Amy Brashear - The Incredible True Story of the Making of the Eve of Destruction

“Oh, hell, no,” Ms. Wilcox had said, waving her finger in his face.

“I was just fixing an issue in one of the rooms,” Dennis had said.

But Ms. Wilcox wasn’t buying any of what he was selling. Her attention had moved to my mom.

“Edna, this lady wants a key to a room. She says her husband is staying here—oh.” Paula had stopped talking and backed all the way into the back room and laughed.

Ms. Wilcox knew who I was. She bent down and grabbed my hands and said, “I don’t blame you, child. Your mother made her bed, and she’s going to have to lie in it.”

“With your husband,” Charlene said, sitting under a hair dryer. (Charlene, a twin who was kind of the queen of gossip land. Her twin, Darlene, was next in line for the throne.)

Ms. Wilcox glared. “Well, I just thought y’all should know what kind of hussy this town has.”

Ms. Wilcox left, and no one could stop talking about what happened. Brenda Leigh was in so much shock my hair ended up extra frizzy since she was distracted and added too much ammonium thioglycolate.

I went home to discover my dad and mom fighting. Apparently, Brenda Leigh’s wasn’t the first stop for Ms. Wilcox. Dad moved out that night and a week later to the base. My parents were officially divorced two months later. A month after that, I walked down the aisle as maid of honor at Dennis and Mom’s wedding. Terrence was the best man. Once they were pronounced man and wife, we were officially a dysfunctional family.

“Terrence’s in front of the TV,” Dennis stated. It wasn’t very clear that he wanted me to go join Terrence until he said, “Go on.”

Terrence and I didn’t exactly have a lot in common. We were not in the same social circle. He’s black and I’m white. (I’m stating this as fact in case Hollywood wants to make a movie later on.) The only thing we did have in common was our parents, and I guessed that was better than nothing.

“Hey,” I said, sitting beside him on the living room floor.

TV looked better from down here.

“Hey, what’s up?” he said, looking up and then down trying to do geometry, read a chapter of 1984 , [15] It was published in 1949 by George Orwell. He’s an English writer. We’re reading it in English class. We have to write our opinions on it every day. I’m having a hard time with it. Before what happened with my parents, I don’t think I cared if Big Brother was watching, but now—with the tiny town of Griffin Flat commenting on my family situation, I guess I’m more on the side of Winston Smith. Dana’s all, “I don’t get what the big deal is. Who wouldn’t want to be watched all the time? What do people have to hide?” But me? I think I don’t want people watching me, making me think a certain way. The rewriting history part? Well, that doesn’t sound half bad, given what’s happened to the Ratliff/Jennings family. and watching MTV [16] MTV stands for Music Television, which shows music videos. It launched in 1981. Trivia: “Video Killed the Radio Star” by the Buggles was the first music video ever shown. all at the same time. “Oh, yeah, congrats on winning the contest. You totally kicked ass.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Who you taking? Dana? Max?” He said Dana the same way Mom did at the hotel.

“I don’t know yet. It’s a pretty big decision.”

“Very.”

I couldn’t tell if he was sarcastic or not. I chose to believe or not.

He went back to his studying and watching MTV, but every so often he’d look up and ask another question about what I thought it would be like and if I would have to miss school, or say that if I was invited to any raging parties, he wanted to go and protect me. And something about Astrid Ogilvie’s number. He was clearly delusional.

For the next thirty minutes I helped him analyze a chapter in 1984 . It was poignant. We were living in the age of Big Brother.

“You know you’re going to take Dana,” he said.

“I’m not so sure.”

“You know she’ll make your life miserable if you don’t.”

“She’ll make it about herself, like she won the contest, and I kind of want it to be my own thing.”

“I get you. I get you.”

Mom came in, threw her coat on the coatrack and her purse on top of that, took a seat on the pink chair (the only item of furniture we brought from our house), and closed her eyes as the “Thriller” [17] Michael Jackson, Thriller , Epic, 1982. Zombies literally come to life. music video played in the background on TV.

“Dinner’s ready,” Dennis yelled from the kitchen.

“Feed me,” Mom said.

Dennis and Mom were gross. So lovey-dovey. Terrence and I rolled our eyes and gagged.

Dennis placed the chicken noodle casserole on two pot holders in the middle of the table. Terrence and I had eaten it for lunch, but at least Dennis’s meal actually tastes like chicken. Mom passed around plates. Terrence grabbed me a Tab from the fridge and a Coke for himself. I took four forks from the silverware tray.

We said a quick prayer thanking God for the food and hoping no one died anytime soon with the impending threat of world war. You know, the usual.

The conversation lagged a bit until Dennis asked about our day. Mom started complaining about the idiotic guests who stayed in the many rooms at the Flat Inn. “Honestly, some people shouldn’t be allowed to travel.”

Dennis was next. “It’s very busy. The film crew has been at the store every hour on the hour buying supplies. Sales are most definitely up. They should film a movie here every year. It’s definitely good for business.”

Terrence didn’t talk much. Like me, he wasn’t quite used to this new family dynamic. When we first moved in, he spent every moment in his room. He only came out for food but usually brought it back to his room. We rarely made eye contact. We were, like, living in a dream world. Our parents had done this to us, my dad, his mom. I just hoped it was worth it. The secrets. The extramarital affair. The sex. I hope it was worth it in the end. (I can’t believe I wrote sex . Pray for me, dear reader. Please.)

I didn’t tell what my day was like. Mom did that. She was the one who brought up the shower. And everyone laughed. “It was probably a scene out of Carrie , [18] A horror novel written by Stephen King. It was published in 1974. Seriously, it’s about high school and the struggles we girls go through and the revenge scenarios some of us imagine. Pretty smart for a guy who was writing about girls. right?” she asked.

“Well, yeah, water instead of blood,” I said.

“And you got suspended?” Dennis asked.

“For one day. I wouldn’t even call that a suspension.”

Terrence scooped mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Rodney was pissed,” he said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you were his partner, and now he has to do the work.”

I laughed. “I’m going to enjoy doing worksheets for the rest of the semester. I regret nothing.”

Mom choked back a laugh.

“Does this suspension mean I’m grounded?” I asked.

“No. I can’t watch you.” Mom handed me a piece of buttered bread, and I set it on my plate. “So have you decided on who you’re going to take?”

“No—”

“It’s a big decision.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or serious.”

“Dead serious.”

“If I don’t take Dana, she’ll kill me.”

“With friends like Dana, you certainly don’t need enemies,” Dennis said.

“You know that’s right,” Terrence said, chugging his Coke.

“Or Max,” Mom said.

“He’d be correcting everyone on the set. That would be annoying,” I said.