A Speedeet & Wilar Story
Wilar found out about the talent show the same way he found out about most of Speedeet’s plans — after it was too late to stop them.
“I signed us up,” Speedeet said, appearing at the gate on a Tuesday morning with the expression of someone delivering excellent news.
Wilar looked up from his book. “Signed us up for what?”
“De school talent show. End of next week. We going to juggle.”
There was a silence.
“Speedeet,” Wilar said carefully. “Can you juggle?”
“Not yet.”
“Can I juggle?”
“Also not yet. But we have a whole week.”
Wilar closed his book. This was serious enough to put the book down for. “What made you think juggling was a good idea?”
“I saw a video. De man make it look easy.”
“Videos always make things look easy. That is the entire purpose of videos.”
“Wilar. It’s THREE balls. We’re not stupid.”
“I am not worried about whether we are stupid. I am worried about whether we can juggle.”
Speedeet pulled two oranges and a mango out of his school bag. “I borrowed these from my mother kitchen. We start practising now.”
Wilar looked at the fruit. He looked at Speedeet. He picked up his book again. “I am not responsible for what happens to those oranges.”
Day one was bad.
Speedeet threw all three pieces of fruit in the air at the same time, which is not juggling — it is just throwing things. The mango hit the fence. One orange rolled under the step. The other orange hit Wilar on the shoe.
“That’s not juggling,” Wilar said without looking up from his book.
“I’m warming up.”
“You’re throwing fruit at me.”
“ONE orange. On the shoe. Barely.”
Wilar looked at the orange on the ground. He picked it up. He watched a YouTube video on his phone for four minutes. Then he stood up and began tossing one orange from hand to hand in a clean arc.
“You have to start with one,” he said. “Then two. Then three.”
Speedeet stared at him. “You could’ve told me that before I threw the mango at de fence.”
“You didn’t ask.”
By Thursday, Wilar could do two. Clean, steady, back and forth, both oranges making a smooth figure-eight in the air.
Speedeet could do two on good throws and zero on bad ones, which averaged out to approximately one, depending on the wind.
“De show is in eight days,” Speedeet said.
“I know,” said Wilar.
“We need three.”
“I know.”
“What’s the plan?”
Wilar considered. “The plan is that I do the juggling and you do something else.”
Speedeet looked deeply offended. “This was MY idea.”
“Yes. And your ideas are usually better in conception than execution. You had the idea. I’m handling the execution.”
“What am I going to do while you juggle?”
“You can be the announcer. You’re good at talking.”
Speedeet thought about this. “I DO have a good announcer voice.”
“You have an extremely loud voice, which is adjacent.”
The night of the talent show, the school hall was packed — parents, siblings, teachers, the principal in the front row with her arms folded the way she always sat when she was hoping nothing would go wrong.
Three acts went before them. A girl sang a song very beautifully. Two boys did a comedy skit that was funnier in rehearsal. A younger girl recited a poem and forgot the last verse but nobody minded.
Then it was their turn.
Speedeet walked to the microphone with enormous confidence.
“Good evening,” he said, in his best announcer voice — which was, in fact, quite good. “Tonight, you will witness something extraordinary. Something that required days of preparation, sacrifice, and the destruction of at least two oranges. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: THE AMAZING WILAR.”
Wilar walked out from the side with three oranges and stood in the centre of the stage.
He threw the first orange up. Then the second. Then the third.
And he juggled.
Not for a long time — maybe twelve seconds. But clean, smooth, all three oranges in the air in a proper pattern, the way it was supposed to look.
The audience applauded. The principal unfolded her arms.
Wilar caught all three oranges and took a small bow.
Speedeet at the microphone said: “He learned that in ONE week. Thank you very much, Georgetown!”
Nobody had called it Georgetown. It was a school hall. But people laughed, and the clapping went on a little longer.
Afterward, Wilar’s mother said she was proud. Speedeet’s mother said she wanted her oranges back. The principal said it was “unexpectedly professional.”
Walking home, Speedeet said: “See? I told you juggling was a good idea.”
Wilar said: “You threw a mango at a fence on day one.”
“But it ENDED well.”
Wilar thought about this for half a block. “It did end well,” he admitted.
“Same time next talent show?”
“Absolutely not.”
But Speedeet was already thinking about what they could do next time. Wilar could tell. He had the look.
Speedeet & Wilar is a Guyanese children’s story series. New adventures every Sunday.