Mango

All the Time

BY FRACASWELL HYMAN

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Text © 2022 Fracaswell Hyman

Cover art © 2022 Frank Morrison

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ISBN 978-1-4549-3397-7 (e-book)

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Cover design by Gina Bonnano

Interior design by Christine Heun

To Jamaya, Vernicia, Jackelin,
and all the friends of Mango
who have reached out.
I appreciate you!
—F. H.

Ever since I drowned my ex–best friend Brooklyn’s phone, my life has been one surprise after another. Brooklyn tried to play a dirty trick by signing me up to audition for the school musical. I auditioned because I didn’t want to let her plan to humiliate me work, and guess what? I was cast to play Juliet in the school musical Yo, Romeo! I never wanted to be an actor, and sure, I could sing, but I never thought I’d sing in front of anyone besides my bathroom mirror, and then BOOM! I’m playing the lead in the musical.

The show turns out great; I have a lot of fun, make new friends, and discover my passion for being onstage; and then . . . another big surprise. I’m cast in an Off-Off-Off-Broadway version of Yo, Romeo! and spend the summer in New York City costarring my friend/crush, TJ, which is great. Unexpectedly, TJ gets replaced by my favorite star (next to Beyoncé, of course), Gabriel Faust! He turns out to be kind of a jerk and quits the show, which leads to us closing early.

. . .

Two days after I returned home from New York the ground was shifting underneath me again and I was leaving home. This time I was headed for Los Angeles for a screen test. If I passed the test, I would be cast in a show starring my favorite TV star, Destiny Manaconda! The weirdest thing of all the weird things that were happening in my formerly ordinary twelve-and-three-quarters years of life was that Destiny Manaconda was now kind of a friend. I mean, we’d met in New York when she was hanging out with her pretend boyfriend, Gabriel Faust. At first she was cold and distant, but later I grew to like her as a person, not just a TV character. I guess she grew to like me, too, because she was the one who recommended her high-powered manager, Maxwell Paige, approach TJ and me with a deal to fly us out to L.A. to test for a chance to play her friends in a new TV show.

Back in New York, Destiny had kind of warned me about the pitfalls of being a star. How hard it was to live up to your image and keep your fans interested in everything you do. How you had to be disciplined and give up fun things that might affect your job. How lonely it could be working so hard and being so young. So there was a part of me that wasn’t completely sure I wanted a new, weird kind of Hollywood life. I mean, I liked being regular Mango: hair pulled back in a big Afro puff with a scrunchie; T-shirt, jeans, or jeggings; hot Cheetos; and pepperoni/pineapple pizza (yeah, I know a lot of people hate that, but I live for the salty/sweet combo). I liked being home with Mom and Dada and my little teddy bear brother, Jasper. I missed them when I was away. Still I said yes to the chance to experience a new adventure.

“Yes” is such a strange word. “Yes” is great when someone says yes to you. “Mom, can I stay up late?” “Dada, can I have some money to go to the mall with my friends?” “Hey, great and wonderful best-parents-in-the-world, can I have a dog?” When yes is the answer to any of those questions, you feel great! (Actually, no was the answer to the dog question, because Mom said our apartment was too small. ) But then there are the times when someone asks you to say yes to something, and you have to make a decision, and the decision you make will come with responsibilities and sacrifices. “Can I borrow your green-checked Vans?” “Can you watch my baby sister while I can run to the store?” “You’re good at math; will you help me study for the test?” “Will you come to Hollywood and take a screen test that could make you a star?” Saying yes to any of these questions can turn out to be quicksand that pulls you under, and there is no escape, only regret.

Since the trip to Hollywood was only supposed to be for two days at the most, Dada was coming with me. He had just finished catering a fancy vow-renewal party for my wealthy friend Hailey Joanne’s mother and father. It was a great success and the biggest job Dada’s new catering company, Delicious Delights, had handled yet. He worked so hard to make it a success, and he deserved a rest, so my parents decided he should go with me. It would be both Dada’s first time in California and mine. Dada was just as excited as I was; I could tell by the sparkle in his almond eyes. “I can’t wait to sample authentic West Coast cuisine, Mango-gal. While you’re busy screen-testing, I’ll be busy eating and finding new ideas for my catering company!”

It was before sunrise and time to head to the airport. Maxwell Paige had sent a car for us, so we said goodbye to Mom upstairs in our apartment. Jasper was sound asleep when I kissed him on his soft, peach-fuzz cheek. He had grown so much in the weeks I’d been in New York. He could even pronounce “Mango” clearly now. I have to admit, I kind of missed the way he used to say Mamo-Mamo all the time.

Heavy clouds hung ominously low in the sky, and thunder rumbled in the distance as we climbed into the town car. Not exactly ideal weather for taking off in a plane to fly across the country. I snuggled in close to Dada as we pulled away from our building. I felt a tingle, a sort of electric current running through me, as I thought about heading for a new adventure. The “tingle” was both positive and negative, because anyone who has ever read an adventure knows that there are downsides and upsides. Unexpected obstacles you have to confront and overcome . . . or not. Challenges you weren’t exactly prepared for that you must conquer . . . or not. You always hope things will turn out all right. Sometimes they do, and sometimes your hopes float away like dandelion fluff. I’d had my share of roller coaster adventures over the past year. Was I ready to face more ups and downs? I sighed and thought, Ready or not, here I come.

When we arrived at the airport, TJ was there waiting. Maxwell Paige had sent a car for him, too, but no one accompanied him. TJ’s Mohawk hair looked smooshed to one side, like he hadn’t tried to do anything with it since he woke up, but his kiwi-green eyes and smile were bright. I was so happy to see him. TJ was sort of my boyfriend . . . or the closest thing to a boyfriend if I had one. I mean, if you break it down, he was a friend and a boy, but not just a regular friend. TJ was a boy who like-liked me and I like-liked him . . . but he was not an actual boyfriend.

Anywho, TJ’s mother agreed to let Dada chaperone him on the flight across country, since she was busy preparing for her wedding to a man who would become TJ’s stepfather. TJ didn’t come right out and say it, but I had the feeling he didn’t care for his mom’s fiancé very much. TJ wasn’t the type to talk a lot about his home life, but if you listened closely to his songs, you could tell what was really going on in his heart. He did tell me that he was looking forward to spending time with his biological father, Malachi Gatt, a corporate lawyer who lived and worked in L.A. It had been almost a year since he’d seen his dad in person.

A weird thing happened at the gate as we were about to board. When the agent called for priority and first-class passengers to begin boarding, Dada, TJ, and I walked forward and were first in line. (Maxwell Paige had the producers arrange first-class travel.) The gate agent smiled and said, “Sorry for your misunderstanding, but this call is for first- class and priority passengers only. Step back, and we’ll call you with your group.”

A red-faced man behind us carrying a garment bag sighed and started to move around me. Dada put up his hand to the man, saying, “Hold on, please, sir.” He turned to the agent and showed the tickets on his phone. TJ showed his phone too. “I believe we have seats in the first-class cabin. Group One, if I’m not mistaken.”

The agent blushed, cleared her throat, and said, “Oh, of course . . . I just . . . People often make mistakes and . . . uh . . . welcome. Go right ahead and board.” The whole thing was so weird and awkward. As we walked down the jetway to board, I asked, “What was that about?”

Dada shook his head. “Never mind. Just ignorance, that’s all. Forget about it.” He smiled and winked at me, but something about his eyes told me he wasn’t brushing it off as easily as he asked me to.

Heavy raindrops were beating against the airplane window as we buckled our seat belts. Dada let TJ and me sit together in the two comfy leather seats in the second row of the cabin. He sat in the aisle seat directly across from us. This was a very different flight from the one I had been on earlier in the summer. The seats were way wider, and I actually had room to stretch my long legs. Dada fell asleep as soon as he sat down. TJ was quiet and kept fiddling with a guitar pick, rolling it from finger to finger.

“Wasn’t it kind of embarrassing being stopped at the gate like that in front of everybody?”

“Yeah, but I think she wound up more embarrassed than we did.”

“Why?”

“Because, she just assumed we didn’t belong in first class because . . . well, you know.”

Yeah, I guess I did know, but it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about or think about. I started checking all the gadgets on the armrests. A thing to turn on the lights, a button to call the flight attendant, USB ports to charge your phone, and a little tray you could slide out to hold a cup. I couldn’t help but notice TJ kept fidgeting with the guitar pick. I nudged him, “Are you nervous about the screen test?”

“No.”

“About flying in the rain?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Really? I am. How could you not be?”

He shrugged. “People fly in the rain all the time. Once we get above the clouds, it’ll be a smooth trip. I’ve taken this flight before.”

I gulped as the engines revved and the plane lurched forward and started picking up speed streaking down the runway. I wanted to reach for TJ’s hand, but then I’d disturb his fiddling with the guitar pick, so I clenched my fists and decided to keep talking to take my mind off my nerves.

I pulled the window shade down and turned to TJ. “I’m kind of nervous about the screen test. I’m like so not a fan of tests anyway. And now, we’re gonna be tested on a screen. You know, like on TV? It’s gonna be like awk-weird to the max, you know? Not like doing a play where there’s a separation between the audience and the cast. With TV, cameras can zoom in really close, and people can see your zits.”

He looked at me. “I don’t have any zits, do I?”

“No. No you don’t. I’m just saying . . . you know, it’s different, and I just can’t understand why you’re not nervous.”

“Well, it’s not like being on a TV sitcom is something I’ve always wanted. If I get on the show, cool. If not, I guess that’s cool, too, but . . .” He trailed off and didn’t speak for what seemed like the longest ten seconds ever, then he said, “I’m kinda hoping things go well with my dad and he wants me to move in with him though.”

“You mean for good and not go back home?” This was a shocker. When we were in New York, TJ and I had confessed that we like-liked each other. We’d promised to hang out a lot and maybe even become girlfriend and boyfriend down the road. Now, to find out he wanted to stay in California? It felt like a tiny crack was forming in my heart. Like a fault line that could signal an earthquake.

“I’d go back home maybe for visits,” he said, “but my mom is starting a new life, and I don’t want to be in the way.”

“Did she say you were in the way?”

“No, of course not. My mom is great. She loves me.”

“What about her fiancé?”

“Mitch? I don’t know. I think he wishes I weren’t there. He never says it. Not in words. But you know, I can kind of feel it when I’m around.” He lifted the guitar pick to his mouth and started gnawing on it, kind of like the way I chew my fingernails when I’m nervous. “My mom doesn’t want me to live with my dad though.”

“Because she’d miss you?”

TJ leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Yeah, that too. I don’t really want to talk about it, Mango. We’ll just see what happens.”

Seems like we both had things we didn’t want to talk about. I didn’t want to talk about why we were stopped before boarding the plane, and TJ didn’t want to talk about how his mother would feel about him moving away. I guess some things were just too tender to deal with for both of us.

I felt bad for TJ, and even though I didn’t want him to move away, I hoped his father would at least want him to stay. Although he’d cut the conversation short, it was a good distraction from my fears. I lifted the shade and looked out the window, and TJ was right: we were high above the clouds, and the sun was shining bright, reflecting on tufts of snowy white cotton balls below us.