CHAPTER 11: Karen

I can't believe it. We're painting the set tomorrow. Yea! I just love that. Oh, today, Ms. Colman had a little talk with me after recess, reminding me not to upstage everyone like I did during the Thanksgiving play (can I help it if I got the worst part in the world?), and I promised I wouldn't. I don't plan to do anything like that again. I'm just glad Jason's in the play, too. He's SOOOO nice, and he has a great voice. This play is going to be such gigundo fun...

It was the first Friday in March at Stoneybrook Academy. Hannie, Nancy, and I were sitting on a bench near the swings, talking about the play. This particular bench is really special to all of us. In fact, it used to be a tree, until a hurricane blew it down, so I talked Seth, my stepfather, into making it into a bench.

"You know, I think rehearsals have been going much better lately," Nancy commented.

"Oh, definitely," Hannie agreed.

"At least Sam's behaving himself," I said. "After the way he drove Stacey nuts during Peter Pan rehearsals, I'm surprised he's still in the play." Kristy had told us that Stacey had told her about Sam's antics, like calling Stacey "Mother" and "Mrs. Darling" offstage, for example.

"Hey, remember when Stacey had her blow-up that led to Mr. Cheney's little speech?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Until that moment, I'd never seen her get that upset. She even made the dad in A Christmas Story sound tame."

Hannie and Nancy giggled. That's when the bell rang, ending recess. My friends and I hopped off the bench and followed the rest of our classmates inside.

When we got to the classroom, I'd just put my jacket in my locker, and was on my way to my desk, when I heard Ms. Colman say, "Karen, I'd like to see you out in the hall for a minute, please."

Huh? What did I do? I couldn't imagine what kind of trouble I could possibly be in. Anyway, I followed Ms. Colman.

"Yes?" I asked, trying to hide my worry.

"Mr. Cheney called me last night, and one of the things we talked about was what happened during the Thanksgiving play."

That's when I really started to worry. I thought for sure that was ancient history. (I've even heard it said that history sometimes repeats itself.) I was just upset because I'd gotten stuck with such a crappy part. And when you think about it, what could be worse than playing the turkey, anyway?

"Look, I promise not to upstage anyone this time! You have my word!" I blurted out.

Ms. Colman laughed gently. "Okay, Karen, okay," she said. "I'm sure Mr. Cheney will be glad to hear that. He also told me to tell you that you've been doing a really good job, and he's really glad you're taking the play seriously."

Whew! What a relief! As Ms. Colman led me back into the classroom, I knew I had nothing to worry about.

Saturday! Saturday! Saturday!

It wasn't just any Saturday, either. We were going to finish painting the set today. I love painting, especially when it's something I'm helping Seth with.

It was really warm for early March, so I didn't need a jacket, but I did need to wear old clothes, because we'd be painting. I put on a faded pair of jeans with a hole in the left knee and a ratty old flannel shirt that Seth had long since outgrown. It was a little big for me, but it would do. Mommy and Andrew were still asleep when we left.

When we arrived at SMS, the only ones there were Mr. Mackey, Claudia Kishi—one of Kristy's friends, Ashley Wyeth—Claudia's friend, and the Everett family. I'd already met Jason and Bebe's parents, so I'll tell you what they look like.

Bebe's dad, Steve, is a tall guy, at least a head taller than Jason. He has really dark brown hair and eyes, tan skin, a big bushy moustache, and really big muscles, like the football players on TV. He also has a couple of tattoos: on his right shoulder is a tattoo of the Italian flag, and near his left elbow is a heart with Diann's name in it. The one thing that's impossible to miss about Steve is his moustache. It looks more like a beard, except there's no hair on his chin Jason once told me it made him look like this one guy named Lemmy Kilminster—who's the lead singer in this band Jason likes called Mötörhead. Even though Steve's a nice guy, I'd still hate to be the one who picks a fight with him.

Jason's mom, Diann, is a couple of inches shorter than Jason. She has red hair, like Little Orphan Annie, and green eyes and light skin, like her son. That's pretty much it, because from what I'm told, Jason got the rest of his looks from his real dad. The biggest difference between Jason and his mom is that her accent is thicker than his, but I can still understand what she says.

"Hi, Jason!" I called, running up to him.

"Hi, Karen," he said, kneeling to face me. He wrapped his arms around me and picked me up. He's such a sweetheart. "Hey, guess what? Steve and I are getting ready to paint the sword-box. Want to help?"

"Sure!" I told you I loved painting.

"Great," Steve said as Jason put me down. "Why don't you and Bebe paint the sides, and Jason and I will do the top?"

I nodded, and went over to Bebe at the sword-box. "Okay, last night, we painted the box itself white, and now that it's completely dry, we're going to paint the edges red, green, and blue," she said, handing me a can of red paint. I nodded again, and we got to work.

While we were painting, I happened to look over toward the puppet booth, and noticed that Claudia and Ashley were barefoot. I started to wonder why, but the sound of the Everetts' radio got my attention, as well as Jason singing along.

"Children play in the pa-ark, they don't know-ow," he sang. If there's one thing Jason's good at, it's singing. I learned this after he sang to Nancy's baby brother, Danny.

Before too long, we were all singing along: "I'm so happy-y that you love me-e-e..." I, for one, was surprised that we could not only harmonize so well, but we were also singing along with a song that I'm almost positive was one that a lot of us had never heard of. It was gigundoly amazing.

We worked until noon, which was when Mr. Mackey called Pizza Express. While we waited, I went to the girls' room to wash the paint off my hands, and saw Claudia. "Hi," she said, throwing a paper towel away. "How are you?"

"Oh, pretty good," I answered. "Jason's got a great voice, doesn't he?"

"I'll say," Claudia agreed. If you ask me, I think she likes him.

"He's really nice, too," I continued as I turned on the water. "Did you know he was the one who helped Andrew after his accident?"

"Uh-huh. Kristy told us."

"In fact, when he was consoling me that day, he called me 'love'."

"Really?"

I nodded, then I changed the subject. "Say, Claudia, this is probably none of my business, but where are your shoes?"

"Well, I think they have enough paint on them already."

"Huh?"

"Here, I'll show you," Claudia said, reaching under the counter and pulling out the wildest-looking pair of sneakers I'd ever seen. They were painted in all these bright rainbow colors, and had clear beads sewn on them, as well as those little gold star stickers, like the ones Ms. Colman uses.

"Can you believe these used to be white?" Claudia laughed. "It took me an hour to paint them, then after I let the paint dry overnight, the beads and stickers only took me fifteen minutes."

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "Those are beautiful!"

"Thanks," Claudia smiled. She cradled them in her left arm and walked out of the bathroom as I dried my hands and returned to the stage. Then I figured, if it's warm enough to go without a jacket, then why not go without shoes? I rolled up my jeans, took my shoes and socks off, and put them under one of the folding chairs as Claudia was putting hers near her backpack. I almost expected someone to tell me to put them back on, but nobody said a word.

Then I saw Jason sitting in the front row of the auditorium. I ran over to him, climbed up on his lap, and rested my head on his shoulder. "Hey, babe," he said. All that painting must have given him quite a workout.

"Hi," I answered. "Tired?"

"A little. I'll get my second wind once we've had lunch, though. So, what do you think of the sword-box?"

"I think it looks great. Thanks for letting me help you guys."

"No problem."

That's when I looked down and saw Jason holding my foot. Please don't tickle me, I thought, but then, that's just what he did. I giggled and pulled my foot away, then I remembered how Daddy used to do that when I was really little.

Jason laughed softly. "Ticklish?" he asked. I smiled and nodded, then touched the side of his hand with my toes. "I remember when Mum used to do that to me."

"Really?" I asked. Is there some written law that says all parents must do that to their kids when they're little?

A minute later, Diann came over and said, "The pizza's here."

"Thanks, Mum," Jason said. I climbed off his lap, and we went onstage to eat.

All in all, a good day.

The following Monday, I was hanging up my jacket when I saw Pamela Harding, my best enemy, come over. "I just thought I'd warn you," she said. "You try to pull one stunt, and I'll have Mr. Cheney throw you out of the play so fast, it'll make your head spin. You get me?"

"Gee, I wonder who dropped a scorpion down your shirt," I retorted.

I expected Pamela to have a really mean comeback when she opened her mouth. But instead, she clamped her teeth together really loudly, then she turned on her heel and marched over to her desk.

Boy, somebody didn't have their Minute Maid this morning!