“And Stevie, I need you to think hard about your decision. Are you really serious about going out for this play? Have you thought about what it means? Because if you’re going to try for the lead, I don’t have to tell you, it’s a big commitment.”
“There’s more than one part in a play, you know,” Dad pointed out.
I stood with one leg crossed over the other, braiding and unbraiding a chunk of hair. “I know, I know. Look, if anybody knows, I do. I’ve watched Alex and everybody go through it like a million and one times.”
“And what about the big cake-off?” Mom added. “Have you thought about that?”
Alex butted in. “Mom, if she gets a big part in the play, she’s not going to have time for both. Trust me. Mr. Cannon is a bear when it comes to showing up for play practice.”
“I thought we didn’t have the money, with Mom’s show in trouble and everything. For the cake-off, I mean. It costs a hundred dollars just to enter.”
“You have some of your own money, kiddo,” said Dad.
“And maybe you can get some pet-sitting money, and ask Gram and Grandpa,” Mom said.
“Just do your best, Stevie. Mom and I will take care of the rest.”
“Now, you all know, Dad’s got a lot of work on the Aladdin sets —” Mom started.
“He’s gotta make a giant magic carpet fly!” said Joey.
“What Mom’s saying is,” Dad continued, “I’m going to be putting in long hours in my workshop. I can’t be in the house all the time, so you kids have to show Mom and me that you can get along —”
“Without Dad around to referee every minute,” Mom finished his sentence.
“Fine,” said Alex, worrying Comedy and Tragedy back and forth on the chain around her neck. “But I know Stevie’s just doing this to bug me. Her heart’s not really in it, and this is really important to me.”
“How do you know what’s in my heart? Mom, I’m not just doing this to bug her, honest! For years, this whole family has been down on me because I’m not into acting like everybody else, then when finally I am . . .” I couldn’t finish. My voice started to wobble.
“OK, OK,” said Mom, holding up both hands. “Truce!”
Dad got up from the couch. “Girls, I think you should shake on it.” Leave it to Dad to get corny on us.
“I think I smell my cupcakes burning!” I said.
“Then it’s settled.” He watched me until I took Alex’s hand. “Now, go forth and practice for those auditions. And may the best man win,” Dad said for us.
“May the best actress win,” said Alex, a little too sweetly.
“Emergency meeting of the Sisters Club,” Joey said, all out of breath, as soon as I’d pulled my cupcakes out of the oven. “Upstairs. Now.”
“Did Alex say?” I asked.
“No. I said.”
Joey had never called a meeting of the Sisters Club. She always just bugged Alex and me to have one. But something in her eyes made me follow her.
We all piled into Alex’s room (with permission). Alex and I plopped onto her bed. Joey sat cross-legged on the fuzzy flower rug.
“Can I hold Sock Monkey?” Joey asked Alex. To my surprise, Alex handed over our mascot without arguing. Not one snotty word.
“OK, first, this meeting is officially called to order.” Joey held out her finger for the triple-pinkie handshake. “Sisters, Blisters, and Tongue Twisters,” said Joey.
“You know what? I’ve been thinking,” said Alex. “We should change our motto. Blisters is lame.”
“Blood blisters is kinda cool,” I suggested.
“And tongue twisters is kinda babyish,” Alex finished her thought.
“No, it isn’t,” Joey protested. “Besides, nothing else rhymes with sisters.”
“Misters,” said Alex.
“Kisters,” I said.
“Risters.”
“Listers.”
“Those aren’t even words, most of them,” Joey pointed out.
“OK, then how about . . . Listerine,” I said helpfully.
“Then we might as well just be the Bad Breath Club,” said Joey.
All of a sudden, out of the blue, Alex turned to me, as if she’d been bursting to say something. “Why do you have to go out for the play, anyway? Can’t you just be happy doing the cake-off?”
So much for the truce. I was sick of her attitude. “Drop dead, Alex.”
Joey jumped up, her face ghost-white. “Don’t say that! Stevie! Take it back!”
“OK, OK. Calm down, freak show. I take it back.”
“You two have to stop fighting,” Joey pleaded, looking from Alex to me.
“She started it,” I said.
“Never mind,” said Alex. “Joey, is this why you called the meeting?”
“OK, I called us here because you guys have to stop acting so mean and awful to each other and make up. See this pin? You guys are gonna prick your fingers and mix blood with each other and promise you’ll never, ever fight again. Ever.”
“Joey, I’m not going to bleed for her, so you can just forget it,” said Alex.
“Don’t worry. I’m not about to lose blood either,” I said.
“You have to promise,” Joey pleaded. “If you don’t, Stevie, I’ll tell Alex what kind of cupcakes you’ve been making. And Alex, I’ll tell Stevie all the stuff I heard you tell Sock Monkey.”
“How do you know what I told Sock Monkey?” Alex asked accusingly.
“Maybe I hid under the bed and heard you when you were talking to Sock Monkey. Or maybe . . . I heard it through the heating vent. Go ahead — ask him.”
“Sock Monkey, is this true?” Alex asked. Sock Monkey nodded yes (with a little help from Joey).
“C’mon, Joey, what’s this all about?” I asked.
“Nothing. You’re my sisters. And you’re always fighting. And think about it — one of you could die, and I don’t think you should waste any more time being mad at each other. When you could die, I mean. Sisters can die, you know.”
I looked over at Alex. She raised her eyebrows back at me.
“Sisters fight sometimes, Joey. It’s normal.”
I pointed a finger at Joey, squinting my eyes with suspicion. “Joey, did you by any chance read Chapter 40?”
“Yes.”
“Without me, I mean?”
“Yes.”
“You read Mom’s book?”
“Yes.”
“Joey! I told you not to! It was for your own good. Why do you think I hid the book inside a cereal box in the kitchen cupboard?” I stopped, still pointing my finger at her. “Hey, how’d you find it, anyway?”
Alex had been moving her head back and forth between us. “Wait. You mean she knows?”
I nodded.
“About Beth?”
I nodded again.
Joey stood up. Her eight-and-three-quarter-inch ponytail whipped around from side to side, and she was madly waving her hands at us. “I know, OK? Beth dies. You lied to me, Stevie. You said you’d read me Chapter 40, and it wasn’t even the real true story.”
“It’s just a book, Joey,” Alex said. “A story. It’s not real.”
“It is to me.”
“I’m sorry, Duck. I was wrong,” I told my little sister. “I just knew how sad it would make you if Beth died, and I didn’t want you to be sad.”
“Blast and wretch. Now I’m sad, but I’m kinda mad, too.”
“Joey, think of it as Shakespeare,” said Alex. “Like Romeo and Juliet. It’s a tragedy.”
“Yeah, Duck, at least Beth didn’t fling herself on top of a dagger or get her head chopped off.”
“She just closed her eyes and went to sleep, right?” said Alex.
“Yep. See, aren’t you glad? Because getting her head chopped off would be bad. Then you’d have to feel sad and mad and bad.”
“I do anyway.”
“Want to go downstairs and put the book back in the cereal box?” I asked Joey, thinking it might make her
feel better. “Wait. You can’t. We still have seven chapters left to read. Seven happy chapters.”
“Yeah, Duck, only one more person dies.”
“What? Who? Not Laurie. Please don’t say Laurie. Or Jo. Wait, don’t tell me!”
“Al-ex!” I said. Sometimes my big sister could be so dense.
“Sorry,” said Alex. “But Stevie’s right. Lots of good stuff happens. People get married and have babies and pick apples and all kinds of stuff.”
“Hey, stop telling me. Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” Joey sang, covering her ears until Alex stopped.
“And there are still three sisters left. Like us. You, me, and Alex.”
“I still think you should prick your fingers and exchange blood and promise you’ll never fight again.”
“We can’t promise, Duck. Even the sisters in Little Women fight.”
“Yeah, Jo and Amy are always fighting and mad at each other. Remember when Amy burns Jo’s book she’s writing? But they always make up again.”
Joey made a sour face. “Sisters, Kisters, and Listerine,” she said in her blast-and-wretch voice.
BYE BYE ALEX
Starring Alex
Me: (Knock, knock.) Hey, guys, are you doing anything?
Stevie: Yes. Yes, we are. But it’s none of your beeswax.
Me: Whatever. I just need to borrow Joey.
Joey: What for?
Stevie: You can’t. She’s too sad. About Beth — you know. (Fakes tears streaming down face, but Joey is smiling.)
Me: That was two days ago! (Digging toe into carpet.) Joey said she’d help me pick a song for my audition.
Joey: I’m right here!
Stevie: Well, for your information, she’s helping me right now.
Joey: I am. I’m helping her. But I could help you . . . to-mor-row. (Grins, looking over at Stevie, and points to notebook.)
Me: What? I don’t get it. What’s going on?
Stevie: Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just minding my own business over here in my own little corner. (Stevie and Joey spray spit, laughing.)
Me: Look, can I talk to Joey — alone — for just a sec?
Stevie: It’s OK. You can say stuff in front of me. It’s not like I’m going to steal your song or anything.
Me: Well, see, I know both Maria Martinez and Jayden Pffeffer will be going out for the same part, and they both take Voice and they’re in chorus and Maria will sing “Over the Rainbow” just because she always does, but Jayden —”
Stevie: How do you solve a problem like Maria? And Jayden, too. She’s really Popular.
Joey: (Leans back on bed and howls.)
Me: (Impatient.) Thanks a lot, you guys. This is so not helping.
Joey: But we are helping you. Honest.
Me: Yeah, right. And how is acting like preschoolers helping me?
Stevie: (Walks over to Joey and grabs list, ripping off the top part.) Here. We were making a list of songs. Go ahead. Take it.
Joey: But that’s not even —
Stevie: (Covering Joey’s mouth.) Never mind, Duck. Just let her have it. She says we’re not helping. So now we’re helping.
Me: (Standing in doorway, looking bewildered.) Thanks, I guess.
Joey: (Takes away Stevie’s hand.) But that’s not fair!
Alex: What’s not fair?
Stevie: (Striking Shakespeare pose.) All’s fair in love and sisters.
Me: You guys are weird, you know that?
Stevie: Go ahead. Take it. Go. (Makes shooing-dog motion with hands.) OK. Bye-bye, then.
Joey: (Calling after Alex.) Bye-bye, Birdie!
Me: (Leaves room, taking list. Sisters behind me mumbling and grumbling — Joey saying “not fair” and Stevie telling Joey to get over it.)
A half hour later, I was humming songs inside my head when I heard Alex’s door open. I sprang up and grabbed Joey’s sleeve as she waltzed down the hall, pulling her into our room and shutting the door.
“Hey, Joey. C’mere. You have to tell me. What song is Alex going to sing for the audition?”
Joey scowled at me like I had Fink Face tattooed across my forehead. “I can’t tell you! It’s a secret.”
“Please? Pretty please with the World’s-Best-Sister cupcakes on top? You know you’re going to tell me eventually. So why not save some time and tell me now?”
“Who says I’m going to tell you?”
“You will. Because I will sit on you and tickle you to death until you give it up.”
“Go ahead — I’ll never tell!”
I wrestled Joey to the floor, sat on her, and pinned her arms back. “You asked for it.” I let go of her arms and tickled her as hard as I could.
“OK! OK! Stop! You win!” Joey squealed. “Uncle! I call Uncle!”
“So you’ll tell me?”
“On one condition. You have to tell me your song. That way, I still get to know a secret that nobody else knows.”
“OK, you first.” I leaned down so Joey could whisper in my ear. “Alex is singing ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair.’”
“No way! That song is on the list! The list of songs that make directors throw up! I am SO going to get this part!” I said gleefully, rubbing my hands together and grinning like Cinderella’s evil stepsister.
“Now you tell me,” Joey said.
“OK, I’ll give you a hint. But you have to swear on your life that you won’t breathe a word, or I’ll cut off your entire eight-and-three-quarter-inch ponytail when you’re sleeping.”
“Deal.”
I looked around to make sure there wasn’t a spy (a.k.a. Sherlock/Alex) listening, then leaned over again and whispered “The Glory of Love” in Joey’s ear.
“I know a secret! I know a secret!” Joey sang.
“Shh!” I said, covering her mouth and looking around furtively. “Do you really want to get tickled to death again?”
“La-la-la-la-la-la-la! Lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo. Lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee.” I paced back and forth, wearing out the roses in the carpet as I warmed up my voice to practice singing for the audition. The Big Moment was only a week away.
“Me-may-mah-mo-moo —” When I paused to take a breath, I couldn’t help hearing music blaring, coming from Alex’s room. And singing.
I listened in the doorway. Alex was playing musicals on the karaoke machine and singing along with them. Not softly, I might add.
“Will you read some more Little Women with me?” Joey asked, bounding up the stairs. Now that she had recovered from the shock of Beth’s death, she was bugging me to read again.
“Not now, Joey. I’m practicing.” Back in my room, I sang my scales a little louder. “Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah.”
Just as I was getting into it, I couldn’t help but hear Alex trying to drown me out by singing the “Maria” song from The Sound of Music. I tried to fight back by howling “The Star-Spangled Banner,” but it was no use.
Breathe in. Don’t clench your jaw. Loosen your neck. I tried to relax. I shook my arms. I wiggled my head back and forth. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. But Alex had cranked up the karaoke machine, singing along to every musical under the sun, just to annoy me and get my attention, I’m sure. One minute she was washing some man right out of her hair, and the next she was bragging about Oklahoma at the top of her lungs.
“Plpp, plpp, plpp, plpp, plpp, plpp, plpp.” I practiced my lip rolls, up and down the scale, like a trumpet player. Next thing I knew, she was singing that she was shy, had always been shy, and had to confess that she was shy. More like screaming. She sure wasn’t shy about letting me know she was practicing for the audition, too.
For an old tumbledown house, these walls were paper-thin. I could hear Joey in Alex’s room now. They were both singing songs from musicals, screaming at the top of their lungs. I guess the Victorians who built this place did not have sisters.
I tried the under-the-covers trick. The pillow-over-the-head trick. My iPod headphones. My swimming ea
rplugs. Joey’s Oregon State Beavers earmuffs. But nothing, not even humming with fingers pressed to both ears, could drown out the Super-Screechy Soprano Sisters who’d gone South Pacific on the other side of the wall.
I took my fingers out of my ears to listen. “Sisters, sisters . . .”
That did it! Alex wasn’t even practicing anymore. Now she was getting Joey to sing the sisters song from White Christmas just to bug me on purpose. I paced in circles around the rug in our room, my face growing hot. So what if she’s my sister? I was determined to beat her fair and square.
Me: (Knocking on wall.) I can hear you guys!
Them: “Caring, sharing, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah . . .”
Me: (Louder). I CAN HEAR YOU!
Putting my fingers in my ears didn’t help. I could still hear them singing together, acting as one . . . so I gave up. Who could drown out two sisters singing the sisters song without the third sister?
“Nonny-nonny, noony-noony, no-no-no, nee-nee-nee, nay-nay-nay,” Joey sang, twirling back into our room.
“Not you, too.” I scowled at Joey. “Why are you helping Alex?”
“Who says I’m helping Alex? We were just goofing around.”
Alex cranked up the music again. “Isn’t she done yet?” I asked. “I can’t hear my own voice. Joey, ask Alex to turn the music down.”
“Loud music is a teenage thing. I read about it in one of Alex’s magazines.”
“C’mon, Joey. Go ask.”
“Why me? You ask her.”
“You know she won’t do it if I ask her.”
“Sheesh. Do I have to do everything around here?”
“As if.”
Joey headed back to Alex’s room. Mumble, mumble. I heard voices, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. Geez! Just when you want to hear through these walls . . .
Joey came back. “Alex said no.”
“Did you ask right?”
“How should I know?”
“Joey, ask her again and this time say please, and if she still says no, tell her she’s being a selfish brat and I can’t hear myself think, let alone sing.”
Joey left. More mumbling. She came back and plopped onto her bed. “Well, what did she say?” I asked.
The Rule of Three Page 4
