CHAPTER 15: Kristy

I'm still reeling from Mr. Cheney's blow-up the other day. I was also a little angry with him, but on the other hand, I couldn't really blame him. I mean, if the events that happened at rehearsal the other day happened while I was sitting in the director's chair (no, not Claudia's), I'd fly off the handle, too. Thankfully, he didn't mean what he said, and we were able to shake it off and move on.

Also, I saw a new side of Mal today, one I'd never seen before. And now, I think I just might have more respect for her than I used to. For those of you who weren't actually there, I'll fill you in on the details at the next meeting...

The following Monday during school, Mary Anne and I were playing volleyball in gym class. Normally, being the sports junkie that I am, gym is my absolute-favorite class, but today, I couldn't really concentrate. In fact, the ball just bounced off my head when Dorianne Wallingford spiked it to me. (Can you say Meet The Parents?)

"Hey, Thomas!" Mrs. Rosenauer boomed in her extremely thick Boston accent. "Can we put a lid on the daydreaming here?"

Oh, shut up, you genetic freak, I thought. If there was ever an award for Teacher Most Likely To Test Positive For Steroids, she'd be a shoe-in. But like I said, I was having trouble concentrating, so maybe hearing her chew me out helped me a little.

Later that day at rehearsal, I walked in to find everyone looking very cautious. Apparently, Mr. Cheney's blow-up had quite an effect on everybody, even more than when Stacey had hers. Part of what made it so shocking was his threat to cancel the play.

At that moment, the little kids started arriving. Normally, they make a lot of noise, but today, they were as quiet as Quakers at a meeting. Which reminds me: sometimes, if the kids I'm sitting for get too noisy, I can always quiet them down by playing "Quakers' Meeting". That has a little rhyme that starts off the game with, "Quakers' Meeting has begun. No more laughing, no more fun. If you dare to crack a smile, then you'll have to walk a mile." (Don't ask me what that last part means, it's just part of the rhyme.)

Anyway, Mom had taught it to me and my older brothers when we were younger. She also told me that when she and her sisters were kids, Nannie had taught it to them. It usually works, because the kids are quiet in a second, and they're usually quiet until either meal time or when the parents come home. The last time I had to resort to playing it was when I baby-sat for Jamie and Lucy Newton and their cousins, the Feldmans. I liked it a lot better than having to whistle through my fingers to get their attention.

Okay, back to rehearsal. Instead of making her usual beeline for Jason, Karen walked up and sat down beside me. The entire time, she never looked in my direction. I felt really bad for her. "Hi, Karen," I said. I knew exactly how she felt.

"Hi," she mumbled.

"How are you, kid?"

"Fine," she answered. I put an arm around her, because I knew perfectly well that she wasn't fine.

"Hey," I said, "it's all right. You know the show's still on, don't you? Mr. Cheney didn't mean what he said. He was just blowing off steam."

Karen nodded, then scooted closer to me. She wasn't crying yet, but she was pretty close. I hadn't seen her that upset since Nannie was in the hospital after she broke her hip.

Just then, Mr. Cheney and Mr. Drubek came in. All the other kids were still a little wary, but when I saw Mr. Cheney, I was furious. On the one hand, I could understand why he was upset, but that was no excuse for threatening to cancel the play. After all, we'd worked our tails off. To be perfectly honest with you, as soon as I saw Mr. Cheney, I just wanted to jump up and wring his neck.

"Before we get started today," he began. "I just wanted to apologize for flying off the handle the other day. I was just upset because Jessi's act was unraveling, and people were pretty much falling all over themselves, but that still doesn't give me the right to say what I said. If I've upset anyone in any way—and judging by the looks on your faces, I can tell that I have—I'm truly, truly sorry, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart."

When Mr. Cheney said that, there was a communal sigh of relief. Afterward, it was business as usual.

The next morning, Mary Anne and I were on our way inside when we saw Mal standing by the door. "Hi," I called, waving to her.

"Hey, you guys," she said. She seemed to be feeling much better. "I'm just waiting for Jessi. You know, I think yesterday's rehearsal went pretty well, don't you?"

"Yeah, I suppose," I admitted. "I'm just glad Mr. Cheney came to his senses, and apologized."

Mary Anne nodded in agreement. "After he blew up like that, I was starting to worry that he was actually serious about canceling the play. You know, Logan told me Mr. Cheney looked like he was in desperate need of a vacation."

"I'll talk to Watson and see what I can work out," I joked. The others got a good laugh.

Just then, Cokie Mason happened to walk by. I swear, if that girl keeps her nose in the air much longer, she'll either drown when it starts raining, or a bee will find its way up there, both of which I'd laugh at if it ever happened. (Anyone know how to cast a voodoo spell?)

"Do you mind?" she said condescendingly. "Some of us are trying to get in the building."

"And you're actually one of them?" I asked in mock-surprise. "I always thought your biggest challenge in school was deciding which flavor of lip-gloss to wear. Have you tried the raw sewage kind? I hear it's simply ravishing."

"Shove it, Kristin," she snapped. Then turning to Mallory, she added, "And thanks for telling Mr. Cheney not to let me be in the play."

You know what? As soon as those words came out of Cokie's mouth, Mal got a look on her face that we'd never seen before. Her eyes widened to the point where I could see the insides of her eyelids, her jaw clenched, and her face turned two or three shades darker than her hair. She slowly advanced toward Cokie until she was right in her face. Out of the corner of my eye, I looked at Mary Anne, who was just as surprised as I was.

"You listen to me, you plastic bitch!" Mal exploded. "I had nothing to do with you not being in the play! In fact, if you were in it, I would've made damn sure that Mr. Cheney kicked you out after the first week! You know, if you spent a little more time on schoolwork, and a lot less time trying to impress people—and failing miserably at that, I might add—you just might be a little better off. So get off your high horse, take my advice, and grow the hell up!"

WHOA. None of us could believe what had just happened. Neither could anyone else. I, for one, had been wanting to tell Miss Clairol-for-Brains that for years, and Mal had done it. Yes, folks, level-headed, soft-spoken little Mallory, who would very seldom stand up for herself, if at all, had actually put Cokie in her place—which was evident from the small scattering of clapping I heard behind me.

After Mal had finished saying her piece, as Watson would put it, Cokie, who was at a loss for words, backed off and went inside.

"All right!" Mary Anne and I exclaimed, giving her high-fives.

"Mallory Pike, I am damn proud of you," I grinned. "I'll bet that was therapeutic, huh?"

"Definitely," Mal agreed, much, MUCH calmer than before. That's when Jessi arrived, and the four of us went inside.

I don't know why, but I had the strangest feeling that from that point on, rehearsals were going to be just fine.