17
Zee:We need to talk!
Me:Why, what’s up?
Zee:I’ve got exciting news! See you at school later
~
We meet at the library during lunch hour on a gloomy-skied Wednesday, after I’d had time to scarf down a sandwich. Zee, unusually, is on time.
“You won’t believe this!” she crows. She shakes her phone at me.
I scoot over to join her on the bench so I can see what’s on her screen. It’s a chat between Zee and the dean of students, Dr. Maria Schloss.
Maria:OK, Zalifah, sure. Whatever. I’m tired.
This message was in response to a GIF of Puss in Boots doing its dilated pupil thing.
I look up at Zee. “Erm, what?”
“Scroll up!”
I scroll up. The chat is dense with exclamation points and lines of emojilish, all from Zee. “OMG, just summarize, puan, tolong.”
“So, you know I’m in charge of entertainment for this year’s charity gala, right?”
Dunia hosts an annual charity gala on the second Saturday of December, just after finals. It’s a big deal and usually is held in the school assembly hall, but this year being the ball’s ten-year anniversary, the school wanted to go the extra mile, and Zee’s family had kindly agreed to let the school have the ballroom of one of their five-star hotels to host the event. The ball’s a big deal—it typically raises a quarter of a million ringgit each year for the charity of the school’s choice. This year Dunia would be supporting two mental health charities—thanks, in no small part, to my “suggestion,” i.e., constant nagging.
“Yeah, I’m aware.” Zee had been agonizing about acts for the past month.
“Well, the thing is, the student entertainment part of the gala usually isn’t exactly great, right? I mean, I know we’re obliged to showcase ‘student talent’”—Zee rolls her eyes and makes air quotes, and I have to laugh—“and there’s no time for an audition, so it’s always a student act that’s, like, a friend of someone on the committee and has no talent and we see something basic AF like amateur juggling or magic or singing, like who cares? We’ve seen these acts before. I mean, there was one year where they had an amateur fire-breather, and then one of the curtains caught fire—”
“Zee! Focus!”
“Oh yeah, sorry.” She takes a deep breath. “What I wanted to say was—I suggested stand-up.”
“Oh no,” I say slowly. “You are going to be the most hated person in school by the end of the night. Everybody knows that amateur stand-up is the worst. The absolute worst! I should know!”
Zee’s grin could power grids. “Nope, it won’t be because you and Royce are going to do it. On top of all the usual acts like juggling and singing, I’ve set aside twenty minutes for two stand-up acts, which would be perfect for a tight ten-minute set each from both of you.” She leans forward and steel enters her voice. “I know you are good enough to do ten-minute set. I saw you do a seven-minute set last week. You can make it happen. Plus, you need the practice in time for the qualifiers, right?”
I lean forward as well and pound my fist on the table. “Absolutely not, unless you want Royce and me to hate you by the end of this lunch break.”
“I heard my name,” Royce says, sliding into the seat opposite us. “What’s up, folks?” He quirks his lip in a semi-smile at me, and I immediately feel like running into traffic. Theoretically, of course—once is enough, really.
“What’s he doing here?” I ask Zee.
“Er, thanks,” Royce says drily. “Hi to you, too.”
“I asked him to meet me here to discuss entertainment for the gala. Royce and I are friends now thanks to stand-up. We’re, like, mutuals on all the platforms and his family is even donating stuff to the auction. Like sports equipment from their new partnership with Frisson Cola and—”
“No! No! No!” I say, shaking my head emphatically in reference to the friendship between Zee and Taslim. Can I have one aspect of life that isn’t tainted by Taslim? “No! No! No!”
“What’s up with her?” Royce says to Zee.
“You mean, what’s wrong? Many things, clearly,” Zee replies. “But listen, we have business.” She fills Royce in about her suggestion, and his eyes widen, and soon he’s shaking his head going, “No, no, no, no,” while I glare in triumph at him, saying “Ha! You see? Ha! Ha!” in an accusatory tone.
“Shhhhhhh!” Several students around us hiss. Royce and I scatter penitent Sorrys around us and shut up.
“Clearly yes, because can you imagine? Two of the most belov—well, well-known, students in school, performing stand-up? We’ll fill the hall. People who had no intention of coming to the gala will come just to see you guys perform.” Zee is almost purring in satisfaction.
“I can’t,” Royce says.
“Is it because you’re performing as Ray right now? It’s okay, you know, it’s just Agnes and me who know about that, and we’ll—”
“No,” Royce says dully. “I can’t perform stand-up to this audience. My parents’ friends will be there, giving out the prizes, remember?”
“Oh right,”Zee says, downcast. “I forgot about that familial complication.”
“That’s okay,” he says stiffly. “But thanks for thinking of me. Although”—he is trying for levity now—“Agnes would be perfect for it.”
“Would you, please?” Zee says, widening her eyes at me. “I’ve kind of pitched stand-up to the rest of the team and they loved it.”
“Even Dr. Maria?” I say wryly.
“Yes, she came around to it, especially after I threw in a couple of free nights in Langkawi for the auction that’s reserved just for bids from the faculty. Come on! It’ll be great practice for you!”
“Zee,” I say. “I…I would like to, but I’m not confident enough to be the only one doing stand-up that night.”
“So, let’s ask someone else from the circuit to join you as the second act.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are non-student performers allowed?”
“Yes, if at least seventy-five percent of the program is allocated to student acts.”
“So, who are you thinking of besides me?” I ask, even though I already know.
“I don’t know, I guess the next choice would be, well, Vern?” Her eyes widen in what she thinks is an innocent way.
“Yes!” I say just as Royce says, “No.”
“Why not?” I turn to him. “Vern’s the logical choice.”
“Absolutely,” Zee says, nodding vigorously. “He’s the youngest after us.”
“Plus, he’s great, we’ve been hanging out a bit, we have a very similar sense of humor and worldview,” I say brightly.
Royce’s mouth flattens into a line when I say this.
“Yeah, they’re tight. I don’t even think she’s doing it for my sake,” Zee complains. “So, Agnes and Vern could be an excellent duo, don’t you think? I mean, since you aren’t able to perform, Royce.”
Royce’s smile is friendly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sure. But why don’t we get more women onstage? The dynamic combo of Agnes and Gina. Plus, Gina’s more experienced.”
“Hmm, that’s actually a good idea,” I say. “But if Gina comes to our school, and you’re there as Royce…”
“Gina can keep a secret. I trust her,” Royce says.
“Then sure, I’m good,” I say, shrugging. “I’ll do it if Gina is willing.”
“I guess, yeah,” Zee says with a little more reluctance than the situation warranted.
“Then it’s settled, Gina and Agnes will perform!” Royce takes out his phone and excuses himself. “If you’re okay with me reaching out, I’ll ask Gina.” We nod, and he starts tapping on his phone. “I’ve got to run. I’ll update you all if everything goes well.”
We wave goodbye to Royce. Zee looks visibly deflated by this turn of events.
“I can invite Vern, if you want,” I say after a few beats of her sighing loudly.
She stops and grins. “That is exactly what I want.”
“I know.”
“You’re the best.”
“I know. How much are the tickets for outsiders?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, all performers get an extra free ticket to the gala. Free three-course meal and all that. Vern can be your plus one. I’ll put you guys on the list. Provided he wants to come, of course.”
In spite of my initial hesitation, excitement fizzes through me. “Cool, cool. Although, since it’s for charity, I’m happy to donate the price of his ticket.”
Zee tells me the price of the tickets and I concede that my generous performance would have to suffice as an in-kind donation. We all must contribute in our own ways.
~
After school, I head to Zee’s to study and scheme on how to hide my Dunia stand-up debut from my parents, for many reasons. Not least because a substantial chunk of my material was inspired by my mother and I’ve been withholding the fact that some of my Seoul Hot nights were actually comedy nights.
Zee figured that I could gift them a staycation, fixed dates, non-refundable. “My parents’ luxury retreat in Janda Baik always has spare rooms, and as their unofficial social media adviser, I get free rooms for giveaways that they don’t really monitor the use thereof, so I’m happy to get them to give you a room for a night.”
“Er, is that ethical?”
“Well, I’m basically working for free, and I am a child, sooooo I don’t think we need to have that whole debate.”
“I can pay for it; I’ve been saving up some money from my part-time job.” I’d never told Zee where I worked, preferring to tell her I did stuff for my mother’s law firm. Working in a restaurant was so basic. I worry that she won’t see me the same way if she knows—after all, she’s a socialite, and most of her childhood friends are rich kids.
“No way I’m letting you pay,” Zee says. “I love your dad, he’s an amazing educator, and I think I should be able to treat him and your mom in a way that won’t get me in trouble with some school ethics board.”
“Technically—”
“Hush, Agnes. Just…just think of it as my belated housewarming gift or whatever. Since you know, I’ve never had a chance to bring them a gift at yours.”
She looks at me pointedly and I stay quiet, before muttering, “It’s complicated.”
“Don’t I know.” She sighs. “Anyway, just take the spare room; it’s going to waste otherwise, seriously.”
“Thanks, Zee.” Then I groan when I recalled a small—literally—complication. “What about Rosie, though?”
Zee puts on her thinking face. “Hmm. What do your parents think about sleepovers? At her age?”
“OMG, yes!” I say, snapping my fingers in glee. “She’s had a couple with her British friend, what’s her face! And I’m sure Rosie would love to help our parents have a staycation. This might actually work out!”
She pats my arm. “Imagine, ten years from now when you’ve got your own comedy special out on Netflix or whatever, they’ll say you were discovered by Zee Bakri, the multihyphenated beauty mogul-director-humanitarian.”
With friends like her believing in me…I shake my head, smiling. It’s almost like I can do anything, be anyone.
My good mood buoys me home. I go over my latest college application essay for another school, do some schoolwork, then take out my phone, thinking of launching a CF offensive, so I text Royce instead of my usual CF buddies.
Me:Want to play CF in a bit? You’re not on the stand-up rota tonight, I saw
Royce:Sorry, I’m busy. Chess lessons
Me:I thought chess lessons is on Thursday evening?
Royce:I just can’t. Do I need to give you a reason for every action of mine that doesn’t match your expectations?
Me:WTF?
Royce:Sorry, that’s not fair. It’s been a day. I’ll ttyl