Monday, Monday

“Terry, right?” Her voice caught me just as I was trying to sneak out of Spanish class, my heart pounding.

“Uh, yeah,” I managed, my mind racing. She did recognize me.

“Do you have a sister or something? Because I saw a girl at the mall on Saturday, looked a lot like you,” she pressed, her gaze sharp and probing.

“Really? A girl who looks like me?” I tried to sound nonchalant, buying time to think.

“Yeah, her name was Sally or Sandra... something with an S. She had longer hair than you, though,” Akio continued, her curiosity not easily dissuaded. “It was just for a second, but it was uncanny. I mean, she was the same height, blue eyes, even her voice…”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t have a sister,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t betray my panic.

Akio’s frown deepened, her skepticism apparent. “Huh, that’s super-odd. -- Anyway, see you around, Terry,” she said, but her tone suggested this wasn’t the end of her inquiries.

As she walked away, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of her lingering doubts. The fear of future encounters, where my answers might not be so readily accepted, hung over me like a dark cloud. What if she starts asking more questions? What if others start noticing, too?

Slumber Party 1

At Monday’s rehearsal, Donald worked with the boys on Greased Lightning and Magic Changes. Mrs. Wiseman worked with us on the Slumber Party songs, Sandra Dee and Freddie my Love.

Rizzo: I don’t drink ------ or swear ---------, I don’t wrap my hair----------------

P.Ladies: ----------- EEEW!-----------EEW!-----------------------------EEEEEWW!- -

As Kristine/Rizzo mockingly counted off the many things perfect Sandy wouldn't do, Jenny, Emily, Liz and I as the Pink Ladies responded to each phrase with a loud “Eew!” of revulsion. As usual, I sang with the altos, Liz and Jenny. Emily was the only girl singing the soprano part because Sally/Sandy was off-stage for this song. Emily, however, had no problem holding her own against our alto group. Her “Eew!” came out at the top of her lungs!

Emily tried to make me laugh, though, by singing each “Eew!” right into my face with an expression like she tasted something awful. I reciprocated by doing the exact same to her so each “Eew!” became almost a yelling match between Emily and me as we fought to hold back laughter and throw the other off. If Liz and Jenny were still singing, I couldn’t hear them.

For now, we were only working on the song, and not the antics of the Pink Ladies bouncing on the bed and otherwise acting silly. What will I do during the performance though? They can’t have a boy at the slumber party. Would they dress me in girl’s pajamas? How would I feel about it if they did?

Kristine/Rizzo: Elvis! Elvis! Let me be! Keep that Elvis far from me!

You might think that Emily and I were drowning out the normally soft-spoken Kristine, but you would be wrong. Kristine played Rizzo like nothing I’ve ever seen before. She let loose with every line, holding nothing back.

When it was over, we all clapped for Kristine and I suppose for ourselves too.

“Girls! I’m so impressed with your energy! You’re all really getting into your parts! And while it may feel to you like you’re overdoing it, you’re not! Remember, people in the audience are twenty to forty feet away. On stage, everything you do has to be exaggerated or it will seem like you’re not doing enough.” Mrs. Wiseman said. All of us smiled and glowed at the praise.

For a moment, my eyes met Kristine’s. Along with the smiles she shared with the rest of us, she raised her eyebrows just a bit. A subtle reminder that she shared my secret. And while it made me feel a little shy, at the same time, it was nice having another person, another girl who I was beginning to think of as a friend, know about me as well. Surely Kristine understood why I was enjoying being in this girl’s space.

Next, Mrs. Wiseman wanted us to go through the other Slumber Party song, “Freddy My Love” sung by Liz as Marty.

The first time through, Liz sang tentatively. Mrs. Wiseman coached her to sing more confidently and gave her tips for projecting.

“You got this, Liz!” I heard Jenny say.

“You can do it, Liz!” Other voices joined in, giving her encouragement.

Unfortunately, while there was improvement, it wasn’t that much better.

“Mrs. Wiseman, I’m not sure if I’m cut out for a solo. Can’t one of the other girls do it?” Liz asked in frustration.

Mrs. Wiseman considered her and looked at the other girls. “The problem is, all of the other Pink Ladies have boyfriends. It doesn’t make sense for anyone but Marty to sing that song.”

“Well how about if I switch with Jenny, she can play Marty and I’ll play Jan.” Liz suggested.

Mrs. Wiseman seemed to think about this, until Jenny said, “Umm. I want to help and everything, but could I please stay as Jan. Now that I’ve learned all her lines and everything.”

I was pretty sure that Jenny didn’t want to sing the solo any more than Liz did.

Mrs. Wiseman looked at the clock, “Liz, I would like for you to practice this at home, concentrating on projection like I showed you, okay.”

“Yes, Mrs. Wiseman.” Liz muttered so quietly you could barely hear her.

I felt badly for Liz and wondered whether there was a way that I could help her, but it seemed like Liz wanted to be left alone.

Slumber Party II

On Tuesday, the air was thick with anticipation as we returned to the Slumber Party scenes. Donald, switching roles with Mrs. Wiseman, seemed to have a new challenge up his sleeve.

“Has anyone seen Liz today?” he inquired, casting a glance towards Kristine. “Isn’t she your sister?”

Kristine hesitated, a shadow of concern crossing her face. “She didn’t mention missing today’s rehearsal...”

Is Kristine holding something back? I wondered.

“Let’s proceed with ‘Freddie My Love,’” Donald suggested. “Terry, with Liz absent, could you step in for Marty? Just for today, to keep the choreography on track.”

I nodded, my thoughts racing. Singing ‘Freddie My Love’ in Emily’s kitchen was one thing; performing it here was another. I embraced Marty’s longing for her boyfriend serving far away in Korea.

Me/Marty: Freddy my love, I miss you more than words can say

Pink Ladies: ---------------------------------------------------------------------Ah, ah, ah, ah…

Donald led the Pink Ladies through the choreography and responses as I sang the solo. He kept them so busy working through the details of their movements and responses, I assumed that no one was paying attention to my singing. I became absorbed, almost forgetting where I was.

The applause at the end took me by surprise. The group's reaction was mixed with astonishment and admiration, particularly from Donald.

“That was quite impressive, Terry,” he remarked.

I smiled, pleased with the praise but self-conscious at the same time.

"Um… Liz says that she had a conflict with soccer today and will be back tomorrow," Kristine announced, her eyes on her phone.

Sally's voice, sharp and clear, cut through the silence. "I have a question. It’s fine for Terry to sing with the altos, but a boy in the slumber party scene? How’s that supposed to work?"

The room fell into an uneasy silence. My heart sank, and a lump formed in my throat. The sense of belonging I had cherished vanished in an instant, leaving me feeling exposed and alienated. Desperately seeking refuge in my script, I barely registered the concerned glances from Emily and Kristine.

Kristine, ever the peacemaker, intervened. "Mrs. Wiseman mentioned working something out."

"But shouldn’t we rehearse realistically?" Sally pressed, her tone revealing her discomfort.

Sally’s words made me extremely uncomfortable, but weren’t these the same doubts I had myself? What were they going to do with me? I just don’t fit in. The text of my script becoming blurry. I put my hand on my forehead to cover my eyes.

Donald hesitated, then said, "We're exploring options, but nothing's decided yet."

Jenny bent down to look into my face with a puzzled expression, “Hey is everything all right, Terry?”

Unable to bear the weight of the room's gaze, I muttered “Excuse me,” then hurried toward the restroom, my retreat a silent plea for a moment of solitude.

"Could we take a quick break, Donald?" Emily's voice followed me, a beacon of empathy in a tumultuous sea.

In the restroom, I confronted the mirror, my reflection, a jumble of contradictions. My blue fleece top, the only piece of me that felt authentic, contrasted sharply with the rest. On Saturday, I felt like I had come so far, but now I realized that I was still stuck in the same place I started. I was trapped – wanting desperately to be one of the girls, but the world insisting that I stay in my place. "You're such a loser! I hate you!" I took out my pain and anger out at the boy in the mirror, grabbing a paper towel to catch the tears.

Maybe Sally is right. Maybe they’ll just stick me in the closet, heard but not seen. The irony broke through. They put the trans girl in the closet. That’s just perfect, I thought darkly.

A soft knock startled me from my reverie. Emily peeked in, her voice low. “Is it just you in here?” Her presence in the boy's restroom underscored the complexity of our situation. I nodded.

“I’m so sorry, Terry.” Emily said her hands finding mine. Her touch was like a lifeline, nourishing my soul and reviving my courage.

“It’s not your fault.” I managed, fighting back fresh tears.

“Want me to say that you’re sick?” Emily offered.

I shook my head. "No, they might think I'm running away." The idea of retreating was tempting, but it wouldn’t solve my problem. It would only postpone it.

We embraced, Emily's strength bolstering my resolve. With a deep breath, I prepared to face the music, literally and figuratively. Emily held onto my hand as we walked back to the group. I could tell that people saw it and maybe misinterpreted the meaning, but I didn’t care.

When we reconvened, the atmosphere had shifted. The usual banter of the group was gone. Most everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts. Our run through of “Sandra Dee” had none of the energy of the day before. Kristine was still good, but with almost zero energy from the chorus, the performance lacked the same impact.

Jenny touched my arm and asked in a whisper, “Is everything okay, Terry?” Her look, one of concern. I wasn’t myself and couldn’t pretend to be.

“Kristine, well done as usual.” Donald said, but his expression wasn’t happy. “Is this a slumber party or a funeral, girls? You’re supposed to be having the time of your lives here!” Donald’s frown took Jenny, Emily and I, all in, causing me to feel even worse. I was bringing everyone down.

Sensing my distress, Emily took hold of my hand and squeezed it lightly. I looked in her eyes, but just couldn’t smile.

“Let’s take it from the top. But this time, Pink Ladies, let’s hear you!”

We sang it again, I forced myself to sing the part, though my heart wasn’t in it. I simply concentrated and did my best.

At the end, Donald gave us tepid praise, “Well, it was louder. I’ll give you that. We’ve run out of time today. Tomorrow, I want everyone to come back ready to work.”