"Okay, you’re in charge of him now," she said.

"Huh? Me?"

"Yeah. I thought you had all this experience from David’s," Pat said.

"Well, yeah but..." He didn’t want to back down to Pat’s challenge, but the truth was he didn’t have much contact with the drunk people, he and David simply watched.

"It’s not like he’s doing much anyway," Yolanda said.

Brian was collapsed on the bed, spread-eagled.

The girls turned to go into the bathroom.

"He’s probably ready to zonk out, just make sure he doesn't do something stupid first."

"How?"

Pat shrugged. "Amuse him. You'll think of something." She and Yolanda went into the bathroom and shut the door.

Troy walked softly past Brian's bed, hoping not to wake him. But in a minute, Brian popped back up.

"I can't sleep. When I shut my eyes, the room starts spinning around," he said.

"Wo, that sucks," answered Troy. He picked up Maria's drill team picture from the nightstand and asked Brian if he could look at it.

"Sure," said Brian. "Burn it, throw it out the window, I don’t give a shit," answered Brian, in a voice that suggested the opposite.

Troy picked up the picture and got back into bed. Feeling bold enough to test the waters of his brother's current disposition, he ventured a joke. "So what do you think she's done with your picture?"

"Oh thanks, funny man," Brian picked up a pillow and put it over his head. "I may be drunk but I can still kick your butt," he said without malice.

"I'm just joking. So you guys aren’t friends anymore?"

"Nope, none of us are. Well, maybe me and Anne, but that’s it."

"Well, Richard's no big loss," said Troy.

Brian took the pillow off of his head. He rolled onto his side and looked over at Troy. "Yeah," he said slowly.

Troy looked away. "I thought you guys all got along."

"Oh, they think I’m so obsessed with varsity and all that. So I was excited about making the team, so what? That doesn't mean it's the only thing in my life. Especially since being on the team means hanging around with assholes. And people calling you dumb jock because you like playing a game. This whole thing is totally not what I thought it was going to be at all. The fact is the last time I really enjoyed being on the team was the pep rally."

"Well, those guys are jerks, you shouldn’t let them ruin it for you." Troy said. He watched Brian shrugged, pulling his knees in closer to his chest. It suddenly struck Troy that the whole world did not stand in awe of his brother, that to Danny and the other guys on the team he was just a kid that had to prove something. Looking at Brian he saw him, not as the older brother on the never ending ego trip, but as the disillusioned tenth grader who had had all of the pleasure taken out of doing what he liked to do. Like how being in the play wasn’t any fun when people thought he didn’t deserve his part. Troy knew that he'd probably be pissed off with Brian again the next day, but at that moment he felt sorry for him.

"I don’t want to talk about it. Can I see that?" Brian said, pointing at Troy’s script.

"Yes you may," Troy said in a killer imitation of their mother correcting their grammar. Brian laughed.

"So who are you?" Brian asked as he flipped through the pages.

"Troy," said Troy, thinking he was on a roll.

He went too far. Brian sighed. "In the play, Goofball."

"My character’s name is Lou Martin."

Brian flipped to the character list in front of the script. "It says he’s the class comedian. Well, that fits you. Hold on, your character is supposed to be sixteen? That’s as old as me." He looked over at Troy. "How are you supposed to pull that off?"

Troy shrugged. "Acting."

Brian snorted. "Yeah right. What are they going to do, give you platform shoes? I mean really, how are you going to look like me?"

"I’m not going to look like you, I’m going to look like me, only older," said Troy.

Brian leaned over on his bed. "How, Troy?"

"Why don’t you come and see, Brian," snapped Troy. He laid down on his bed, wanting to snatch his script out of his brother’s hand.

But Brian rolled back over on his own bed and opened the script again. "So where does Lou come in?"

"Middle of page nine," answered Troy. He wondered why Brian could possibly care.

Brian turned over to the first page with bright yellow marks where Troy had taken a highlighter to his lines. "Hi Teach!" he read. "What’s the next line?"

Troy played along. "You want I should slug him, Teach?" he said.

"Say what?" Brian said.

"Yeah well," said Troy, "it was written a long time ago."

"Gotcha, Daddy-o." Brian said, flipping ahead. "What else do you say?" He paused at another page with highlighter on it. "Hey, she’s passing out! Give her air!" he read.

Troy had to laugh. Brian had landed right on the very line that gave Troy the most trouble. Typical. "You would," he said.

"I would what?" asked Brian.

Troy started. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. "Nothing. It’s just that I hate that line."

"Why?" Brian looked at the script and read the line again. "Well, I guess it’s sort of corny, but if you say it right it could be funny."

"That’s another thing, I’m so sick of hearing how funny it is. Everyone just sits there and stares at me like they’re waiting for something. Then I say the line and they’re all like, ‘Oh, he did it wrong again.’"

"What are you doing wrong?"

"Rita, the girl that has the lead, Miss Barrett? She keeps going ‘Troooy, you’re not coming in soon enough,’" Troy said in a high, nasal voice.

"I thought the director told you what to do."

"Yeah well, Rita does what she wants."

"I still don’t get what’s so hard," Brian said.

Here was the last person Troy wanted to have this conversation with. "It’s just stupid, okay? Why does she need air? What’s so funny about her passing out papers anyway?"

"No doof," said Brian, "passing out, don’t you get it?"

Troy looked away. "Just forget it." He reached over to turn out his light.

"Hey Troy, lookit," said Brian. He gently pushed Troy’s arm away from the lamp.

"What?" Troy snapped.

"It's like when someone faints, people say they passed out," Brian said.

Troy studied his brother, arms folded. Brian nodded.

"See? She means one thing, and you’re goofing on her by talking about something else. You get it?"

Actually, Troy was starting to get it. "It doesn’t matter though, Rita’ll still say I’m coming in too late."

Brian held up finger, and reread the line. Troy waited. "Okay," Brian said, "I’ll show you what she means."

"You?" Troy said. That would be interesting. Brian showing him how to act.

"Stand up," said Brian.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Troy slid off of his bed and stood next to it. "What?"

"Okay, you be the girl and I’ll be you. Say her line before yours."

"This is stupid."

"Troy, do you want to know how to say it or not? Somebody’s got to show you, obviously none of your drama buddies are going to if they haven’t all ready."

"Everyone has their own parts to learn. Plus I don’t need them to tell me anyth..."

"Okay, okay!" said Brian. "Just do it for fun then. Say her line."

Troy did.

"No, for real Troy, like you’re acting."

"What do you know about it anyway?" Troy said.

Troy expected Brian to get disgusted and throw the script back at him saying, ‘Screw you, Funnyman!’ Part of him wanted Brian to do that. This nice stuff was getting too weird.

"Fine," said Brian, "I don’t know about acting or whatever. But I know what this guy’s supposed to be like. He’s kind of a jerk, but sometimes he’s funny. I know guys like this. I can hear in my head exactly how he would say it."

They looked at each other for a minute. Then Troy looked down at his nightstand and picked up some papers. "I need a cue," he said.

"What’s that?" asked Brian.

"Say the line before it, then I’ll come in."

"Okay."

"Hold on," said Troy. He tried to imagine being Rita as he straightened out the papers in his hand. He tried to imagine being a thin, 17-year-old white girl with long red hair to brush back before she started every scene. Mr. Rome threatened to cut it off if Rita didn’t stop touching it. Suzanne Corley suggested a mature bun.

"Ready?" asked Brian, his finger on the cue. That was at least one thing about Brian, Troy thought. You didn’t have to explain something to him a million times.

Troy approached the bed in Rita’s light step after swishing imaginary hair. It was too bad Brian didn’t know Rita because he couldn’t appreciate his prissy imitation of her. Troy couldn’t understand what it was about Rita that made Yolanda so gaga over her.

Brian read his cue, and Troy/Rita came in, delicately laying some papers on the foot of the bed. "I’m afraid we won’t have time for the discussion on first impressions. I’m passing out..."

"Hey, she’s passing out! Give her some air!" Brian was suddenly in front of Troy, waving his hands in front of his face like a fan. For the first time, Troy got a genuine smile from the hated line. He was also a little impressed. Brian had envisioned the Lou character after one read-through.

"See?" said Brian. "Just come in right after she says it."

"Yeah, I see it, now!" Troy knew exactly how he was going to do that line. And a couple of others. He faced Brian, suddenly awkward. "I guess I didn’t know what they meant at first," he said.

Brian nodded. "Sometimes in basketball, we have to see something done before we get it. Someone should have showed you."

"Well," Troy picked up his papers and tossed them back on the nightstand. "Everybody thinks David should have this part anyway. He does too, but he doesn’t say it," said Troy. He hadn’t said that to anyone. Not even Yolanda. Especially Yolanda.

"Jealous," said Brian.

"No," scoffed Troy, "David has nothing to be jealous about with me; he just thinks he should have the part because he could do it better, that’s all."

"That’s the definition of jealousy, Troy."

"Look, just forget it," said Troy.

"Well, who cares anyway, what are you supposed to do about it? If you listen to everybody that says they’re better for whatever stupid reason, you’ll never get any part again. Screw them." Brian said. He tapped Troy lightly on the head with his rolled-up script and handed it back to him. It was the kind of thing he saw Greg do to David. Troy didn't want the feeling to end.

"Well, just don't tell Mom and Dad; they'll think it's a Black thing," Troy said as Brian went back to his bed.

Brian said a surprising thing. "Are you so sure it's not?"

"What?"

"How many Black kids are in the play? And are their parts as big as yours and Yolanda's?"

"Oh come on, man. Now you sound like him and Julia."

Brian shrugged. "I'm just telling you to look out Troy; believe me, I know."

Affirmative action, thought Troy as Brian got into his bed and pulled up the covers.

"What?" said Brian.

Troy debated telling Brian about the roster, but in order to prove it to him he'd have to get the paper from Yolanda, and he somehow didn't want the girls in the room just then. Besides, it would probably be better to tell Brian when he wasn't drunk. Maybe he'd be nicer now that he and Richard were mad at each other.

"Nothing. Remind me to tell you something tomorrow," said Troy. He got into his own bed.

"Hey Troy, just a reminder..." Brian started in.

"Tomorrow, doof," Troy said, smiling.

"He-he-he"

"Oh God, not again," said Troy. He picked up his script as Brian recovered. "So my character, Lou. He's like Richard huh?"

"I didn’t say that." Brian said sharply.

"You shouldn't worry about those guys, Brian. Anne's a better friend anyway."

Brian's expression changed to a familiar angry look. "Troy, just shutup, you don't know anything about it. Turn out the light, I have to get up early to get the damn car." Definitely the old Brian coming back.

"I know, I know, okay." Troy turned out the light between their beds. "I just think you could find nicer friends, that's all," he said into the darkness. He waited for an answer. When there was none, he said. "Don't forget I have to tell you something."

"I wont," said Brian. "Now shutup and go to sleep."

Satisfied, Troy rolled over and closed his eyes.