A Star is Hatched
April 6, 2018 – Overland Park, Kansas, USA
Emma Ochoa was singing way too fast.
Hyrum had a perfect view of her from where he was standing behind the stage curtains. Her head was pointed down to avoid the spotlights and the gaze of the crowd. Her voice cracked and she sang even faster.
She had sounded so clear and confident when she was in the practice room. Now she and her shaky song were all that stood between Hyrum and what had to be the biggest mistake of his life.
Probably the only thing keeping him from jumping off the stage was his pet frog, Señor Jumpingbeans, in the pocket of his hoody. Hyrum could not risk hurting him. This was the frog’s first time out in public since leaving the pet store. Hyrum worried that Señor Jumpingbeans was even more scared than he was.
They were both caught in the middle of Hyrum’s church’s talent show. But Hyrum was not risking all the humiliation for fame. No, he was doing it for a dog. He loved Señor Jumpingbeans, but he knew he would love his own dog even more. His mom was sure his participation in the contest would help break him out of his shell. He would be forced to interact with more than just his frog and his family. At first, she promised him $50 if he would go out on stage. Then Hyrum made the deal for the dog, something he had been begging for all his life.
“So what are you going to do?” his mom kept asking him. “Sing a song? Maybe do a dance with your sister?”
Hyrum shook his head at all his mom’s suggestions. What he had in mind would be simpler. His dad was a big fan of stand-up comedians and Hyrum had watched hundreds of comedy shows on TV. He figured he could just copy them. In the weeks leading up to the show, he spent every night in his room, making up his own jokes and practicing them on Señor Jumpingbeans. But as he stood on the actual church stage and stared out at the church crowd, he barely remembered any of them.
No! Emma was reaching for her final high note! Like everything else with her song, she cut that short too. Soft applause started up and Hyrum heard Emma’s dad whistle and shout her name. She stumbled toward the exit, flushed and smiling with relief.
The microphone stand was abandoned and the stage looked very empty. The clapping for Emma died away quickly and it was supposed to be Hyrum’s turn. He debated inside whether anyone would care or notice if he did not move. Then he thought of the promised dog and forced his feet forward. Slowly and steadily, he shuffled into the middle of a spotlight. He looked past the glare on his smudged glasses. More than two hundred faces stared back at him, waiting to be impressed.
Hyrum kept one hand on Señor Jumpingbeans in his hoody pocket and used the other to push his glasses up his nose. Then he tapped on the microphone with a shaky finger. He took a deep breath and thought back to the jokes he had practiced in his room. He told himself not to look at the people. Just talk like he was alone with his frog.
“Um, hi. I can’t sing or rap or anything like that. I’m not a good dancer either. But I, uh, I thought I would try to make you laugh instead. So uh, why didn’t the sixth-grader cross the road? . . . Because he didn’t want to look like a chicken.”
Hyrum heard a noise from the crowd that was either a chuckle or a cough. Because he had put a little twist into the classic chicken crossing the road joke, he figured he needed to explain it a little.
“At my school, people kinda make fun of the sixth graders ‘cause they think they’re so cool. But they’re not and I was kind of thinking of one of them standing on a road next to a chicken. Waiting to cross, you know. So, uh, that’s how I came up with that.”
Hyrum realized both hands were back in his pocket clutching Señor Jumpingbeans. He needed to get back on track and say the things he practiced. No one was going to laugh while he tried to explain why something was funny.
“Uh, so let’s see . . . You know being in a talent show is easier if you can play an instrument or something like that. I used to play the piano for a while. I wasn’t very good or anything. But it was my mom who wanted me to quit. I was like, ‘Mom why do you want me to quit?’ She said that she’s heard about all these kids making money playing video games. She said, ‘You’re never gonna make any money playing the piano. You might as well be practicing for a career.’ So now she’s always forcing me to play video games.”
The stuff about the piano and the video games did not come out like Hyrum wanted. But from somewhere in the crowd he heard his first unmistakable laugh. Maybe it was only a chuckle or a giggle. Actually, it did not matter if it was only a tiny squeak. It gave him an unexpected rush of confidence. Now that he had mentioned his mom, he remembered what else he wanted to say.
“You guys probably know I’m the youngest kid in my family. My sisters are always talking about how lucky I am because my mom’s not strict any more. They act like they had it really rough, like my mom was beating them with a wooden spoon all day long. But you know, they should try being the youngest. How would you like to be treated like a baby all the time? I get like a thousand hugs and kisses every day in front of everybody. It’s embarrassing, you know. I’d probably trade kisses for whacks with a wooden spoon straight across.”
There was more actual laughter from different parts of the dark room. Hyrum had more to say about his mom and some of the crazy stuff she liked.
“Have any of you guys seen broccoli ice cream? I guess it’s supposed to make you like eating broccoli. I don’t like regular broccoli and I found out I don’t like it in ice cream either. I think my mom was trying to be funny when she ordered some. It comes in like this freeze dried packet. Maybe from Japan or something. She put it in these bowls for dessert and tried to trick us into thinking it was going to be good.
I’ll just tell you right now, broccoli should never be a dessert. If your mom buys some and tries to sneak it in an ice cream cone or something, say you would rather eat more bean casserole or whatever else was for dinner.”
The audience giggled. It was not exactly loud and people were not falling out of their chairs, but people were entertained. And Hyrum had weirder stuff about his mom.
“I caught my mom watching some weird videos that are supposed to teach you the right way to breathe. Most people breathe without even thinking about it but I guess we’re doing it wrong. You’re supposed to take a breath all the way in and let it all the way out, using your belly. Like this.”
Hyrum demonstrated the kind of long breaths his mom was practicing.
“If you are doing short breaths it means you aren’t calm. That’s kind of how I know what kind of mood my mom’s in. When she finds cereal all over the floor – short breaths. The time I called her from school because I forgot to wear underwear – really short breaths.”
Real laughter bubbled out of the crowd, louder laughs than before. Hyrum kept going. Suddenly, standing up there felt easy.
“My mom loves keeping track of me every second. About the only way I can get away from her is by telling her I’m riding bikes with my friend, Colt. Colt has lots of brand new stuff but most of my stuff is hand-me-downs from my sister. That includes my bike too. Pink bikes are naturally slower than any other color bikes. And they don’t jump as high. I’ve tried jumping my sister’s old dolls and now they have tire marks on their heads. When my sister caught me, I told her she needed to take longer breaths.”
People liked the stuff about the bikes. They kept laughing and laughing. Hyrum wanted to keep going but had run out of things to say. He knew he needed to get off the stage but he did not want to simply walk away cold.
“Thanks. Uh, so if you liked me, my name is Hyrum Watson. If you don’t like me my name is Mattie Watson. If you remember me as Mattie, you’ll probably see me dancing later on. I’ll be wearing tights and different shoes.”
There was more laughter and then applause. Hyrum waved one of his hands and then backed away from the microphone. He tripped before reaching the stage curtains, which produced another laugh from the crowd.
Sixteen-year-old Glen Martinez was waiting to go on next. He had a trumpet in one hand and he held up his other hand to high-five Hyrum.
“Wow! Nice job,” Glen said. “I didn’t know you could be funny.”
Hyrum swatted at his hand and shrugged. Then he pushed past Glen and down a short staircase until he was in the brightly lit hallway that circled the church. Mrs. Foutz and a crowd of contestants stared back at Hyrum with open mouths.
“I can’t believe that was you out there,” said Mrs. Foutz. “So many words all at once.” She turned to Mrs. Tanner, another gray haired woman standing nearby. “I’m not sure I even knew what his voice sounded like. Have you ever heard him speak?”
“Not that I remember,” replied Mrs. Tanner.
“You amazed us all,” Mrs. Foutz continued, reaching out to pat Hyrum on the head.
He shrugged his shoulders and slid past her on his way to the nearby warm-up room. He took an empty seat on a plastic chair against one of the walls, still cradling Señor Jumpingbeans in his hoody pocket.
Almost immediately after he reached the safety of the practice room, Hyrum’s mom appeared, followed by his fifteen-year-old sister, Mattie, and one of her friends. All three hurried over and perched on chairs next to him.
“You were incredible up there! I would have never expected that in a million years! You not only broke through your shell, you destroyed it,” cried Hyrum’s mom with a look of wonder on her face.
Hyrum shrugged for a third time since leaving the stage.
“Where did that come from?” continued his mom.
“I just thought of funny stuff and tried to talk about it,” Hyrum said quietly. “I’ve been practicing in my room.”
“Were you scared? You didn’t seem scared.”
Hyrum was about to answer that he was scared at first, but the more he was up there, he got the hang of it and it was no big deal. Then he realized his mom might volunteer him for all kinds of performances if he acted like it did not bother him. So he nodded his head and said, “I almost threw up.”
“Well you couldn’t tell,” continued his mom. “It was like watching a young Jerry Seinfeld.”
“Who’s Jerry Seinfeld?” asked Hyrum.
“Somebody you need to watch,” his mom answered. She kept smiling in amazement and did not seem to notice that Hyrum kept his hands in his pocket and on his frog, a frog which was not supposed to leave his room.
“Why did you have to talk about me?” demanded Mattie, cutting short the praise being showered on Hyrum. Mattie was decorated with her serious dance makeup and a tight-fitting leotard. Her hair was pulled tight and hair-sprayed in place.
Hyrum shrugged yet again. “To be funny.”
“Well I didn’t think it was funny,” replied Mattie.
“Well I did,” said Mattie’s friend. “Especially if you know Hyrum and how he never says anything.”
“Maybe you got some sympathy laughs,” said Mattie. “Or maybe people were laughing because your fly was open.”
Hyrum automatically looked down at his pants to check if they were unzipped.
“It’s not like making people laugh is a talent or anything. It’s not like playing the piano or dancing, where you have to practice,” continued Mattie.
“But I did have to practice,” Hyrum replied defensively.
“Don’t listen to Mattie,” interjected his mom. “She’s used to getting all of the attention. Now that we’ve got a comedian in the family, she’ll have to learn how to share the spotlight.”
“So when can I get the dog?” asked Hyrum.
His mom returned a confused look. “What are you talking about?”
“When you wanted me to be in the contest. You were going to give me $50 and I said I wanted to get a pet instead.”
“Yeah, that’s how you got Señor Jumpingbeans.”
“And we saw that Golden Retriever puppy that kept licking my fingers. And I said I wanted something bigger than a frog and you said we could come back and get it after I was in the contest.”
“I think we’re remembering things a lot differently. Maybe I said we would think about a dog if you could take care of your frog.”
Hyrum dropped his head and whimpered. “I thought I was doing all of this for a dog.”
“A dog is a big responsibility. You say you’ll take care of it, but I’m afraid I’ll do most of the work of cleaning up after it.”
Hyrum kept his head down and acted miserable.
His mom was quiet for a while before she said, “You were so brave up there. I loved all that shell breaking I saw. I tell you what, the city’s having their own talent show next month. If you perform in that one, you can get a dog. I know it’ll be scary for you, but it’ll be worth it.”
Hyrum quickly realized the leverage he had. He remained stone-faced, but inside he was thrilled he had not told his mom how much he actually enjoyed being on the stage. “What if I do it and you change your mind?”
“I won’t change my mind. I promise,” he mom replied, putting her hand over her heart.
“The city show is probably bigger. Way scarier.”
“It might be. But I know you can do it.”
Hyrum squeezed his frog and gulped like he was imagining the terror of the city contest. “I’ll probably need the dog and $50.”
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