Lesson Eight

TEXT A

My personal Manager Margaret Goff Clark

Pre-class Work I

Read the text once for the main idea. Do not refer to the notes, dictionaries or the glossary yet.

I'm getting a great idea," Carlos said to me. We were standing on the steps outside Galeton High. It was one of those golden days in late October. "Why not let me be your manager? I can promise you'll soon be cool, pretty, and popular."
"You sound like a soap commercial, " I said.
"It's funny you should say that. It is pretty close to my aim in life. I'm going be a promotion man. I may be short, but I can promote big things."
"Like me."
Which is how little Carlos Herrera took me and turned me into, well—
The first time I saw Carlos I would never have believed he was going to change my life. I had my arms full of books and I was tearing into the classroom when I ran into something solid. It was Carlos.
He looked up at me.
"My, you're tall," he said.
Of course, the class began to laugh. Angry, I walked to my seat without a word.
I glanced back to see if Reed Harrington was laughing with the rest. That would be the last straw. But Reed was studying chemistry and did not seem to be aware of anything else. I didn't know why I considered Reed my friend. Maybe just because he was a good two inches taller than I. Anyway, every time I blew out my birthday candles and made a wish, it was for a date with Reed Harrington.
I came back to earth to see the cocky newcomer standing in front of Mr. McCarthy's desk. He was telling him that his name was Carlos Herrera and that he'd moved to Galeton from New York.
"Take that seat, " Mr. McCarthy told Carlos, pointing to the only empty one, in the back of the room.
Carlos grinned. "But I need a couple of dictionaries."
Again the class laughed, but now they were laughing with Carlos, not at him. He had been here only 10 minutes and already he had them on his side.
The bell rang for classes. As I stood up to go I saw Carlos coming toward me.
"I'm sorry I embarrassed you," he said.
I looked straight ahead over the top of his black hair. "That's all right."
"I ought to know better." He was still blocking my way. "What's your name?"
"Karen Forbes."
"You probably heard me say, I'm Carlos Herrera." He held out his hand. Unwillingly, I shook hands with him. He looked up at me seriously with his brown eyes. "I don't see why you're so touchy."
I brushed by him and said sharply, "You wouldn't understand."
He followed me a few steps. "I'm just the one who should, Karen," he said. "You and I have a lot in common."
It was the school elections that made me think of Carlos again. They were held the last of October. Reed Harrington was voted president and Carlos vice-president. "How come?" I kept asking myself. "How come this shrimp who's only been in town for a little over a month gets to be so popular?"
So on that perfect October morning, I stopped Carlos and said, point blank, "It doesn't seem to bother you—being short, I mean."
He looked up at me. "Of course I mind being short. I get a stiff neck every day from looking up at people like you."
"I might have known I couldn't get a sensible answer from you." I started up the steps.
"Hey, don't go away. Please."
I stopped.
Carlos was through kidding. "Sure, it bothers me, being knee-high to a flea. But there isn't anything I can do about it. When I realized I was going to have to spend my life in this undersized skin, I just decided to make the best of it and concentrate on being myself."
"You seem to get along great," I admitted. "But what about me? No boy wants to date a girl taller than he is."
"The trouble with you is you're afraid to be yourself. You're smart. And you could be pretty. In fact, you might be more than pretty."
I felt myself turning red.
"I am getting a great idea," said carlos, and right then he suggested being my manager.
I wasn't sure. "W-e-ll—"
"Look," He almost fell off the steps in his eagerness, "Prize fighters have managers. And movie stars. Besides, what have you got to lose?"
I shrugged. "OK."
Soon after that, he had my new life planned. I was to let my hair grow, wear a fitted sweater and neat skirt, and lift my head and say "Hi" to everyone. I was to volunteer to work on the school paper and go out for dramatics.
"Dramatics! " I protested. "I can' t act. And anyway, they don't have parts for giants."
"You won't be alone," he told me. "I, too, am joining the Dramatics Club."
Four months went by—four months of being almost a puppet, with Carlos pulling the strings.
Then one day, he told me about his latest brain wave. It seemed my acting career was about to burst into flower with the lead part in a play Carlos had dug up. It was about a six-foot model who! falls in love with a jockey.
"You, I suppose, are the jockey," I said.
He grinned.
"No way, " I said. "That story has been done so many times it has lost its humor. The coach would never let us put on a play like that."
"That's where you're wrong, Karen," said Carlos. "It's all arranged and that plot is still funny."
"But I don't want to be funny," I groaned.
Carlos gave me a pleading look. "Karen, I've never asked you for a thing for myself, have I ?"
He hadn't.
"And now, I want you to do this for me. I want to play that jockey. And we can't do this play without you in it."
What could I do? He had given hours—months—to me. I knew it was the most foolish move of my life, but I said yes.
I could not put my heart into that play. It was pure nonsense from beginning to end. The tall model and the jockey were in every foolish situation ever invented.
The night of the play I felt lowest of all. I didn't see how I could go out on that stage and make a laughing stock of myself right in front of my parents and Reed Harrington.
"I can't do it," I groaned to Carlos.
He reached up and patted me on the back. "Stage fright. All the best actors have it. You'11 be fine."
I could see he could hardly wait for the curtains to open. His brown eyes, shining with eagerness. I had to go through with it for him.
"I'm with you, " I said, "to the end."
Carlos took my hand in both of his. "We'll celebrate after the play. OK, Karen?"
I managed to smile down at him. "It's a date."
The band stopped playing, and the curtains opened.
Carlos as the jockey and I, the model, were seated at a table. From our talk the audience could tell we were falling in love. There was no comedy yet. Then as we stood up the awful difference in our sizes became clear. There was a chuckle all over the auditorium. Carlos wanted to kiss me good-bye, but he couldn't reach my face. I bent over and he stood on tiptoe to give me a peck on the chin. A shout of laughter burst from hundreds of throats. I walked off the stage with an exaggerated model's walk. More laughs.
From then on I let loose and acted for all I was worth. Carlos was better than ever, and so was the rest of the cast. Again and again we had to hold up our lines while the people laughed.
As the curtains closed, Carlos threw his arms around my waist. "You were terrific!" he said. "Bend over and I'll give you a kiss."
The house lights went up and people began pouring backstage to congratulate US.
Mother and Dad were flushed and happy looking. "I'm proud of you, dear," Mother said.
Mobs of my friends crowded around, but I was looking for one person who would tower above the others. At last he came.
"You're a real comedian," he said, taking my hand and looking me straight in the eyes. Then he cleared his throat. "I was wondering—that is, if you don't have something else planned, would you go out with me for something to eat?"
Here it was at last—my chance. But somehow, now that I had the chance, I knew there was something more important than going out with Reed.
"Thank you," I said, smiling at him. "Some other time I'd love to, but tonight I have a date with Carlos."

TEXT B

And If Elected Lael J. Little

I'm not one of the in crowd at Haskell High School. I'm sort of on the outside of things. So I was surprised when Dagny Draperman asked to have lunch with me one day. Dagny is in the in crowd. She's in everything.
"Suzie," Dagny said, after we had found a table. "As you may know, I'll be running for president of the Student Organization in the up-coming election. I'd like you to work on my campaign. Would you like that?"
Would I like that? Would I like to find a thousand dollar bill?
"Yes or no?" asked Dagny.
"Do fish swim?" I said. "Do birds fly?" I say things like that when I'm nervous.
"I guess that means yes, " said Dagny. "Great. I'm going to have the best campaign Haskell High has ever seen. I'd like you to think of some campaign slogans for my posters. You do those things so well."
"You can count on me." I said, pleased.
"I'll be having a meeting at noon tomorrow with the members of my committee," said Dagny. "The rules say we only have two weeks to campaign. So we have to move quickly."
Just then, Eugene Beckman stopped by at our table. He smiled at us in that sweet, shy way he has that's so nice.
"I've been, y'know, looking for you, Dagny," he said. "I wanted to, y'know, congratulate you. About your, y'know, running for president."
Eugene is one of the smartest kids in the school. He knows a lot about science. But when he talks, you're so busy counting the "y' knows" that you lose track of what he's saying.
Dagny looked back at Eugene. "Thanks," she said. "I hear you'll be running for president, too. So good luck. Y'know."
I thought to myself that she didn't have to add that "y' know."
Eugene blushed. "Thanks," he said. "Wel

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