Casey Barnes Eponymous (11 page)

“I know.” Catherine’s voice rose like one of those television
preachers with microphones affixed to their heads.
 
“But if we reference other primary
sources from the time period then it would really make an impact on Mrs.
Edwards.
 
She’s a notoriously tough
grader, you know.”

Sukh frowned.
 
“I
see.”

Casey wondered if putting cold medicine in Catherine’s water
bottle would serve to tranquilize her.
 
“Do you know of any clear cough syrups?” she asked Sukh.

“Didn’t Mrs. Edwards say it would be okay to present this
project in dialogue format?” he asked, “Wouldn’t that be a little less work?”

“Everyone will be doing
dialogues,”
Catherine
said, “We have to be different.
 
I
want a hundred on this and I heard that she only gives out one hundred per
class.”
 

Casey rolled her eyes.
 
“And I heard that knowledge of the plot of
Beowulf
has zero relevance to achievement in life.”

Catherine glared and began to detail which parts of the story
everyone should take.
  
A
moment later, when she said they should use different fonts for each group
member and began to analyze which font would be the most appropriate for each
person,
Casey closed her eyes and put her head
in her hands.
 

“Casey!
 
You need to
hear this.”

Casey shook her head and looked up.
 
She cleared her throat.
 
“I have a
better idea for this project.”
 

“Oh do you?” Catherine said.

“Yes,” Casey replied, “
Beowulf
…as
Elvis.”
 
Sukh
sat up straighter in his chair.

“Excuse me?” Catherine snapped.

“Sikh’s Elvis--”

“Sukh, Casey, Sukh.”

“Right,” Casey continued, “I’m Priscilla, and you get to be the
Colonel.
 
You battle with Elvis over
creative license to the death.
 
He,
of course, wins.
 
But in the long
run, when he’s like five hundred pounds and eating his last fried Mars bar in
seclusion before disappearing from the face of the earth, even if there are
some very in the know people who believe he’s in Rachel--”

“Rachel?” Sukh asked.
 

“Nevada,” Casey said, “Area 51, where they keep the aliens.
Point being, Colonel wins, in the end.”
 

“What does any of this have to do with
Beowulf
?”
Catherine asked.

“Who the hell knows?” Casey said, “I didn’t understand a word
of that piece of sh--”
 
Mrs. Edwards
walked to the project group next to them.
 
Casey made quotation marks with her hand.
 
“
Literature.
 
But everyone understands Elvis.”

Catherine just stared for a moment.
 
“I…I…NO.
 
No no no.”
 

Sukh smiled.
 
“I
don’t think the Elvis idea is so bad.”
 
Catherine and Casey looked at him.
 
“You can draw parallel between the Colonel and Grendel,” he continued, “Priscilla
Presley can be mother of Grendel.”
  

“Exactly!” Casey said.
 

“But,” Catherine sputtered
.
 

“The report you propose,” Sukh continued, “is the same report
everyone will do.
 
It’s the same
report we hear since the beginning of our academic career.
 
Why not do something different?
 
We can even add live music.”
 

Casey sat up in her chair.
 

“I play the bass, you know,” Sukh added.
 

“I didn’t know,” she said.
 
Sukh nodded enthusiastically.
 
Casey beamed.
 
“We can totally add live music!”
 

“A, how do you say?” he said, “A rock opera! That’s it!”

“Awesome!”
 

Catherine’s eyes widened in horror.
 
The bell rang to end class.
 
“Hasta mañana,” Casey said, “Don’t
forget to wear your blue suede shoes.”
 
Sukh smiled.
 
Catherine ran to
Mrs. Edwards’ desk.

By the time she arrived at the talent show meeting, Casey was
two hundred percent convinced that high school was no more than an obstacle
course set up to separate those in life who would one day pretend to enjoy pushing
paper and corralling screaming children from those who were incapable of faking
such matters.
 
The latter’s bad
experiences in high school would then instigate a disregard for social mores
that would enable them to endure smirks at family reunions when they showed off
their yin and yang tattoos as well as cause them to start their own internet
destinations and comic book companies.

She slumped in and collapsed behind Leigh.
 
“Come on guys!
 
Shut up!
 
We have to get stuff done!” the girl in
front shrilled.
 

“She should try a cattle prod,” Casey said.
 

Leigh looked at her earnestly.
 
“How are you holding up?”
 

“What, you didn’t hear the ambulance at lunchtime?
 
They managed to pump my stomach free of
all the Dexatrim and painkillers that I read would make me more appealing to a
guy like you-know-who.
 
But unfortunately
they can’t do much about the ‘AD’ tattoo on my torso.
 
It’s fine, though.
 
I mean all I have to do is keep dating
bucks with initials AD for the rest of my life and I’m all good.”

Leigh sighed.
 
“Try
chocolate.”
 
A guy in the back of
the room growled for everyone to be quiet.
 
It did the trick.
 

“All hail the patriarchy,” Casey muttered.

The girl in front, who, as it turned out, was Samantha and the
drama club’s representative for the selection committee, began to talk about
talent show.
 

“Is Yull on the committee too?” someone from the back of the
room called out.
 
Casey sank down in
her chair.
 

“No,” Samantha said, “He’s too busy with his other activities
so he asked me to be.”

Leigh glanced at Casey.
 
Casey rolled her eyes.
 

The other members of the committee were the head of jazz
ensemble and the junior and senior year officers of the student
government.
 
The four of them would
judge talent show auditions and ultimately decide who got to be in it.

Samantha began to describe how they were going to do the
audition process.
 
A guy at the
front of the room raised his hand and spoke.
 
“What’s the makeup of the acts?”

“What do you mean?” Samantha said.

“Last year over half the show was music.
 
It kind of seemed like a battle of the
bands after a while.”
 
A few kids
voiced agreement.
 
“There’s already
a battle of the bands in the spring,” he continued, “Plus there were some
student comedy and drama groups who didn’t bother auditioning because they knew
of so many music acts trying to get in and they didn’t think they’d make the
cut.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I think we should cap the number of music acts this year.”

“How many total?” Samantha asked.

The guy considered.
 
“I say we leave one spot open for a solo act and two for groups of three
or more people.”

She looked around the room.
 
People were nodding.
 
“Okay,” she said.

Someone behind Casey whispered, “The bands are really going to
have to compete for their slots this year.”
 

And that was when, in a manner as magical as when the choir
starts in “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” Casey got an idea.

15

The next day she arrived early for Spanish class.
 
She even had her homework ready.
 
So what if Yull did half of it and told
her how to do the rest.
 
It was done
and if there was anyone on the planet worth milking for a sympathy vote it was
Yull Barnes.
 

Ben came in just as the bell rang.
 
He ignored her.
 
Señor Griffin circulated checking
homework.
 
When he got to Casey’s desk
he hesitated.
 
A frown crept across
his features.
 
“¿Señorita?”

She waved her homework in the air with a flourish.
 
“Olé.”
 

Señor Griffin grinned.
 
“Muy bien.”

As soon as he was gone Ben looked at her suspiciously and put a
protective hand over his homework.
 
“You
wish,” she hissed.
 
He rolled his
eyes and turned back around.
 
She
glanced at his bag.
 
Sure enough,
the drumsticks were there.
 
She
composed a note.

They often say drummers are the least
appreciated members of a power trio.
 
I could not disagree more.
 
Why?
 
Two words: Lars
Ulrich.
 
Know the names of anyone
else in Metallica?
 
Actually don’t
answer that as it may distract me from the exciting OPPORTUNITY OF A LIFETIME
I’m on the brink of dangling in front of your homework hoarding head.

He read it, penned a response and passed it back.
 
I am not joining the band
of that dufus you were talking to the other day.
 
She paused.
 
Why do you say Alex Deal’s
a dufus?
 

He wrote back.
 
Because he is.
 
I’ve seen
him around.
 
And anyway I don’t like
their music.
 
The bassist’s in my
math class and he was playing it for someone the other day.
 
It’s boring and all sounds alike.
 

She smiled.
 
I agree with you about that dufus’ band and it’s not his band I want
you to play in.
 
It’s mine.
 
That’s right, mine.
 

She placed the note on her desk and paused.
 
Then she passed it up.
 
Ben read it.
 
For a moment she got nervous.
 
How could she have written that?
 
He probably thought she was a
freak.
 
But then he passed a note
back.
 
When’s the
first rehearsal?

Catherine Hightower got permission from Mrs. Edwards to do the
Beowulf
project on her own.
 
She informed Casey and Sukh of this in a
crisp voice as soon as they broke into project groups that day.
 
Neither of them said a word, but as soon
as she turned away, they flashed each other thumbs-ups.

Just then Mrs. Edwards walked over.
 
“What’s this I hear about you two doing
something that has to do with Elvis for this project?”
 

Casey and Sukh exchanged a look.
 
“Well Mrs. Edwards, we were trying to be
creative,” Casey said.

“You said to be creative,” Sukh added.

“I just don’t understand how Elvis has any relevance to
Beowulf
.”

“That’s okay because we do,” Casey responded.