Page 26 of My Own Kind of Person

Mrs. Farmer puts a hand to her mouth in fear. “Haunting.”

All through the morning, I’m on fire. In art, I narrate the thoughts of the pears in the still-life and get more of those elusive Andi-laughs. I rewatch my set and think about Sal watching it. It’s a hit. It’s undeniable. I have so many good jokes in all my classes that I add them to the official draft of my set. At lunch I show Tony the new lines and he gives his seal of approval to all of them. I’m ready for Sal to invite me to the competition. I’m ready to knock it out of the park.

I bounce-walk my way into English, wink at Mr. Mazzei, and slide into my seat beside Elijah, grinning his way.

He puts the book he was reading—a graphic novel showing two boys with backpacks holding hands—into his purple tote. He tilts his head sideways. Today’s T-shirt with cuffed sleeves is bright red. “This is a curious expression you have.”

“I am experiencing an emotion no one has ever experienced before,” I say. “I should inform whatever kind of scientist studies such matters.”

Elijah places a hand pensively to his chin and dramatically lifts an eyebrow. “Describe this emotion.”

“I feel like I can say things and exist without panicking.”

He laughs. “I think that’s just feeling normal.”

I hold a hand up to the stars. “I call it…Not-Terrified!”

He crosses his legs, flashing a type of shoes I’ve never seen. They’re black and canvas but with a sturdier sole than my P.F. Flyers.

“What are those?”

“Palladiums.” He dangles his foot, displaying it. “I saw them in a store window in the city.”

“The city? Cool.”

“I go once a week for ballet.”

Mind blown. “Every week?”

He lets out a big sigh. “I was hoping to get into this one arts school in New York this year. And last year. I tried out both times, but I didn’t get in. Some of these people have been practicing since they were kindergarteners. They grew up in New York and knew about that stuff. I didn’t even realize…” He pauses with his mouth open and turns back to me. “It doesn’t matter. Palladiums.”

“You didn’t realize what?”

“I didn’t realize I wanted to dance until like two years ago, and by then some kids are already on Broadway.”

“Jeez.”

“I’m supposed to be an accountant or something because that would be financially secure, but I think I’d rather be broke.”

“Ideally you could be a not-broke not-accountant, but—”

“Yeah.” He exhales. “My mom says I’m right on time and I can take these classes and apply to the right colleges and it’s going to work out, and she’s the one paying for everything, so I can’t argue with her.”

“What do any of your other parents say? If you have any.”

“My dad is finishing work in New Jersey for the next few months, so I don’t have to care what he says. But I’m a proud mama’s boy anyway.”

My face softens and my chest tightens. “I’m a proud mama’s boy too.”

He points at me. “That’s the way you sounded in the bathroom! It’s lower than your voice the rest of the time.”

My armpits immediately start sweating.

Then I realize the whole class is silently watching us. Mr. Mazzei sit-leans on the edge of his desk, also watching.

Jay puffs out his chest. “Why is your voice lower in the bathroom, O’Brien?”

I look at Mazzei and only at Mazzei.