现代大学英语精读第一册Unit08

Lesson Eight

TEXT A

My personal Manager Margaret Goff Clark

Pre-class Work I

Read the text once for the main idea. Do not refer to the notes, dictionaries or the glossary yet.

I'm getting a great idea," Carlos said to me. We were standing on the steps outside Galeton High. It was one of those golden days in late October. "Why not let me be your manager? I can promise you'll soon be cool, pretty, and popular."
"You sound like a soap commercial, " I said.
"It's funny you should say that. It is pretty close to my aim in life. I'm going be a promotion man. I may be short, but I can promote big things."
"Like me."
Which is how little Carlos Herrera took me and turned me into, well—
The first time I saw Carlos I would never have believed he was going to change my life. I had my arms full of books and I was tearing into the classroom when I ran into something solid. It was Carlos.
He looked up at me.
"My, you're tall," he said.
Of course, the class began to laugh. Angry, I walked to my seat without a word.
I glanced back to see if Reed Harrington was laughing with the rest. That would be the last straw. But Reed was studying chemistry and did not seem to be aware of anything else. I didn't know why I considered Reed my friend. Maybe just because he was a good two inches taller than I. Anyway, every time I blew out my birthday candles and made a wish, it was for a date with Reed Harrington.
I came back to earth to see the cocky newcomer standing in front of Mr. McCarthy's desk. He was telling him that his name was Carlos Herrera and that he'd moved to Galeton from New York.
"Take that seat, " Mr. McCarthy told Carlos, pointing to the only empty one, in the back of the room.
Carlos grinned. "But I need a couple of dictionaries."
Again the class laughed, but now they were laughing with Carlos, not at him. He had been here only 10 minutes and already he had them on his side.
The bell rang for classes. As I stood up to go I saw Carlos coming toward me.
"I'm sorry I embarrassed you," he said.
I looked straight ahead over the top of his black hair. "That's all right."
"I ought to know better." He was still blocking my way. "What's your name?"
"Karen Forbes."
"You probably heard me say, I'm Carlos Herrera." He held out his hand. Unwillingly, I shook hands with him. He looked up at me seriously with his brown eyes. "I don't see why you're so touchy."
I brushed by him and said sharply, "You wouldn't understand."
He followed me a few steps. "I'm just the one who should, Karen," he said. "You and I have a lot in common."
It was the school elections that made me think of Carlos again. They were held the last of October. Reed Harrington was voted president and Carlos vice-president. "How come?" I kept asking myself. "How come this shrimp who's only been in town for a little over a month gets to be so popular?"
So on that perfect October morning, I stopped Carlos and said, point blank, "It doesn't seem to bother you—being short, I mean."
He looked up at me. "Of course I mind being short. I get a stiff neck every day from looking up at people like you."
"I might have known I couldn't get a sensible answer from you." I started up the steps.
"Hey, don't go away. Please."
I stopped.
Carlos was through kidding. "Sure, it bothers me, being knee-high to a flea. But there isn't anything I can do about it. When I realized I was going to have to spend my life in this undersized skin, I just decided to make the best of it and concentrate on being myself."
"You seem to get along great," I admitted. "But what about me? No boy wants to date a girl taller than he is."
"The trouble with you is you're afraid to be yourself. You're smart. And you could be pretty. In fact, you might be more than pretty."
I felt myself turning red.
"I am getting a great idea," said carlos, and right then he suggested being my manager.
I wasn't sure. "W-e-ll—"
"Look," He almost fell off the steps in his eagerness, "Prize fighters have managers. And movie stars. Besides, what have you got to lose?"
I shrugged. "OK."
Soon after that, he had my new life planned. I was to let my hair grow, wear a fitted sweater and neat skirt, and lift my head and say "Hi" to everyone. I was to volunteer to work on the school paper and go out for dramatics.
"Dramatics! " I protested. "I can' t act. And anyway, they don't have parts for giants."
"You won't be alone," he told me. "I, too, am joining the Dramatics Club."
Four months went by—four months of being almost a puppet, with Carlos pulling the strings.
Then one day, he told me about his latest brain wave. It seemed my acting career was about to burst into flower with the lead part in a play Carlos had dug up. It was about a six-foot model who! falls in love with a jockey.
"You, I suppose, are the jockey," I said.
He grinned.
"No way, " I said. "That story has been done so many times it has lost its humor. The coach would never let us put on a play like that."
"That's where you're wrong, Karen," said Carlos. "It's all arranged and that plot is still funny."
"But I don't want to be funny," I groaned.
Carlos gave me a pleading look. "Karen, I've never asked you for a thing for myself, have I ?"
He hadn't.
"And now, I want you to do this for me. I want to play that jockey. And we can't do this play without you in it."
What could I do? He had given hours—months—to me. I knew it was the most foolish move of my life, but I said yes.
I could not put my heart into that play. It was pure nonsense from beginning to end. The tall model and the jockey were in every foolish situation ever invented.
The night of the play I felt lowest of all. I didn't see how I could go out on that stage and make a laughing stock of myself right in front of my parents and Reed Harrington.
"I can't do it," I groaned to Carlos.
He reached up and patted me on the back. "Stage fright. All the best actors have it. You'11 be fine."
I could see he could hardly wait for the curtains to open. His brown eyes, shining with eagerness. I had to go through with it for him.
"I'm with you, " I said, "to the end."
Carlos took my hand in both of his. "We'll celebrate after the play. OK, Karen?"
I managed to smile down at him. "It's a date."
The band stopped playing, and the curtains opened.
Carlos as the jockey and I, the model, were seated at a table. From our talk the audience could tell we were falling in love. There was no comedy yet. Then as we stood up the awful difference in our sizes became clear. There was a chuckle all over the auditorium. Carlos wanted to kiss me good-bye, but he couldn't reach my face. I bent over and he stood on tiptoe to give me a peck on the chin. A shout of laughter burst from hundreds of throats. I walked off the stage with an exaggerated model's walk. More laughs.
From then on I let loose and acted for all I was worth. Carlos was better than ever, and so was the rest of the cast. Again and again we had to hold up our lines while the people laughed.
As the curtains closed, Carlos threw his arms around my waist. "You were terrific!" he said. "Bend over and I'll give you a kiss."
The house lights went up and people began pouring backstage to congratulate US.
Mother and Dad were flushed and happy looking. "I'm proud of you, dear," Mother said.
Mobs of my friends crowded around, but I was looking for one person who would tower above the others. At last he came.
"You're a real comedian," he said, taking my hand and looking me straight in the eyes. Then he cleared his throat. "I was wondering—that is, if you don't have something else planned, would you go out with me for something to eat?"
Here it was at last—my chance. But somehow, now that I had the chance, I knew there was something more important than going out with Reed.
"Thank you," I said, smiling at him. "Some other time I'd love to, but tonight I have a date with Carlos."

Read the text a second time. Learn the new words and expressions listed below.

Glossary

audience
n. a group of people who watch and listen to sb. speaking or performing in publi 观众；听众

auditorium
n. 剧场，大会堂，音乐厅（等）

backstage
n. 剧场的后台

bother
v. to make sb. feel slightly worried or upset

career
n. a job or profession that you have been trained for 职业

cast
n. people chosen to act particular parts in a play, film, etc. 演员阵营

chin
n. 下巴

coach
n. someone who trains a person or a team in a sport 教练；指导

cocky
adj. too confident about yourself and your ability 狂妄的；自负的

comedian
n. someone whose job is to tell jokes and make people laugh

comedy
n. a play or film, etc. that is amusing and has a happy ending 喜剧

commercial
n. a commercial advertisement 商业广告

concentrate
v. to give all your attention

congratulate
v. to praise people for sth. difficult or skillful they have done 祝贺

curtain
n. 幕布

dramatics
n. 演剧活动

eagerness
n. the keenness or excitement about sth. that is going to happen or sth. you want to do

embarrass
v. to make sb. feel anxious, ashamed or uncomfortable, especially in a social situation

exaggerated
adj. 夸张的

flea
n. 虱子；Here: a very small thing

flushed
adj. red in the face

giant
n. a very tall and big person 大高个儿；巨人

groan
v. to make a long deep sound because you are pain or upset 呻吟

hey
int. 嘿！喂！(used to call attention or to express surprise)

humor
n. 幽默

invent
v. to make or produce sth. new for the first time

jockey
n. someone who rides horses in races （赛马场）职业骑师

knee
n. 膝盖；～ - high: 高及膝盖的

newcomer
n. a person who has only recently arrived

nonsense
n. foolish ideas

peck
n. a quick and light kiss

pleading
adj. 恳求的

plot
n. Here: the way the play develops 剧情

promote
v. to help sth. or sb. to develop and be successful 宣传；推广；推销

promotion
n. the act of promoting

puppet
n. Here: a person who has lost his independence and is controlled by someone else 傀儡；木偶

sensible
adj. reasonable and practical 明智的

sharply
adv. in a severe and disapproving way 严厉地

shrimp
n. a small pink sea creature 小虾；Here: a very small person

smart
adj. clever; quick in thinking

stiff
adj. unable to move （肌肉） 硬的

terrific
adj. excellent; great

tiptoe
n. 脚尖

touchy
adj. easily offended or annoyed

undersized
adj. smaller than usual

vice-president
n. 副主席

volunteer
v. to offer to do sth. without expecting any reward 自动提出

TEXT B

And If Elected Lael J. Little

I'm not one of the in crowd at Haskell High School. I'm sort of on the outside of things. So I was surprised when Dagny Draperman asked to have lunch with me one day. Dagny is in the in crowd. She's in everything.
"Suzie," Dagny said, after we had found a table. "As you may know, I'll be running for president of the Student Organization in the up-coming election. I'd like you to work on my campaign. Would you like that?"
Would I like that? Would I like to find a thousand dollar bill?
"Yes or no?" asked Dagny.
"Do fish swim?" I said. "Do birds fly?" I say things like that when I'm nervous.
"I guess that means yes, " said Dagny. "Great. I'm going to have the best campaign Haskell High has ever seen. I'd like you to think of some campaign slogans for my posters. You do those things so well."
"You can count on me." I said, pleased.
"I'll be having a meeting at noon tomorrow with the members of my committee," said Dagny. "The rules say we only have two weeks to campaign. So we have to move quickly."
Just then, Eugene Beckman stopped by at our table. He smiled at us in that sweet, shy way he has that's so nice.
"I've been, y'know, looking for you, Dagny," he said. "I wanted to, y'know, congratulate you. About your, y'know, running for president."
Eugene is one of the smartest kids in the school. He knows a lot about science. But when he talks, you're so busy counting the "y' knows" that you lose track of what he's saying.
Dagny looked back at Eugene. "Thanks," she said. "I hear you'll be running for president, too. So good luck. Y'know."
I thought to myself that she didn't have to add that "y' know."
Eugene blushed. "Thanks," he said. "Well, I guess I'll, y' know, be seeing you."
I watched him leave. I didn't know he was running for president. If I had, maybe
I wouldn't have agreed to help Dagny. Eugene lives across the street from me, and we've been friends forever.
But this was my big chance to break into the in group. I didn't think Eugene could possibly win anyway. So I might as well be on the winning side.
"He's got Mad Mel to run his campaign," Dagny said.
"Mad Mel," I groaned. "Wow."
"You're as smart as Mad Mel," Dagny said to me. "Don't worry about it. Have some ideas ready for the meeting, will you?"
I was pleased that Dagny had confidence in my abilities. But I didn't want to hurt Eugene. Still, he had Mad Mel on his side. Mad Mel really knows how to get attention. I'd really have to be sharp.
I didn't sleep much that night. I was too busy thinking up ideas. But I felt it was worth it when I went to the meeting. I found out who else was on the committee. There were Tanya, Rod, and Courtney, three of the most popular kids in the school.
I expected them to ask me what I was doing there. But they all smiled and said, "Hi, Suzie. Welcome aboard."
Dagny said the first thing to do was think about what her campaign ought to focus on. There was a lot of talk about whether she should promise to provide better food in the cafeteria. Dagny finally decided to push for a glass cabinet to show off the school's trophies.
I didn't want to speak up in that crowd. But I did. I said, "I think the food might be more important. Eugene will probably use it if you don't."
Courtney turned to me.
"You don't think Eugene could win," she said. "Do you?"
Everyone stared at me. Did I? "Does rain fall up?" I said. "Is the moon made of green cheese?"
"I guess that means no," said Dagny.
Then I presented my poster ideas. I had made some rough sketches. One poster showed someone sewing a piece of cloth. The cloth had the words "Class President" on it. Under the drawing I wrote in large letters: "DAGNY HAS IT ALL SEWED UP."
There were a bunch of others like that.
"Good work, Suzie," said Dagny. "I love them. Get those posters up tomorrow."
"We'll murder Eugene, " said Tanya.
That made me feel bad. As I walked home, I told myself that Mel would think of something even better for Eugene.
I was nearly home when I met Eugene.
"Hi, Suzie," Eugene said. "I heard that, y'know, you're going to be working on Dagny's campaign. Y'know, I wanted you to help me with mine."
"I wish I had known," I said. I meant it. "But you've got Mel."
Eugene looked down at his feet. Then he said, "Mel, y'know, sort of, y'know, talked me into running. I think it's, y'know, a game for him."
I hoped Mad Mel wasn't setting Eugene up for a fall. But it wasn't any of my business.
"I'd better let you go," I said.
"Oh, yeah," said Eugene. "I was just, y' know, going over to Mel's house to get started on my, y'know, campaign."
I spent most of that night making posters. The next morning I hung them up around the school. They really did look good. I figured we had won the first round.
But that was before Mad Mel put up the posters he and Eugene had made.
Right in the main lobby, Mel had hung a brightly colored poster. It showed a pirate's chest filled with gems. The words underneath the poster said: "Follow the footsteps. Find the treasure." Painted footsteps led to four other posters. Each one showed a chest a little more open than the one before it. In the fifth poster, the chest was wide open. It showed Eugene's picture.
Everyone loved the treasure hunt. But Dagny was still pleased with my efforts. Everything else was going smoothly, too. Tanya had written a story on Dagny for the next issue of the school newspaper. And Rod had written a great speech for her to give at the Elections Assembly.
Dagny called a meeting to go over things. "Y'know," Rod said, "I'm sure that we'll really, y'know, shine at the assembly."
Everyone laughed. I felt sorry for Eugene. But I told myself it wasn 't our fault that he had that "y'know" problem.
Dagny turned to me. "Suzie," she said. "I need a song for the campaign."
It wasn't easy. But I did it. Courtney and I got some kids together. We taught them the song and a dance.
As I had guessed, Eugene made improving the cafeteria food his main issue. Even so, as we got nearer to the Elections Assembly, Dagny seemed to be the favorite. Each of the candidates was going to speak at the assembly. That might decide who would win.
The day before the assembly, I ran into Eugene. He looked troubled.
"Y'know, Suzie," he said, "I'm not sure I should have gotten into this. All this stuff Mad Mel is doing really has, y'know, nothing to do with what kind of president I'd make."
Those were the fewest "y'knows" I had heard Eugene use in a speech that long. "I know, Eugene," I said. "But it's all part of a campaign."
"But why does it have to, y'know, be that way?"
I couldn't answer him. I didn't think he would have to worry about it for long, because after Dagny's speech, he might as well drop out of the race.
The Elections Assembly went well. The candidates for president were the last ones to speak. Our song and dance number was a hit. Then Dagny gave a smashing speech.
When it was Eugene's turn, he walked onto the stage and sat down. Then Mad Mel came on. He was pulling a clothing store dummy or mannequin dressed in a suit and tie and on roller skates.
"This is Mr. Manny Quinn," Mad Mel announced. "He will speak for our candidate, Eugene Beckman. Eugene right now is busy working on a plan to sell pizzas. With the money we make, we can buy food we can eat."
That brought lots of laughter.
Mad Mel looked at the mannequin. "Isn't that right, Manny?" asked Mel. "Sorry, Manny. I know it's hard to talk when you're thinking about that awful cafeteria food."
Mel waited for the clapping to stop. Then he said, "Now, Manny. I know you want to say a few words about our candidate, Eugene Beckman. You can go ahead now."
Mel looked out at the audience. "Isn't that touching?" he said. "Manny thinks Eugene's so great that he's all choked up. He can't speak."
As Mel spoke, everyone cheered.
At our meeting that afternoon, Dagny was furious.
"Of all the cheap tricks," she said. "Mel brought in that dummy so that Eugene wouldn't have to speak."
"Hey," Rod said. "That gives me an idea. Let's put up a poster that says: 'Only a dummy would vote for, y'know, Eugene.'"
Everyone roared with laughter. Except me.
"No!" I said. "That's low—really low."
"Suzie, dear," said Dagny. "We would be foolish not to take advantage of this opportunity."
I looked at Dagny and the others. Then I said, "I don't think I can serve on this committee any more."
Dagny smiled. "All right," she said. "I think I've already won the election, anyway."
So I was out. But to my surprise, I didn't care.
As I left, I heard Rod say, "Let's challenge the dummy to a debate."
They must have done that right away. Because when I stopped by Eugene's house early that evening, he had already heard about it.
"They want a, y'know, debate," Eugene said, unhappily. "Mad Mel says we should, y' know, do it." Eugene sighed. "He'll do all the, y' know, talking with the dummy."
"Eugene," I said. "Listen. You know you've got this problem. Why don't we work on it, so you can do your own talking?"
"Do you, y'know, think I could?"
"Let's try," I said.
We did. Eugene and I spent the whole weekend working. He practiced speaking without saying "y'know." But it was hard.
The debate was very important. Each candidate was given one final chance to state his or her goals. Dagny was first. She ended with, "And if you elect me, I will see to it that Haskell High's trophies are put in a case for all to see."
Then it was Eugene's turn. Mel stood up. He headed toward the mike. He was dragging the mannequin. Suddenly I sensed trouble. Dagny and her friends were smiling slyly at each other.
Mel didn't notice. He looked so pleased with himself. I knew then that Eugene was right. This was just a big game to Mel.
Mel was about to speak. But then the dummy itself began speaking. Someone must have planted a speaker somewhere in its clothing. They must have taped Eugene's voice because all you could hear was Eugene's voice coming from the dummy saying over and over, "And if I am elected, y'know, y'know, y'know."
The audience broke up with laughter. Eugene looked shocked. Shaken, he smiled and walked up to the microphone.
"I guess it's time for the real dummy to speak," he said. "You must have thought I had lost my voice. Well, now you know where it is." He pointed at the mannequin, and everybody laughed.
Eugene straightened his shoulders. Then he said, "In a campaign, it's easy to see only the tricks and lose sight of the real issues. I'm not even sure what the real issues are, but I think they should address what is best for those of us here at Haskell."
Eugene paused. Then he said, "I don't know if I'd make a good president, I've never been one before. But I can promise you that if elected I'll, y'know, do my very best."
He smiled again and sat down. Only one "y'know" in the whole speech!
There was a lot of cheering then. Nobody had ever made a speech like that before, and the kids loved it.
Eugene spotted me in the crowd. He said, "Thanks, Suzie."
We walked home together after school that afternoon. "If I'm elected," he said, "I'm really going to, y'know, need you around next year."
We stopped, and he smiled at me. Suddenly, I forgot that I had known him all my life. It was as if I were seeing him for the first time.
"I think we 'll be seeing a lot of one another from now on, Suzie," he said softly. "Is that all right with you?"
Was that all right with me? "Do birds fly?" I said. "Is the sky blue?"
When I said that, Eugene looked at me. "Suzie," he said. "You've got this, y'know, problem. Why don't we work on it?"