To the Manna Born: The Life of Donna, by Christopher Leeson

 By Christopher Leeson

Chapter 5 

The Thursday rehearsal had been on Donna’s mind since Tuesday, though she wouldn’t have admitted this to anyone, including herself. She didn’t care about the music—those guys didn’t do music the way she liked it—but wanted to hang with Glory. She didn’t know quite what it was, but keeping her happy had become her priority.

Donna arrived at Mike’s garage in jeans and a dark top—as good as what she wore last time. She found the boys already set up. Jake gave her a nod. Mike was looking at the sheet music. Neither of them had anything to say to her, and so there wasn’t much for her to do except sit and listen to their tuning. The other two guys soon dragged themselves in, and Glory arrived a few moments after that. This time she had come over in her car, which she left parked by the curb.

Glory had a shopping bag over one arm with an eager expression. She greeted Donna warmly and then crossed to Mike,mom and they whispered for a moment. Mike nodded. Glory came back looking chipper.

“Okay,” she said. “Mike says we can use his bathroom to get you ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Your audition, remember? Mike has to give the okay that you’re going to make the group look good on stage.”

“He’s got a lot of nerve!” 

 “Don’t worry about it. When I’m done with you, you’re going to look incredible. I just hope Mike’s sitting down when he sees you. It could be embarrassing otherwise.”

“I can’t dance,” Donna said. “I’ve told you that.”

“This isn’t dance practice. This is the audition! Before you can face an audience, prove to the boss that you’ve got something to give.”

“What do I have to give?”

“Just follow my lead, and you’ll be surprised.”

#

Mike’s bathroom was small and smelled of shaving soap and old tiles, and also some perfumy stuff that probably belonged to his mother. Glory lowered the toilet bowl lid and had Donna sit on it. She brought a dress out of the shopping bag—black with silver sequins. Donna thought it was just one part of some outfit, but when Glory unfolded it, it turned out to be the whole thing. It looked dauntingly smaller now than it had at Glory’s house.

“Hey! The whole bottom part is missing. I’m not into showing off my legs.”

“Your legs will be in pantyhose. All covered up.”

“Pantyhose can’t cover things up like trousers can.”

“Know thyself, kiddo! Your legs are great. It would be an affront to Nature not to show them.”

“What is there to gain in showing them off?”

“Admiration, for one thing.”

“Being admired by boys is another thing I’m not into. And if I’m supposed to dance, I don’t know how.”

“You’re not dancing. You’re auditioning for the band. When you find out how easy it is for you to light up a boy’s eyes, it’ll light up your eyes!” Glory held out the dress. “Try it. If you can’t make a go of it, we’ll go home.”

Donna accepted the dress with considerable reluctance.

Glory stepped out of the bathroom and let Donna change clothes. Somehow she got the pantyhose on without her toenails cutting a run into it.

Then she put on the special brassiere from the bag. Try as she might, she couldn’t reach the hooks behind her back.

But the brassiere had her flummoxed. “I can’t wear this bra,” she said through the door. “The hooks don’t hook.”

“Let me help,” Glory said. When she came into the small room, she looked at the problem and told her, “Turn around.”

Donna pivoted, and Glory hooked her in, but the capacity of the cups could hardly hold her girl-parts in place.

Donna, who already knew how sausage was made, had made a giant leap forward by discovering how cleavage was made.

She looked at herself in the mirror above the sink. She struggled to believe the busty beauty she saw was actually her. Donna wasn’t sure whether she should moan or yell in indignation.

Donna couldn’t help remembering that conversation with Glory. Everything about female beauty was phony.

But Glory was giving her no time to analyze her discovery. She next foisted a pair of shoes on her. They were not extreme, but they were still the highest heels she had ever worn. Donna’s first three attempts at standing, let alone walking, forced her to hold onto the bathroom fixtures in fear of falling.

“Smaller steps,” Glory said. “And lead with your hip, not your foot.”

“What good will that do?”

“Just try it.”

She soon learned that the technique actually did pay dividends, and the technique allowed her to exit the bathroom successfully.

But Glory soon brought her back to the toilet seat for a makeup job. She worked quickly and without second-guessing herself. Liner. Mascara. A lip color that was bolder than the gloss but softer than the red she’d worn before. A few minutes of work got Donna’s hair into order, making it fall into loose waves that looked incredible in the looking glass.

Glory stepped back and studied the results of her craft.

“Okay,” she said. “That’s exactly the look I was going for.”

Donna to the sink mirror again. It no longer surprised her to look like an entirely different person.

“Now let’s get you into the dress.”

“I don’t think it will fit. It’s child-sized.”

“It’s made to stretch, and when girls wear tight clothes, they look great!”

#

Donna returned to the garage with Glory leading her by the hand to keep her from stumbling in those heels.

The guys’ yammering stopped when they came through the car door.

Mike’s put his drumsticks down. Jake put his pick into his pocket. The other two band members simply stood and stared.

The surrounding ambiance felt different from before.

“Well,” Mike said finally, “don’t you look nice?”

Jake concurred. “Yeah, nice.”

Mike took a deep breath and tried to get his star-struck mind working again. “Well, you disguised her as a hot dancer, but looks aren’t everything. She won’t help the group if she can’t move right.”

“She’s going to move fine,” Glory assured him. “Give us a week of practice.”

“Fine, it’s all up to you. Now let’s get this jam into high gear!”

The practice came off as it had the other two times, but now Glory directed her to jingle the tambourine standing up and to move her feet in a simple box step, approximating a dance. But even while the guys played their instruments, their eyes were mostly fixed on Donna’s legs and neckline.

#

When the band wrapped up, Mike gave his verdict regarding Donna. “She’s in. Provisionally. You’ve got until the gig to make her stop counting out her so people can hear.”

“That’ll be an easy habit to break,” Glory said.

“Then we’re good.”

# 

Glory drove Donna home afterwards, not saying much until they were drawing close to Donna’s house. The blonde girl had changed back into her street clothes before leaving Mike’s. 

“I keep forgetting to mention that we’re having a pajama party,” Glory said. “Saturday before Columbus Day. Kaylee’s house. You absolutely have to come.”

“What do I wear? I don’t own real pajamas. I sleep in jogging pants and a T-shirt.”

“Wear whatever you want to wear,” Glory said. “Anything that makes you comfortable. If I were you, I’d pick something that made me feel pretty!”

“But you’re not me, and feeling pretty is the last thing I want to do.”

“Why?”

“Prettiness is overrated. And, you said yourself, there’s no genuine beauty in the world.”

“You misunderstand. I didn’t say there was no real beauty in the world. I said, beauty made from paint and appliances is a fake out.”

“If beauty is only a disguise, why live like it’s permanently Halloween?”

“What an attitude! Don’t overthink things. You’ll recognize beauty when you meet it.”

“Well, I already I think you’re pretty,” said Donna.

“Ditto from me,” Glory replied. 

“Oh, there’s your house ahead,” she said. “Just don’t miss the party. It’s at seven-thirty Monday night at Kaylee’s. I’ll text you the address if you don’t have it.

“I don’t.”

“Also, we have to work harder on your dance lessons for the gig. We can practice some at the party. The other girls will be glad to join in.”

“I don’t belong dancing on a stage. It creeps me out to think of dancing in front of a group.”

“That’s stage fright. You’ll get over it. You’ll soon love dancing as much as I do.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” said Donna. 

At that moment, Glory slowed, hit the turn signal, and smoothly pulled into the parking lane in front of Donna’s house.

“See you tomorrow,” she said as Donna stepped out the passenger door.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” the blonde replied. 

#

But Donna didn’t see her friend on Friday because Glory missed school. This surprised Donna, since Glory hadn’t mentioned feeling ill the evening before.

Donna checked her phone for messages and found a new one from Glory. Sorry, not coming in today. Feel terrible. Save me notes. 

Donna gave a quiet damn. She felt as though the biggest planned event of the day had been cancelled. That was what Glory had become to her. She was the biggest event of every day.

But Glory’s absence held a special inconvenience today. When the auto shop instructor called the class to order, he immediately announced a bright new idea for introducing a competitive class project.

He told his students that today’s diagnostic exercise would be performed in pairs. That meant each student had to find a classmate he’d want to work with.

Damn it! This would have been no problem had Glory come to class. As Donna looked around the room, she saw a couple of guys eyeing her. She didn’t like being looked at like a special car option that the shop guys wanted.

She looked around the room, trying to find the person least likely to make a pest of himself if they worked together. The boys found it easy to pair up with their close buds. However, there was an odd man out. Neil Kowalski was doing the same thing she was doing, looking around, trying to pick out some near stranger he could pair up with. 

Kowalski was one of those boys who always seemed to be off by himself, including when eating alone in the lunchroom. He was a shy boy, and Donna—and Langdon before her—had never noticed him much. But they also never noticed him giving any girl a hard time. But like most nerds, he seemed to lack male friends, too. The teachers seemed to like him, though, and his name had frequently appeared on the honor roll.

She thought Kowalski might be the least annoying person available in the class. She got up and went over to his desk, where he was sitting, looking forlorn and awkward.

“Hello, Neil,” she said. “Are you available to partner with me on this project?”

He looked at her suspiciously, as if suspecting she was putting him on. 

“Guess I could, if you really need a partner.”

Donna understood his lack of enthusiasm. The girls in school chased after only a handful of boys—those lucky enough to look like film stars, those from rich families, and the notable athletes. But down-to-earth boys like Langdon, and bookworms like Kowalski, got the invisible treatment. Pretty girls talked honestly to them; they only teased, attempting to make them feel foolish.

Then Donna saw the teacher, Mr. Briggs, pushing a metal dolly loaded with older model carburetors. He started putting one at each workstation in the workroom. 

When he came out, he said, “Each of these carburetor parts has an identified problem. Each team will check one over and see if it can identify what’s wrong. Do the standard diagnostic report for it. One on the team can do the disassembly, while the other writes the report. Monday is Columbus Day, but when you come in Tuesday, I’ll have your work graded. Now, get on the stick!

“One thing, people,” Bringgs added as an afterthought, “put down plenty of newspapers. The janitors don’t like it when you leave oily messes.”

Donna went into the workroom and chose an empty spot with a carburetor on it. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands with some measure of familiarity with its make.

“I can take it apart,” Neil said. “It’s going to make your hands greasy.”

“This is an auto shop. If I were afraid of grease, I wouldn’t have signed up.”

He shrugged. “It’s all yours, then. I’ll do the paperwork.”

Once they went into action, they did little talking, except about the carburetor. Donna disassembled the unit with confidence. Neil mainly worked on the diagram sketch, a task he seemed to have a knack for. Donna called out components as she worked, and Neil together recorded and cross-referenced the individual pieces using the manual.

“What’s the most likely thing wrong with it?” Donna suddenly asked.

Neil frowned. “Check if the needle valve seat isn’t at fault. The float height on these jobbies can drift.” Donna recognized the sense in this and decided that the boy was no dummy.

While they worked, Donna asked, “Are you familiar with this make of carburetor?”

He nodded. “It looks familiar. I’ve worked on old cars. My grandfather had a machine shop, and I learned a lot from helping him.”

But time was pressing hard. Neil concentrated on the report, but while Donna worked, he casually offered her one pointer after another. Some things he cited she already knew, but some of them she didn’t. Overall, Neil was more of a help than a hindrance.

While Kowalski was busy with his notes, Donna found what seemed to be the problem—a worn accelerator pump that someone had tried to compensate for rather than replace. It had been a botched job, probably because the shirk had wanted the problem to go away temporarily, without doing the sweat work of actually fixing it.

She held it up. “Here.” She then explained what she had seen.

Neil leaned over and checked her work. He especially eyed the worn pump, applying to it the focused attention of someone who found car tinkering genuinely interesting.

“Yeah,” he said. “You found it. Good catch.” And then, with what sounded like sincerity, he said, “I mean it. You recognized the real problem. Most people would have wasted time checking out the obvious stuff first.”

With the diagnosis accomplished, Neil and Donna applied themselves to finishing the project report. 

When the clean-up bell rang, most of the pairs were still deep into their incomplete work, but Donna felt confident in what they had accomplished with minutes to spare.

Neil hurriedly gathered the notes and diagrams. “We’ll have to turn this in now. I hope Mr. Briggs will be satisfied.”

In that moment of calm, he asked a personal question. “Do you plan to become a car mechanic when you leave school, Donna? I think you have what it takes.”

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “I just took this class because I needed an elective.” 

“But you must have been at least a little bit interested in cars.”

“I can tell you I was more interested in cars than I was in Home Economics.”

“I feel the same way,” unable to keep from smiling. 

“Say, Neil, I usually team with Glory,” Donna said. “But whenever she’s not here, I’d be glad to team up with you again.”

“You bet we can! That’ll be great,” he said with a nod.

“That’s it for now, class,” boomed Mr. Briggs. “Clean up the spilled grease and leave the parts on fresh newspapers. We’ll refer to them on Tuesday for the project reviews and demonstrations.”

When the class bell rang, Neil got up and nodded goodbye. Donna went to the sink to clean up. It occurred to her that Neil hadn’t asked her out for a soda after school. Maybe that meant he wasn’t interested in her and that his compliments had been sincere. That thought gave her satisfaction.

But on the way home, a contrary thought arose. If Neil had wanted to be friends, why hadn’t he suggested a soda? Can’t a person like a person and also respect them at the same time? Thinking in this new way made her lose some of her buoyancy.

 

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 6