Part 13 (2/2)
”I'm not going to audition because if I do get into Juilliard, I'll never be able to walk down my own street again. Not even with the bowling bag. I just don't think I can take all the comments and yelling and stuff.”
”There are all kinds of prejudice, Quint,” I said. ”I've lived with it. You've lived with it. My friend Claudia has lived with it because she's not such a great student. Mallory gets teased because - ”
SJtAsviS ”I know what you're saying, Jessi.”
”And you're going to deprive America of your talent because of a few jerks?”
Quint smiled. ”Well, when you put it that way ...”
”Do you want to go to Juilliard?” I asked.
”Yes, but - ”
”So go! I mean, at least audition.”
Quint stared into his egg cream for, like, an hour or something.
”Quint?” I finally said.
”I'm thinking.”
After some' more staring and thinking, Quint s.h.i.+fted his gaze to me. ”You convinced me. I'll audition. If I get in, then I'll decide what to do?”
”You'll audition?” I screeched, forgetting where I was.
”Shhh. Yes.”
”All right!”
”On one condition.”
”What?” (I should have known there was a condition.) ”That you'll come home with me now while I talk to my parents. I'm not sure what they're going to think about this.”
I thought I knew, but if Quint was worried, then I would give him moral support. It was the least I could do.
Maybe someday I would be credited with having pushed the famous Quint Walter into the spotlight when he was afraid to go ahead with his career.
We walked back to Quint's apartment. We reached it just as his father was coming home from work. Quint and I glanced at each other.
”Dum, da-dum, dum,” sang Quint softly. Then he said, ”Hi, Dad. How was work? Did you have a good day? Can we have a talk?”
Mr. Walter put down his briefcase. ”h.e.l.lo yourself,” he said to Quint. ”Hi, Jessi.” He kissed Mrs. Walter and was then tackled by Morgan and Tyler.
”How was the ballet?” Mrs. Walter asked Quint.
”Fine, but I really need to talk to you and Dad. I want Jessi here, too. But not . . . you know . . .” He gestured toward his brother and sister.
I'm sure Quint's parents thought we were going to tell them we wanted to get married, or something equally serious. They looked awfully worried. Maybe this was a good thing. Because when Quint said, ”It's about my dance lessons/' his parents lost around twenty pounds, just by letting their breath out.
”What about your dance lessons?” asked Mrs. Walter.
”I sort of want to take more.”
”That's okay.”
”They'll be expensive.”
I was going to say, ”Quint, you're avoiding the issue/' when his father asked, ”How many lessons each week?”
”A lot?” replied Quint.
I nudged him.
”What's going on?” asked Mr. Walter.
Quint looked helplessly at me, but I just looked back at him. I was not going to tell his parents about Juilliard for him. He had to do that himself.
”Go ahead/' I said finally. ”Tell them.”
”Tell us what?” asked Mrs. Walter.
Quint gathered himself up. ”I want to audition for Juilliard/' he said. ”I mean, if you can afford to send me there.”
”Juilliard!” exclaimed Mr. and Mrs. Walter at the same time.
”Yes,” said Quint. ”My teachers think I can get in. So I'd like to try.”
”All right/' said Mr. Walter. ”I think we can manage it. Especially if you look into scholars.h.i.+ps.”
”All right?” repeated Quint. ”You mean you don't care?”
”Of course we care,” Mrs. Walter replied. ”We're so proud of you. And if you got into Juilliard, well, just imagine.”
”Besides, we're behind whatever you want to do,” added Mr. Walter. ”We'll stand behind Tyler and Morgan, too.”
”That's not what I meant,” mumbled Quint. ”I'm glad you're behind me. And I'm glad you're proud of me. I really am. But do you realize what's going to happen if I go to dance school every day? Do you?”
”You'll develop huge muscles in your legs?” suggested Mr. Walter.
”Dad, this is serious!”
”Okay. I know some of the kids tease you. You have to decide whether you want to put up with that. Or else, you have to find a way to change things.”
”Right,” said Quint. He didn't smile. He stood up and stuck his hands in his pockets. He walked around the room. At last he came to a stop in front of me. ”Thaf s pretty much what Jessi said.”
<script>