Also, Elfina has a solo and the most lines. It wasn’t surprising that Mrs. Carlisle chose me for the part. People say I have a beautiful singing voice and a natural stage presence.
Unfortunately, nobody was appreciating it that day at rehearsal. At first, it was all the duck’s fault, then it was all Pouya’s.
“Okay, let’s take scene one from the top,” Mrs. Carlisle said. “I need Santa, the elves, and the tree.”
I was already in my spot—at center stage. Elf 1, played by Rebecca, was sitting on the edge of the stage reviewing her lines, but everyone else was at the back of the gym watching the stupid duck who—I’m not even kidding—had her own film crew.
Shady’s sister, Manda, and her friend Pascale—an angry-looking girl wearing a huge, flowery scarf—were on their second day of filming some kind of movie. Mrs. Mackie said we were supposed to ignore them and carry on like usual, but kids were following them everywhere like they were big-shot producers or something.
I watched in disgust as the duck waddled across a big piece of butcher paper that Shady, Arjana, and Aisha were supposed to be painting to look like the outside of Santa’s workshop. If there were feathers stuck to the backdrop, I was definitely going to complain. Because this was just one more example in a long list of ways that Shady’s duck had been causing trouble since she’d started coming to school—and it was getting worse and worse.
For example, the Friday before, which was CandyGrams day, student council delivered the mini candy canes people bought for their friends only to find that there were already cherry candy canes on some kids’ desks. It was mostly the kids who never participate in things—like Aisha, Tamille, DuShawn, Tammy, and Jackson. And all the candy canes had tags on them that said they were from Svenrietta. Hello! CandyGrams are supposed to be a fundraiser for the food bank! And a sign of friendship! When a duck starts giving them out for free, for no reason, the whole thing falls apart.
Then, in gym class, a few of us said we didn’t want DuShawn on our relay team. (He was wearing his dress that day, and—I’m not being prejudiced—it slows him down.) And when we got back to the changing rooms, we found something gross and brown on the soles of our regular indoor shoes. Was it duck poop? I mean, I wasn’t going to touch it or smell it to find out, but probably.
Finally, just that morning, after Monica and I pointed out that Aisha’s hat came from Walmart and was probably produced by slave labor, we came out of class for recess to find our one hundred percent locally made Truly Northern hats missing! They turned up later in the lost and found, but by then they smelled like hot dogs and sweat. There was a feather stuck to Monica’s, so I’m positive they were stolen by Pou and the duck and that even Shady was in on it! So much for any loyalty we’d built back in our sandbox days.
I took my hat straight to the office and reported the incident to Mrs. Mackie, but she just said it looked like down from someone’s jacket and that we should keep our hats in our coat sleeves if we didn’t want to lose them.
“I said I need the elves, Santa, and the tree, please!” Mrs. Carlisle called again when nobody had moved.
“Connor!” I called. “Hurry up!”
After all, as much as Elfina was the most important role in the play, Santa was indispensable too. Connor hadn’t said that he liked me yet—not in so many words—but acting side by side had deepened our relationship. Just the other day, he’d held the door open for me on the way in from recess and asked what my favorite kind of chocolate was. Why? There could only be one reason. He was planning to get me a gift!
“Okay, let’s take five,” Shady’s sister said. She’d been lying on the floor to get a duck-level shot, and when she stood up, it finally seemed to break everyone’s trance. Connor, Wendel, and Monica started toward the stage.
“It’s impossible to get good footage with the light changing like this, anyway,” I heard Manda’s friend complain. She tossed her scarf over her shoulder and looked in the direction of Mr. Nelson, the school custodian.
He was carrying cartloads of chairs through the back doors of the gym and stacking them along one wall. There were hundreds already. The gym was going to be packed on performance day, which meant we needed to get serious about rehearsing.
Still, Pouya had to be reminded to take his place one more time.
“Sorry,” he said, leaving the group of kids he’d been standing with and jogging up to the stage. “We were just going over some APS post-Q survival tips.”
Pou’s Planet-Q-is-going-to-smash-into-the-world thing was beyond stupid, and the worst part was, more and more people seemed to be believing him. After he’d insisted that Gavin’s black cat having a litter of ten pure-white kittens was some kind of sign, pretty much everyone but me, Rebecca, and Monica had dropped out of Friends of the Environment Club, and a bunch of them had joined his ridiculous Apocalypse Preparedness Squad (APS) instead.
“If you’re going to be like that…” Pou said, catching the you’re-such-an-idiot look I was giving him, “don’t come running to me asking for bottled water and canned peaches when disaster strikes.”
As he talked, he put on his ridiculous bobbly-star headband, which he’d basically been wearing since he got the role of tree—even though he wasn’t supposed to be decorated until the last scene. Finally, he walked to the back of the stage and spread his branches.
Mrs. Carlisle cued us.
I took a deep breath, trying to forget my frustration with Pouya and become Elfina—body and soul. “You guys!” I said loud and clear, with a smile that could blind the sun. “It’s almost the most magical time of the year again!”
“You mean reindeer games playoff time?” Wendel said, overacting with a cheesy wink.
“No, silly! Christmastime!” I answered.
“Hooray!” the other elves cheered in unison—or, it was supposed to be in unison, but it was all over the place, and Elf 3 didn’t sound very cheerful.
“But before we can celebrate”—I paused, held up my hands like two tabletops, and looked left and right—“we need to find the perfect gift for Santa.”
I had to elbow Tanya to get her attention. “Oh. Um…” She looked for the line in her script. “I bet Santa would like a cool smartphone. So he can text with the snowmen.”
Mrs. Carlisle interrupted. “Elves, when you give your gift idea, remember to pretend to hold up a box. Pearl, you’re going to wrap those and have them ready for the next rehearsal, right?”
I nodded.
“Okay, Pouya,” Mrs. Carlisle went on. “Your line now.”
Pouya bumped into my shoulder and nearly knocked Wendel over as he hopped to center stage. “Yo, elves!” he said. “I bet Santa would dig getting a tree as a present.”
“Cut!” I yelled, so loudly that even the kids painting sets at the back of the gym turned to look. “First, trees don’t hop. You’re planted,” I said. “Second, it doesn’t say ‘Yo’ anywhere in the script. Trees don’t say ‘yo’!”
“Trees don’t even talk,” Pouya shot back. “So, if the tree can talk, why can’t it hop? I’m just giving my character some character.”
“Well, don’t!” I answered.
Mrs. Carlisle sighed. “Okay, guys. Pouya, no ‘yo.’ Pearl, I’m the one who yells ‘cut,’ not you. Let’s try it from the top.”
So, we did, but Pouya wouldn’t quit hopping around and using dumb accents, and Wendel started laughing so hard he couldn’t say his lines. Then when he finally did manage to say, “I think Santa might want a big flat-screen TV,” he messed it up and said, “big, fat-screen TV,” which made Pouya start laughing. Then Pouya got even dumber and started yodeling his lines because he wanted to be a yodeling tree.
There were only a few minutes of rehearsal left, and I’d just stepped forward for my solo when Shady’s sister, Manda, started freaking out.
“Where’s Svenrietta?” she yelled. “Shady? Do you have her? She was here a minute ago.”
I sighed loudly.
Shady stood up, l
ooking left and right.
“Check in the equipment closet!” Tamille suggested.
“And under the stage,” someone else chimed in.
“Can we start the music now?” I asked Mrs. Carlisle. I’d been practicing “Santa Wants a Christmas Tree” every spare minute to make sure my voice would be clear as bells, and I was dying to hear how it would echo in the gym. Not to mention that Connor wouldn’t be able to help falling in love with me when he heard my voice. It’s been described as “angelic” on more than one occasion, and not just by my mom.
“Just a second, Pearl.” Mrs. Carlisle turned away. “Mr. Nelson,” she called across the gym as the janitor came in with another cartload of chairs. “Can we keep the doors closed for a few minutes, please? We have a duck on the loose.”
That was when Manda’s scarfy friend caused the real panic.
“What if she already got out?” She ran for the doors and pushed them open. Shady, Pouya, and a bunch of other kids dashed out into the snow with indoor shoes and no coats or hats.
Mrs. Carlisle had to run after them to tell them to come back in—and by the time they did, the bell had rung, ending rehearsal.
I sighed. Then I stormed off the stage and back to class. Honestly, I didn’t care if the duck was gone forever. I hoped it was.
CHAPTER 11
Broken
Told by Manda
It’s supposed to be an expression. Hearts are muscle, not bone. They can’t actually break. But, when Svenrietta disappeared, I swear, my brother’s heart shattered. She’d been making Shady a little stronger and braver every day, and once she was gone, he folded inward and crumbled like a dying leaf.
Shady wouldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He refused to go to his appointments with his psychiatrist. He wouldn’t even go to school. And—worst of all—for the first time ever, he completely stopped talking. Even to me, Mom, and Dad.
Mom moved some meetings around on Tuesday. Dad worked from home on Wednesday, but by the time Thursday came, they couldn’t do it anymore.
“Shady, you need to get dressed,” I heard Mom plead that morning.
I peered in the doorway to see a tight lump of covers on my brother’s bed.
“Just give school a try. If you really can’t cope, Dad or I will come to get you.” The blanket lump didn’t move.
Mom tried a threat. “I’m coming back in five minutes,” she said, “and you’d better be up.”
But, really, what was she going to do if he wasn’t? Send him to his room? He was already there. Ban him from playing The Evil Undead? He mostly liked playing it with Pouya, and since he wouldn’t even come out of his room to see his best friend, Pou had to go to the after-school program.
Mom walked out of Shady’s room like she meant business, but when I went in to borrow a pair of socks from her drawer a minute later, I found her sitting on the edge of the bed crying. She didn’t even try to stop when she saw me—so I knew it was bad. I sat down and put an arm around her.
“I can stay home with him today if you want,” I offered. “Most of my teachers post the assignments online anyway.”
For some reason, that made her cry harder.
Dad came in. “I’m calling Dr. Nugget,” he said when he saw my mom’s runny mascara. “We can’t go on like this.”
While Dad spoke to the psychiatrist’s receptionist on the phone, Mom seemed to rally. She put on earrings. She picked out shoes. Finally, with a callback from Shady’s psychiatrist coming on Dad’s cell within the hour, my parents decided there wasn’t any other choice. Mom had important meetings. Dad couldn’t miss another day with his big conference coming up. They weren’t happy about it, but they asked me to stay home with my brother. They also decided he wasn’t in any shape for Angie Murray to come babysit, even though I was supposed to have Film Fanatics after school. I said it was okay. And, honestly, I didn’t mind at first.
Only, the silence was so much louder than I expected.
At first, I left Shady alone while I did some history homework. It was nice having the house to myself.
But when eleven thirty came around and he still hadn’t come down for breakfast, I started to worry. I put a blueberry muffin on a plate and brought it to him. We’re not allowed to eat in our rooms, so I figured he’d be happy.
Shady was still under his blanket, but at least now his head was poking out a little, and he had a comic book propped up in front of him.
I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Hey, you hungry?”
He shifted one shoulder away from me and stared harder at his comic.
“It’s forbidden bedroom food.” I smiled and held up the plate. “Don’t tell Mom,” I added as if everything was normal. As if he could tell Mom. I mean, at that point I half hoped he would tell her and get me in trouble because at least then he’d be talking.
“Come on. Try a bit?” I tugged at Shady’s blanket playfully, but that only made him curl up tighter.
My phone buzzed.
Library. U coming?
It was Pascale. I hadn’t forgotten that I was supposed to meet her at lunch. I’d even borrowed a scarf from my mom with little violets on it, and I was planning to ask her how to knot it.
I’d been working on a message all morning, but I kept rereading it and hesitating to hit Send: I’m SO sorry. Can’t come today. Shady needs me at home. Still really upset about Svenri. Won’t talk to anyone or come out of his room. Pls don’t be mad, ok? Because I really, really, really want to be your friend!
Nope.
Delete.
I mean, way to sound totally desperate!
Instead, I went with short and to the point.
Sorry. Can’t. Tomorrow?
I watched the phone anxiously as the three little “I’m answering” dots appeared. Finally, it buzzed with her reply.
Sure.
One word.
I felt myself deflate. She was definitely mad. Which was great, because—as predicted—when I’d told Carly and Beth that I wasn’t going to be in their film contest group anymore, they were all like, “Oh, okay. Fine. Whatever. No, really. It’s fine.” And ever since then they’d been acting like I no longer existed, right down to staring at their phones and pretending they didn’t see me standing directly behind them in the lunch line. So now I had zero friends.
The phone buzzed again.
We can still edit after school tho? At film club?
At first, I didn’t get what Pascale meant. Svenrietta was gone. Pascale had been there when she disappeared. You can’t film a duckumentary without a duck. We had the school stuff, but we’d been planning to film Svenri at home with Shady next. We still didn’t have enough footage to meet the minimum ten-minute run time for the film. Why bother editing?
She must have guessed what I was thinking.
Now we film about the absence of the duck.
I glanced at the defeated lump of covers on the bed. That was the absence of the duck. And it wasn’t fit to be filmed.
“Shady,” I tried softly, holding out the muffin again. “It’s blueberry. Your favorite.”
No response.
“Fine then.” I took a bite. “Mmmm,” I said in an exaggerated way. “So good.”
Shady looked right through me with the same blank stare he gives to waiters, the dentist, and the lady at the flower shop who always tries to get him to say hello.
I sighed.
Sorry. We have to cancel the movie. My brother is too upset.
The three dots appeared.
But that’s part of the story! It’s documentary. Whatever happens, you film it.
I blinked at my phone, not knowing what to say. I mean, sure. Telling what happens is what documentaries do. But my brother’s broken heart wasn’t just some story for people’s entertainment.
“You sure you don’t want some?” I nudged the blanket lump.
Silence. He closed his eyes.
My phone buzzed again.
If he’s too sad now, we can edit the
first half, then pick up filming later. No big deal.
Only, it was a big deal. It was a very big deal. Ever since my brother stopped talking in kindergarten, he’d been taking the tiniest baby steps toward communicating. A small smile for our favorite aunt, a little wave to thank the postal worker who’d just brought him a birthday package. Then Svenri came along and changed everything. And now that she was gone, he was right back where he’d started—only worse, because at least in kindergarten he hadn’t been miserable like this. My brother couldn’t handle a camera in his face. Definitely not now. Maybe not ever.
You don’t get it. He isn’t going to feel better without Svenri.
Then I made a snap decision that wasn’t snap at all. It was inevitable, really. I’d been kidding myself for months thinking I could do this.
I need to quit film club.
There was a long pause as my screen stayed blank, then—
Swell
I didn’t need to hear Pascale say it. Just reading it, I could feel the sarcasm dripping off that single word. I could picture her perfect nose turned up in the air, the stormy look in her dark eyes. I’d ruined our project and her chance to go to New Orleans. She was going to hate me forever. Swell. Just swell.
“Okay, Shady. Fine.” I took another bite of the muffin. It tasted like sawdust. “Fine,” I said with my mouth full. “If you don’t want it, don’t eat it.”
My brother had opened his eyes again. He was watching me with his deer-in-the-headlights look.
The phone buzzed.
Now I know your commitment to filmmaking.
I wanted to scream. First, at Pascale: “You don’t know the first thing about commitment. You don’t have a brother like Shady!”
Second, at my parents: “Why did you make me join film club in the first place? I knew something like this would happen.”
Last, I wanted to scream at the entire world. For being the kind of place that makes a person like Shady so uncomfortable and overwhelmed in the first place. For not even trying to learn how to make him feel okay.
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