—Chapter seven—
"What about Jeff Bangert? He might do it," I offered.
Jungkook shook his head. "He can't. His father's sick, and he has to work in the store after school until his father gets back on his feet."
"What about Darren Woods?"
"He broke his arm last week when he slipped on the boat. His arm is in a sling."
"Really? I didn't know that," I said, stalling, but Jungkook knew what I was doing.
"I've been praying about it, Taehyung," he said simply, and sighed for the second time. "I'd really like this play to be special this year, not for me, but because of my father. I want it to be the best production ever. I know how much it will mean to him to see me be the angel, because this play reminds him of my mother. . . ." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "It would be terrible if the play was a failure this year, especially since I'm involved."
He stopped again before going on, his voice becoming more emotional as he went on.
"I know Eddie would do the best he could, I really do. And I'm not embarrassed to do the play with him, I'm really not. Actually, he's a very nice person, but he told me that he's having second thoughts about doing it. Sometimes people at school can be so...so... cruel, and I don't want Eddie to be hurt. But . . ." He took a deep breath, "but the real reason I'm asking is because of my father. He's such a good man, Taehyung. If people make fun of his memory of my mother while I'm playing the part . . . well, that would break my heart. And with Eddie and me . . . you know what people would say."
I nodded, my lips pressed together, knowing that I would have been one of those people he was talking about. In fact, I already was. Jungkook and Eddie, the dynamic duo, we called them after Miss Garber had announced that they'd be the ones doing the roles. The very fact that it was I who had started it up made me feel terrible, almost sick to my stomach.
He straightened up a little in his seat and looked at me sadly, as if he already knew I was going to say no. I guess he didn't know how I was feeling. He went on.
"I know that challenges are always part of the Lord's plan, but I don't want to believe that the Lord is cruel, especially to someone like my father. He devotes his life to God, he gives to the community. And he's already lost his wife and has had to raise me on his own. And I love him so much for it. . . ."
Jungkook turned away, but I could see the tears in his eyes. It was the first time I'd ever seen him cry. I think part of me wanted to cry, too.
"I'm not asking you to do it for me," he said softly, "I'm really not, and if you say no, I'll still pray for you. I promise. But if you'd like to do something kind for a wonderful man who means so much to me . . . Will you just think about it?"
His eyes looked like those of a cocker spaniel that had just messed on the rug. I looked down at my feet.
"I don't have to think about it," I finally said. "I'll do it."
I really didn't have a choice, did I?
The next day I talked to Miss Garber, went through the audition, and got the part. Eddie, by the way, wasn't upset at all. In fact, I could tell he was actually relieved about the whole thing.
When Miss Garber asked him if he'd be willing to let me play the role of Tom Thornton, his face sort of relaxed right there and one of his eyes popped back open. "Y-y-yes, a-a-absolutely," he said, stuttering. "I--I--I un-un-understand." It took him practically ten seconds to get the words out.
For his generosity, however, Miss Garber gave him the role of the bum, and we knew he'd do fairly well in that role. The bum, you see, was completely mute, but the angel always knew what he was thinking. At one point in the play he has to tell the mute bum that God will always watch out for him because God especially cares for the poor and downtrodden.
That was one of the tip-offs to the audience that he'd been sent from heaven. Like I said earlier, Dohyun wanted it to be real clear who offered redemption and salvation, and it certainly wasn't going to be a few rickety ghosts who just popped up out of nowhere.
Rehearsals started the next week, and we rehearsed in the classroom, because the Playhouse wouldn't open their doors for us until we'd got all the "little bugs" out of our performance. By little bugs, I mean our tendency to accidentally knock over the props.
The props had been made about fifteen years ago, when the play was in its first year, by Toby Bush, a sort of roving handyman who had done a few projects for the Playhouse in the past. He was a roving handyman because he drank beer all day long while he worked, and by about two o'clock or so he'd really be flying. I guess he couldn't see straight, because he'd accidentally whack his fingers with the hammer at least once a day.
Whenever that happened, he'd throw down the hammer and jump up and down, holding his fingers, cursing everyone from his mother to the devil. When he finally calmed down, he'd have another beer to soothe the pain before going back to work.
His knuckles were the size of walnuts, permanently swollen from years of whacking, and no one was willing to hire him on a permanent basis. The only reason Dohyun had hired him at all was because he was far and away the lowest bidder in town.
But Dohyun wouldn't allow drinking or cursing, and Toby really didn't know how to work within such a strict environment. As a result, the work was kind of sloppy, though it wasn't obvious right off the bat.
After a few years the props began to fall apart, and Dohyun took it upon himself to keep the things together. But while Dohyun was good at thumping the Bible, he wasn't too good at thumping nails, and the props had bent, rusty nails sticking out all over, poking through the plywood in so many places that we had to be careful to walk exactly where we were supposed to.
If we bumped them the wrong way, we'd either cut ourselves or the props would topple over, making little nail holes all over the stage floor. After a couple of years the Playhouse stage had to be resurfaced, and though they couldn't exactly close their doors to Dohyun, they made a deal with him to be more careful in the future. That meant we had to practice in the classroom until we'd worked out the "little bugs."
Fortunately Dohyun wasn't involved with the actual production of the play, because of all his ministering duties. That role fell to Miss Garber, and the first thing she told us to do was to memorize our lines as quickly as possible.
We didn't have as much time as was usually allotted for rehearsals because Thanksgiving came on the last possible day in November, and Dohyun didn't want the play to be performed too close to Christmas, so as not to interfere with "its true meaning." That left us only three weeks to get the play just right, which was about a week shorter than usual.
The rehearsals began at three o'clock, and Jungkook knew all his lines the first day there, which wasn't really surprising. What was surprising was that he knew all my lines, too, as well as everyone else's.
We'd be going over a scene, he'd be doing it without the script, and I'd be looking down at a stack of pages, trying to figure out what my next line should be, and whenever I looked up he had this real shiny look about him, as if waiting for a burning bush or something.
The only lines I knew were the mute bum's, at least on that first day, and all of a sudden I was actually envious of Eddie, at least in that regard.
This was going to be a lot of work, not exactly what I'd expected when I'd signed up for the class.
My noble feelings about doing the play had worn off by the second day of rehearsals. Even though I knew I was doing the "right thing," my friends didn't understand it at all, and they'd been riding me since they'd found out.
"You're doing what?" Namjoon asked when he learned about it. "You're doing the play with Jeon Jungkook? Are you insane or just plain stupid?" I sort of mumbled that I had a good reason, but he wouldn't let it drop, and he told everyone around us that I had a crush on him.
I denied it, of course, which just made them assume it was true, and they'd laugh all the louder and tell the next person they saw. The stories kept getting wilder, too--by lunchtime I'd heard from Sally that I was thinking of getting engaged. I actually think Sally was jealous about it.
She'd had a crush on me for years, and the feeling might have been mutual except for the fact that she had a glass eye, and that was something I just couldn't ignore.
Her bad eye reminded me of something you'd see stuffed into the head of a mounted owl in a tacky antique shop, and to be honest, it sort of gave me the willies.
I guess that was when I started to resent Jungkook again. I know it wasn't his fault, but I was the one who was taking the arrows for Dohyun, who hadn't exactly gone out of his way the night of homecoming to make me feel welcome.
I began to stumble through my lines in class for the next few days, not really even attempting to learn them, and occasionally I'd crack a joke or two, which everyone laughed at, except for Jungkook and Miss Garber.
After rehearsal was over I'd head home to put the play out of my mind, and I wouldn't even bother to pick up the script.
Instead I'd joke with my friends about the weird things Jungkook did and tell fibs about how it was Miss Garber who had forced me into the whole thing.
Jungkook, though, wasn't going to let me off that easy. No, he got me right where it hurts, right smack in the old ego.
I was out with Namjoon on Saturday night following Beaufort's third consecutive state championship in football, about a week after rehearsals had started.
We were hanging out at the waterfront outside of Cecil's Diner, eating hushpuppies and watching people cruising in their cars, when I saw Jungkook walking down the street.
He was still a hundred yards away, turning his head from side to side, wearing that old brown sweater again and carrying his Bible in one hand.
It must have been nine o'clock or so, which was late for him to be out, and it was even stranger to see him in this part of town.
I turned my back to him and pulled the collar up on my jacket, but even Margaret--who had banana pudding where her brain should have been--was smart enough to figure out who Jungkook was looking for.
"Taehyung, your boyfriend is here."
"He's not my boyfriend," I said. "I don't have a significant other."
"Your fiancee, then."
I guess she'd talked to Sally, too.
"I'm not engaged," I said. "Now knock it off."
I glanced over my shoulder to see if he'd spotted me, and I guess he had. Jungkook was walking toward us. I pretended not to notice.
"Here he comes," Margaret said, and giggled.
"I know," I said.
Twenty seconds later she said it again.
"He's still coming." I told you she was smart enough to pick up on who Jungkook was looking for.
"I know," I said through gritted teeth. If it wasn't for her legs, Margaret could almost drive you as crazy as Jungkook.
I glanced around again, and this time Jungkook knew I'd seen him and he smiled and waved at me. I turned away, and a moment later he was standing right beside me.
"Hello, Taehyung," he said to me, oblivious of my scorn. "Hello, Namjoon, Margaret . . ." He went around the group. Everyone sort of mumbled "hello" and tried not to stare at the Bible.
Namjoon was holding a beer, and he moved it behind his back so Jungkook wouldn't see it.
Jungkook could even make Namjoon feel guilty if he was close enough to him. They'd been neighbors at one time, and Namjoon had been on the receiving end of Jungkook's talks before. Behind his back he called him "the Salvation Man," in obvious reference to the Salvation Army.
"He would have been a brigadier general," he liked to say. But when Jungkook was standing right in front of him, it was another story. In his mind he had an in with God, and Namjoon didn't want to be in his bad graces.
"How are you doing, Namjoon? I haven't seen you around much recently." He said this as if he still talked to him all the time.
He shifted from one foot to the other and looked at his shoes, playing that guilty look for all it was worth.
"Well, I haven't been to church lately," he said.
Jungkook smiled that glittery smile. "Well, that's okay, I suppose, as long as it doesn't become a habit or anything."
"It won't."
Now I've heard of confession--that thing when Catholics sit behind a screen and tell the priest about all their sins--and that's the way Namjoon was when he was next to Jungkook. For a second I thought he was going to call him "sir."
"You want a beer?" Margaret asked. I think she was trying to be funny, but no one laughed.
Jungkook put his hand to his hair, tugging gently at the strands. "Oh . . . no, not really . . . thank you, though."
He looked directly at me with a really sweet glow, and right away I knew I was in trouble.
I thought he was going to ask me off to the side or something, which to be honest I thought would turn out better, but I guess that wasn't in his plans.
"Well, you did really well this week at rehearsals," he said to me. "I know you've got a lot of lines to learn, but I'm sure you're going to get them all real soon. And I just wanted to thank you for volunteering like you did. You're a real gentleman."
"Thanks," I said, a little knot forming in my stomach.
I tried to be cool, but all my friends were looking right at me, suddenly wondering if I'd been telling them the truth about Miss Garber forcing it on me and everything. I hoped they missed it.
"Your friends should be proud of you," Jungkook added, putting that thought to rest.
"Oh, we are," Namjoon said, pouncing. "Very proud. He's a good guy, that Taehyung, what with his volunteering and all."
Oh no.
Jungkook smiled at him, then turned back to me again, his old cheerful self. "I also wanted to tell you that if you need any help, you can come by anytime. We can sit on the porch like we did before and go over your lines if you need to."
I saw Namjoon mouth the words "like we did before" to Margaret. This really wasn't going well at all. By now the pit in my stomach was as big as Paul Bunyan's bowling ball.
"That's okay," I mumbled, wondering how I could squirm my way out of this. "I can learn them at home."
"Well, sometimes it helps if someone's there to read with you, Taehyung," Namjoon offered.
I told you he'd stick it to me, even though he was my friend.
"No, really," I said to him, "I'll learn the lines on my own."
"Maybe," Namjoon said, smiling, "you two should practice in front of the orphans, once you've got it down a little better. Sort of a dress rehearsal, you know? I'm sure they'd love to see it."
You could practically see Jungkook's mind start clicking at the mention of the word orphans. Everyone knew what his hot button was. "Do you think so?" he asked.
Namjoon nodded seriously. "I'm sure of it. Taehyung was the one who thought of it first, but I know that if I was an orphan, I'd love something like that, even if it wasn't exactly the real thing."
"Me too," Margaret chimed in.
As they spoke, the only thing I could think about was that scene from Julius Caesar where Brutus stabs him in the back. Et tu, Namjoon?
"It was Taehyung's idea?" he asked, furrowing his brow. He looked at me, and I could tell he was still mulling it over.
But Namjoon wasn't about to let me off the hook that easy. Now that he had me flopping on the deck, the only thing left to do was gut me. "You'd like to do that, wouldn't you, Taehyung?" he said. "Helping the orphans, I mean."
It wasn't exactly something you could answer no to, was it?
"I reckon so," I said under my breath, staring at my best friend. Namjoon, despite the remedial classes he was in, would have been one hell of a chess player.
"Good, then, it's all settled. That's if it's okay with you, Jungkook." His smile was so sweet, it could have flavored half the RC cola in the county.
"Well . . . yes, I suppose I'll have to talk to Miss Garber and the director of the orphanage, but if they say it's okay, I think it would be a fine idea."
And the thing was, you could tell he was really happy about it.
Checkmate.
The next day I spent fourteen hours memorizing my lines, cursing my friends, and wondering how my life had spun so out of control.
My senior year certainly wasn't turning out the way I thought it would when it began, but if I had to perform for a bunch of orphans, I certainly didn't want to look like an idiot.
End of 07
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A/n- Namjoon's not a good friend here.