Missing the Big Picture by Donovan, Luke (great book club books txt) 📕

I moved into a duplex, and my grandmother moved into an assisted living facility. It worked out well for everyone involved. At forty-five, my mother didn’t have to spend hours doing tasks for my grandmother. She was able to visit with her sister and not have to lie about it, since my grandmother was always jealous when my mother visited my aunt or went out with anybody. Plus, my mother didn’t work two jobs anymore and hadn’t for the past year.

My grandmother needed people around her, too. She was always very social and loved being around other seniors. The ladies would often go to the movies, and when there wasn’t enough room in the car for everyone, one squeezed in the trunk. My grandmother ended up doing the Heimlich maneuver once and saved a woman from choking on a piece of popcorn. She even volunteered at the assisted living center’s store, where she could socialize and find out what was new with everyone. There wasn’t a time when I visited that she didn’t have a friend over.

I was very motivated to get into college when I was a junior. Toward the end of my sophomore year, I had slacked with my grades at Saint John’s and just wanted to get out of that school. To improve my resume for college, I decided to join the Key Club, a community service organization, and some other after-school groups.

At the first Key Club meeting, I saw two girls that I knew from middle school, Tori and Zoey. All of us used to be in plays together. Zoey had a great sense of humor and a loud voice—right up there with Fran Drescher. We had some classes together, too—AP English and AP U.S. History.

In AP U.S. History, the teacher made me change seats because Zoey and I were talking too much. I was moved to the back of the class and sat in front of a student named Randy. Randy had a large group of friends, of which Zoey and Tori were included. Randy was very musically inclined and starred as Danny in the school musical Grease that year. He was in a chorus group and played bass guitar, too. He was really nice; there wasn’t anybody that he wouldn’t talk to. The first time we talked I remember he was really close to me, and I made him laugh because the closeness of his face made me feel awkward and I moved back in my chair. He wanted to mention to me that scene in Austin Powers when the two characters in the tent are simulating sex. Randy and I became friends soon enough; he had a great sense of humor and a very likeable personality.

I was involved in a lot of activities my junior year. I joined the mock trial team because I wanted to be an attorney. Just like every other club in school, there was one day when we had to take a photo for the yearbook. The club advisor reminded me that the yearbook photo was going to be after school that day. I was nervous and found myself in a predicament. I was very insecure and didn’t want to be perceived as a geek. On the other hand, being an extreme people pleaser, I didn’t want to disappoint the advisor and not show up for the photo. So, my seventeen-year-old mind came up with a brilliant plan. I was going to show up for the photo, and before the light came on, run out of the photo before anybody noticed. However, I realized that I wasn’t faster than the speed of light, so when the flash went off, I went running out of the way. The photo that was used in the yearbook consisted of me running out of the frame with a bunch of studious Asian students looking at me. Instead of avoiding attention, that picture would catch anybody’s eye. Between work and clubs, I didn’t have much of a social life.

I had a little crush on Zoey. She was cute, and if I could get over the voice, I think it would have been good. As springtime rolled around, I decided to ask her to the junior prom. I was too scared to ask her in person, so I decided to look up her address in the phone book and mail her a card asking her to go to the prom. The card that I picked out was probably a poor choice, though. The front said, “I was thinking of you,” and the inside said, “I got gas.” Then I wrote, “Will you go to the prom with me?” I had no game when it came to dating. She mailed me a note back saying she didn’t want to go. I didn’t end up going to junior prom, and when Randy and other people asked, I would simply say, “I can’t make it to prom this year—I have a fencing tournament.” I never did fence; I just thought it was a good excuse.

My favorite class my junior year was a business class from a local community college called Organization and Management. The teacher, Mrs. Teague, was a Colonie High icon during the 1970s, ’80s, and ’90s. She was known for her laid-back persona and for being a grandmotherly figure. She always pronounced my name “Looseish” instead of “Lucas.” Once, when the class got off topic, one student said at twelve-thirty that marijuana was so easy to get, he could score some by two o’clock. Mrs. Teague responded, “Now, what if I wanted a hit man instead?” Mrs. Teague told every class a story about a girl who, instead of handing in her homework, handed in a suicide note. Mrs. Teague called the guidance counselor, who had the student’s phone number, and was able to talk to the student’s parents in time.

Sometimes we had to give class presentations. Once we had to pick an advertisement and talk about it in front of the class. My ad, which