by Lisa McMann
Mac dropped to all fours and peered under the platform. “Why didn’t you oil the wheels in the center?”
“We can’t reach them—the platform isn’t high enough to get under there.”
Mac squinted. “I can do it.” Before anybody could protest, he grabbed the can of WD-40 and flattened himself to the floor, then began sliding under the platform, head turned to one side to fit.
Sara got down on her hands and knees and watched him. “Are you sure you should be doing that?” she called out.
“I’m fine,” Mac said. His legs and feet disappeared under the set piece.
After a minute Charlie and the others heard the telltale sound of the spray can, followed by a muffled shout, “There’s your problem!” followed by a sudden coughing fit. “Yuck,” Mac muttered when he stopped coughing. “That stuff is lethal.”
“Don’t breathe that junk, Mac,” said Maria, sounding worried. Charlie wondered why, but then remembered Mac’s inhaler.
“Quiet, Maria,” Mac warned.
Charlie and Maria exchanged glances. Sara got down to look under the set piece. “Great job, Mac,” she said. “You can come on out now.”
“I’m coming,” said Mac. He coughed.
They waited.
Sara squinted. “Mac?”
“One second!” he called. “Oof.”
That didn’t sound good. Charlie and Maria dropped to the floor too.
“Are you okay?” Maria asked him.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m just, well, I’m stuck.” He started wheezing.
“What?” cried Sara. “You have to get out of there!”
“And feeling a little, uh, claustrophobic, um, at the moment,” Mac added, his voice pitching upward.
Charlie’s heart pounded. “Can’t you slide back the same way you slid in?” she screeched.
“My shoes keep getting stuck,” he said. His voice sounded scared. He wheezed some more.
“Can you take your shoes off?” Maria suggested.
“It’s not . . . ,” Mac said with a cough, “like I can reach them.”
Charlie could hear Mac’s labored breathing growing louder. She turned to Maria, alarmed. “What’s happening?”
“He’s got asthma,” said Maria quietly. “That WD-40 must have gotten to him.” She laid her cheek on the stage and looked under the platform. “You doing okay?”
Mac’s eyes shone scared. “Can’t . . . catch . . . my breath. . . .”
Maria sat up and looked at Charlie in alarm. “You have to do something,” she whispered. “He’s having trouble breathing!”
Charlie’s heart thudded, and immediately her bracelet grew warm. She clicked it on to see which ability was activated, and pulled Maria close to show her the brightly colored elephant.
“Phew,” said Maria, and she whispered, “Let’s lift it off him!”
“We can’t!” said Charlie. “Not with all these people watching.”
“We could have everybody help,” said Maria.
Charlie eyed the set piece. The items on it weren’t attached yet. If they lifted one side of the platform, the heavy stuff on it could slide off or the walls could tip over—it would be even more dangerous. “No—we’ve got to roll it.”
She went to the center of one side. “Come on,” she ordered. “Everybody grab on! Mac, lie as flat as you can—we’re going to push it.”
More coughing erupted from underneath the platform.
Sara called to a group of actors rehearsing a scene nearby to help out, explaining the problem, and they quickly came over. Everyone grabbed onto the piece, and on Sara’s count, they pushed with all their might, Charlie secretly lifting slightly to give Mac more room for the platform to glide over him.
This time the set piece rolled onstage—and once it got moving, it went with almost too much force.
As soon as Mac was free, he rolled to his side, coughing and wheezing. Maria helped him to his feet, but he just scowled and staggered away. “I’m fine,” he managed, pulling his inhaler out of his pocket. He escaped to the boys’ bathroom, leaving Maria looking hurt.
“All right!” Sara said once she saw that Mac was okay. She thanked the actors, who went back to rehearsing their scene, and addressed the crew. “Good work, team. Looks like we can move this thing after all,” she said, a bit smugly, though it had taken more people to do it than would be able to help on show night. “Let’s try it again with just the four of you. Maybe take it a bit easy there, actually—we don’t want the kitchen rolling all the way across the stage, or we’ll have to start calling it a food truck.”
Nobody seemed to get her joke, but it didn’t matter. The two boys looked at Charlie. “Well sure,” said the one who liked Kelly, “it moves with seven of us. But with four? I doubt it.” The sour look on his face seemed to be ever present.
“We’ll be fine,” said Charlie, annoyed. “Come on.” She took her position as Mac returned and joined Maria to watch. She waited for Sara to signal them.
“Okay, timing it,” said Sara. “If we’re under thirty seconds, it’s a done deal. Annnd, go.”
Charlie pushed gently on the set piece, remembering her strength was still activated, but soon she realized the sour-faced boy had recruited the other boy to be annoying too, and they were messing around and not pushing very hard at all, trying to prove that Kelly was right. With a burst of anger, Charlie put her full strength into it, and the piece rolled smoothly to its designated spot offstage.
“There,” said Charlie. “Mac fixed the wheels. That wasn’t hard at all.” She glared at the boys, who seemed surprised that the platform had moved so well without their efforts.
“That was perfect,” said Sara, glancing at her watch. “Twenty-eight seconds. By Friday we’ll knock it down to twenty. It’s settled, then. Crew, let’s nail down the kitchen. Thanks, Charlie. You’ve been a great help. Maybe you should try for stage manager for the next show.”
Charlie beamed. “Thanks! Maybe I will.”
The boys just looked at her dubiously and said nothing. Which was more than enough, as far as Charlie was concerned.
She didn’t see Mac frowning at her from backstage.
CHAPTER 30
Living on the Edge
Throughout the rest of the school day, Charlie realized the strength ability remained activated, so she was extracareful as she moved from class to class. The elephant stayed lit up during soccer practice, too. This thing is definitely glitchy, she thought. As puzzling as that was, she took advantage of the strength to make some great shots, managing to leave her friendly rival, Vanessa, without the ball more times than not. But Charlie was careful not to be too obvious about it. She didn’t want to make anybody suspicious.
After practice, Coach Candy called for a team-building meeting. Charlie, Maria, Kelly, Vanessa, Bree, and all the other girls assembled in the locker room. The energy was high—everybody was excited about the first game tomorrow, and to see who was going to start.
Charlie loved this part of being on a sports team—the anticipation of the first game, everybody on the team so hyped up to go out there and play together and win. By now Charlie really felt like she was part of something—like she belonged. And it was a really good feeling. But there was a weird part to it too. Charlie had been playing against some of these girls this whole time. They had been the ones to beat. Now they, as a group, were one. Each of them had to change whatever negative feelings they’d had for some of their rival teammates into positive ones, which could be hard.
Coach Candy called for silence. “We’ll keep this brief,” she said. “And before I read the lineup, I want to tell you all that I’m so proud to be your coach. You are putting in your best effort, and that is such a delight to me. We are a very strong team this season, and I can’t wait to see what you do.”
The girls beamed from the praise and a few high-fived each other.
“This is always a tricky moment,” she went on, “going from scrimmaging against one a
nother to coming together as a team. We’ve had some scrapes and some tense moments.” Coach Candy looked around the group, and the girls grew silent. “That indicates passion, which is a good thing. But let’s all remember that now we’re on the same team. Channel that passion into playing with strength together.”
Charlie glanced at Kelly, who was staring stone-faced at the locker room floor. Vanessa looked Charlie’s way and smiled. She grinned back. Charlie knew she could be a team player with anybody in this room—even Kelly. But whether Kelly could play nicely with her remained to be seen.
Coach Candy pulled out the roster and announced the starters. She named the goalie, the fullbacks and sweeper, and the halfbacks. Kelly’s and Maria’s names were both called, to no one’s surprise. Then Coach called the four starting forwards . . . and she ended by calling Charlie’s name.
Charlie’s heart surged. She was going to start the first game! Maria reached over to fist bump her, and Coach led them all in their team chant: “Let’s go, Summit! We’re the TOP!”
With the meeting over, the girls began to disperse. Vanessa touched Charlie’s sleeve. “Congratulations,” she said quietly. Her face was filled with disappointment, but she seemed bent on pushing past it.
Charlie’s eyes widened. In her excitement she hadn’t realized Vanessa’s name wasn’t called. “Oh!” she said. “Oh, Vanessa—I’m really sorry.”
“It’s cool,” said Vanessa bravely. “You deserved it—especially after the way you played today.”
Charlie’s smile faded. “Thanks,” she said, dropping her gaze. “Um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you.” Vanessa moved to get her things and left.
Charlie watched her go, then lifted her sleeve and clicked her bracelet. The elephant was back to its gray, wavy self.
Maria was waiting outside the locker room for her. Together they walked to Maria’s house, Charlie strangely quiet while Maria talked excitedly about the upcoming game. By the time they reached her street, Maria was so animated that she accidentally began crossing without looking for traffic.
“Look out!” Charlie said, grabbing Maria’s arm as a big white van screeched to a halt a few feet away. Charlie squinted at the driver, but the sun was bouncing off the windshield, and she couldn’t see. The van squealed around the girls and took off down the street.
“Rude!” said Maria, watching it go. “This is a neighborhood, you loser!”
“Are you okay?” asked Charlie.
Maria turned to her. “Yeah. Thanks, Chuck.”
“No problem. Looks like that didn’t even activate the bracelet.”
“Well, I guess I didn’t rate high enough to trigger a need to be rescued,” Maria said with a laugh.
“That’s probably a good thing, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so.”
When they got to Maria’s house, they greeted her parents and grabbed a snack. Maria introduced Charlie to her three stepbrothers, who were all younger than her and doing homework or coloring at the kitchen table.
“Hi there,” Charlie said to the boys before Maria grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to her bedroom. Mac was sitting in his usual spot at Maria’s desk, hunched over his iPad.
“Oh,” said Maria. She acted like she was still a bit miffed about the way Mac treated her after the set-building incident at lunch. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I’m always here,” Mac said, not looking up.
“Are you feeling okay after your asthma attack?” asked Charlie.
“I’m fine,” Mac said, almost angrily.
Maria rolled her eyes. “He’s a little sensitive about it. Kids used to tease him back in second and third grade because he made a little barking noise.”
Mac ignored her, and Charlie wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed like Maria was trying to get him to react, and he wasn’t taking the bait.
“Charlie saved your life, you know,” Maria said matter-of-factly, even though it wasn’t really true. She threw her backpack onto her bed and plopped down next to it. Charlie did the same and rolled back, staring at the ceiling.
“Some hummingbirds weigh less than a penny,” said Mac, like he was trying to change the subject. “And the oldest-known clam is over five hundred years old. Guess where it was discovered.”
Maria glared at him. “I don’t know. Your butt? Did you hear what I said?”
“Wrong—it was Iceland. And a king cobra’s venom is strong enough to kill you a hundred and fifty times over.”
“What if you have a healing superpower?” asked Charlie, and then she bit her lip, not sure she wanted to enter the strained conversation.
Mac frowned and didn’t answer at first. But then he looked up, skeptical. “I don’t think your bracelet is going to bring you back to life,” he said. “Once you’re dead, you’re dead.”
Maria turned over to lie on her stomach. She propped her chin in her hands. “Since when do you make the bracelet rules?” she said crossly. “You don’t know if it can bring her back to life or not.”
Mac looked at her. “What’s up with you? Are you trying to pick a fight with me or something?”
“Why can’t you just say thanks to Charlie? She’s the one who moved the platform off you.”
“Yeah,” Mac retorted, “okay, let’s talk about that. Because later I heard those two guys muttering about how Charlie practically pushed the whole platform by herself. What kind of move was that, huh, Charlie? People are going to figure it out if you keep showing off like that. I hope you don’t think those guys are going to push hard next time now that they’re suspicious. And what are you going to do for the actual show if your bracelet isn’t activated? Run out in front of a speeding train before every scene change? Huh, Charlie? Did you think of that?”
Charlie’s mouth opened, and then she closed it. She thought for a moment. “If they see it’s not moving, they’ll help for the sake of the show,” Charlie said quietly, turning to lie on her side so she could see him. “We’ll be able to get it moving thanks to you greasing the middle wheels.”
“Thank you!” Mac said, agitated. “It’s about time I got some appreciation around here for once.”
“We appreciate you,” said Maria, exasperated. “Sheesh.”
“How would I know?” He turned back to his iPad and muttered, “You’re both too busy having sleepovers and messing with the bracelet without me.”
Maria scrunched up her nose. “Maybe you’re the one who’s too busy with your other friends.”
Mac scowled at the tablet. “Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I’ve got the master list of codes. Lemme see the device again.”
Charlie got off the bed and went over to stand next to him, holding out her arm. He pushed a few buttons to get it to the proper screen. He tapped, then hit random buttons until it wouldn’t let him enter any more characters. “Seven, max,” he muttered. “Ridiculous.” He started keying in alphanumeric combinations.
Charlie was quiet, thinking about what Mac had said. He was right. It had been a dumb idea for her to push that platform so hard. What if they couldn’t move it after all? Hopefully they’d have more chances tomorrow to test it out.
Mac got through only one page of passwords before he had to leave for dinner. When Charlie got home she found Andy sitting at the table eating cereal and reading the comic book Maria had lent her.
“Where’s Mom and Dad?” asked Charlie, setting down her things.
“Where d’you fink?” said Andy, his mouth full. He didn’t look up from the comic.
“There’s supposed to be leftovers in the fridge,” she said.
Andy shrugged. “I like cereal.”
Charlie grabbed a bowl and spoon and poured herself some. “How’s Ms. Marvel?” she asked.
“It’s great,” he said. “Where did this come from?”
“Maria brought it for me. You can finish it first if you want.”
“Thanks.”
Charlie watched him read. He did
n’t seem to be sad about their parents working late yet again. In fact, he liked being home alone. But her big-sister instinct kicked in. “How’s school going?” she asked.
“Good,” he said. He turned the page and took another bite. Milk dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it away with his sleeve.
“Are you making more friends?”
Andy looked up. “Why are you being Mom?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because she’s never here,” Charlie said.
Andy went back to reading.
Charlie ate a few spoonfuls of cereal and then said, “Are you coming to my game tomorrow with Dad?”
“No.”
“But I’m starting.”
“So. You always start.”
Charlie shrugged and changed the subject. “I texted Dad about the musical at school Friday night. It’s at seven, in case he forgets.” She frowned, thinking. “Though I’m not sure he can get away two whole nights in a row just for me.”
“Got it,” said Andy, still reading.
“There was a big fight today at lunch,” Charlie went on. “The stage manager and one of the lead actors got into it about the kitchen set piece.”
Andy looked up. “A fight? Like fists and stuff?”
“No, sorry. Just an argument. The stage manager asked me whether we should keep the kitchen set on the platform or move the individual pieces on and off, and I told her we should keep the set pieces on the platform, and I would help roll it on and off. So I’ll be helping backstage after school Friday until after the show is over. I won’t be sitting with you for the performance or anything.”
Andy didn’t respond.
“That’s Friday,” she repeated.
Andy sighed. “Why are you telling me this boring stuff?”
“Because I don’t want Dad to forget to come. And since I won’t be coming home after school now, I figured I’d better tell you.”
“I told you I got it. Seven o’clock on Saturday night.” He grinned.
“Friday night!” said Charlie. She made a face at him and then moved her bowl aside and took out her homework, figuring she may as well hang out with Andy since nobody else was.
