Magical Thinking - Augusten Burroughs [3]
My mother despised Tang. “I’ve just made this fresh tangerine juice and put it into this nice clay pitcher I bought at the Leverette Arts Center, and you want that god-awful artificial junk.” She did like cinnamon DYNAMINTS, though.
Mrs. Ames told us that the men from the van wanted to use some of us in their commercial. “Not all of you, now. Only some of you. They’re going to have to choose.”
Instantly, the students began raising their hands. Except for me. Some voice inside me said, “Don’t do it. It’s beneath you.” Instead, I sat politely at my desk with my hands clasped firmly together. I was very pleased that I’d thought to wear my fourteen-karat-gold electroplated ID bracelet that day. One thing was certain: I would be in their Tang commercial. And if any of the other children tried to get in my way, I would use my pencil to blind them.
“So these men would like to separate everybody into groups and then ask each group a few questions.”
Chaos erupted as the kids began to screech with excitement. Desks were shoved back, chairs knocked over. Mrs. Ames tried to gain control of her students by slapping her ruler against the edge of her globe. “Now, now, now, silence! Stop this! Children, come to attention at once!”
Reluctantly, the class came to attention, facing the flag and placing their hands over their hearts, ready to recite the Pledge of Allegiance.
“No, not that,” she said. “Just stand still and be silent.”
Eventually, we were split up into groups of three. Then group by group the men met with the kids.
I stared hatefully at the back of Lisa Tucker’s fat head. I was trying to determine where the odor she emitted was coming from. A hole? Some sort of vent for her brain? I hated Lisa, and so did everyone else. She smelled like feet and something worse, something spoiled and eggy. And she was mean. She was a strong girl who pushed the boys around. Her older brother, Tommy, was one of the big kids who went to the new school down the street. Once he hit me so hard he knocked the wind out of me. I wished that Lisa and Tommy would go swimming in the ocean and be eaten by Jaws. Surely the men would know not to cast her in their commercial.
When it was finally my turn, the men were tired, as evidenced by their loosened ties and the large wet spots that spread from under their arms. They’d spoken to all thirty kids and had notes splayed out on the table in front of them. They looked funny sitting in our small chairs, which had never seemed small before.
The man who had first smiled at me said, “Hi guys. So do any of you want to be in a commercial?” He looked at me when he said this, and I got the feeling that he had already chosen me. His eyes said, You are special and better than all the other children, and I would like you to come live with me and my blue eyes in a city far away from here. His eyes said, I will save you.
We all nodded our heads yes.
“Good then. Good. So what I want to do is, I want to see if you can laugh. I’m gonna tell you a joke, and I just want to see what you sound like when you laugh. Ready?”
The other children nodded, I thought, like puppets. I smiled and winked at him, like I’d seen people do on TV.
He winked back and nudged the man on his left.
“Okay,” he said. Then he raised his voice and made a comical face. “Your mother wears army boots!”
Neither of the other kids laughed.
I tossed my head back in an explosion of delight and laughed so hard I was able to bring tears to my eyes. My face was flushed, my hands dripping with sweat from the pressure.
“Wow,” said the man. “You really liked that joke, did you?”
His friend turned to him. “Yeah, Phil, you’re a real laugh-riot.”
I quickly looked back and forth between the two men, but I wasn’t sure what was going on between them. Had I laughed before the punch line? Or was it a trick joke? Had I just blown my chance?
“Do you kids like Tang?” he asked.
The other two kids nodded grimly.
“I love Tang!” I gushed. “Only I like to make it with an extra scoop. Plus, you