High School and Hurt People

In high school, I joined the choir. I wasn’t the best singer in the group, but I did the best that I could. I remember rushing home everyday, listening to as many of the classic Broadway records as I could get my hands on, before dad got home and I had to turn the music off. I practiced trying to sing all of their songs like they did. On Fridays I would go to the record store and buy them from the re-sale box for cheap. I would even record myself to play back my voice and see where I could improve. One day in choir, one of the other girls started laughing at me and mocking how I was singing. It hurt me, but I knew I was doing what the professionals did. I sang a little bit more quietly after that. That’s why the teacher stopped me on the way out of class one day and held me there until all the other students flooded into the hallways. She asked me why I wasn’t singing. I was confused, because I was singing. I told her that. She said if I was singing, she would hear me. Then, she sort of looked around as if she didn’t want anyone to overhear, and said, “Audrey,” she looked me in the eye. She said, “You have to get out of here. This place is awful. You have to do your best so that I can give you a passing grade and you can get out. You have an incredible voice. You should try out for the drama club.” I don’t remember what I said, but I probably just blushed and said “okay, thank you.” Regardless, I ended up auditioning with a rendition of “Moon River,” and I got in.
That first year, the school put on a production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella, and I was the lead. I remember during rehearsals getting laughed at again by other girls. The teacher even told me not to listen to them because I was “professional” and “had what it takes.” It wasn’t easy, but I knew she was right. I cared more than they did, and I knew how to play this character better than they did, that’s why I got the role and they didn’t. I remember on the night of the premier, I looked out into the audience, and my parents weren’t even there. Well, I never expected to see my father, but I thought my mom would show up at least. Oh well. The show must go on. I remember the step-sisters delivering their lines, and instinctually knowing to pause for audience laughter before saying my lines. In that brief pause, I thought to myself, “This is what I want to do.” I didn’t have my parents, but when the show was over, the audience clapped. I wasn’t Audrey, I was Cinderella, and they liked Cinderella. That was gratifying, at least.
Afterwards, Jackson and his parents, Marie and Ted congratulated me and gave me a bouquet. Jackson was crying, but Ted assured me they were “happy tears.” My parents had gotten into a fight, and Marie said my mom sent her to bring me home instead of coming herself since they were bringing Jackson to the show anyway. We went home to their house and even from their driveway I could hear my parents still fighting at my house. I hadn’t heard them argue this bad since the time I was 5 and dad threw a plate across the kitchen and mom locked me in the closet until he cooled down. Of course, Marie, Ted, and Jackson could hear it, too, but I felt too embarrassed to say anything. Ted served us all ice cream, and an hour later, they went to bed. Jackson and I stayed up all night talking and even laughing.
In senior year, Todd and I started dating. He was on the football team and wanted me to join the cheer team but I wasn’t interested in that at all. He finally became popular when he got a car, and ever since, he had become the chauffeur for his group of friends. One night that winter, he was trying to show off by doing donuts in the middle of a street at night. I remember he said, “Dare me to start doing donuts right now.” I had to roll my eyes because it was so obvious no one even wanted him to do it, but he was trying to be cool. It was really snowy out, though, the snow was like, up to my knees in places that hadn’t gotten plowed. It was still snowing, too, and hard. You could hardly see a foot in front of your face. No one else spoke up, though, and I guess I didn’t want to be a buzzkill or something, so I’m no better, of course. Well, Todd started showing off and as you can guess, the car spiraled out of control and into a large rock in somebody’s front yard. I don’t know if he was just panicking, or what, but he started flooring the gas as if he could just power through that rock, but the car was already screwed, and it wasn’t going anywhere. After a minute, he told everyone else to walk home and leave him with the car. He didn’t want his parents to find out he was doing donuts and showing off for friends, and thought he could play it off like the car slipped on the icy road. He even sent his two friends to walk me back to my house, but they were both trying to flirt with me the entire time, and it was giving me the creeps.
Todd did stupid stuff like that all the time, but I knew there was more to him than what other people saw. He always wanted to be a police officer, but once some Army recruiters came to the school, he suddenly decided he wanted to do that, first. He always said he needed to do something “important” with his life that “meant something.” The way he said that always rubbed me the wrong way, though. He had this condescending tone as if what I wanted to do wasn’t good enough. He would run lines with me for the school plays, and his takes on Shakespeare were always brilliant. He would get jealous if Jackson talked to me, even though we were just neighbors, and rarely saw each other outside of taking out the trash or getting the mail. Jackson had been taking Karate classes since kindergarten, and he stuck with it even as the fad passed. I know, because I went to one of his classes when we were kids and used to play with puzzles together. He wasn’t intimidated by Todd even though Todd was bigger than him. Todd could be pretty mean when he got defensive, but Jackson never gave him the reaction he wanted. He was probably the nicest human being I’ve ever known. I told him as much, and he said to me, “My mom always taught me to ‘kill them with kindness,’ so that’s what I do.”