Two Parties, One Tux, and a Very Short Film about The Grapes of Wrath by Steven Goldman Read Free Book Online

whatever you wrote about.”
    I hear a shuffling noise that sounds like David is getting out of bed. Has he been lying in his bed this whole time?Maybe sitting. He is on the move now. I just hope he’s not going to the bathroom. I will not talk to someone in the bathroom, even if I woke them up. No, it sounds more like the kitchen. He’s pouring himself something. Coffee? Juice?
    â€œMitchell,” he says in his best why-is-your-brain-up your-butt voice. “There are a couple of problems with this plan.” A pause, and I hear him take a slurp of whatever he’s poured. “First of all, I wrote a damn good paper on the evolution of Joad’s ethical sensibility …”
    â€œNice title.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œBut no colons.”
    â€œYou noticed. I’m branching out. Second, our film has almost nothing whatsoever to do with
The Grapes of Wrath
, which you might not have noticed since you haven’t read the book …”
    â€œI read some.”
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œThree chapters. But I skipped ahead to the end so I know how it turns out. Or at least I read the last two pages where she, um … does that thing.”
    â€œThird,” David continues, unimpressed, “it isn’t a three-to-five-page paper about
The Grapes of Wrath
.”
    â€œSo does that mean you don’t think it’s a good idea?”
    â€œFeel free to turn it in, just don’t put my name on it. I have to go take a piss now.”
    We hang up. I look at the blank page with a heading and no title. I never use the word “piss.” I never “take a piss.” I’m not sure where I would take it to. I pee. I need to learn to piss. I am not writing this paper.
    6:45 a.m
.
    I spend the next twenty minutes making an impressive but tasteful label for the DVD and a matching insert for its cheap plastic case. I place it carefully in my backpack and go downstairs for some cereal. Our dog joins me for breakfast, staring at me as I search the kitchen. All we have left is an off-brand granola, but I’m not going to let that spoil my day. I’m feeling brave, nearly reckless. Rebel without an English paper. David, I decide while munching the stale granola, is being unreasonably sensible. But then again, he always is. Never mind, I’ll go it alone. I’m ready to talk to Curtis. After all, what’s the worst thing that can happen?

CHAPTER 9
Jerks, Myoclonic and Otherwise
    Curtis
    English class. 8:17. Curtis, Mr. Curtis, Mr. Albert P. Curtis, M.A., sits on his stool at the front of the room regarding us with a suspicious glare.
    Curtis is dressed in his geeky teacher uniform of khakis (slightly worn at the cuffs) and a button-down (with both old and current coffee stains). We slouch in our slug wear: jeans, T-shirts, sweats. Our faces are pierced, our hair is purposefully unruly, and all our clothes are too large—except Danielle’s, which are a little too tight.
    Curtis begins to lecture. Instantly he becomes background noise. He waves his arms about, gestures with sincerity. As we drift into our own little worlds, his voice becomes more and more strident. There is something he is trying to say.
    â€œThe subjective experience of the character is portrayed through the conscious manipulation of point of view.”
    Danielle stares at her notebook. She doesn’t doodle. She doesn’t take notes. Her notebook is blank. She examines her nails. They are a subtle shade of green with an elegant white swirl across each nail. Glamour does not come cheap. She smooths her skirt, touches her hair, and, suddenly aware of her posture, sits up straighter. She sneaks a look at the cell phone placed strategically on top of her purse to see how many messages she has accumulated during class. She glances around to see if anyone is watching her. She returns to staring at her notebook.
    â€œCharacterization.” Curtis writes the word on the board. A