Read Online Sorta Like a Rock Star by Matthew Quick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Matthew Quick
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teenage boys and therefore do not know how much is at stake. None of them has ever been homeless either. None of them has ever missed a meal. Their lawyer and banker fathers are around to provide houses and clothes and food and all the other good stuff. These boys don’t understand what I understand.
Following my own advice, I think about Franks’ redheaded kids as we park, and my chest starts to burn—my eyes start to water.
“Leave your coats in the car, boys,” Donna says. “I want everyone to see your shirts.”
We take off our coats, get Chad into the babypack on Jared’s back, and then Donna says, “We bust in. I make a brief introduction, and then you boys follow Amber’s lead. Understood?”
My boys nod. They understand.
“Ready to start filming?” Donna says.
“Wait,” I say. “We should pray first. Before we go in.”
“If you must,” Donna says, and then walks toward the door, Ricky following his mother, because Ricky is also an atheist, just like his mom.
We are all shivering in our T-shirts, because it is cold out, but we are also geared up for the mission.
Chad, Ty, and Jared don’t really dig on JC as much as I do, but they all believe in God, so they bow their heads and close their eyes as I grab Ty’s and Jared’s hands, and say, “Dear God, we are gathered here tonight for a good cause. Franks’ job is on the line. We believe that CPHS needs Franks, that he does much more good than harm in that building, which is cool and important. If our cause be just, give us the strength to use the talents with which you have already blessed us. Help us rock the worlds of those board members. Peace out, God. And peace be with you.”
We all drop hands and open eyes.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Hell, yeah!” Chad says from behind his brother’s head.
We walk toward Donna, who has the video camera out and recording now, which makes me realize that she videoed my prayer. I’m not sure I like her videoing my prayer, but I don’t say anything about that.
Donna says, “Introduce yourself, boys.”
“Chad Fox, aka the Desert Fox, ready and willin’ and chillin’.”
“Ty Hendrix. Tower of Power even if I am only five-ten.”
“Jared Fox. Just Jared.”
“My name is Ricky Roberts. The macking mathematician,” Ricky says, which makes me smile because I made up that name for Ricky.
“Amber Appleton. Just a girl with God on her side.”
Donna holds the video camera at arms length and films herself saying, “Donna Roberts, attorney at law. We’re at the Childress Public High School board meeting. The time is 7:46 PM Tuesday, January 27, 2009. The rest will be self-explanatory.”
Keeping the camera on herself, Donna walks into the converted-into-offices house next to the elementary school, and into the boardroom where the school board meets.
There are community members and one or two local reporters seated in folding chairs; Prince Tony is in the front row with a few other administrators, and the school board is seated behind this long table front and center. Pretty standard adult stuff abounds.
We’re all in camo, hunter orange letters proclaiming who we are quite loudly. But wearing a three-piece suit that actually has a pocket watch chain draped like an evil gold smile across the man’s belly, as if he is stepping out of some old corny movie about waiting for trains to show up, Mr. Pinkston stands, removes his pocket watch from his vest, and—while reading the time—he says, “Who are you and what the hell do you think you are doing?”
Donna just stands there in front of Mr. Pinkston, front and center, wearing camo, filming herself, confidently letting all present take in her hotness.
“Sit,” Donna says, as if she were talking to Bobby Big Boy.
Amazingly, Mr. Pinkston looks up, surprised, and then sits.
The room is dead quiet.
“Ms. Roberts,” Prince Tony says in a calm, soothing voice. “What’s going on here? We don’t allow these meetings to be videotaped.
Following my own advice, I think about Franks’ redheaded kids as we park, and my chest starts to burn—my eyes start to water.
“Leave your coats in the car, boys,” Donna says. “I want everyone to see your shirts.”
We take off our coats, get Chad into the babypack on Jared’s back, and then Donna says, “We bust in. I make a brief introduction, and then you boys follow Amber’s lead. Understood?”
My boys nod. They understand.
“Ready to start filming?” Donna says.
“Wait,” I say. “We should pray first. Before we go in.”
“If you must,” Donna says, and then walks toward the door, Ricky following his mother, because Ricky is also an atheist, just like his mom.
We are all shivering in our T-shirts, because it is cold out, but we are also geared up for the mission.
Chad, Ty, and Jared don’t really dig on JC as much as I do, but they all believe in God, so they bow their heads and close their eyes as I grab Ty’s and Jared’s hands, and say, “Dear God, we are gathered here tonight for a good cause. Franks’ job is on the line. We believe that CPHS needs Franks, that he does much more good than harm in that building, which is cool and important. If our cause be just, give us the strength to use the talents with which you have already blessed us. Help us rock the worlds of those board members. Peace out, God. And peace be with you.”
We all drop hands and open eyes.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Hell, yeah!” Chad says from behind his brother’s head.
We walk toward Donna, who has the video camera out and recording now, which makes me realize that she videoed my prayer. I’m not sure I like her videoing my prayer, but I don’t say anything about that.
Donna says, “Introduce yourself, boys.”
“Chad Fox, aka the Desert Fox, ready and willin’ and chillin’.”
“Ty Hendrix. Tower of Power even if I am only five-ten.”
“Jared Fox. Just Jared.”
“My name is Ricky Roberts. The macking mathematician,” Ricky says, which makes me smile because I made up that name for Ricky.
“Amber Appleton. Just a girl with God on her side.”
Donna holds the video camera at arms length and films herself saying, “Donna Roberts, attorney at law. We’re at the Childress Public High School board meeting. The time is 7:46 PM Tuesday, January 27, 2009. The rest will be self-explanatory.”
Keeping the camera on herself, Donna walks into the converted-into-offices house next to the elementary school, and into the boardroom where the school board meets.
There are community members and one or two local reporters seated in folding chairs; Prince Tony is in the front row with a few other administrators, and the school board is seated behind this long table front and center. Pretty standard adult stuff abounds.
We’re all in camo, hunter orange letters proclaiming who we are quite loudly. But wearing a three-piece suit that actually has a pocket watch chain draped like an evil gold smile across the man’s belly, as if he is stepping out of some old corny movie about waiting for trains to show up, Mr. Pinkston stands, removes his pocket watch from his vest, and—while reading the time—he says, “Who are you and what the hell do you think you are doing?”
Donna just stands there in front of Mr. Pinkston, front and center, wearing camo, filming herself, confidently letting all present take in her hotness.
“Sit,” Donna says, as if she were talking to Bobby Big Boy.
Amazingly, Mr. Pinkston looks up, surprised, and then sits.
The room is dead quiet.
“Ms. Roberts,” Prince Tony says in a calm, soothing voice. “What’s going on here? We don’t allow these meetings to be videotaped.
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