At Face Value
“LEYLA GIVES ME a thumbs-up in drama class before she takes her seat. No doubt she is commenting on the flurry of emails I’ve proofed, cleaned up, and added to over the past few days. Her grammar has improved, though not the depths of her commentary. He knows, now, that she likes grilled cheese with tomato and never wears boots in the winter, and used to want to be a professional tap dancer. But not much else. He’s brought up some issues, but kept the tone fairly chatty. I guess that’s just how ...it goes. Meanwhile, my brain is yet again crammed with things I want to say to him, but can’t.
I once told Leyla that I wished I was average. She couldn’t understand why, even though she tried. She listened, but she wound up asking, “Why wouldn’t you want to be, um, super-modely if you could?” I tucked nearly my whole face into my turtleneck and mumbled, “Plain. Plain would be enough.”
I make it through Drama, barely keeping my eyes open during the monologues. My neck starts to ache from keeping my head up, and I use my clear view of Eddie and the idea of the approaching auction to keep my brain from switching off.MoreLess
I once told Leyla that I wished I was average. She couldn’t understand why, even though she tried. She listened, but she wound up asking, “Why wouldn’t you want to be, um, super-modely if you could?” I tucked nearly my whole face into my turtleneck and mumbled, “Plain. Plain would be enough.”
I make it through Drama, barely keeping my eyes open during the monologues. My neck starts to ache from keeping my head up, and I use my clear view of Eddie and the idea of the approaching auction to keep my brain from switching off.MoreLess
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