Trophy Whore

I will do anything for gold-painted plastic and wood, and I am possibly the only Dexedrine-fueled speaker at State Finals.

My dad, Adam, keeps trying to shore up his waning influence around my junior year in high school, wanting to have a serious talk with me about my future; a proposition that makes me want to peel off all my skin almost as much as my mother's cocaine does.

Dad believes I am obsessed with all the wrong things and headed for disaster. The fact that he is right does not occur to me at the time. I am fanatically enthralled with winning trophies and plaques for extracurricular excellence. The kick of winning things is almost as cool as sex with grown-ups and under-aged drinking; almost as engrossing as fantasizing about my future life in New York as a star. Winning feels like almost being alive.

Competitive Duet Acting, the Texas Forensic Association State Tournament in Dallas: I contort my face and body, standing on a classroom chair to become the Elephant Man. Wendy Sellers, my Duet Acting partner, plays the famous actress who unintentionally breaks my heart. We are desperately serious, even in the comic moments, suffused with art and the glory of trophies; bits of marble and gold-painted plastic that matter more than life. I can't wait to get to the part where I say, "Maybe my head is so big because it's so full of dreams." I do it with every ounce of ham I have, making sure I get my waterworks going in time for one or two perfect tears to stream down my face as Wendy turns to leave.

My tastes are luridly melodramatic, so much so that for me, "The Elephant Man" is restrained. I usually gravitate toward things like "Bent," "Equus," and "Oedipus the King." There's nothing like competing against a hundred other high schools at the National Forensics League state finals in Abilene Texas, finding yourself at Abilene Christian College, and realizing that your judges, most of whom are students on the Christian campus, are not as eager as you might hope to hear your Dramatic Interpretation of "Bent" when you play both characters in the scene where the two men talk each other to orgasm; or finding out that in a semi-final round in Persuasive Extemporaneous Speaking, the topic you've drawn, to which you will give a seven-minute speech pro or con without notes in just thirty minutes time, is "Should the federal government fund abortions for the poor?" and after hastily preparing a speech where you will say, why yes, yes they should, you walk in to the classroom where you will compete only to find that your judge is a nun.

One of my speech coaches gives me diet pills to keep me going when semi-finals run very late into the night and finals are very early the next morning. I'm sleeping with her husband. She's sleeping with one of her students. We are both whores.