Part 5 (1/2)

Sock Monkey: (Silence.) Me: Say something.

Sock Monkey: What did Mr. Cannon do?

Me: Nothing. He just sat in his chair. He didn't clap. He didn't say ”Good job” or ”Nice effort” or ”Bravo” or anything.

Sock Monkey: Well, maybe it was like a poker face - he doesn't want to give it away. You know, who he's picking for Juliet.

Me: The worst part is, he didn't scribble any notes. He always scribbles notes on his yellow tablet. Instead, he just thanked me and looked down at his clipboard.

Sock Monkey: Maybe you were actually good and he didn't need to make notes.

Me: But there were tons of other girls flinging their hair around and saying, ”Romeo, Romeo,” and he made notes on them.

Sock Monkey: But think about it. He knows your work. You have way more experience. You've been in tons of plays, like Beauty and the Beast.

Me: That's just it. What if he wants somebody new? Somebody different? What if he's thinking that I already had a shot at the lead when I got to be Beauty and Scott was Beast. Oh, no. What if he doesn't want us to be together again? Or what if he decides to give somebody else a chance?

Sock Monkey: Somebody like maybe . . . Jayden Pffeffer?

Me: Uh! Don't even say that name. It makes my blood boil. Queen Aggravating.

Sock Monkey: What does Queen Aggravating have that you haven't got?

Me: Long hair, for one thing. She looks exactly like Juliet.

Sock Monkey: But Mr. Cannon isn't going to pa.s.s you over just because you have short hair. He knows there's more to acting than looking the part, right?

Me: Her audition was pretty lame.

Sock Monkey: What did she do?

Me: A Princess Mia monologue from The Princess Diaries. It wasn't great, but it was better than mine! What was I thinking?

Sock Monkey: C'mon. You're always freaked out about Jayden. And most of the time you end up with the lead, and she has to be your understudy.

Me: Not always. Once she got to be the bunny in Mushroom in the Rain, and I had to be, like, Second Mushroom from the Left.

Sock Monkey: In kindergarten!

Me: But Mr. Cannon scribbled down tons of notes after Jayden's audition. He even had to flip over a page on his tablet.

Sock Monkey: Ooh, this is bad.

Me: It is! Now Princess Mia is going to get the part and Jayden Pffeffer is going to kiss Romeo. My Romeo. In front of the whole entire world. And he's going to be a prince, not a toad, and kiss her back. Oes up to check on you in a bit.” Mom headed downstairs.

Alex yanked the thermometer out of her mouth.

”You are so not sick,” I said. ”I can't believe Mom actually believed you.”

”Why wouldn't she?”

”Oh, I don't know, maybe because you don't have a fever or a sore throat and you're not covered in measles or chicken pox. So unless you have the Queen Mab plague . . .”

My sister clutched her stomach. ”I think I have food poisoning from the dinner you made last night.”

”All I made was the mashed potatoes. Dad made the rest. Besides, you don't get food poisoning from mashed potatoes.”

”You do if they taste like cotton b.a.l.l.s!”

Sheesh. Can I help it if Joey stored a bunch of cotton b.a.l.l.s in an empty marshmallow bag and Mom accidentally put them away in the kitchen cupboard and they fell out and landed in the potatoes? ”I fished them out,” I told her. I'd sooner have believed a frog in her throat.

”Okay. So I don't have food poisoning. But I think I might have skittles.”

”Skittles?” I asked. ”Isn't that a candy? Unless you have fruit-flavored chicken pox. Never mind. I don't even want to know.”

Alex slunk down and pulled the covers up to her chin. I could still see a curly-headed kid with overalls and a red balloon and the words Jump, Puff. Jump, jump, jump. Oh, Puff on the piece of pajamas sticking out from under the covers. I couldn't help letting out a laugh.

”It's not funny.”

”You can't be sick. Not today. Isn't today the day you find out if you got the part of Juliet?”

Alex started fake-coughing.

I opened my eyes wide and pointed at my sister. ”Wait a second. Now I get it. You don't want to go to school because . . . you don't want to find out the Drama Club results because . . . you're afraid you didn't get the part! Ha!”

”Whatever, Sherlock. You've got a whole little mystery going on there, but it has nothing to do with reality. I told you, I'm sick.” She hunkered down under the covers some more, trying to look miserable.

”You're not that good an actress,” I said.

”Join the club.”

”What club?”

”The club of people who don't think I'm a good actress.”

This is the part where I'm supposed to tell my sister how great she is at acting, rea.s.sure her, make her feel better. Like I always did. But I wasn't sure anymore - was this the same Alex I knew yesterday?

She looked like the same Alex she'd always been, minus the long hair, of course. On one hand, she wore d.i.c.k and Jane pajamas and talked to her sock monkey. On the other hand, she read one-syllable t.i.tled books about things I didn't understand, harbored smuggled T-s.h.i.+rts in her bottom drawer, and secretly wanted to kiss a boy.