Maybe Rachel sensed that I was thinking about the film, because she brought it up again.
“It was really nice of you to do that film.”
“Well, it sucked, but we had to do it. There’s no good reason why it’s not better.”
“You didn’t have to do it!”
Rachel was sort of wide-eyed.
“Yeah, we did.”
“No.”
“You’re literally our only fan. We had to make something for you.”
“Well, actually, there is something I want you do for me.”
This was so unexpected that I was able to make a joke.
“But we already made you a film! Is there no end to your demands, tyrant. TYRANT WOMAN.”
There was some weak snorting and giggling. Then it seemed like she had to compose herself before talking again.
“I went through that college book.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. And I found some film schools in there.”
It took me a surprisingly long time to get the point of what she was talking about.
“I also found some other colleges with good film programs,” she said.
I was nodding my head stupidly. I knew I couldn’t argue with any of this.
“I want you to take your films and apply to them. Earl, too.”
“Uh, OK.”
“That’s the only thing I want you to do.”
“Yeah.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You promise.”
“Yeah, I promise.”
So. I’m finally getting to the part where my life gets ruined by Mom, and also Earl’s life. Go get some popcorn! This is gonna be awesome. I’ll wait right here.
Mmmm. Buttery, salty popcorn.
Actually, I’m gonna go make some popcorn, too. Hang on.
Fuck, this is the diet kind. This is disgusting. This tastes like the inside of a couch.
Fuckburglar.
So in the making of Rachel the Film, I fell behind on schoolwork sort of a lot. I already kind of told you about that, but during Rachel the Film, things reached sort of an embarrassing point. Basically, I was getting gangbanger-level grades, and teachers were starting to take me aside after class to tell me that I was destroying my own life. And finally, the day after I delivered the one copy of Rachel the Film to Rachel, Mr. McCarthy staged an intervention. He went to Mom and Dad, and the three of them agreed that Mr. McCarthy was allowed to keep me after school every day for hours to prevent me from failing my classes.
Did this happen to Earl? No. Earl takes classes where you don’t fail, period. It doesn’t matter what work you do or how often you show up. You could staple a dead animal to your homework and you wouldn’t fail. You could show up one day and pelt your teacher with bags of narcotics and poop. They’d probably just send you to the vice principal’s office or something.
So suddenly I was doing schoolwork all the time, under the watchful, quietly insane eye of Mr. McCarthy. I guess I was actually sort of grateful that someone else was taking over my life. I mean, I’m obviously pretty terrible at managing my own life, so it was nice to know that it was in good hands. But also it was nice to have all these concrete tasks to do and be sort of distracted and consumed by them. It kept me from thinking about every depressing weird thing that was going on at that time.
Unfortunately, it also prevented me from noticing that Mom was suddenly behaving abnormally.
Normally, when I’m home, she likes to do some annoying check-in at least every hour. There is no end to the reasons moms can use for annoying check-ins.
• Just seeing how things are going
• Just seeing if you need any help with anything
• Just wanted to say it’s a beautiful day outside and maybe you should think about getting some exercise
• Just letting you know that I’m going to spin class
• Just letting you know I’m back from spin class
• Just letting you know that Gretchen is being A Little Difficult Right Now so please don’t aggravate her
• Just wondering if you want beef tips for dinner or do you eat lamb because I was heading out to Whole Foods but I forget if you eat lamb
• Just had a question for you but now I forget what it is, so I’ll just ask you later, unless you might know what the question was, but you probably don’t, so I’ll just come back later, so things are going OK? They are? Honey, you need to turn some lights on in here or you’ll destroy your eyes
For a few days, this came to an unprecedented halt. I wasn’t home as much, and then when I was home, there were no check-ins. In hindsight, I really should have suspected something was up. But I was busy, and also, I was probably unconsciously grateful for the temporary lack of annoying check-ins, and unwilling to risk re-triggering them.
The hammer fell during eighth period.
One great thing about eighth-period lunch is that pep rallies are always scheduled for eighth period, so Earl and I never have to go to them. However, at least in theory, they’re mandatory attendance for the whole school, and for some reason Mr. McCarthy was a jerk about this one.
“Sorry, guys,” he said, standing in the doorway as his ninth-grade history class milled around outside like disoriented toddlers. “I’d get in big trouble if anyone found you here during the pep rally.”
So we left our lunches on his desk and tagged along with the ninth graders to the auditorium.
For most pep rallies, the marching band’s drum section is onstage, pounding out some repetitive beat, and maybe some of the bolder athletes grab a microphone and try to freestyle over it, until they get too sexually explicit or accidentally say the F- or N-word, at which point a vice principal shuts them down. However, there was just a massive projector screen onstage, and no drummers; just Principal Stewart. We were among the last classes to arrive, and so we had barely sat down among the ninth graders when Principal Stewart took the microphone and spoke.
Principal Stewart is a giant, terrifying black man. There’s no other way to put it. He is extremely authoritative, and his default facial expression, like Earl’s, is Pissed. I had never been directly addressed by him, and I was hoping to keep it that way until graduation.
His speaking style is hard to describe. There’s sort of an angry undercurrent to everything he says, even when the words aren’t angry at all, and there are a lot of pauses. He definitely sounded pissed at the pep rally.
“Students and teachers. Of Benson High School. Welcome to this pep rally. We are here. To cheer the Trojans. To certain victory over Allderdice. Tonight on the football field.”
Cheering and hollering that Principal Stewart, glaring at all of us, brought to an abrupt end.
“However. It is for a greater purpose. That I have assembled everyone. Here on this afternoon. I will make my words brief. On this subject.”
Major pause.
“A member of the Benson family. Is in the fight of her life. Against cancer. You may know her personally. And if not you have certainly heard. Her name. Her name is Rachel Kushner. We have all. At one time or another. Sent our prayers. Out to her and her family. They are needed.”