Shrinking Violet (10 page)

Kayla pops her head up. "I love jazz. And country."

"Not me," I say to the powder-blue carpet. "I'm a post-punker. I like hip-hop and edgy alternative tunes."

"Like what?" Gavin stares at me with his dark eyes.

My skin is hot and prickly. "Thwart, Mintpaste, Juice Box."

"Man, you should've listened to SLAM yesterday. They had a whole flashback hour. They played Thwart, Mintpaste, and a lot of other amazing bands. Sweet." Gavin nods.

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"Really?" I lower my head. I don't want them to see me grinning. Gavin's basically calling Derek's show cool, and technically I was a part of the coolness factor. I mean, I was there, in the studio, breathing the same oxygen as the Masturbator. Okay, not a nice visual.

"Yeah, they play good tunes." I pictured Gavin listening to smaller, grungier stations like MAD 100.2 or SCARY 88.9.

So he thinks my station is sweet. We have even more in common than I thought.

"I hate to break up the music party, but let's get this project rolling. I have a foreign language meeting at five," Kayla informs' us. "They're thinking of cutting the department budget for next year so I'm meeting with some students to see how we can stop that from happening."

Is that before or after she saves the world?

Kayla hands us each a sheet of paper and has us brainstorm ideas for the project. She sets the timer on her cell for five minutes.

I want to write:

Reasons I'll be unable to attend the presentation:

1. Stomach poisoning caused by unknown items in school lunch.

2. Jaw suddenly clamps shut due to morning overload of peanut butter.

3. Cat got my tongue, literally. Cat got scared by neighbor's 113

dog and latched onto my tongue. Note: Need to purchase or borrow cat before said event.

4. Since I'll be in character the day of the presentation, I will in fact be blind and deaf, therefore making it nearly impossible for me to find my way to school.

What I end up writing:

1. Dress up as our authors and have tea.

2. Present our authors in different media and set up like an art showcase.

I'm stuck on number three when Kayla calls time. Neither Gavin nor I volunteer to go first, so of course Kayla does. She has six ideas.
Show-off.
I peek over at Gavin's paper. It looks like he has three ideas, but one is crossed out. Good, I don't feel so bad.

Kayla starts off with some elaborate plan about baking desserts that would best represent our characters. Almost as if on cue, Mrs. Tam brings us coffee cake and lemonade. Kayla doesn't even take a break. She loses me on number three, when she talks about hiring actors from a local production company to act as extras during the time period when our authors were alive. I wonder if she goes this all out on every school project. Just thinking about all this work gives me a headache.

Gavin's on his third glass of lemonade, and I'm picking at the crumbs on my plate. My calorie counter, I mean, mother, isn't

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here so I have to enjoy every morsel. "Cake is for the weak," Mom always says. Funny, I thought it was for birthdays.

I nod every few minutes, and Gavin keeps saying, "Yup." So I shouldn't be surprised when Kayla says we have to show up for class in costume. Then she turns to me. "Since you have speaking issues, I racked my brain and came up with a great idea . ."

Gavin rolls his eyes at me, and I roll mine right back. Ohmigod, I can't believe we just had our first eye-roll together. I can't wait to tell Audrey. Maybe being crossed-eyed and slightly freakish is a good thing after all.

"What?" I say reluctantly.

"When you're introduced to us, you can feel our faces, just like Helen did. The best thing is that you can speak like her by stuffing your mouth with cotton balls."

Is she for real?

All of a sudden, Gavin slams down his glass. "That's crazy!"

"Whoa, chill," Kayla says looking as startled as me. "We can figure out the details later."

This girl is out of hand. "No cotton," I mumble.

Gavin reaches over to my side of the table and grabs my list. I would've stopped him if he didn't graze my boob in the process and send shivers up my spine.

"Sorry." He blushes.

I'm not.

Gavin glances at my paper. "Tere has a great idea. We should 115

present our authors in different media and set up like an art showcase."

Kayla slumps down in her chair. We've definitely thrown her for a loop. She takes a deep breath. "Okay, we can incorporate that. I can wear roller skates. Judy loved to skate as a kid."

Gavin picks up his guitar again. "Looks like King will play his guitar."

Kayla looks at her watch. "Any questions?"

I twist my lips, trying to think of something to say, but I'm just along for the ride.

"What about you, Tere?" Gavin turns to me. "What's your art form going to be?"

"Still thinking . ." of a way to get out of this assignment.

I leave Gavin's house at five o'clock with a vile image of me in a 1920s flowered housecoat. Why didn't I pick someone hipper, more modern? I love Helen, but for God's sake she was a blind and deaf woman living during the First and Second World War. She couldn't have possibly been a fashion icon. I know I'm nobody to talk, but even my sweats look better on me than an old curtain.
God, if you're going to strike me with
lightning, now would he the perfect time.
I quickly add that to my mental list as the fifth reason I might be unable to attend our presentation.

When I get home, I plop down on my bed and delve right back into Helen's story. She talks about her soul's sudden awakening at the age of seven. How she would walk around all day discovering

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new things--flowers, animals, the river. And through all of this she learned how things grew and thrived. Anne Sullivan, her teacher, was amazing. I try to think of the things that Mom had taught me at seven. At the time she was boyfriend-less and on the prowl.

She encouraged me to play with her makeup. I would drape her jewels around my neck, slide on her heels, and prance around her room. She would remind me to stand up straight and flip my hair and smile. Thinking back, that was probably a lesson on how to snag a guy. I'm afraid I wasn't a very good pupil because not long after that I retreated to the living room instead to watch TV while she spent hours primping.

***

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Derek's back to the regular music format today. I hope Gavin's listening. Actually, I kind of wish I didn't know he listened to the station because now I'm even more nervous to speak on-air if Derek ever asks me to. But I know I'll have to sometime if I want to be a real DJ.

Thank God this is the last day of spring break. I've been in Gavin withdrawal all week.

Why did Kayla have to go on a church retreat? Forget planting trees in Kentucky, we could've been rehearsing for our presentation. I tried to think up a couple of excuses to go back to his house, like maybe I left my favorite pen there or we should really get a head start on this project before Kayla gets back. But everything sounded lame, 118

and for even more torture we had an extra day tacked onto the vacation for teacher planning. We start back on Tuesday. I just pictured Gavin on the other side of the radio all week.

I'm trying to stay away from Derek as best as I can. He wears really strong cologne, like
that
will attract the ladies. I know he receives tons of calls from listeners that are totally infatuated with his voice, but spend a few hours with him and he'll turn you off the male species altogether.

"Hey, T, baby, can you pick up a couple of the lines and see what the people want to hear today?" Derek elbows me in the gut.

Ugh, that would involve me talking.

"What do I say?" I whisper to Jason.

"Just give the station ID and let them do the talking. If they ask to hear a specific song, the answer is yes."

I grab a notebook and a pen out of my bag and shuffle over to the phone. I have to pretend that it's just Audrey calling or I'll faint. I hold on to the console for support. It could be anyone on the other line. Even Gavin.

At first I stare at the flashing lights. I know the interns down the hall are answering most of the calls. I've seen them with their big spreadsheets, tracking which songs are the most popular. I used to have Audrey call in requests for me and then we'd listen forever for them to be played. When we didn't hear one Thwart tune for over three hours, Audrey called back and whined to the DJ until he put it on. She made up a whole sob story about wanting to

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cheer up her sick sister. She even put me on the phone, but I totally clammed up and could only let out a whimper. I think I sounded like a dying seagull. The DJ cued up the song right after that.

My palms are all sweaty so I wipe them on my jeans. I turn around to make sure no one is breathing over my shoulder, but Derek has "gone to take a leak" and Jason is cueing up the music. I pick up the phone and hit line three. "SLAM 92.7."

"Hello, is this SLAM?" a guy with a light Spanish accent asks.

"Yeah."

"I can hardly hear you. Probably my cell. Let me turn up the volume."

I clear my throat.

"Can I make a request?" the man asks. "Shoot."

"Can you play Maddie Miracle?"

"Sure." Excuse me while I go hurl.

I hang up the phone and go immediately to the next line. "SLAM 92.7."

"Hey, I thought the DJ would answer." You wish. "Nope," I say.

"Okay, honey. I'm hanging around with the guys, kicking back a few, and we want to hear some Gracie May."

"Sure."

Answering phones isn't as bad as I thought. If you agree to the listener's request, you can keep your wordage at a minimum

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of two and a maximum of four. Not bad for a phone conversation.

"Thirty seconds." Jason sticks his head outside the studio door.

I hang up the phone. Derek rushes in. "Sorry, caught up in the john."

Way too much info.

"92.7 The SLAM. Derek's in the house. Got an announcement here, PJ Squid will be playing on South Beach at Mack's, Sunday night at nine. We'll be giving tickets away within the hour. Be caller number ninety-two when you hear 'Squid Stylin.' And where are all the females? Give me a call, ladies . ." He switches off the mike and pulls up a Ravers track.

He turns to Jason. "Every once in a while you have to give a shout-out to the broads.

Know what I mean?"

"Oh, yeah." Jason leans back in his chair. Then when Derek has his back to us, he whispers to me, "I'm sure my boyfriend would love to hear that."

Boyfriend?

Right, he's cute, sweet, meticulous, and thoughtful. Of course, he's taken. I wish I could say my boyfriend would love that, too. Instead, I just nod my head.

Derek blows on his hands. "Watch the master." He picks up the phone and gives the station ID. He quickly hangs up and goes to the next line. "I don't want to talk to no dude. Ladies only."

Puhleese.
I roll my eyes. I've got to stop doing that. Ever since 121

Gavin's house last week, it's become habit forming. Mom would not approve.

"That's better," Derek says into the phone. "What can I do for you, baby? You sound like a kitty cat." He purrs. Whoever told him that was a turn-on? "Are you hot? Come by Mack's on Sunday night so I can see the goods."

I don't get it. She could be Bigfoot's sister. How does he know?

They should really equip these studios with barf bags because I'm truly queasy. Fresh air would be good. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.

On my way back, I pass Rob in the hall chatting with Derek. "Can you stay for Garrison's shift?" Rob asks. "He's got the flu."

"Man, normally I'd do it, but my mother's seventy-fifth birthday party is tonight."

Something about Derek at a seventy-fifth birthday party makes me crack up.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. Juan G. is on vacation. And since that show hasn't had a producer since Lambert crossed over to AM, there's no one." Rob plays with his cell phone case. "Hey, what about Jason? You think he can handle the show?"

"Oh, yeah. He doesn't miss a beat." Derek moves his hands in and out of his pants pockets, fidgets with his money clip. At least, I hope that's what it is.

I walk up from behind them and speak directly to the beige 122

wall with a picture of Rob and Prince in a shiny purple frame. "I can stay. To help."

Rob nods. "Okay, Tere. I'm sure Jason could use a hand."

Yes, hanging with Jason is going to be fun! No Dynamite Derek leaving his sleaze all over the studio.

Derek and I go inside and he fills Jason in. You can tell Jason's psyched. Not only is it a chance to break free of Derek, but this opportunity is his on-air audition.

A couple of minutes later Simone from the production office brings in Garrison's playlist.

Jason has to do
The Love Shack
show, so there are a whole bunch of gushy songs on the rotation. I don't know about him, but it makes me happy.

Rob calls Jason to his office to talk. I'm sure he'll give him the big
I know you'll do
great--don't mess up
speech. And that leaves me alone with Derek the Cat Tamer.

Derek strokes his coffee cup and smirks. "So T, I bet this love show is your thing?"