I thought we had the chorus work down about as well as we were going to until we were spending our time on the stage, which would be April. I continued to work hard on getting my version of Tommy under control. I had most of the material memorized, now, but it was shaky and I could lose my place. Repetition, repetition, repetition.

I was also understudying Sandy, but Sandy is not exactly a difficult role, and I thought I had that down. I would be playing Sandy once. In a complicated dance of roles, Glenn — who was main cast for Sandy — was also understudying Tommy. He would go on as Tommy Friday; I would be Sandy. Saturday and Sunday, Glenn would be Sandy. Alan would be Tommy Saturday; I’d take it Sunday. All this slighted Alan; he was the only senior who only got to play ‘his’ character once.

You could say Mikayla was equally slighted, with Paige and Angie both getting a turn at Meg, but that was completely different, in that everyone knew Mikayla would completely kick butt as Meg. Mikayla had, apparently, actually lobbied for Angie getting a shot at Meg based on the audition. She had visions of the two of them doing great things on-stage together next year.

Off-stage? Who knows? I was pretty sure they’d be interested in each other that way, anyway.

By this point, I’d turned down two friendly inquiries from Drama guys. They were polite, no pressure, but no embarrassment at asking, either. They were fine with the explanation that I just didn’t go that way and had no inclination to expand my horizons.

Jasmine was quite amused by all this. “Hey, if any of them talk you into bed, I want to watch!”

I chuckled. “Not going to happen, sorry, honey. I’m sworn off other guys even more than you are!”

She giggled. “Yeah, well, we can both change our minds!” Her eyes were twinkling. “But then, I have no plans to, and I know you don’t either. Speaking of plans, if we both go down in flames at Northbrook, I suppose there’ll be nothing preventing us from making an early evening of it.”

I grinned. “I imagine we could find something to fill the time.”

“Oh, I’m very certain that we could. And fill something else that needs filling!”

We kissed. “Love you, honey.”

“Love you, too, hunky.”

I rolled my eyes at that. After a second she did, too. “Okay, yeah, no. That needs work!”

The election kept getting crazier. I found notes like ‘Drop out or we’ll get you’ or, more ominously, ‘Drop out or your sister gets it!’ shoved into my locker I warned Angie right away; she promised to stay around people, and reminded me that she could take care of herself.

I could understand the more generic ‘drop out’ notes, though the threats were over the top. It was the religious content that had me really shaking my head. Later in the day, I found two little religious tracts shoved into my locker and a note saying ‘God hates you!’ My suspicion was that Cindy Baird must be involved; who else would have placed me in the category of filthy heathen? Well ... Becky Palmer, maybe, so perhaps I was being unfair to Cindy.

I was glad of the tournament this weekend. That’d keep me off campus for a day, for the most part anyway.

Megan caught up to me in Debate. “How about lunch on the 28th? 11am? If you come to our house, we can take you. I’ll give you the address. Or, if time’s tight, you can meet us somewhere?”

“11am would be tight for me to get to your house from church. I could meet you somewhere around 11:30, though.”

“Sure! They’re thinking the brunch at the DoubleTree.”

“By the Galleria? I can be there quickly from church. 11:30’s easy. Much better than going from church back near here and back there.”

“Cool! That works great. We’re not all that religious, but it’ll still probably be a few brownie points that you’re not blowing it off.”

“Honestly, I’m not that religious either, but my parents are serious about it and I do like going. And if I’m going to ask to skip family lunch, not also skipping church is extra points.”

She giggled. “Works for me! Looking forward to it!” We exchanged a warm hug.

I checked with Dad and Mom at dinner. Given that I was taking Megan to a dance (or, really, she was taking me), they had no objection to my meeting her parents on their schedule.

10:15pm

Angie and I rubbed noses and snuggled.

“So, how’s it going, big brother? Rehearsal felt good.”

“Yeah, no worries on the show, I think. I’ll worry this time next month.”

“Ugh! Tell me about it!”

“Besides that, it’s all about the election, which is completely nuts.”

“What’s up?”

“I had religious tracts shoved in my locker. And some threats, besides the one I warned you about. I’m getting the most bizarre questions. It’s crazy!”

She shook her head. “I’d call it a ripple, but...”

“But we didn’t do this.”

“Yeah, no, this is Tom. But he didn’t do this last go-round, right?”

“Nope. I’d have noticed a circus like this. We had some interesting stunt candidates for council — one even won, my junior year — but nothing like this.”

She blinked. “Huh. Maybe we did do it.”

“What are you thinking, sis?”

“Well, Mel is driving this, along with Myerson. We — in a way — well ... okay, we didn’t introduce them, but, via Emily and the Wonder Twins, brought them more to each other’s attention. Mel may well be a bit different, after a year of being welcomed and appreciated and free to date Cammie without worry. It’s possible we influenced the whole big thing, indirectly.”

“I ... can’t disagree. I hadn’t thought of it quite that way, but it makes sense. I knew Mel all four years last time, but at a distance. She was fairly quiet. Nothing bad, just, not the Mel we know now. Though, to be fair, she’s quiet when not around us.”

“Yeah. She got all the quiet, the Wonder Twins got all the loud.”

“That’s about right,” I chuckled. “The one I didn’t know was Cammie. No Cammie in Debate my junior year, and no one lamenting her sudden disappearance. Likely no Cammie in my classes, but given my inability to notice that Dave was now Darla this time around, that means nothing.” She giggled, nodding. “So, hypothesis remains: Cammie gets discovered, with or without Mel implicated, and gets shipped off. Mel has no girlfriend, or not as a good a girlfriend, and stays under the radar a bit more, which gives Myerson less impetus to put together an insurrection.”

“We are not letting Cammie get shipped off anywhere!”

“We can’t do a damn thing if she gets caught anytime in the next year and a bit. Until she’s 18, or nearly, there’s nothing we can do. We’d lose a lawsuit even if we threw money at it. And I’d throw money at it if we had a shot, even if it meant hard questions about how I had money to throw at lawsuits.”

“Fucking stupid laws. That isn’t right!”

“Tell me about it. On the other hand, we can provide Cammie every bit of cover possible and go to bat if she needs to claim she’s straight.”

“And that’s a lot. Yeah. Okay, back to the election. Odds?”

I shook my head. “No clue. I think we have a really good chance, but I’m not polling or anything. Aside from juniors and holy rollers, reception has been pretty good, I think. And a fair number of juniors are on board.”

“You should meet with Danny. Maybe you two can work out a truce.”

I nodded. “Planning to, but I can’t until early next week.”

“Yeah.”

She rubbed noses, then smooched me. “Tired, big brother. And I have to be funny tomorrow.”

“Me, too.”

She hopped up, hit the lights, and climbed back into bed. “I sleep better with you.”

I chuckled and hugged her. “Works for me. Night, little sis. Love you.”

“Love you, Steve. Always.”

“Forever.”

Friday, March 26, 1982

Finally, the last regular tournament of the year. I hadn’t expected to be here until Jasmine came up with her plan, of course, but now? I was looking forward to it.

From Memorial, in the crossover category, we had Jasmine, Lexi, Sheila, and Paige doing Extemp for the first time. Angie and I were doing Humorous. Besides that, from Debate we had Doug, Anne, Bree, Henry, Janice, Callie, May, and Ryan in Extemp. Amazingly, all seven CX teams and five LD’ers were PQ’d. Of the Extempers, Bree, Henry, and Ryan were the only ones without a qualification at all.

Selfishly, I hoped Bree would get it over the remainder. I was pretty sure Henry was phoning it in and would drop Debate next year, and Ryan was a graduating senior and I was near certain he didn’t care.

From Drama, Sheila was doing Humorous, too, as was Caitlyn. Sara and Carole were doing Dramatic. Debra and Jennifer were taking a shot at Duo. None of the Drama seniors were even competing — all year — which I found strange.

Overall, we had eighteen Memorial kids present, which is a lot for a Last Chance tournament. But drop out the six of us who were cross-overs, the two Debate kids that I thought were just going through the numbers, and maybe three Drama kids who were taking a shot outside their specialties, and we only had maybe seven who really were invested in the tournament.

I’d driven Jasmine, Lexi, Sheila, Paige, and Angie to the tournament. That virtually guaranteed we’d leave early. Even if Sheila made it to finals in Humorous — and I hoped she did — she had a ride with several others, or Steffie at worst. And Sheila was very sympathetic to some of us wanting to leave early. Paige teased Jasmine and me several times about ‘crashing our party’, but I think — think — she was joking.

I headed to my first HI (all the cool kids abbreviated it down to just the initials) round at 5:30pm. Several kids were camped outside the room waiting for their turn. A guy who looked vaguely familiar smiled to me. “Hey, wait ... aren’t you usually on the other track?”

I smiled. “Yeah. I’m a Debate guy, mostly. Steve Marshall, Memorial.” I offered my hand.

“Oh, hey! You guys are doing really well, right? Bryant Kelly, Klein Forest.” We shook. By now the others were watching us.

I nodded. “Really well. My girlfriend is in Drama and persuaded my sister and me to cross over for this tournament. She and several of her friends are doing Extemp. All of us will drop if we get to semis; we don’t want to take state spots away from people who really worked for them. I doubt I’ll break. Maybe next year.”

“Are you switching over?”

“Nah, but my sister and I are in the spring musical — as chorus, and understudies — and she’ll definitely be in both next year. I don’t know yet.”

“Hey, cool! We don’t have anyone that crosses over.”

A girl chimed in. “We’ve got two. They do all the drama solo events and CX together. I’m at Clear Lake. Maggie James.”

“Hey, Maggie,” Bryant said. “I remember you. You qualified in Dramatic at Lamar, right?”

“Yeah. How...?”

“You beat out a friend of mine. No worries, he qualified later.”

“Ahh, cool!” She turned to me. “So, what are you doing?”

“Monty Python’s ‘Argument Clinic’.”

“Oh! Hey! That’s a pretty cool choice. Most people don’t try comedy groups at all, they go with plays or the like. I like it.”

“I’m a big Python fan, and so’s our Debate coach. Debate finals at Memorial typically consist of watching Python and quoting dialogue.”

Bryant laughed. “Sounds like our Drama finals. We watch a musical and everyone has to sing at least part of a song. Most people try opposite-sex parts, because it’s more fun that way.”

People started getting called and everyone got their game faces on, quieting down and running through their routines. I went fifth, which gave me a lot of time to stew, but I think I was in pretty good form. I didn’t get laughter, but I didn’t actually expect laughter either. I did get a nice smile from the judge — a forty-ish woman — so I hoped it’d gone well.

Back at our table in the cafeteria, Jasmine greeted me with a hug and a kiss. “That was fun! I don’t think I babbled too much!”