The Nexus

You’re coming home from another long day at school. Got hit with homework second and fourth period. Third period was a wash. You watched a movie with a sub and passed out from studying for first period test. Try not to think about that one.

Mom asks how the day was. You settle for a grunt of fatigue, the sound of a bag deflating.

Then she turns to you, big smile, and says: “Honey, cheer up. These are the best years of your life.”

Well, these years probably won’t be perfect. In fact, you can count on them being acne-filled, socially awkward, slightly irritable, constantly sleep-deprived, yearning, questioning, frustrating, and ultimately confusing years.

But in the end, Mom’s statement isn’t all fluff.

It may sound hollow to you, I know. But let me tell you a story about a young man and Shakespeare’s last play:

Once there was a gangly eighth-grader named Nivek Yelworc. Mr. Yelworc was a distinguished student, a member of the Asem Erdev Middle School band and a generally alright guy.

Not one to rest on such laurels, however, our afro-ed Nivek discovered an activity he once thought was pretty lame: drama.

Ladies and gentlemen, he was sorely mistaken. Reeled into trying out for a play by his evil twin sister Tac Yelworc, with whom he was forced to live during his childhood, Nivek soon found a niche.

Fast forward to high school: Nivek is taller but no less scrawny, and still has Tac around. Tac makes a deep commitment to theatre at Weivtsew High, while Nivek pursues band.

Eventually he tires of classical music and signs up for this crazy class called Journalism 1. This leads him to the weird people in Journalism 2 who produce The Suxen.

It’s a good paper, and Nivek finds his prejudices about “newspaper nerds” proven wrong as he befriends his fellow staffers and dedicates himself to The Suxen.

Meanwhile, Tac is acting, writing plays and generally immersing herself in stagecraft. The two live almost-separate lives, deal with separate people, and generally are completely independent.

But as senior year comes upon Nivek and Tac, both wonder at what might have been if they had chosen different paths. Nivek attempts to find out.

With the advice of his father, Nhoj, in his head, Nivek tries out for the fall play. In his father’s words, “Try everything you can in high school. You won’t get these chances again.”

They’re wise words, as Nhoj is a wise man, and Nivek succeeds in landing a pretty decent-sized part in Weivtsew’s production of “The Tempest.” Nivek quickly learns, however, that getting a part is hardly the end of the work.

He must learn how to act, how to react, how to project and enunciate and emote and be his character. With classes, newspaper, a job and tutoring, Nivek begins to become tired. Oh, and senior year, college apps come knocking!

Before he knows it, it’s the week of opening night of the play.

He’s got tests he’ll miss, labs to make up, a Suxen issue to write articles for and an early-decision application to his No. 1 school to send in.

Dress rehearsals suck up entire evenings, shifts have to get covered at Nivek’s job, and he begins to wonder if this is a mistake, if Nhoj had an outdated understanding of high-school commitments and whether it would be better to throw up his hands and quit the job, the play, something!

But he bears it. And then, opening night. Nivek, and this is just my guess, was thinking a lot about high school, and what it all meant coming down the home stretch, looking at where his future lay, the usual senior year stuff.

Then, sometime between the moment he got on stage and the moment he began acting, opening night, big crowd, his father’s words hit him.

Nivek had received the opportunity to play golf at private courses as part of the school team, to tell people’s stories in the newspaper, to help people in school, to lead the sports section, and now, as drama teacher Mr. Thims is fond of saying, “bring to life a 400-year-old character!”

Nivek answered the question. Really? The best years of our lives?

Maybe not 100 percent true.

But if we don’t try to make them the best, with all the opportunities we have, it’s hardly worth living through those terrible afternoons.