Penelope (7 page)

“No,” said Cindy.

“All right, so I guess we better get to it. You guys know what the audition process is, I’m sure.”

“No,” Penelope whispered to Ted.

“Auditions last for a week or so and there are three major cuts. Eventually we will teach you guys some of our old standards, but today, you are just singing the solo piece you prepared. Cindy and I will be right here in the front row, watching you. Who wants to go first?”

“We have to sing a solo piece?” Ted asked Penelope.

“I didn’t know that either,” said Penelope.

“We should leave, maybe,” said Ted.

“I disagree,” said Penelope. “This might be our last opportunity to make a difference with the power of song.”

“Penelope O’Shaunessy?” said Ron, looking at the sign-up sheet. “Are you here?”

“Just one second,” said Penelope. “I have to decide what song I am singing.”

“Oh, ha ha,” said Ron, looking uncomfortable. The other people in the room, fellow auditionees, no doubt, swiveled around and looked at her. Penelope noticed that many of them had laminated sheet music.

“Well, do you want to go later?” asked Ron.

“No, no,” said Penelope. “I’m ready now.”

“OK,” said Ron. “Come up to the front, please.”

“Cool,” said Penelope.

After the audition, Ted and Penelope walked back to the dorm together. It was a while before they spoke.

“Do you want to know what my favorite part of that audition was?” said Ted.

“What?” asked Penelope.

“When Ron called your rendition of ‘Try Again’ by Aaliyah ‘spirited.’ ”

“Well, it is a spirited song. It was in
Romeo Must Die
.”

“It really doesn’t have much of a tune when there is no background playing,” said Ted.

“No, I suppose not,” said Penelope. “Personally, I thought
you were going to discuss that girl who sang “Memory” from
Cats
. It was rather ingenious when she started scratching the pole like that. Just like a real cat.”

Ted looked at Penelope.

“I really liked what you sang too,” Penelope blithely continued. “I didn’t know ‘I’ve Been Working on the Railroad’ went so high. What a moving song, I suppose. Excellent job.”

“Thanks,” said Ted.

“Do you think we will make it to the next round?” asked Penelope.

“No,” said Ted.

“Too bad,” said Penelope. “I bet the
Cats
girl will make it.”

“I think she really wants to be in it.”

“Probably,” said Penelope.

They walked along in silence.

“Do you know what classes you’re taking?” asked Penelope.

“Not yet,” said Ted. “Maybe that one, Images of Shakespeare? Are you gonna take that?”

“Oh, definitely,” said Penelope. “I think I may also take that one about Bach.”

“I might also take that. It gets lit and arts B out of the way, at least,” said Ted.

“Yeah,” said Penelope.

“What about the others?” said Ted.

“I haven’t quite decided yet. Maybe Counting People?”

“Sounds like a good plan,” said Ted. They were at the stoop. Ted and Penelope stared at each other for a brief yet awful moment. During this moment, Ted ran his fingers through his hair, causing his bangs to stick out perpendicularly from his forehead like a visor. Penelope moved to go inside.

“Listen, Penelope,” said Ted. “I just want to apologize for the other night at the ice cream social.”

“Oh, Ted,” said Penelope, “what ice cream social?”

“I guess I don’t really remember what I did. I was really drunk, and I have this feeling I acted like an asshole. You probably had to take care of me or something. I’m sorry.”

“Ted, you were fine.”

“I was just so drunk. I don’t remember anything. Did I do anything really embarrassing?”

“No,” said Penelope. “Gosh, no.”

“Good,” said Ted.

“Well, I’m going inside,” said Penelope.

“Penelope …”

“What?” said Penelope, her hand on the door.

“Nothing,” said Ted. “It’s just I hope you aren’t mad, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not,” said Penelope. “Thanks for saying that though.”

“Sure,” said Ted.

Two days later, Ted and Penelope were in Shakespeare class. They sat next to each other now. As long as Ted didn’t mention the Helen of Troy business, Penelope felt this was within the realm of propriety. He was taking all her classes, after all. They might as well be friends. She also didn’t have to go to dinner alone anymore if they were friends. So there were many advantages to the relationship.

“Was Shakespeare fat? Well, according to this late seventeenth-century woodcut, he most definitely was,” said the professor.

“He doesn’t look that fat. I think she’s being a little harsh,” whispered Penelope to Ted.

“Hey, Penelope. I just got an e-mail. We can look and see if we got called back to chorus tryouts.”

“You check,” said Penelope.

Ted checked.

“We’re both called back! Auditions are on Sunday! Are you excited?”

“Did the
Cats
girl get called back?” asked Penelope.

“I think so, uh, yup.”

“Well, then I don’t even have a chance. But yes, I suppose I’m excited.”

“We have to learn some ‘old standards’ of the group. What do you think that means?”

“I don’t know,” said Penelope. “Maybe barbershop quartets. Since you have such a high voice, that might be really good for you.”

“Thanks, I guess,” said Ted.

“I can’t believe it’s on a Sunday,” said Penelope.

“Yeah. That sucks. Ron wrote a note at the bottom of the audition sheet saying, ‘There is no rest for the weary.’ ”

“Is that a joke?” asked Penelope.

After class was over, Ted and Penelope walked across the Yard to Annenberg Hall for lunch. Jason was already sitting in their usual spot, which was a corner table next to a frightening bust of Governor John Winthrop. Jason seemed to tailor all his mealtimes to Ted and Penelope’s, even though he refused to talk to either of them while he was eating. He did seem to like Harvard food a lot. Today he was making short work of chicken cheesesteak with a side of beets.

“You know,” said Ted after he and Penelope sat down, “I am glad I am doing something musical now. I always liked music. I was in a band in high school, you know.”

“What was it called?” asked Penelope.

“Ted Only Knows. We practiced at my house, so that was why it was called that,” said Ted.

“Cool,” said Penelope.

“So, Penelope,” said Ted, “what are you doing this weekend?”

“I don’t know.”

“There is a party at the Ten-Man in Currier tonight.”

“Ooh, a party. I have not gone to one of those yet,” said Penelope.

“It should be fun. Ten guys live there this year and they always have parties. Nikil knows one of them for some reason,” said Ted. “Well, do you want to go?”

“Sure,” said Penelope. Jason sighed.

“Oh, shut up, Jason,” said Ted. “It’s tonight. I’ll call you after class.”

Penelope beamed at Ted. It was humid out and Ted’s bangs were hovering over his forehead in cloudy curls, almost as if they didn’t exist.
If only they didn’t
, Penelope thought.

Later that day, after another interminable lecture about Bach’s childhood predilection to crawl in and out of organs, Penelope returned to her room. Lan was in the common room reading. This was unusual. Penelope had seen Lan only four times since she started school, and three of those times had been in the bathroom.

“Hey, Lan,” said Penelope, closing the door behind her. She felt the irrepressible urge to sneeze.

Lan said nothing.

Penelope sat down at her desk and took out her laptop. On the second day of classes, in a state of manic tidiness that involved several calls to Russia, Emma had said there was not enough space in their room for two desks and moved Penelope’s desk into the common room. As a result, Penelope was currently sitting about four feet away from Lan’s cigarette.

Penelope tried again. “So,” she said, “what are you reading?”

“A mystery,” said Lan.

“What’s it called?” asked Penelope.

“I forget.”

“Oh,” said Penelope. “That’s cool. I love mysteries. I used to have a crush on Hercule Poirot. From ages eleven to thirteen.”

“That’s weird,” said Lan.

“Yeah,” said Penelope. “Wow. I need to do some homework!” They sat in silence. Lan read. Penelope sneezed ten times in a row. Maybe she was getting a cold. It would be a fitting punishment for constantly saying idiotic things.

“Hey, Penelope, guess what?”

“What?” said Penelope.

“I got a cat today. His name is Raymond.”

“Really? That’s cool. For your home? In California?”

“No! For here. For the dorm. He lives in my room. I think I can train him to go to the bathroom in the toilet.”

Penelope’s eyes started to water. Another thing her mother had told her not to mention in mixed company was her debilitating allergies. Penelope’s mother said there were many negative stereotypes associated with allergies but declined to mention specifically what they were. She was, often, infuriating.

“Oh, Lan,” said Penelope. “That
is
awesome. It’s just that I am really allergic to cats, like really allergic.”

“Oh,” said Lan.

“Yeah, my eyes swell up and everything, from the cat hair and stuff.”

“It’s a hairless cat,” said Lan, not looking up from her book.

“Oh, really? Wow. Well, I guess that’s fine then,” said Penelope. “How does it look?”

“Cute,” said Lan. “Well, I have to go to my room.”

“What are you doing tonight?” asked Penelope as Lan put out her cigarette on the floor.

“Watching my iTunes visualizer,” said Lan. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” said Penelope, “I am going to a party at the Ten-Man in Currier. I haven’t been to a party yet here, so it should be pretty fun.”

“Oh, Jesus,” said Lan. “I wouldn’t be caught dead at one of those.”

“Why?” said Penelope.

“Because it is always terrible when nerds pretend to be cool,” said Lan. “I bet they even have an ice luge to drink beer out of or something.”

Just then, the cat came out of Lan’s room. Part of its ear was missing. It was also covered in gray fur.

Lan and Penelope stared at each other.

“Bye,” said Lan, and ran into her room. The cat followed.

Penelope sneezed. Then she wondered how you could train a cat to pee in a toilet.