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The Quiet One
by Nancy Massand (Nancy's bio)
Nobody ever noticed Andy. He was a quiet little kid in my grade at school, not the best one in the class, but not the worst, either. That title belonged to me. He never raised his hand, and once when Ms. Mendez called on him to give an answer, he turned all red and started to cry. She never called on him again.
You might have the idea that Andy never talked to anyone at all, but that's not true. He just didn't like to be the center of attention. He talked to plenty of people one at a time, though, and most of us really liked him.
The day we had tryouts for the play, Andy told me I should go for the lead part. "You'd be good, Pete," he said. "You have the loudest voice, and you do really funny imitations of the teachers. I bet you'd be a great actor."
"No way!" I shot back. "Ms. Mendez hates me. Don't you remember the time she caught me cheating? She told my parents, and I was grounded for a month. And now every time we have a test she makes it a point to stand right by my desk like I'm a criminal or something. She'd never pick me for the lead."
"She might if you asked her," said Andy. He had this funny look on his face like he knew something.
"Yeah, right." I pulled a straw out of my pocket and shot a spitball clear across the room, hitting Mona on the cheek. She raised her hand to tell, but then the recess bell rang and Andy ran over to talk to her. I ducked out and started a softball game with the rest of the kids. Right in the middle of the game, when I was up at bat with the bases loaded, Ms. Mendez came stalking out onto the playground, right onto home plate, and put a hand on my shoulder.
"Peter, I need to talk to you. Come inside for a minute."
"What did I do?"
"Nothing, yet. But I have big plans for you. Come on, let's go."
I knew better than to argue with her from past experience, so I threw my bat down in the dust a little harder than I should have and followed her into the classroom. Andy and Mona were still there, and Mona looked mad.
"She told you about the spitball, I guess," I said to Ms. Mendez. Mona just rolled her eyes and snapped her gum.
"As a matter of fact, she hasn't mentioned it," said Ms. Mendez, "but you can hand over the straw sticking out of your pocket." I did. "Andy says you're quite an actor, and I think he may be right. I'd like you and Mona to be the leads in the play. Can you sing?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Can you dance?"
"Never tried. I wanna be a major league pitcher, not a ballerina."
"See, Ms. Mendez? I told you this will never work," whined Mona.
"Let me hear you sing," said Ms. Mendez. "We'll work on the dancing later."
Not to brag, but I have a pretty good voice and I know a lot of songs from camp. So I blew her away with "When the Saints Come Marching In" and even did all the instruments, pretending I was a trumpet and stuff like that. She loved it. Andy just stood there with a big grin on his face the whole time.
"You're drafted," said Ms. Mendez. "Rehearsals start tomorrow after school."
"What's Andy's part?" I wanted to know.
"Oh, I'm just the curtain guy," he said.
"Nice. No lines to learn."
Andy didn't have an answer for that one; he just smiled.
Over the next two months we rehearsed almost every day until five. Then Andy would follow me home and make me learn my lines, taking all the other parts so I could say mine. It wasn't easy for me. I was great when I could make stuff up on the spot, but memorizing was not my thing. One day I just blew up at him. "Look, you know the whole stupid play by heart already. Why don't YOU take the lead?"
Andy kind of crumpled and sat down on my front steps. "I can't do what you do," he said. "When you're in front of an audience, a light turns on inside you. With me, I clamp shut like an oyster."
"You should open up a little so people can see what you've got inside," I joked.
"I just can't do it, Pete. That's your job."
That night he invited me to sleep over at his house. I was surprised that my parents let me on a school night, but I think they liked Andy so much better than my other friends that they suspended their usual rules.
After dinner his dad read us a story from the Bible. I wasn't really used to this; at my house we go to church and all, but we don't talk about it much. Anyway, Andy acted like they did this every night of the week and it was no big deal, so I went along with it.
The story was about the disciples Andrew and Peter, which I thought was pretty funny since it was obvious he planned it that way. What was even funnier was that the Andrew and Peter in the Bible were just like us. Andrew wasn't much of a talker, and Peter never shut his mouth. They were brothers, though, and when Andrew met Jesus for the first time he ran to bring Peter because he knew Peter had what it takes to be a leader.
Andy's dad was cool about the story. He didn't preach this big lesson to us; he just told the story and let it sink in. As it turned out, I guess I was the one who preached the lesson. But that's the way I am, always running off at the mouth.
"So if it wasn't for Andrew running to get his big-mouth brother, Peter wouldn't have even been one of the disciples. The church would have been pretty different!" I said.
"It would indeed," said Andy's dad. And that's all he said. I could see where Andy got his quietness.
A week later was opening night, and thanks to Andy I was ready. I have to admit I loved being in the spotlight, even when I had to dance with Mona. Andy only had to prompt me once when I missed a cue. He prompted other kids, too, mostly because I couldn't resist ad-libbing a little, and that would throw them off. But the audience loved it, and we got a standing ovation at the end.
At the last curtain call, Andy handed me the flowers I had to give to Ms. Mendez. I took center stage and gave my speech about the people we had to thank, and Ms. Mendez kissed me on the cheek. I could have done without that. Then I had a brainstorm.
"There's someone else I have to thank," I told the audience. "He worked just as hard as anybody, especially with me, and if we missed a line, he's the one who'd get us back on track. If it wasn't for him, Ms. Mendez never would've let me on the stage." I glanced at her to see if she was mad, but she was just nodding and smiling. After all, it was true. I motioned to Andy to come out from behind the curtain, but he just stood there shaking his head frantically with a look of panic in his eyes. I knew I'd made a mistake.
"My friend is really shy and wouldn't want me to say his name," I continued, "but I just want him to know that if it wasn't for him I'd be sitting up in the balcony shooting spitballs instead of standing here in the spotlight making this speech. Thanks, dude."
I saw Andy's dad in the audience take out a handkerchief and wipe his eyes. A lot of other people did the same. Ms. Mendez burst into tears and threw her arms around me. Ordinarily I would have wriggled away from her, but I was a little teary myself. The whole thing would have ended like a tragedy instead of a comedy if Andy hadn't lowered the curtain so I could quit while I was ahead. Once again, he made me look real good.
I'll never forget my friend Andy. I won't pretend he made me into a model student; I still had my share of trouble and ended up in the office every now and then because of my big mouth. But he would always put in a good word for me, like "Let Pete organize the field day, the kids'll listen to him." I started getting involved in school activities on my own, without Andy nudging me, because it was fun to be in charge.
We lost track of each other after sixth grade because his family moved away, but every once in a while when I get too full of myself I step back and remember good old Andy behind the curtain, feeding everybody their lines. I could never be like that; I need the applause. But Andy could never be like me, either. It takes all kinds.
Copyright Nancy Massand. All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.
| About Nancy Massand: I'm an English teacher and academic dean at a private school in Queens, New York. My husband and I have three daughters and two sons-in-law. I write on the side and have been published in Educational Travel Review. I also placed in two Writer's Digest contest divisions in 1999. |