...All you fans out there, you’ve got me to thank for your beloved lead singer. Me, and our elementary school PTA.
When we were eight I was over at Juliet’s house playing soccer. That’s mostly all I personally remember about that day: standing in the backyard kicking a soccer ball back and forth with Juliet as her mom held a PTA meeting on the back screened porch.
When it got too hot outside, I dragged Juliet indoors in search of something to eat.
She laughingly said, “Carter, you can be such a boy sometimes.” Third graders said stuff like that.
“Kids, there’s lemonade and cookies here. Help yourselves,” her mom said.
We sat in a wicker love seat in the corner and sipped lemonade. Juliet was feeling giggly that day, so she found everything rather amusing. Especially the flustered old ladies sitting on her porch getting upset over the school play.
“Bianca Seger dropped out- she has strep throat you know, very hard on her poor mother, they’re the ones who just had the baby, remember? The kids would be heartbroken if the play were to be cancelled, but there is simply no one to fill Bianca’s leading role. None of the other girls feel comfortable singing her parts.”
“Although perhaps that’s a blessing; none of those girls could keep a tune anyhow.”
Good-natured titters filled the room. “Oh dear, you go too far sometimes, really.”
“Juliet,” I said quietly.
The laughter faded. Next to me Juliet’s smile sagged.
One of the PTA ladies looked at me. “What, honey?”
“Juliet can do it. She can do the part.”
“Oh, but Juliet can’t sing, right sweetie? Do you want to do it?”
Juliet frantically shook her head at me. “No, Carter,” she whispered.
I whispered back. “You can totally do it.”
“No. I don’t want to.”
“You do. Secretly. Deep down.”
“Carter, I really don’t.”
I paused; I could see the ladies observing our murmured conference in the vaguely amused way adults watch children. “Oh, I get it,” I said loudly. “You feel so guilty about Bianca Seger that you won’t take the part, is that it, Juliet?”
Her nose wrinkled, and I saw her resolve waver.
“Juliet,” one of the ladies persisted, “You cannot sing, isn’t that right?”
“I hate you,” the girl next to me whispered, nearly inaudibly.
I held her face in both hands and kissed the top of her head.
She turned to the PTA and told them she would take the part.
The play was a kiddie version of Guys and Dolls. Although, as you may recall, most of the songs are sung by men, Juliet still got raving reviews for her performance of “If I Were A Bell”.
She brought me along to the first practice. “You got me into this,” she hissed, dragging me by the sleeve of my sweater, “Now you’ve got to suffer right along with me.”
The doors into the auditorium clanged shut behind us and I started up the aisle. I was halfway to the stage when I realized everyone was staring at me…and Juliet was still standing with her back pressed against the doors looking terrified.
I rolled my eyes. Taking Juliet by the hand, I gently pulled her all the way to the stage. A bunch of kids, ranging in age from about nine to twelve, milled around. The teacher, an eccentric Mr. Meyer known for his lax behavior when it came to rules, stood at the edge of the stage, smiling kindly.
“This is Juliet,” I told him, prodding her into the spotlight. “She’s a little bit younger than all these other kids, but she can sing loads better than Bianca can. She needs a little encouragement,” I added quietly, holding my hand up so Juliet wouldn’t see me saying it.
“Yes,” Mr. Meyer looked appraisingly at her, “We don’t usually take third-graders, but due to the circumstances I’m sure we can make an exception.”
I retreated humbly and took a seat in the second row.
Something else about Juliet- she’s short. Shorter than me, which you know makes her extremely short. So it was noticeable how tiny she was, especially then, standing frozen onstage. The overly-bright lights shining down made her wide, dark eyes sparkle like water, and, along with her wavy hair, was thrown into an odd contrast with her pale skin.
She looked more like a drawing than an actual person, and only Juliet can make people think poetically like that.
The weird thing- besides her obvious discomfort- was that she actually seemed to fit there on the stage. It’s her natural element. She just didn’t know it at the time.
The story ends happily, of course. After much persuading, Juliet began to sing. Quietly, at first, but then she became used to it.
I spent the entire show backstage, doing what I do best: pushing Juliet to do the things she hates because she’ll be happier that way.
Naturally, it was a hit, yada yada. That’s why The Pleasure the Privilege is so famous. Because I volunteered Juliet for a school play. Hold your applause.
After Guys and Dolls, Juliet couldn’t get enough of the stage. She sang in tons of other school plays, talent shows, and other assorted events.
I couldn’t- still can’t, actually- get her away from that microphone, her one and only love.
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