Tommy Tunes

A big, fat fake. That’s what I was. I was a nobody – a computer geek with only one true friend, my buddy Simon Lee, who is equally nerdy. Yes, I, Thomas Wellington II, was a second generation reject.

The whole incident started as a joke. I entered the high school talent show on a dare, thinking people would laugh. I made up some cheesy music with my computer and then “performed” it. I called myself “Tommy Tunes.” The thing is, I was just pretending to sing, “Yeah, yeah, gonna party all night. Yeah, yeah, got you in my sight.”

Everyone in the auditorium was on their feet, cheering, singing along, even screaming. Crazy, right?

The next day, people - who the day before wouldn’t give me a second glance - were giving me high fives. The choir teacher, Miss Bitterman gave me a fist bump, probably hoping I’d join glee club or something. Everyone thought I was going to be the next music sensation.

Then, the video someone recorded went viral, and before I could say, “Huh?” I was asked to play for the school dance. Since I was reveling in my new celebrity status, I agreed. I figured I could record another dozen similar tunes and lip sync in the same way.

Only Simon knew I was no musician. He even helped me with lyrics. We came up with “Teen Rampage” and “Flippin’ Out” rather quickly. He also helped me add some drum sounds. He’s good with rhythm. I practiced mouthing the lyrics in front of him and in front of my poor dog, Boomer. Simon said that I needed more attitude. Boomer covered his ears, like he could hear what I was mouthing.

When Simon’s big sister, Anna, came home from Springfield College over spring break, she helped me with makeup and an “outfit.” Then I looked the part.

The day after spring break, during lunch, the star basketball center, one of the “cool kids,” Steve Redding, asked if I wanted to sit with him and his friends. I looked at Simon and asked, “You wanna go?”

Steve held his palm out to stop Simon and insisted, “No, just you. We want to ask about what you’re playing for the dance.”

Simon fiddled with his peas and mumbled, “Go on, I’ll catch you in trig.”

As I left, I noticed Simon scooting over to sit with Grover Braxton, known for his odiferous essence. I felt like a heel, but my fans were calling. Simon didn’t show up to help me with the last song that night.

The day of the dance, I went early to set up my computer and do a “mic check” which, of course, was unnecessary, as I had no intention of using it. The principal let me in and complimented me on my music. He even said, “I see good things for you in the future, young man.”

When the door opened to the rest of my schoolmates, I started with the song I had “performed” at the talent show. It sounded exactly the same, except for the addition of Simon’s drum work.

I looked around for my friend. Eventually, I saw him come in with Susan Nevins, a drama club student. How and when did that happen? He didn’t even look up at me on the stage.

At the start of my third song, the student council had a “surprise,” which turned out to be a whole bunch of lights. The minute they turned them on, the circuit blew, and the emergency lights went on. My laptop went dark too. I had forgotten to put it on the charger.

Miss Bitterman yelled, “Stay calm everyone, I have a battery powered karaoke machine. Thomas - I mean Tommy Tunes - can keep singing.

I stood there with my mouth agape. “Um, but it won’t sound good without any backup,” I complained.

“Nonsense,” she said. “I’ll grab some drums. Anyone here play drums?”

“I’ll do it,” I heard from the back. A path opened through the crowd, and there was Simon. He jumped up on stage and said, “All right, Tommy Tunes, let’s get this place rockin’.”

I stared at him with my eyes wide open. “You think we can do this?”

He nodded with a grin and said, “Yeah, it won’t be as awesome without your electronic backup, but we’ll make it work.

By golly, we did. All of that practice with the lyrics sunk in, and I didn’t sound half bad. I don’t think Miss Bitterman will be seeking me out for glee club, but everyone danced as Simon and I butchered our songs.

Two songs in, the main lights and power went back on. I finished the evening with Simon on drums, playing with my computer tunes and me back to lip syncing.

The girls especially liked our music. Simon got his first kiss that night during a break when Susan grabbed him by the punch bowl.

The following week, I was offered a recording contract by Techno Junkies, Inc. It seems my talent was valued for the electronic composition.

I said, “No thanks.” Friends are more important than celebrity status.