All afternoon, I tried to make a sweater pillow for Alex. It looked more like a bed for Sock Monkey. It didn’t help that Joey kept bugging me. “Duck,” I asked her, “don’t you have some pretend homework to do?”
Finally, when I finished my not-a-pillow creation, I held it up for Joey to see. “I don’t know, Joey,” I said. “Maybe I should just never tell Alex —”
“Never tell Alex what?” said Sock Monkey (a.k.a. Alex) from the doorway. I hid the sweater thingy under my pillow.
“Nothing,” I said as Alex came into the room.
“I’m not blind, you know. Something happened to my sweater. You lost it, didn’t you? Or you left it at school and somebody stole it? Which is it?”
“I made you something,” I said, sounding lame. I took it out from under my pillow.
“A pot holder?” said Alex. “You made me a pot holder?” She said “pot holder” like it was a bad word or something.
“I was trying to make a pillow, but . . .”
“This is all that’s left of the sweater? My lucky sweater? I had to audition for Beauty without it, and now I probably didn’t get the part, all because of you.” Alex ran down the hall to her room, clutching Sock Monkey. She slammed the door again.
“Do you think I should go talk to her?” I asked Joey.
“Nope,” Joey said.
I tiptoed down the hall anyway. I knocked on Alex’s door. Lately I’ve been talking more to doors than to my sister.
“I know you’re upset,” I said to the door. No answer.
“Alex, c’mon, don’t be mad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your sweater. All I did was cut out the tag. Honest. And it all came apart. What can I do?”
The door cracked open in the middle of my speech. Sock Monkey poked his button eyes through the crack and said, “You owe Alex one sweater. You better go buy her a new one. And she is not kidding. She means it.” All I could see of Alex were her teeth smiling sweetly through the door crack, like she was acting for a toothpaste commercial or something.
“You’ve got to be joking,” I told her. “I don’t have any money. That sweater cost like thirty dollars. Where am I going to get thirty dollars?”
“You figure it out,” Sock Monkey squeaked. The door closed, not with a slam this time but more like a quiet click. It felt creepy — worse than a slam. Two seconds later the door opened, and she hung a thingy on the doorknob that said SISTER-FREE ZONE.
The door clicked shut again.
“Wait!” I said to the door. Only a slab of dark wood separated us, but it felt like the Great Wall of China. I put my ear to the door, trying to listen to see if she was still standing there, if I heard breathing.
All I heard was the door.
“You do NOT look better than me in that sweater!” said Alex the Door.
MEET SCOTT TOWEL
Starring Alex
TIME: AFTER SCHOOL
SETTING: STANDING IN FRONT OF THE DRAMA CLUB BULLETIN BOARD
CHARACTERS: ME (ALEX) AND HIM(!)
Him: So, think you’ll get the part of Beauty?
Me: (It’s him. Beast! Scott Howell!) Oh, hi! (What a lame-o.)
Him: Hi. Alex, right?
Me again: (Don’t say zit, don’t say zit . . .) I’m Alex. Reel. (He knows your name, stupidhead!)
Him: I know. We read together at the audition, remember?
Me: Oh, yeah. Sure. You’re Scott Towel, right? (Wrong! I want to die ten thousand deaths right on this spot . . .)
Him: Actually, Scott Howell. With an H.
Me: (Blubber, blubber . . . Say something. Anything!) Hamlet, put a knife through me now.
Him: Don’t worry. I get that a lot.
Me: (Choking.) Excuse me?
Him: The paper towel thing.
Me: (First the zit, now this. He’ll never speak to me again.) I’m sorry. It’s just, see, my sisters — never mind. So, have you acted a lot? (Better. Much better.)
Him: Ever since I was a pumpkin in my second-grade Thanksgiving play. (Laughter here.)
Me: Don’t feel too bad. I was a mushroom in kindergarten! No joke.
Him: So, you’re really into acting, huh? I hear your mom and dad act at the Raven and everything. Pretty cool.
Me: Acting is the greatest. It’s like, I don’t know, a chance to forget everything. Be somebody else. (Help! Do I sound stupid or intelligent?)
Him: So, what’s wrong with being you, Alex Reel?
Me: No, it’s not that. . . . I just meant . . . Never mind.
Him: Is it like one minute you’re you, this seventh-grader with homework and parents and a little sister who bugs you —
Me: Two little sisters!
Him: (Laughing.) — and the next minute, you’re saying stuff that was just words on a page a second ago, but suddenly you believe it?
Me: Exactly. Wow! That’s exactly it. The director calls “Curtain!” and there’s a spot of light for you to stand in, and it’s like you pick your character up off the floor and suddenly you’re Anne Frank or Dorothy or . . .
Him: A mushroom?
Me: Yeah, I guess. (Laughing.)
Him: Well, I guess we won’t know who got the parts till tomorrow, huh?
Me: You have to get Beast. You were so believable!
Him: Thanks, I think. It’s a good thing to be good at being a big, ugly, hairy monster, right?
Me: Absolutely.
Him: Good luck.
Me: You too.
Him: See you tomorrow?
Alex came home on cloud nine with flowers in her hair. No lie. She wore a braided crown of flowers (weeds, actually) around her head in public on the bus home and at the library and at the grocery store.
If you haven’t guessed already, Alex got the part of Beauty — even without her lucky sweater.
I was dying to point this out, but then again I was afraid to bring it up. I thought, I hoped, she’d actually forgotten about the whole Sweater Incident for now, because she was so obsessed with:
A. Beauty (and the Beast)
B. Beauty (as in looks)
C. Paper Towel Man
D. Learning her lines (I’m supposed to help. Ha!)
E. Paper Towel Man (Did I say that already?)
Paper Towel Man got the part of Beast. Surprise, surprise.
He just called Alex on the phone. Joey answered and announced, “It’s a boy!” for the whole world to hear, like a baby had just been born or something.
Alex didn’t even get mad. (If I did that, she’d kill me!) She showed Joey and me his school picture. This Scott Towel was about as big as a pinhead, so what was I supposed to say?
Joey said he looked like a praying mantis! Ha!
OK. So, I’m not jumping-up-and-down, falling-over-thrilled for Alex the way Mom would be. Where’s Mom when you need her?
All I know is, Mom’ll make me help Alex with her lines, over and over and over. And in this house, plays always end up in a fight.
Alex says I just don’t get the beauty of acting. I guess she’s right. If you ask me, acting makes you sweat. Acting makes you want to throw up. Acting makes you afraid to fall. Take it from me.
I was onstage once, and only once.
I was a human piñata. No lie. I did not make this up. I am not exaggerating.
It was my first (and last!) time onstage.
Ask Joey. Ask Alex. Ask half the town of Acton. It was for Joey’s birthday one time. Alex convinced me it would be fun to put on a play, and I wanted to be like my big sister, my mom, and my dad. But she did not tell me what the part was.
All I knew was I only had to remember one line: “Yum! Candy!” I knew I could do that. For days, I walked around the house, reciting, “Yum! Candy!” and rubbing my tummy like I was in a Campbell’s Soup commercial or something.
What I didn’t know was that I had to dress like Big Bird, get poked with a broomstick, and hang like a beehive in the wind.
The play was about this old washerwoman (Alex, of course) who comes int
o this house at night. She sees a piñata hanging there for the birthday party the next day. She knows the piñata is full of candy and can’t resist trying some. So she gives the piñata — also known as me — a poke with her broom!
Dad strapped me into this contraption thingy, like a swing. It had all these straps so I could hang from the beam port, a big opening in the ceiling of the theater where more lights can hang.
It was so hot inside the bird that I could hardly breathe. I was pretty much gasping for air. And I remember hearing the little kids in the audience say, “Hey, I hear the piñata breathing!”
Anyway, whenever the washerwoman poked me, no candy was supposed to come out. But when she wasn’t looking, I was supposed to say “Yum! Candy!” and throw down some candy to the kids.
That part was fun. At first . . .
But as soon as the kids started figuring out there was candy in there, they all ran up onstage and started jumping at me. They took Alex’s broom, and she didn’t even try to take it back! I threw down all the candy I had, but they kept poking me to try to get more. By this time, I was spinning around and around in circles. I was so dizzy, I couldn’t feel my head. I was sure I’d throw up.
I yelled, “Stop! Let me down! Hey! Stop!” but the kids just kept jabbing and poking. Dad was operating the ropes from above. When he finally figured out what was going on, he tried to pull me up instead of lowering me into the sugar-crazed mob. The grand finale: my Big Bird costume got stuck going through the ceiling.
So, as you can see, being a human piñata was not exactly my ticket to stardom. See why I’m not in plays like the rest of the nuts (nut jobs!) around here?
BIOGRAPHY OF ALEX REEL, FAMOUS ACTRESS
Alex Reel is the firstborn child of the actress Susan Reel, who has acted for many years at the Raven, and former actor Richard Reel, whose famous roles include King Lear.
Alex has always been the light of their lives. Gifted since birth, Alex follows in the footsteps of generations of Reel actors to perform in such plays as Mushroom in the Rain, The Fifth-Grade Nerd (she was not the nerd), Heidi, and The Sound of Music. Her current role of Beauty in Beauty and the Beast is expected to take her to new heights on the way to stardom in an already stellar acting career.
POSSIBLE STAGE NAMES:
Alexis
Cricket Seagull
Alexandra Love Reel
Julia Trulove
Topaz
BLABBERMOUTH AND THE BEAST
Starring Alex
Me: Knock, knock. (Making fake knocking noise by clicking tongue in doorway of sisters’ room.)
Me: (To sisters.) Sisters Club Meeting! Sisters Club Meeting!
Stevie: Now?
Joey: In here?
Me: Your room’s bigger.
Stevie: Ha! It is not!
Me: C’mon, you guys. You’re always saying we don’t get to have fun anymore. This’ll be fun. I promise.
Stevie: Like how?
Me: Like we’re going to put on a play.
Joey: Yay!
Stevie: That’s not a real Sisters Club thing. That’s just a way to get us to help you practice your lines.
Joey: Who cares? C’mon, Stevie.
Stevie: Can’t you just practice with Scott Towel? I don’t feel like —
Me: You owe me. Don’t make me say “thirty-dollar pot holder”!
Stevie: OK, OK.
Me: Good. It’s all settled, then. I, the most beautiful sister, get to be Beauty. I will also be the director, of course.
Joey: You always get to boss everybody.
Me: It’s my play. Stevie, you’re Beast.
Stevie: I’m Beast? What do I do?
Me: First of all, you can’t just say lines. Get into the character. Feel what it’s like to be Beast.
Stevie: Feel what it’s like to be all hairy and ugly?
Me: You know what I mean. Here, put a fuzzy blanket around you. It will help you feel more Beast-y. Joey, you’re the narrator.
Joey: Can’t I be Chip the Teacup, like in the movie?
Me: You’re going to be Joey the Broken Cup if you don’t stop arguing. You’re our stand-in if we need a tree or a horse, too.
Joey: A tree and a horse don’t even talk!
Me: Then do sound effects. OK, everybody. Quiet on the set. Joey, start reading here. Action!
Joey: “Once there was a merchant who was very rich. He had three daughters. The youngest was not only prettier than her sisters, but the nicest.”
Stevie: Hey! You’re making that up.
Joey: Nah-uh. Look. It says right here.
Me: OK, blah blah. Let’s say all Beauty asked for was a rose. When the dad picks one of Beast’s roses, Beast says the father must die unless he gives him his daughter.
Joey: Hey! You just took my whole part.
Me: Never mind that. Let’s take up where Beauty first comes to stay with Beast. Stevie, upstage left.
Stevie: Huh?
Me: It’s blocking. Forget it. Just stand over by the window. (Joey taps yogurt containers against desk for horse galloping.)
Stevie: “Tell me now, do you not consider me very ugly?”
Me: “I do, since I cannot but speak the truth. But I also find you very kind.”
Stevie: “Alas, in addition to being ugly, I’m afraid I’m also dim-witted. I am a mere beast.”
Me: Say it like you mean it. And don’t just look out the window. Mr. Cannon says, “Respond to your fellow actors.”
Stevie: Is Mr. Cannon this bossy?
Me: Stand like this, with your legs bent. Arm out. Mr. Cannon says keep your character in your head, but let your body tell the story.
Stevie: Does Mr. Cannon say this play should be called Blabbermouth and the Beast?
Me: (Ignoring her.) “Nonsense. A dim-witted person would not admit it so. Besides, you have a kind heart. When I think of that, you are no longer ugly.”
Stevie: “Beauty, will you be my wife?” (Laughing.)
Me: C’mon, Stevie. You can’t just crack up.
Joey: Oh, Beauty, my Beauty. Kiss me, O Beauteous One. You know you want to. Mww, mww, mww. (Makes kissing sounds.) I’m not really an ugly Beast. I’m Scott Towel. Mww, mww.
Me: Joey! We don’t need sound effects for kissing!
Stevie: Hey, just so you know, I’m not going to kiss you or anything, if that’s what you think.
Me: Stop acting like babies, you guys. This is acting.
Stevie: I’m still not kissing you.
Joey: Here, kiss this. (Shows roll of paper towels.)
Stevie: Great idea, Joey. Paper towels can be Beast.
Joey: The paper towels can be Scott Towel. Get it?
Me: I’m not kissing a roll of paper towels.
Stevie: Go with it, Alex. Feel the part.
Joey: Maybe this’ll help. (Draws face on paper towels.)
Stevie: Perfect! (Holds paper-towel Beast out toward Beauty.) “Beauty, will you be my wife?”
Me: (Kissing paper towels.) Mww! Mww! Good-bye, Dear Beast. I shall miss you so.
Stevie: I can’t believe you actually did it.
Joey: Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Alex kissed paper towels!
Me: You guys have paper towels on the brain. Rule Number One in acting is don’t be afraid to look stupid.
Stevie: You sure got that rule down. (Stevie and Joey fall on the floor, laughing.)
Me: You guys don’t know anything — about acting or boys or kissing.
Joey: We know one thing. Alex is in love with a paper towel! (Falls on floor, laughing some more.)
Alex put on The Hat at Family Dinner one night. I’d been cooking a lot lately, and Family Dinner (Tacos à la Stevie, minus any ears) was actually edible now.
“OK, I have something to say — an important announcement.”
“Sounds serious,” said Dad, tapping his spoon on a glass to get everybody’s attention.
“What is it?” asked Mom.
“The play is only one week away, and we still
don’t know our lines. So I asked Scott, the guy who plays Beast, to come over and practice with me.”
“Scott Towel?” asked Joey.
“Puh! That’s your big announcement?” I asked, like Do I care?
“I just want Joey and Stevie to promise they won’t embarrass me.”
“What about Mom and Dad?” I asked.
“Ha, ha,” said Dad.
“I mean it, you guys. No calling him Scott Towel and stuff.”
“I promise!” said Joey.
“I don’t!” I said.
“I think you should ask him to stay for dinner,” said Dad. “We’d like to get to know this boy a bit if you’re going to be spending time together.”
“Good idea,” Mom chimed in. “I won’t be home after school, and I’d like to meet him, too.”
“Aw, do I really have to?” Alex asked. “It’s so embarrassing!”
“We think it’s a good idea, too,” I chimed in, getting Joey to nod her head in agreement. “He should meet the whole family.”
“Alex’s boyfriend is coming to dinner!” Joey said, teasing.
“First of all, Joey, and everybody, he is NOT my boyfriend. Second of all, if you embarrass me, I promise you will end up like the sisters in Beauty and the Beast — turned to stone!” Alex gave Joey and me an evil, squinty-eyed look.
“Since your boyfriend’s coming over, does this mean I don’t have to play Beast anymore?” I asked. “If I have to say ‘I’ll die of hunger without your beauty’ once more, I think I’ll throw up.”
“Hmm. I’ll have to think of something special to make,” Mom said.
“But Mom, you’ll be tired of cooking, won’t you?” said Alex. “I mean, after cooking on the show all day?”
“You want Stevie to cook, don’t you?” Mom asked.
Alex nodded. “Well, that’s a relief,” said Mom.
It made me feel appreciated, for once. “I’ll think of something,” I said.
“Anything but Macaroni Disaster,” said Alex.
“OK. But it’ll cost you.”
“Beast!” said Alex, just like old times.
The Sisters Club Page 4
