Thursday, February 15, 2001

The fact that the Mill Creek side of the gym was packed to capacity and the opposing team’s side was nearly empty didn’t make Justin feel any less nervous.

"Why do I feel like I’m going to puke?" Justin asked Stu as they waited for the announcer to announce their names and numbers so they could run triumphantly onto the court.

"I don’t know," Stu said. "We’re going to win this game, man."

"Maybe that’s why," Justin said. "That’s what I told Matt on Tuesday."

"They were good," Stu said. "They wanted it more." He looked at the nearly empty stands. "These guys aren’t. Look at their fan base."

"We aren’t invincible anymore," Justin said. He ran his fingers through his short curls. "Maybe this team has discovered the same weaknesses the team Tuesday discovered. Maybe they figured out that I’m just pretending I know what I’m doing out there."

"You aren’t pretending," Stu said. He gave Justin a dry look. "Look at them, man. Their knees are knocking together. They’re hoping they’ll be able to say they came within 20 points of beating us."

Justin peered down the court and saw the other team huddled together and glancing down in his direction.

"God, Stu, I hope you’re right."

"Aren’t I always?" Stu asked.

Justin dribbled the ball slowly down the court. He smiled at his defender as he used a sudden burst of speed and ran around the misplaced block. At the top of the key he had a clear shot so he picked up the ball and let it fly through the air.

"Smith for three," the announcer said. "And Mill Creek leads 43 to 21."

The Mill Creek fans screamed loudly while more people left the opposing team's side.

"This is almost embarrassing," Justin said as he and Stu ran down the court.

"I told you so," Stu said, crinkling his nose as he smiled.

Friday, February 16, 2001

Justin sat in the back row of the theater. His feet were propped up on the row of seats in front of him. He swallowed heavily as he looked at the stage.

"And suddenly I’m thinking we might win this thing," Stu said as the freshman girl flitted around the stage giving a dramatic monologue.

"We’re singing Right Said Fred," Justin said. "That’s not going to win us any points."

"We got third last year for a lip-sync," Stu said. "Everyone likes to be entertained at these things."

Justin didn’t answer. His eyes were glued back on the stage.

"You aren’t going to freak out on me now, are you?" Stu asked tiredly. "I swear, you’ve got severe issues, dude. Your words and your actions keep contradicting each other."

Justin turned his head and glared at Stu. "No. I’m not going to freak out on you now. If I freak out, as you so kindly put it, it’s going to be tomorrow when I’m actually on stage."

"You—" Stu shook his head. "What’s going to happen when you have to get up in front of 20,000 people again? Or 60,000? What then, cause I’m sure JD or whatever his name is wouldn’t put up with this crap."

"JC," Justin growled. "And I’ll be fine in 16 days. Really."

Stu stopped grinning. "Sixteen days? Is that all?"

Justin nodded.

"Shit," Stu said.

"Yeah," Justin said.

"And you’re going to go, for sure?" Stu asked.

Justin shrugged, his shoulders stiff. "We’ll see."

"Again your actions and words are contradicting each other," Stu said. "You talk casually, but you’re tenser than an oak chair."

Justin carefully arched an eyebrow. "You know, I’ve been compared to lots of things before, but never an oak chair."

"I strive to compliment," Stu said, bowing his head.

"Yo, dawgs," Matt said, bouncing up the aisle of the theater. "We’re up, word."

"Your attempts at this ghetto talk are getting worse," Justin said, shaking his head. "They’re so going to whip your ass when you get out to Cali."

"I’ve learned that they don’t appreciate the state being called ‘Cali,’" Matt said, sticking his nose in the air. "Nor Cal, or So Cal, but no ‘Cali.’ I personally prefer ‘Calif-or-ni-a.’"

Justin slowly lifted his middle finger and scratched his nose.

"Hey, Cross, D, Matt, we’re up." Kevin and Josh were standing on the stage.

"Word!" Matt shouted back.

"He is a dork," Justin said to Stu as they made their way to the stage.

"And you’re just noticing this now?" Stu asked.

Justin grinned as he hopped up onto the stage. "Yeah," he said. "I’m just slow like that." He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, suddenly alive with energy.

Stu arched an eyebrow in his direction as Josh came up to them. "We’re on, guys. Let’s show them what a real talent show act is like."

Even though there were only about twenty people sitting out in the audience, Justin smiled widely as the music started.

"You nervous about tomorrow?" Maggie asked. Her head was in Justin’s lap and his fingers were tracing paths through her hair.

"No," Justin said, shaking his head.

"I guess you get up in front of more people every week, huh," Maggie said.

"The stage is different, though," Justin said.

"I hate getting up in front of people and performing," Maggie said. "I could so never get up in front of the whole town."

"You’re either born with it, or you’re not," Justin said.

"And you were born with it," Maggie said. "You’re a natural in front of people."

"I am?" Justin asked.

Maggie nodded.

Saturday, February 17, 2001

Justin sat in the front row of the theater. He turned to look at the back of the room every minute, nearly on the minute.

"Will you stop fidgeting?" Kevin asked. "You’re driving me nuts."

"Sorry," Justin said. He turned back to the front of the room, stared at the stage for a moment, and then looked back to the door at the rear of the building.

"Stop!" Kevin said. "You’re making me feel like I’m going to throw up."

"I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to do this," Justin said. He breathed in deeply. "This was a stupid, stupid idea."

"No, it wasn’t," Matt said. "We’re going to kick some major ass. Our major competition is the track people who are trying to do Jackson 5."

"They were fun to—" Justin stopped as Stu poked him in the back. "I’ve heard they’re fun to do."

"Ah," Matt said, "if only we were going to be here next year. But then we’d be accused of copying the track people." He shook his head in mock disgust.

"Heaven forbid," Kevin said.

"It would be awful," Matt said. "Track was so last year."

Justin ventured a glance up at the back of the room. He saw Maggie, Emily, and Amanda walking down the aisle. He raised a hand in acknowledgement, and watched as the three girls waved back.

The lights in the building flashed three times, and suddenly all of the seats seemed to fill. Justin turned back to the front of the building, and tried to pretend that he wouldn’t be getting on stage shortly.

"Good evening," the principal said. "I’m happy to see such a wonderful turnout tonight. We have a wonderful show for you, complete with all forms of entertainment--singing, dancing, magic, and dramatic monologues."

Kevin leaned over and whispered in Justin’s ear, "are we dancing or singing?"

"I think we’re the magic," Justin said. "How quickly can boos get us off stage."

Kevin chuckled as the principal kept talking. "All proceeds from tonight’s event will go to benefit Madison County's Food First program."

There was a smattering of applause.

"And now, without further ado," the principal paused, drawing out the moment, "I’m proud to present our first very talented young lady, Christine Williams."

The sophomore walked on stage with a violin tucked underneath her chin.

"Actually," Justin said as he leaned over towards Kevin, "I think we’re the comic relief."

"Heck, yeah," Kevin said.

Justin tried not to smirk as a girl robed in white extremely overdid her dramatic monologue.

"Spot," the girl wailed. "Spot. Out damn spot." She collapsed on the stage in fake tears. "Out damn spot," she said in a stage whisper.

People who were obviously her parents began clapping first, and the rest of the audience immediately followed suit. The girl stood up and began bowing, real tears streaming down her face.

Justin sunk down in his seat and hid his eyes when she began throwing kisses to the audience.

"Psst." One of the sophomores in the drama program was kneeling in the aisle, beckoning the five teens to follow him. "You guys are up in five."

Justin stood up with the rest off the guys and walked directly out the side door of the room. He found himself in a dimly lit hallway with the drum player who had just gotten off stage and the singer who was scheduled to go on before them.

Justin felt like he should bring out the hackey sack.

"You doing okay?" Matt asked. "You aren’t going to come down with a sudden case of stage fright, are you, Mr. ‘it has to be perfect or it’s not worth doing at all.’"

"No," Justin said. He swallowed. "Of course not."

His insides were shaking.

The wings of the stage were dark. A lone girl stood in the center of the stage, directly in the middle of the spotlight.

Her voice, while generally untrained, was good. Justin made a mental note to tell her that, even if it wouldn’t be anything more than the point guard of the basketball team telling her.

"Years go by will I still be waiting for somebody else to understand," the girl sang, suddenly pacing the stage. "Years go by if I’m stripped of my beauty and the orange clouds raining in my head. Years go by will I choke on my tears, ‘til finally there is nothing left. One more casualty you know too easy, easy, easy."

She took a deep breath, a startling moment of silence, and returned, almost instinctively to the spot she’d started from. "Well I love the way we communicate. You’re eyes focus on my funny little shape. Let’s hear what you think of me now but, baby, don’t look up, the sky is falling."

She moved to the far left corner of the stage and slowly began walking across the front, captivating the nearly unseen audience. "You’re mother shows up in a nasty dress, and it’s your turn now to stand where I stand, everybody looking at you, you take hold of my hand, yeah, I can hear them. But what if I’m a mermaid in these jeans of yours with her name still on it, hey, but I don’t care, ‘cause sometimes, I said sometimes I hear my voice, I hear my voice, I hear my voice, and it’s been years, silent all these years."

She returned to her original spot, and bowed her head briefly before looking out at the audience. "I’ve been here, silent all these years, silent all these, silent all these years."

The stage faded to black and the theater was filled with a deluge of applause.

"She’s good," Justin said. "If she gets her break she’ll make it."

"Try telling that to her parents," Matt said. "Heidi is good, though."

"She should win this," Justin said. "She’s got real talent."

"Cause you’d know, right?" Matt asked.

Justin nodded seriously. "I would."

"And, now," the Principal said, "we have five members of our soon to be State Championship basketball team performing what they call a parody on popularity."

The audience clapped.

The lights on the stage were black as the five teens walked across the platform. Justin felt his heart begin to thump in his chest. He could hear the familiar rustles of paper and whispers of talking that were the only indication an audience was even there.

Matt crouched down at the front edge of the stage and the four other teens moved into position behind him. Kevin and Josh had their arms crossed over their chests and had sultry pouts on their faces. They were all wearing black tear-away pants, button down shirts, and fisherman’s hats.

"Go, Kev!" Amanda called from the audience.

The spotlight focused on them, cutting directly through the darkness. Justin could hear the familiar sound of girly squeals. He almost shuddered, but didn’t, because the sound was strangely welcome.

"I’m too sexy for my love," they all said, accentuating the words. "Too sexy for my love, love’s going to leave me."

The spotlight expanded to fill the stage.

The teens broke out of their formation and moved as a line towards the front of the stage. He moved his arms in an arc as the instrumental part of the song started, and spun around on the ball of his foot. He shook his hips from side to side. The teens began moving back and forth across the stage, interacting with each other and swishing.

"I’m too sexy for my shirt," Matt sang, bending down at the front of the stage. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt, flipping it up and then back down. He played with the buttons on the front. "Too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts." He, along with the rest of the guys slowly unbuttoned their shirts. "And I’m too sexy for Milan, too sexy for Milan, New York, and Japan."

The five guys threw their shirts off to the side of the stage.

Stu came to the front of the stage. Girls screamed.

"I’m too sexy for your body, too sexy for your body, no way I’m disco dancing!"

Matt, Kevin, Josh, and Justin all performed various disco moves.

"I’m a model," Stu sang, "if you know what I mean and I do my little turn on the catwalk." Stu swished down the stage, shaking his hips. "On the catwalk, yeah, on the catwalk, yeah, I do my little turn on the catwalk."

During the instrumental section, the guys switched places, spinning and strutting in an imitation of runway shows.

"I’m too sexy for my car," Josh sang.

The other guys moved behind him and pretended to be lounging in a car that Josh was driving. They fanned themselves

"Too sexy for my car, too sexy by far," Josh sang. "And I’m too sexy for my hat, too sexy for my hat, what you think about that?"

Five hats went to the side of the stage.

"I’m a model, if you know what I mean," Josh sang, "and I do my little turn on the catwalk, on the catwalk, yeah, on the catwalk, yeah. I shake my little toosh on the catwalk."

Josh spun on the ball of his foot so that his back was to the audience. He shook his ass, then glanced over his shoulder and grinned.

Girls screamed.

The guys wandered around the stage again.

Kevin and Justin met up in the middle.

"I’m too sexy for my hat," they sang at each other. "Too sexy for my hat. Too sexy for my hat." They turned their backs to one another and moved in opposite directions and continued singing.

"I’m a model, if you know what I mean, and I do my little turn on the catwalk, yeah, on the catwalk. Yeah, on the catwalk, yeah." They both reached the corners of the stage at the same time, turned so that their backs were to the audience. "I shake my little toosh on the catwalk."

"I’m too sexy for my cat," all five guys sang together. They moved to the center of the stage and formed a line. Their hands drifted to the waistband of the tear away pants. "Too sexy for my cat. Poor pussy," they turned so that their right shoulders were to the audience, and then their left. "Poor pussy cat. I’m too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love." They moved so that they were separated out over the stage. "Love’s going to leave me."

As they tore away the pants they sang the last line of the song. "And I’m too sexy for this song."

Girls screamed. The guys, dressed only in red boxers, bowed.

Justin blushed as he heard the sounds of a standing ovation. The practiced grin that he always showed during a performance was different this time. It was real.

He felt the after show adrenaline pump through his system, and the smile wouldn’t leave his face. He nearly bounced off the stage, stopping only to gather his clothes.

"Damn," Matt said when they entered the dimly lit hallway outside the stage. "We’re good."

"Better than one of those boy bands any day," Josh said.

"Yeah," Justin said.

"You guys should have won," Maggie said, her arm laced through Justin’s. "Your song was too funny."

"No," Justin said as he shook his head. "Heidi was the best tonight."

"I suppose," Maggie said. "You should have beat that dramatic monologue girl, though. I don’t know what the judges were thinking with that one." She shook her head.

"They like anguish," Justin said. "Judges dig that sort of thing." He paused. "I’ve heard."

"At least you guys got third," Maggie said.

Justin nodded. "Can’t ask for any better than that, really, can you?"

Maggie shook her head.

"I feel like going out," Justin said, turning around and facing Stu and Emily who were walking behind them. "Let’s do something."

"It’s late, Randy," Maggie said.

"It’s too early to go to bed though," Justin said. "We can’t go to bed yet. The night is young."

"We could go celebrate," Stu said. His arm was around Emily. "We could go pick up a bottle of champagne or two from the store and drink it up."

"I’m in," Justin said. "Come on, Mags. It’ll be fun."

"I don’t know, Randy," Maggie said. "I’ve got to get up tomorrow, and—"

Justin pulled Maggie close to him and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Please?"

Maggie sighed and leaned against Justin. "Okay."

"Good!" Justin said, nearly as giddy as before. "We have to celebrate my latest win in my never ending battle of stage fright."

"Oh, yeah," Stu said, somewhat sarcastically. "That is something we should all be eternally grateful for."

Emily and Maggie giggled, but when Justin smiled at the joke, his fake grin was back.

Sunday, February 18, 2001

Justin’s eyes flew open. He could feel the sweat on his forehead, palms, and on the back of his neck making the cotton sheets beneath his body damp. His breath was loud and labored in his ears. He could still hear the muffled screams of adoration; he could still see the hazy piles of gifts on the bus.

"Dream," Justin mumbled. He turned over on the bed and burrowed his face into the firm softness of his pillow. The discomfort his nose felt at being pushed out of shape was blessedly real.

He rolled over again and sat up. He ran his too hot fingers through his hair and tried to calm his breathing. He looked out the window and saw the deep blue darkness of night.

Instinctively, as he always did when he needed an escape, his hand grabbed the journal underneath his pillow. He flicked on the bedside lamp and blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the sudden golden light. He picked up the pen off the nightstand and uncapped it with his teeth, spitting the piece of plastic on the bed.

February

He snorted.

I don’t even know what date it is. I do know that I have 14 days left until C-Day. Curfew, Concert, Condition of having a group when I return. Whatever ‘C’ you want to choose.

I dreamed about it. Going back. The girls were screaming and crying. The bus was filled with more gifts than I’d ever gotten in my life. The pounding terror was back--you know, the one that drove me from the group in the first place? Terror’s the only thing you can feel in dreams though, right?

I didn’t feel that terror tonight--last night--and that may be what’s scaring me more than anything else is. It didn’t feel good to be back on stage, but it felt natural. Oh, who am I kidding. It felt good. It felt good. It felt good. Like I was at home. I was giddy, like I always used to be after concerts. I think Maggie was wondering if I’d smoked something before I went on stage. I don’t want to feel at home on the stage. I want

I don’t know what I want.

I want to be able to be Randy Smith and take this basketball team all the way to State.

I want to be Justin Timberlake and go back out on the stage. I think I can admit that now.

I want to be Justin and do them both. I don’t want to have to make decisions; I just want my life to happen.

Let’s just say that we do make it past Parker Tuesday (which we probably won’t) and we win the district championship, and make it to the West Finals. Then I’m going to have to make a choice. Do I stay here and help them maybe, possibly go all the way, or do I go back to the guys, running away from this town in the middle of the night, but keeping the band together.

Maggie said that I was one of those people who had what it takes to get up in front of people. I am Justin Timberlake. I could go back after the basketball season and if I can’t convince the guys to keep going--They’d keep going, right? If I was 24 hours late, or a week late? Right?--But if I couldn’t, I could do it on my own. Go solo.

But do I want to do it on my own.

Do I even want to be famous anymore? If I’m not with the guys is it worth giving up this life I’ve created. This is as close to normal as I’ll ever get, ever, and if I give it up now, I will never get it back.

Or else, I could be like Bobby Fisher and disappear again.

I have 14 days to decide what I want. Stu was right: someone’s going to get hurt. I said I’d limit the fallout, but how?

It all comes down to one question. What’s more important? Helping a town achieve a dream they’ve been waiting decades for, or helping keep my dream, and the dream of four others, alive for who knows how much longer.

I wish I had the answer.