Chapter 11
SEPTEMBER
I'm so haunted by the prospect of Clint becoming a repeat guest at my house that I forget I've got an audition to prepare for. The problem is I don't know the first thing about auditioning. My acting experience consists of me lying to Dinah about what I'm doing at any given moment.
At lunch, Felix is hard at work on a new song right next to me.
“The virgin's blood is shed! Your soul they're gonna shred! Spain's countryside runs red! In Tombs of the Blind Dead!” His singing is drowned out by the raucous laughter and shouting across the cafeteria.
From a distance, I spot Roland Greenway walking up to people with a clipboard. As long as I don't catch his eyes, maybe we can avert a visit.
Oh, shit. He looks straight at me and Felix and moves toward us in his dorky golf club clothes.
“Don't look. Roloserbitch is on his way over,” I tell Felix, who looks and groans.
“Hey, Wade. Hey, Felix,” Roland says with an unsure wave.
We stare at him wordlessly. His eyes widen a tad and he clears his throat.
“Umm, so, Aubrey and I are inviting everybody to join IntegriTruth Students. We're holding elections in a few weeks. Hoping to see you guys there,” he says.
We continue to stare at him in silence. He shifts his feet uncomfortably.
“Okay, well, anyway, we created a petition to cancel the theater department's musical this year for being inappropriate.” He points to the clipboard.
Didn't he hear? The queen of Spain called it the greatest musical of all time.
“If you care about this school's reputation, please sign the petition. We need as much support as we can get to show them there's more of us than them.”
“Eck-eck-eck-eck-eck,” I say, mimicking Felix's cat. Felix joins in.
Right as Roland gives up and turns, I reach for the clipboard.
“Okay. We'll sign,” I tell him.
“Not gonna lie. You had me for a second,” he says with a dorky laugh.
There are already fifty signatures. I sign “Skittles McCocksmash” under the last one. Felix signs “Bottoms La Tightcrack.”
“Y'all are so great for this. I appreciate it,” Roland says as he takes the clipboard. He offers his hand, giving each of us a vigorous shake.
As he walks off, he glances at the clipboard and stops dead in his tracks.
“Real funny. Thanks, assholes.”
The both of us snicker while he scribbles over our signatures and marches angrily to another table.
I can't think of a bigger dork than Roland Greenway. I mean, he takes himself so seriously. And he plays golf! What is he, eighty years old?
I see Sra. Breedlove marching into the cafeteria, one hand gripping Sutter's shoulder. She bites her lip angrily, sees me staring at her, and turns our way. What did I do now?
“Hi, Wade. I know this is not a great time since it's your only break of the day, but Sutter here has something to tell you,” she says.
“I don't have shit to say.” He brushes her hand off him.
“Tell him now, or I'll take you to Dr. Collins myself,” she threatens. “I'm already taking your keys to the truck. You can ride with me to school for the rest of the semester.”
“I drew on your stupid locker,” he says to me.
“And…” she says.
“Last year, too. And the year before.”
I don't know what to make of this. It's great, and unsurprising, to finally know who's behind the torrent of artistic abuse I have to face at school, but it's awkward that Sra. Breedlove is here forcing a confrontation.
“Thanks for telling me, I guess.”
“Not only is he going to spend the afternoon after school helping the janitor repaint your locker,” she says, “but he's going to take you out for lunch someday so he can learn more about you and see that you're an actual human being. On my dime.”
“Shut up, Mom,” he says. I can't believe he's talking to her this way. She's so nice.
“You think I'm kidding?” she says.
“Look, you got what you wanted. I told him. Okay? Now let me go.” He rips her hand off his shoulder and hurries off.
She puts her hand over her face. She seems genuinely embarrassed by him.
“I'm so sorry. I teach my kids to respect everybody. Doesn't mean I'm successful.” She sighs in defeat.
“It's not your fault,” I say.
“I'm serious about lunch,” she says.
“With all due respect, miss, I don't think Wade wants to go on a lunch date with Sutter,” Felix interrupts.
“In that case, I'm happy to take you to lunch sometime, Wade. If Sutter won't learn more about you, then I'd love to,” she says.
“I know what you could do instead. You said you used to study acting? I want to audition for the musical and get the lead role. I don't have any experience. What do you think I should do?” I ask.
“Oh, it's been so long since I was into that,” Sra.
Breedlove says. “I don't remember much from the classes I took, but when I was in college, I watched this online video series by a cranky old French acting coach named Francois.
I definitely went into auditions feeling more prepared.
I'd recommend seeing if those videos still exist. But be warned—he's somewhat eccentric and harsh.”
If only she met my aunt.