Gawky Read Online Free Page B

it was her father who had come up with the original formula for sugarless gum at the candy factory he had worked in. But because he didn’t properly take ownership of the formula, it went to the company and we never saw a dime of the Trident/Extra/Carefree empire. She also told me repeatedly that he came up with the formula for chlorophyll gum, what Clorets were madefrom. My mom was the last remaining chewer of Clorets gum and was solely responsible for keeping them in business. That being said, she was extra supportive in making sure I got what was rightfully mine from this song . . . that Wham! actually wrote.
    I was officially on my way to massive success as a pop star. I couldn’t wait for that assembly, and I hoped a big agent in the crowd would see beyond my awkwardness to the musical prodigy lying within. Then my life would really begin. Maybe in my tear-out photos in Bop magazine I wouldn’t look so tall. As long as I wasn’t always standing right next to Amanda, I was sure they could fudge it so I looked normal size.
    I also had a secret backup plan on the off chance there were no big-time Hollywood agents in the audience of the Lloyd Road Elementary School. I had learned from watching Madonna interviews that getting no attention is worse than negative attention. So, the next best thing to getting discovered as a musical prodigy would be to get caught publicly for stealing the song. A part of me secretly hoped my teacher would stand up and say, “Everyone hold your furious applause. The Jersey Girls have clearly ripped this song off from Wham! Call the police! And thank you, yes, I have lost weight. Sixty pounds to be exact.” Then I would be whisked off stage in handcuffs screaming “Get me a lawyer!” The options—record deal or arrest—seemed equally appealing to me. I’d end up forever labeled a bad girl or a genius. Either way, I’d come out on top.
    The day of the assembly arrived. While Amanda and I waited in the wings of the auditorium, I peeked out to see who was in the audience. All I could see were my schoolmates and teachers, no recognizable showbiz types. No men in top hats or guys with big mustaches. No ladies in mink stoles holding clipboards to take notes on the talent of Central Jersey. I didn’t have much time to get nervous or think about the ramifications of getting caught stealing from Wham! There was barely any time before Mr. Fervor proudly said, “Please welcome the Jersey Girls!” and Amandaand I took the stage to moderate applause. Mr. Fervor began playing the piano with all the enthusiasm of a coked-up Elton John performing “Bennie and the Jets.” Amanda sang through her nose, and I faked that I could sing the best I could, wondering if any of these pimple-faced squirts would have the guts to point out that I was a fraud.
    We finished the song and everyone clapped politely. No one seemed all that impressed. No one stopped in the hall to tell us we were child prodigies. No one offered us a recording career. No one even accused us of stealing the song from Wham! All we received was the same polite applause that the little boy who had done the recorder solo had gotten.
    The school assembly was kid stuff, I reassured myself. We’d get our real shot at the parent/town assembly that night.
    I warmed up all afternoon, doing vocal exercises in my bedroom I had learned from Miss Piggy. I stuck out my flat chest and squealed, “mee mee mee,” just as I had seen her do in the latest Muppet movie. Miss Piggy was also an exciting and glamorous woman like my grandmother, even though she was a pig and a puppet. And she tamed that big blonde mane of hers in a way I longed to master.
    That night at the town assembly, once again Amanda and I waited in the wings. I knew this was a huge risk—it was highly likely someone out there would recognize the song. What had started as a simple few words on loose-leaf paper had now