Page 45 of My Own Kind of Person

The guy onstage says something about his ex-wife. It doesn’t get a laugh.

Sal shakes his head. “No.”

I’m out of breath. “Thank you. Thanks very much.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy, kid. Nothing is ever worth the stress.”

He returns to his seat at a booth.

Christy grabs my arm. “Oh my goodness!”

“I know.”

“How do you feel?”

“I think I need some fresh air.” I get up and my legs wobble. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I keep a hand touching the wall as I walk out.

Outside, the rain taps on my cheeks, waking up my skin. I walk into the glow of a yellow streetlamp and hold my arms out and turn my face to the sky. I don’t need to see a mirror to know. I look the same as I did a few hours ago, but something has changed. I stepped onto that stage one version of myself and, up there, I practiced being someone new. Someone more true. I’m off the stage now and I might slip back into my old self, but I practiced it tonight. And I will practice it tomorrow. There’s no going back.

I hear the club door squeak open. I hear the foil from a stick of gum.

I turn.

Andi says, “I read the beginning of your set and immediately found someone to cover my second shift.”

I smile. And in the most surprising sign that something has changed, Andi smiles too.

Chapter 14

I wake before dawn dreaming about last night. It’s like how after swimming in the ocean, your body can still feel the rocking of the waves. I can feel the mic in my hand. I can hear the applause in my ears.

On the way to school, Tony and Andi and I nearly talk over one another. I ask if Joe Johnson will be at the competition next week, and Tony wheezes that the event listing doesn’t say and Joe still hasn’t posted on social. Andi asks if he’s doing this competition for his other shows, and Tony answers that he doesn’t have any other shows. There’s only this one, and he hasn’t said why he’s doing it this way. I add that it’s another of Joe’s unusual things. The opener for his second special was a folk singer. In his third, he wore a gold tuxedo. For whatever reason, for this one—if it will be recorded as a special—he is returning to the place where he grew up, and he’s looking for someone new to set the tone.

When we get to the parking lot I pull directly into an open space in front. Everything is right in the world—until I get to English.

Elijah is wearing a cuffed blue T-shirt. Perfection. Mazzei, however, is wearing gray pants that are way too tight. His judgment is obviously off today, because he claps his hands and says, “Let’s form groups of four. Groups of four, please.”

Elijah and I try desperately to create any other configuration, but Mazzei swoops in and directs us to join with Steph Rooney and Jay Romero.

“Take turns telling stories,” Mazzei tells the class. “No feedback. We’re only dipping our toes in the water today.”

Steph turns in her chair and waves to Elijah. “Hi, I’m—”

“Aw yeah!” Jay scrapes his desk around, looking far too happy. “We got O’Brien, and…”

He points at Elijah, waiting.

“Elijah.”

“Nah. Last name.”

Elijah sits up straight. “Summers.”

“Summers?” Jay says.

“Yes.”