CHAPTER 10: Shannon

Wow. I can quite honestly say that "pissed" is nowhere near a strong enough word to describe how Mr. Cheney was feeling. In fact, even though he sounded relatively calm, I just knew it would be a matter of time before he made Stacey's little fit sound like a firecracker. Now, I'm sorry for sounding all doom-and-gloom, you guys, but it wouldn't surprise me one bit if he decided to cancel the play. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about how ridiculous I'm going to look with all those damn rubber snakes all over me. By the way, Kristy, you and Jessi must have an incredible cold tolerance, because by the time rehearsal ended, my feet felt like two blocks of ice. I just wish I knew whose brilliant idea it was for us to perform barefoot, because I'd like for them to see what it feels like...

That night, I was in bed, looking over my music, thinking about the day's rehearsal, and wearing three pairs of wool socks, because my feet were still pretty cold. I thought about rummaging around in the closet for the heating pad when Astrid, my Bernese mountain dog, came in, hopped up on the bed, and made herself comfortable right by my feet. (My family gave Kristy's family a puppy from Astrid's last litter, and out of gratitude, David Michael named her after me.) Due to her size and how much fur she has, I decided I didn't need the heating pad after all, because she warmed me right up. "Thanks, girl," I smiled gratefully.

Anyway, like I said, I'd been thinking about rehearsals. While the leads were the only ones who were primarily off-book, I couldn't stop thinking about Stacey's blow-up and Mr. Cheney's lecture. On the upside, Logan and Sam were behaving themselves, after what I'd heard happened during Peter Pan rehearsals.

The phone interrupted my thoughts. Wonder who that could be? I thought as I reached over and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hi, Shannon. It's Bart."

"Hi, Bart," I said as Astrid and I adjusted our positions on the bed. I'm always glad to hear from him. Not only do we got to the same school, Stoneybrook Day, but I really like him, too. "So, what'd you think of Mr. Cheney's lecture?"

"How'd you know that's what I was calling about?" he asked.

"I don't know. Some people say I have ESP, but I don't think I do," I answered. "But seriously, though, what did you think of it?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I think he's dead serious about kicking someone out if they screw around anymore," Bart answered.

"Yeah, really," I agreed. "I'm just glad Stacey's feeling better."

"Me, too. You know, as long as I've known Stacey, that was the first time I ever saw her get that bent out of shape. You think her diabetes had anything to do with it?" Bart asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I hope not. Listen, it's pretty late, so I should get off the phone now. See you tomorrow."

"Okay. 'Night."

"'Night." And we hung up.

I put my music on the floor next to my bag, turned off my Tiffany lamp, and settled down to sleep. Astrid laid her head on top of my chest, and I patted her gently as I dozed off.

I hoped there wouldn't be any more episodes like the one we'd had yesterday.

The following Friday before rehearsal started, I was heading toward the auditorium when I saw Stacey sitting on a bench and writing in that little black journal of hers, so I knew she'd just taken her insulin.

"Hi, Stacey," I said.

"Hi," she said. She seemed to be in a much better mood.

"How'd it go at the Johanssens' the other night?" I asked.

"Pretty good," Stacey said. "Charlotte and I had some hot apple cider while she helped me with my lines. Can you believe she's never heard a Cockney accent before?"

"Really?"

Stacey shook her head. "I even mentioned the movie Oliver!, and she's never heard of that, either!"

"How about that!" I exclaimed, then I started singing, "Con-sider your-self at 'o-o-ome!"

"Con-sider your-self one-of-the-fa-mi-leeee!" Stacey joined in, and both of us, I might add, were using the Cockney accent.

After we finished laughing, Stacey remembered, "Oh, just so you'll know, they're supposed to be measuring for costumes today."

By then, we'd already entered the auditorium, and there, onstage, were Savannah Milton—who, I'm told, designed the costumes for Peter Pan—and Mallory. Mal was writing down the measurements as Savannah was giving them to her. There weren't a whole lot of people who needed to be measured, just Dawn, Stacey, the Bluebird Girls, the clowns/vendors, Marilyn, Sam, the Shillaber twins, and me.

Stacey and I made our way onstage just as Kerry Bruno, Logan's sister, was being measured. "Oh, hi," Mal called. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Hi, Mal," I said as Stacey waved. She was eating a granola bar.

"Thank you, Kerry," I heard Savannah say. "Next!"

"Go ahead, Shannon," Stacey said as she threw the granola bar wrapper away and I walked to the center of the stage.

"And you are...?" Savannah asked, taking the measuring tape from around her neck.

"Shannon Kilbourne," I answered. "I play Olga."

"Yes, the snake girl," Savannah said.

"Ugh," Mal shuddered. She hates snakes. And I don't just mean that they gross her out. She's scared to death of them. I'm told that the triplets love snakes, not to mention torturing the holy hell out of their poor sister just by talking about them.

"Mal, I promise not to sic the snake on you," I laughed as Savannah measured me. Stacey laughed, too. That's when I knew that she was back to her old self again.