The school performances, every year, never fail to be humiliating.
Which explains why I'm standing here wearing green tights and fake Spock-ears singing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."
My sister actually got a decent role in the play this year, maybe because she can actually act whereas I can't, explaining my stupid costume.
Our school is so weird - they perform scenes from Christmas movies, like "A Christmas Carol", "Rudolph", "Santa Claus is Coming to Town", "It's a Wonderful Life", and etcetera, and they SING THE SONGS TOO.
And the eighth-grade class is ALWAYS the ones running the play.
So I guess it could be worse-the eighth graders could be mean this year. They're not, but all the girls just happen to think I'm a fifth or sixth grader and keep calling me "adorable" and pinching my cheeks. The girl in charge of casting, Molly, actually cast me as an elf because she thought I was a sixth-grader, and now I'm standing here in the middle of all these little kids, a foot taller than all of them, dressed in the same costume.
Middle schools are so difficult-and this one is really odd. We have fifth through eighth. Is fifth grade even supposed to be out of elementary school?
Plus, the annoying little fifth-graders keep calling me "diaper".
I don't see how the eighth-graders think that my twin sister is in a higher grade than me. We're the same height (plus or minus a millimeter) and we look almost the same. Not in a weird way.
I didn't think it could get worse and then I saw my mom in the front row with a camera. MY camera.
Just saying, if you were in a big Christmas performance standing in the middle of a bunch of little kids, dressed as an elf with big pink circles on your cheeks, wearing your sister's tights, would you want your mother filming you? Exactly.
I try to subtly tell my mom to put the camera down without physically telling her, because I have to sing, but she's oblivious and zooms in.
I start making faces at her and moving my hands in a motion to say "turn it off!" but she really doesn't understand. My dad is just sitting there with his head in his hands, probably thinking about how embarrassing it is to be the father of the random seventh-grade boy in an elf costume.
My mom moves the camera to film my sister, whose costume is not even close to embarrassing. Well, for her. I'm glad I don't have to wear it.
You know that scene from "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" the movie where they're on the island of misfit toys? We're acting (and singing) it out, and she gets to be that creepy doll thing.
I'm glad I didn't get her role but seriously, why an elf?
When the performance is over I spend about ten minutes removing the face paint, which decides it needs to be super-glued to my face.
My mom comes backstage, grabs my sister and I, and pulls us into a hug.
"You were ADORABLE! I'm so PROUD OF YOU!" she says, and some other mother nonsense. Mabel and I exchange a glance, and both of our expressions say "Help me."
My dad is holding the camera, probably watching the video.
"So, I took a video of your performance, and I think we should send it to Grammy and Uncle Stan and Aunt Mary and blah blah blah…" she says, babbling on about which relatives should receive the video.
"She took a video?" Mabel mouths. I nod, sadly, and mouth back "We have to delete it permanently."
"Can I see the video?" Mabel asks. She's brilliant! Ask to see it and "accidentally" delete it.
When we're driving home she's watching the video, and replaying the part where I'm implying Mom should turn it off over and over again and laughing hysterically.
"Y'know, I think we should keep this video. For future memories." she says. "Can I have a few copies to take to my friends?" I reach over and try to grab the camera, but she holds it far away from me.
"Wendy's gonna looooooooooove this." she says when we get home and runs inside.
Oh, I am going to KILL her.