The Cloudy with a Chance of Boys

by Megan McDonald

  “Or maybe . . .” Alex said, holding out hope, “he wants to apologize for making the biggest, giantest mistake of his life. You know, tell Dad he’s sorry and ask Dad to tell me.”

  Joey and I gave each other a look. An I-don’t-think-so look.

  “Joey. Go downstairs and listen,” Alex urged.

  “Me? Eavesdrop?” said Joey, faking innocence. Now who’s the actress in our family?

  Not five minutes later, Joey came racing up the stairs, all out of breath. “The play . . . Romeo and Juliet . . .” she said, huffing and puffing. “It’s going to be here . . . right here . . . at the Raven!”

  All three of us ran downstairs, Alex in the lead. Once Dad was off the phone, she made him explain what was going on.

  “With all this rain, they had some kind of a major leak in the school auditorium” said Dad. “The ceiling caved in and flooded the place.”

  Alex punched me in the arm. “Uh! How could you not tell me this!”

  “I didn’t know anything about it!” I said.

  “It just happened after school today,” said Dad. “Mr. Cannon says it’ll be a month or more before it’ll be dried out and they’re allowed back in again.”

  “So, he wants to use the Raven for play practice?” Alex asked.

  “Not just practice,” said Dad. “I suggested that we just go ahead and stage the whole thing right here. Isn’t that great news, honey?”

  “Yeah. Great,” Alex mumbled. “Just great.”

  Dad came over and gave her a hug. “Doing okay, kiddo? I know you had your heart set on playing Juliet. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I just found out myself, Dad. Stevie told me.”

  “Well, you know what they say. There are no small roles.”

  “Only small people,” Alex chimed in flatly.

  “Besides, Nurse isn’t exactly a small part. It’s the next biggest female role in the —”

  “That’s the part I got? I’m Nurse? You have got to be kidding.”

  “Who’s Nurse? What’s so bad about Nurse?” Joey asked.

  “See? Nobody even knows who she is! She doesn’t even have a name. Just Juliet’s nurse. And she’s a bumbling idiot. She’s rude and loud and — uh! She’s a total fool.”

  “‘O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!’” Dad started in.

  “That’s Nurse? See, you already know her speech,” I said.

  “Nurse is an important character, Alex. Some might even argue necessary, because she provides counterpoint to Juliet. You know, comic relief.”

  Dad was talking like a textbook again. “Arghh!” Alex said. “The only relief would be not being Jayden Pffeffer’s nurse!”

  “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind and wanted this. Mr. Cannon tells me you pulled off quite a comical audition, and that’s what gave him the idea that you’d be perfect for the part of Nurse.”

  “Great! I was trying for Juliet. C’mon, Dad. We both know the only part worse than Nurse is a lowly servant. There’s no way I’m taking this part. I’m just going to have to tell Mr. Cannon I quit. Either that, or I’ll have to stay home sick for the next two months!”

  “On account of the Skittles?” I couldn’t help teasing.

  “Alex, do you really want to quit the play just because you’re not the star?” Dad asked.

  In the middle of this heated discussion, the phone on the counter rang again, startling us. Joey picked it up. “Reel residence. Whatcha got for me?” Joey liked to act weird when she answered the phone. Today’s personality was Joey Reel, Ace Reporter.

  She handed me the phone. “Stevie. For you. It’s a boy.”

  “Ha-ha. Very funny. Gimme.” I motioned for her to hand over the phone. I knew it was Olivia.

  “Hey,” I said, all friendly-like.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s me, Owen. Owen O’Malley. From, um, detention.”

  “Wire Rims?” I said. It popped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

  What in the world was he doing calling me on the phone? I took the phone into the family room, away from the owl eyes of my family. I swear my sisters have hearing as sharp as moths.

  “Oh. Sorry. Hi.” My own voice sounded strange to me. I’d get Joey back later. “Um . . .” Stop saying um! “What’s up?” I was talking too fast. “Did you know moths have, like, really great hearing?” I blurted, trying to fill the awkward silence. Great, just great. I sounded like the Science Friday guy on the radio.

  “I did not know that,” said Wire Rims, chuckling. “I didn’t think moths had ears.”

  “Well, ears or not, they’re right up there with mice and dolphins. In the hearing department, I mean.” Uh! Stop saying science facts! Total geekazoid. Why was I talking about moth ears?

  “Huh. Learn something new every day.”

  More awkward silence. Was he still there? He’s the one who called me. Why wasn’t he talking?

  “Hello? You still there?” I asked. Why couldn’t I just be myself?

  “I had a good time today.” He speaks!

  “At detention?”

  “Well, no, not the detention part, but I mean —”

  “Oh.”

  “So, um, you have a little sister too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How many sisters do you have?”

  “Two.” What is wrong with me? Whenever this kid talks to me I start speaking in haiku. One-word syllables, anyway. Who’s the boy here?

  “I know it sounds like more. ’Cause they’re loud, I mean.” Stop. Don’t say your family’s fighting or your sister’s freaking out or anything.

  “So, what do you say? Say yes.”

  “Yes. No. I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?” Can you repeat the question? Have I just lost my mind? This isn’t Social Studies class!

  “It’s about our science labs. You know, the thing where we have to figure out how to simulate a cloud? Mr. Petry said we have to pick a partner, and I was just wondering if maybe you’d be my partner?”

  For this, he calls me at home and embarrasses me in front of my whole family? He couldn’t just ask me this at school tomorrow?

  “I already, um, told Olivia I’d be her partner.” Who was I, Pinocchio? The lie just flew out of my mouth. What was wrong with me?

  Silence. All I could hear was dead air. Then, “Oh. I thought Olivia wasn’t in that class.”

  “Oh. Right. Yeah. S-sorry,” I stuttered, trying to cover my tracks. “Um, did you say Science? I must have been thinking of Social Studies, where we’re definitely going to be partners.”

  “So, then, you’re free? I mean, you’ll do it? Be my partner, I mean?”

  “Sure, I guess,” I said in a fake-excited voice. What!

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Why not?” Why not? Hello! Because he’s a freaking boy, that’s why not. “I mean, you don’t know anybody, seeing as how you’re new and everything, and I can’t be Olivia’s partner, seeing as how she’s not in the same class, so this way, everybody would have a partner, except, of course, Olivia, you know?” Idiot! Shut. Up.

  “Great. Okay. This is great! Because I don’t know if you knew this about me, but I have volcanophobia.”

  “Fear of volcanoes?”

  “More like fear of science projects. A volcano blew up on me in the third grade. Let’s just say I added too much baking soda. And way too much red food coloring. I’ve never been the same.”

  “That sounds a lot like the Great Kool-Aid Disaster of ’07. I spilled, like, a whole can of green powder, and when I tried to wipe it up so my mom wouldn’t find out, well, let’s just say I turned the entire kitchen neon green and my mom wasn’t too happy with me.” My voice sounded almost normal now.

  “So, is it safe to say green is not your favorite color?”

  I giggled like a goofus. And just like that, I was talking to a boy.

  KISS BUSTER

  Starring Alex

  SETTING:
ALEX’S ROOM, A FEW DAYS LATER . . .

  Me: Emergency meeting of the Sisters Club! My room. Stat.

  Joey: What’s up?

  Me: What’s up? My life is a complete and total disaster, that’s what’s up.

  Stevie: Alex, everything with you is always a Drama-Queen disaster.

  Me: But this time it really is! First of all, I had to tell Mr. Cannon I quit the play. Second of all, they’re over there practicing — right next door — right now! Hello! I live here!

  Joey: What? Wait, you quit the play?

  Stevie: You can’t just quit the play.

  Me: I know. But I did.

  Stevie: What did Mr. Cannon say when you told him?

  Me: Let’s just say he went all Hamlet on me.

  Joey: Not happy?

  Me: Hardly. I mean, it’s bad enough that I don’t get to be Juliet. And Jayden Pffeffer does! So I quit and what happens? They start practicing here every single day! I thought it would just be over if I quit. How am I going to hide? There’s no escape!

  Stevie: So?

  Joey: So?

  Me: So? Don’t you get it? Scott Towel, I mean Scott Howell, is right next door!

  Joey: But you like him, right?

  Me: Duh. Way to state the obvious. Yes, I like him.

  Stevie: (Nods in agreement.) So, it should be a good thing that he’s practicing here, right? Because you’ll get to see him every day even though you’re not going to be in the play.

  Me: Wrong! The plan was for him to be Romeo. The plan was for me to be Juliet. The plan was for us to have our first kiss. The plan was for it to be totally romantic, just like in Romeo and Juliet. But now, the plan is totally and completely screwed up, thanks to one Miss Jayden Fluffernutter, a.k.a Queen Aggravating.

  Joey: (Cracks up.) Oh.

  Stevie: Oh!

  Me: Is that all you guys have to say? "Oh"?

  Joey: (Chants.) Alex and Scott Towel, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

  Me: (Ignores Joey.) C’mon, people. I need a plan. A brand-new plan. A brand-new, brilliant plan. You have to help me. I’m going crazy!

  Stevie: What kind of plan?

  Joey: A man plan. (Cracks herself up.)

  Stevie: Alex, you know you want to be in the play. So just go over there and UN-quit.

  Alex: Okay, I admit, maybe I do kind of wish I hadn’t freaked out and quit. But I can’t just un-quit now. So, here’s the thing. I need to know everything that goes on over there, but since I’m not in the play, I can’t just hang around for no reason.

  Joey: Pretend you have to ask Dad something.

  Stevie: Or pretend you left something over there.

  Me: Too lame. They’ll be onto me in, like, two seconds flat.

  Stevie: But . . . they won’t be onto Joey!

  Joey: Huh?

  Stevie: You said you were going to help Dad with the Romeo and Juliet props and sets.

  Joey: Yeah, Dad says we can build a balcony with a rope ladder and everything. But I’ll be painting and stuff. In the back. I can’t just hang around all day waiting to see if Scott Towel kisses some girl. It’s gross. And boring.

  Me: C’mon, Joey. This is super important. Scott could be over there kissing Fluffernutter right this very minute.

  Joey: Gross! You know kissing is just spit, right? (Makes saliva bubbles with her mouth.) One person’s spit goes into another person’s mouth and it’s super disgusting. Like, a ten on the Grossometer. I mean, you wouldn’t go around using Scott Towel’s toothbrush, would you?

  Me: No, but this is different. You don’t get it, Duck. But someday you will.

  Stevie: You know, Joey. It might be kind of . . . interesting. Like a super-secret stakeout.

  Joey: Well, all I’m saying is find someone else. I’m not going to be your Kiss Buster. I wish nobody would kiss anybody around here.

  Stevie: Wait a second. I might have an idea. Hold on, I’ll be right back. (Runs upstairs to attic, clomps back down. Hides something behind her back.)

  Me: What? What is it?

  Stevie: Ta-da! It’s Joey’s old baby monitor. You know, you turn it on and you can hear if the baby is crying from downstairs. I saw it up in the attic one day when I was cloudspotting.

  Me: Brilliant! Does it have video?

  Stevie: Not that brilliant. Just audio.

  Me: Never mind. All we need are batteries and someone to sneak over there and plant it in the exact right place.

  Joey: Don’t look at me!

  Me: C’mon, Duck, you love this stuff. It’ll be cool. You’ll be like an undercover spy.

  Stevie: It’ll be very croak-and-dagger. Get it, Joey? (Slaps her knee and cracks up.)

  Me: Yeah, like that guy Christopher Marlowe in Shakespeare’s time. I think he got murdered, though. But there were tons of spies back then.

  Stevie: We can even give you a cool title, like Her Royal Spyness.

  Me: That’s way better than just being a royal pain.

  Joey: I don’t know . . . maybe. But who wants to hear people kissing? Yuck. What kind of a spy is that?

  Me: A kissing spy.

  Joey: There’s no such thing. Anyway, that’s cuckoo. Tell her, Stevie.

  Stevie: I don’t know, Joey. It might be kind of interesting to, I don’t know, hear what it’s like when they ki — I mean, hear what they say. Think of it like a mystery. And you’re spying to try to solve a mystery.

  Joey: Mystery? What mystery? The mystery of boys. Bluck.

  Me: Look. All you have to do is take the baby monitor over there and hide it. You don’t even have to listen if you don’t want to.

  Joey: But what if they see me? What do I say I’m doing? Or what if Dad finds it and gets mad about spying or something?

  Me: He won’t. Not if you hide it. Besides, there’s so many props and stuff over there, how’s he going to know? C’mon, Duck. Please? I’ll do anything. Just name it.

  Joey: Oh, okay.

  Me: You mean it? You’ll do it?

  Joey: Yes. But only if you promise to really call me Her Royal Spyness for one whole entire day. And give me twenty-five dollars.

  Me: Deal! Except for the twenty-five dollars part.

  Alex and I were kneeling on my bed with our faces pressed to the second-story window. “Stop breathing so much,” I told her. “You’re fogging up the window and I can’t see.”

  I wiped the altocumulus cloud Alex had made on the window with the side of my fist. “There she is!” Alex pointed at Joey, a.k.a. Her Royal Spyness, sneaking up on the side of the Raven Theater next door to our house.

  “What’s she wearing?” Alex asked, craning her neck.

  “A raincoat?” I said, straining to see.

  “But it’s not even raining, for once.” The sky was overcast, but the drizzle had stopped.

  “Don’t you get it? It’s a spy thing.” We watched Joey reach into her pocket. She put on a pair of dark sunglasses. And a Sherlock Holmes houndstooth hat with earflaps from Dad’s props trunk. “All she needs now is a pipe.”

  “Um, wrong century, Joey,” Alex pretended to call out, even though Joey couldn’t hear her. “I don’t think Shakespeare spies knew about Sherlock Holmes.”

  “Never mind. Joey gets to be a spy. And you get to eavesdrop on Scott Towel. It’s win-win.” I grinned at my sister. It’s not like I’m into kissing — I felt pretty much like Joey did about it, high up on the Grossometer. But I have to admit, I was a little curious. It’s not every day you get to spy on two people when they’re going to kiss. A strange prickle set the hairs on the back of my neck on end.

  “Yeah, but now if anybody sees her they’re going to know she’s a spy.”

  Just then, Joey bent down and duckwalked along the side of the building, hunching beneath the windows. The monitor crackled. “Testing. Testing. I’m outside the theater. I’m almost to the back door.”

  Just then her hat fell off.

  “Let it go, Joey. Just let it go,” Alex willed her out loud.

  Joey
disappeared around the back of the theater until we couldn’t see her any more.

  “What’s that sound?” I asked.

  “It’s probably just the creaking of the back steps.”

  “I’m on the back stairs,” Joey reported.

  “She’s in!” I said proudly.

  “She better stop reporting her every move. They’ll hear her. And I’ll be busted before I even get to spy on Scott and Jayden.”

  “Shh. Who’s that?” I asked, motioning for my sister to be quiet.

  Dad.

  “Hi, honey.” Rustle, rustle. “Everything okay?” Clank, clank, clank. “I’m just sorting through a bunch of old props for Romeo and Juliet. I have swords, a dagger, a vial of poison, a bunch of grapes . . . but I can’t find that dozen roses with the dew on it, and this wedding cake, I think, will have to be painted.” Crackle, crackle. “It’s looking a bit shabby, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, Dad.”

  “So, what brings you over?”

  “Um . . . I am here . . . um . . . because . . .”

  “Just say anything, Joey,” my sister urged, even though Joey couldn’t hear her. “It doesn’t matter if it’s lame. Say something.”

  “I’m not spying or anything,” said Joey.

  “Joey!” Alex put her head in her hand. “I give up,” she said to me.

  “Don’t worry. Dad’s hardly listening. I can still hear him rifling through stuff. There’s, like, a million boxes in that props closet.”

  “Stevie, um, asked me to come over. Not Alex. Alex didn’t ask me. Yep. It was Stevie.”

  “Me?” I exclaimed. “Thanks a lot. Don’t go blaming me, little sister.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Dad, still half listening. “What did she want?”

  “She, um, she, well, she . . . made you a sandwich!”

  What!

  “Great. What kind?”

  “What kind? Technically, I’m not sure.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it, whatever it is.”

  “You know, funny thing is, I forgot to bring it over. So, I’m just going to go back over there, to the house I mean, and get it. And then I’ll come back over here. So, I’ll be back.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Dad.

  “I’m sure. I’m just going to go now.”