hurting my feelings?”
“I’m always honest,” I protest, but seeing the look on Benji’s face I add, “with you, anyway.”
“Do you think I make a good Lion?”
Great.
Wizard of Oz
talk. I smile and try to brush it off so we can move on to something else. “What? Of course you do! You got a lead in a musical, didn’t you?”
Benji chews on his pizza thoughtfully. “I know, but I was thinking … please don’t laugh when I tell you this …”
“I won’t,” I promise.
“Well, the other day at rehearsal, I was doing the scene where Dorothy first meets the Cowardly Lion. Everyone laughed — which is good, it’s supposed to be funny — but then I started to wonder, what if they were laughing
at
me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I know I’m not the best singer in the world, and I’ve never acted before, and look at me, there is nothing lion-like about me.”
This is true. Physically Benji looks more like the Scarecrow than a lion.
“So what if the only reason they cast me is because it’s funny that a skinny kid like me is playing the Lion? You know, like when they cast that wrestler as the tooth fairy?”
“You saw that movie?” I scoff.
“No, but you know the one I mean.”
I did. It was the kind of movie I would only see if I had to choose between it and poking my own eyes out.
“I think you’re overreacting,” I say, but Benji still looks miserable. I hate seeing him like this; it reminds me of those sad-eyed puppies that stare out at you from the window of the pet store in the mall. Plus I really don’t like talking about the play. I know a better person would have put it behind her by now, but my insides still clench up when I think about how Charity Smith-Jones, not Clarissa Louise Delaney, will be playing Dorothy.
“Would you help me? I mean, would it be weird if you practised with me?” Benji asks.
I draw on all my acting skills to keep my face composed. “Me?”
“No one knows
The Wizard of Oz
like you do, and I know you’ll be honest with me.”
“I don’t know,” I protest.
Benji droops a little bit and I remind myself that this is not about me, it’s about Benji. To my surprise and mild horror, I find myself thinking about what Mattie would do in this situation. I hate to admit it, but she is a much better person than I am. Mattie would definitely help out. Reading those lines with him will be hard, but Benji is worth it.
“Okay, but just for a little while.”
Benji brightens. “Really?”
“Really.”
Benji rummages in his backpack until he finds his copyof the script. He flips to the right page and hands it to me. His lines are highlighted in pink. “Here, you read everything that isn’t marked.”
And so Benji and I read through the scene. It hurts to read Dorothy’s lines and know that I am not going to be the one saying them on stage. But for Benji’s sake, I give it my best. After all, an actor needs something to play off.
When we finish, Benji looks at me expectantly. “Well?”
I can’t know the exact reasons why the director cast him. Yes, he is a little on the small side for a lion and, yes, his voice is a little warbly at times. But he is sweet and he is earnest and isn’t that what the Cowardly Lion is all about? Maybe I’m not good enough to be in the show, but Benji is. Not that I would ever admit that first part out loud.
“Benji, you are going to be great. You’re funny in all the right ways.”
Benji takes a deep breath and I can almost see the weight lifting off his shoulders and vanishing into thin air. “This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be,” he admits.
Tell me about it.
“Benji, you are going to be great.”
He smiles weakly. “Thanks. I knew you’d tell me the truth.”
I may not be a good enough actress to get into a community production of
The Wizard of Oz
, but I am a great cheerleader.
Time
It’s rare to get a moment alone with Mom these days. There are always people hanging
“I’m always honest,” I protest, but seeing the look on Benji’s face I add, “with you, anyway.”
“Do you think I make a good Lion?”
Great.
Wizard of Oz
talk. I smile and try to brush it off so we can move on to something else. “What? Of course you do! You got a lead in a musical, didn’t you?”
Benji chews on his pizza thoughtfully. “I know, but I was thinking … please don’t laugh when I tell you this …”
“I won’t,” I promise.
“Well, the other day at rehearsal, I was doing the scene where Dorothy first meets the Cowardly Lion. Everyone laughed — which is good, it’s supposed to be funny — but then I started to wonder, what if they were laughing
at
me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I know I’m not the best singer in the world, and I’ve never acted before, and look at me, there is nothing lion-like about me.”
This is true. Physically Benji looks more like the Scarecrow than a lion.
“So what if the only reason they cast me is because it’s funny that a skinny kid like me is playing the Lion? You know, like when they cast that wrestler as the tooth fairy?”
“You saw that movie?” I scoff.
“No, but you know the one I mean.”
I did. It was the kind of movie I would only see if I had to choose between it and poking my own eyes out.
“I think you’re overreacting,” I say, but Benji still looks miserable. I hate seeing him like this; it reminds me of those sad-eyed puppies that stare out at you from the window of the pet store in the mall. Plus I really don’t like talking about the play. I know a better person would have put it behind her by now, but my insides still clench up when I think about how Charity Smith-Jones, not Clarissa Louise Delaney, will be playing Dorothy.
“Would you help me? I mean, would it be weird if you practised with me?” Benji asks.
I draw on all my acting skills to keep my face composed. “Me?”
“No one knows
The Wizard of Oz
like you do, and I know you’ll be honest with me.”
“I don’t know,” I protest.
Benji droops a little bit and I remind myself that this is not about me, it’s about Benji. To my surprise and mild horror, I find myself thinking about what Mattie would do in this situation. I hate to admit it, but she is a much better person than I am. Mattie would definitely help out. Reading those lines with him will be hard, but Benji is worth it.
“Okay, but just for a little while.”
Benji brightens. “Really?”
“Really.”
Benji rummages in his backpack until he finds his copyof the script. He flips to the right page and hands it to me. His lines are highlighted in pink. “Here, you read everything that isn’t marked.”
And so Benji and I read through the scene. It hurts to read Dorothy’s lines and know that I am not going to be the one saying them on stage. But for Benji’s sake, I give it my best. After all, an actor needs something to play off.
When we finish, Benji looks at me expectantly. “Well?”
I can’t know the exact reasons why the director cast him. Yes, he is a little on the small side for a lion and, yes, his voice is a little warbly at times. But he is sweet and he is earnest and isn’t that what the Cowardly Lion is all about? Maybe I’m not good enough to be in the show, but Benji is. Not that I would ever admit that first part out loud.
“Benji, you are going to be great. You’re funny in all the right ways.”
Benji takes a deep breath and I can almost see the weight lifting off his shoulders and vanishing into thin air. “This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be,” he admits.
Tell me about it.
“Benji, you are going to be great.”
He smiles weakly. “Thanks. I knew you’d tell me the truth.”
I may not be a good enough actress to get into a community production of
The Wizard of Oz
, but I am a great cheerleader.
Time
It’s rare to get a moment alone with Mom these days. There are always people hanging
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