Showing Off

by Emily Jenkins

  Pepper walked the length of Ms. Starr’s room. She reached the wall with the windows, tagged the windowsill, and turned around to retrace her steps.

  “Think about something else,” Zinnia said. “How’s your pest-removal service going? Have you gotten any more jobs?”

  Pepper had, actually. She’d earned thirty-five dollars by channeling a colony of ants out of Mr. Bittle’s kitchen and into his garden. She’d earned fifty dollars for ridding Maisy Brown’s apple trees of worms. “I’ve earned eighty-five more dollars,” she said. “And I have three more jobs lined up!”

  Zinnia whistled. “Wow.”

  Pepper grinned. “I have a plan. I was going to make it a surprise, but I can’t. It’s too exciting.”

  “What is it?” asked Zinnia.

  “I want to buy Everyday Cake tickets. For you and me! We’ll see Arabelle in person! I’ll have enough for three tickets if I just do one more job. You, me, and a parent. Remember the sign? They’re playing at Cider Cup next weekend.”

  Zinnia’s face fell. “Oh, no, Pepper. That’s not going to work.”

  “Why not?”

  “The Everyday Cake concert is sold out. It’s been sold out for months. My mom tried to get me tickets for my birthday!”

  “What? No!”

  “Yeah, it’s true.”

  “But they have posters up everywhere,” said Pepper.

  “So people will buy the new album,” said Zinnia. “That’s what my mom said.”

  Zwingo. Pepper sighed. “What’ll I do with all my money?”

  “I don’t know,” said Zinnia. “But on the plus side, you’re rich!” She checked the clock in the classroom. “Listen. I’m going to go watch for a little bit and then I’ll come back and get you. Are you going to be okay? Can you really pause your fiercing?”

  “The song is two minutes and eleven seconds,” said Pepper. “Yesterday I did it! I pinched it off for the whole time. But that was the first time ever that I made it that long. I think I should be okay. Unless I’m nervous and mess it up. Oh, Zinnia, I’m nervous I’ll be nervous.”

  “You’re going to be amazing,” Zinnia said. “I know it.”

  Nory’s heart thumped as she peeked through the red velvet curtains. The auditorium was packed. Every seat was filled. The show was running. It was almost time for the fifth-grade acts that ended the program.

  Father, Hawthorn, and Dalia were late.

  They weren’t in the audience. They probably weren’t even coming.

  Dalia had only said maybe.

  Nory hoped they were coming.

  No, she hoped they weren’t coming.

  No, she hoped they were coming.

  Why were they late? The entire Show Off was nearly over.

  They weren’t coming.

  Elliott touched her shoulder. “Hi.”

  “Elliott!” Nory whispered. “Look how many people there are! I see your family in the front row!” His dad was pointing an enormous camera at the stage. His mom was holding a bouquet of flowers. His baby brother was asleep.

  “They are so embarrassing,” Elliott complained. “Is your family here?”

  “No.” She swallowed and briefly closed her eyes. “Aunt Margo is here with Figs. But not the rest of them.”

  “Forget your dad. Come watch with the rest of us,” Elliott urged.

  Nory hesitated, then followed her friend. The janitor had set up a cluster of foldout chairs for the kids backstage. Right now, it was filled with fifth graders. After each class finished its act, the students joined the general audience.

  Nory sat on a metal chair. She had a clear view of the well-lit stage, where a spotlight illuminated the fifth-grade Flyers. Each person was dressed all in white and held a flag. They were attempting to fly in a synchronized pattern while twisting the flags and waving them back and forth. Folk music blared from the sound system.

  “What are they doing?” Nory whispered to Elliott.

  Lacey Clench, wearing a very strange hat, whipped around from the row in front of them. “Shhh!”

  “It’s a traditional Flyer Flag Dance of the Harvest Season,” Elliott whispered. He had a program in his hand.

  Nory squinted. “Won’t their flags get dirty, dragging on the ground like that?”

  “I think they’re supposed to be flying higher. And not so crooked.” Some of the Flyers were nicely vertical, but others were on the diagonal, and a couple had their knees bent and their feet wide apart.

  There was a gasp from the audience as one of the Flyers dropped to the floor and started crying.

  “I’m guessing that wasn’t on purpose,” Elliott whispered.

  Lacey whipped around again. “The Flyer Flag Dance of the Harvest Season is an important legacy of the Flyers around the world! My nonna is a Flyer, so stop being disrespectful!”

  Nory gulped.

  Next up were the fifth-grade Fuzzies. Their act involved a camel.

  They took turns commanding it, only it wouldn’t do much.

  “Behold!” a nervous-looking Fuzzy cried, flinging one hand high in the air.

  The camel worked its lips. Then it yawned.

  “Behold!” the girl said again. Then she spoke in a low, angry voice to the camel. “Riverdance! Riverdance! Come on!”

  The camel stood there.

  Other kids tried to get the camel to listen, but it didn’t Riverdance, or leap, or do anything else except yawn.

  Finally, the camel flattened its ears, pulled back its upper lip, and hocked a huge, globby loogie smack onto one boy’s face. The audience broke into a smattering of confused applause.

  Next up were the fifth-grade Flickers. Their act was called Oranges Away! The Flickers wore sailor outfits and held a dozen oranges, which they waved around in patterns. Oranges over the heads! Oranges behind the backs! Oranges under the knees! Tossing oranges back and forth.

  Nory guessed the oranges were supposed to appear and reappear in sync with one another, but they didn’t. Every now and then one of them went invisible, but most of the Flickers were too nervous to get their magic working well.

  Next were the fifth-grade Fluxers—and there was no denying it: They rocked “Kitty Grooves.”

  Kitten backspins. Kitten whips and kitten nae naes. The butterscotch kittens leapt over the black kittens’ backs. The black kittens pounced while the butterscotch kittens wiggled their backsides like they were getting ready to pounce. They popped and locked. They stomped their paws and shook their tails. They even shook their ears.

  Now Nory was nervous. The UDM kids could probably beat the Flyers, the Flickers, and the Fuzzies. But these Fluxers? They were tough competition.

  And now it was time for the fifth-grade Flares. The spotlight went dark. All music ceased, until a low, throbbing drumbeat started up. Onstage, what looked like a purple firefly flared a purple light. Nory leaned closer. It was Rune, one of the Sparkies. He wore a purple bodysuit with purple wings. Strapped around his waist was a small metal cage filled with cotton balls.

  “He’s lighting the cotton balls on fire one by one,” Elliott said. “But he’s controlling the heat of the fire! He’s keeping just to the purple spectrum!”

  A Flare dressed in green fluttered onto the stage, adorned with a similar metal cage full of cotton balls. She used her magic to set the cotton balls on fire—keeping to the green part of the heat spectrum.

  The effect was spectacular. Dark stage; low, steady drumming; and purple and green fireflies twinkling on and off. A pink firefly entered stage left. From stage right, a blue firefly twirled into sight. They danced and flared and swooped their arms—and tiny flames flared from their fingertips, matching the colors of their costumes.

  Lacey twirled onto the stage. She wore a headpiece with seven sparklers on top, and each sparkler burned a different color. Was she queen of the fireflies?

  She looked incredible.

  Nory snuck back over to the far side of the curtain to peek at the audience. She put her eye to a split in t
he fabric, and her blood seemed to reverse directions in her veins.

  He was here. Father was here!

  He was standing on the side—too late to get a seat—but he had a good view. Dalia and Hawthorn stood on either side of him.

  Nory darted back to Elliott. “My father’s here!” she whispered.

  Elliott gave her a thumbs-up. Nory began to wheeze.

  She hadn’t seen Father since he’d sent her away.

  He had sent her purple rain boots, but he hadn’t actually said anything.

  And now she was going to try flamingo in front of him! With Pepper the Fierce standing next to her!

  Sure, she had held flamingo for two minutes and eleven seconds the night before, but only that one time. What if Pepper fierced? What if Nory couldn’t keep still with “Crazy-Daisy Shame” playing and turned into something wonky?

  “Elliott.” She shook him. “Elliott! I can’t! I can’t go out onstage, not with my father in the audience!”

  “Yes, you can,” Elliott said. “Do you want to try a headstand to calm you down?”

  “No!”

  “Do you want a choco fire truck?”

  “No! Elliott!” Nory shook him again.

  “What about some deep breathing? Or a glass of water? Really, Nory. It’s going to be all right.”

  “Let’s get ready,” said Bax from behind Nory. “We’re up next.”

  The UDM kids convened in the prop room, which had a soundproof door. The school piano was in there, on wheels. They had to push it onstage after the Flares finished, then set up their other instruments.

  Andres had his drums attached to a board on the end of a long pole that they’d also bring onstage. The drums were the right height for him to play when his leash was attached to Bax’s piano stool. Willa had her bowl of water covered with a large sheet of plastic wrap. Marigold unpacked her clarinet from its case.

  “Where’s Zinnia?” Elliott said. “It’s almost time for her to get Pepper.”

  “I’m here,” Zinnia said, slipping into the room.

  From the other side of the door, Nory heard a roar of enthusiastic applause for the Flares. It went on forever.

  Father was out there.

  “I can’t,” Nory moaned, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t compete with ‘Kitty Grooves’! Or the Fireflies!”

  Elliott dug in his backpack for his water bottle. “Here. I’ll make you an ice pack. That’ll help you calm down. You need to keep cool and calm. Then everything will be okay. Let me just freeze this for you.” He concentrated, and soon came the snap of newly formed ice. “Oh, NO.”

  Sebastian gasped. “Elliott, what have you done?”

  Nory looked up.

  Elliott hadn’t iced the bottle. He’d iced the instruments.

  “My clarinet is frozen!” Marigold wailed. “I can’t play a frozen clarinet!”

  “If I play my drums, they’ll shatter!” said Andres.

  The guitar was covered in frost. Even the piano was completely iced. So was Willa’s bowl.

  “Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no,” Elliott cried.

  The door to the prop room burst open. The Flares spilled in. They were happy and glowing and full of high spirits.

  “Your turn,” Lacey sang to Nory. “Beat that, Nory Horace!” She stopped and took in the frozen instruments. Then she exploded in laughter. The other Sparkies joined in.

  “Omigosh,” Lacey cackled. “You guys are such wonkos!”

  “You froze your instruments?” Rune said. “Why?”

  “Zinnia, go get Pepper!” Elliott said desperately. “If we don’t have instruments, at least we have her!”

  Lacey’s eyebrows shot up. She blocked Zinnia’s way. “Zinnia! Are you seriously helping them?”

  Zinnia blinked.

  “Please get Pepper,” Elliott repeated. “If we have her percussion, maybe we can still perform.”

  Zinnia stepped toward the door.

  “If you get Pepper right now, you will never be a Sparky again,” Lacey warned.

  Zinnia froze, her eyes wide.

  “Zinnia,” Elliott said.

  Zinnia’s struggle played out on her face. “Both of you, stop! I don’t want to pick sides. Why do I have to pick sides?”

  “Because you do,” Nory said. “Enough is enough.”

  Back in Ms. Starr’s classroom, Pepper heard the deep throb of the Flares’ music. It made the windowpanes shake. She ran to the door, peering down the empty hall.

  She heard wild applause and balled her hands into fists. Where was Zinnia? Zinnia was supposed to come get her when it was time for the UDM act. If the Flares were done, then it was time!

  But Pepper wasn’t supposed to go without her. Zinnia was supposed to get an all clear from Ms. Starr, and Ms. Starr was getting an all clear from Ms. Fitsnickle that the animals were safely put away. Ms. Fitsnickle was getting an all clear from Coach that the Fluxers were in human form.

  What was happening?

  Something must have gone wrong. It was time for the final number. Pepper’s friends had to be waiting for her.

  She decided not to wait for the all clear.

  She ran down the hall to the back entrance of the auditorium. From there, she could enter the prop room. She burst in.

  The Sparkies were laughing, all of them. The UDM kids looked small and shocked, with the exception of Bax, who looked angry. And Zinnia …

  Pepper swayed.

  Zinnia, an excellent Flare for her age, stood before the school piano, hands outstretched and fingertips sparking.

  Was she—?

  She was!

  She was trying to burn up the piano!

  “Stop!” Pepper wailed. “Zinnia, no!”

  Zinnia jumped. She saw Pepper, and it seemed as though a jolt pulsed through her and made her magic even stronger.

  The piano burst into flames.

  Wood crackled. Wires popped. Black and white keys flew into the air like a scattered deck of cards.

  It burned bright and was over in seconds.

  The piano was gone. Nothing remained but a smoking spot on the floor and a few sad keys.

  Everything in Pepper’s stomach turned sour. What a good little actress Zinnia was! She sure had fooled Pepper. “All along I defended you,” she told Zinnia, barely able to control her voice.

  Zinnia pretended to look anguished. “Pepper, I—”

  “Destroyed the piano!” Pepper said. “We need the piano! You know that because you got me to tell you what our act was.” She started to shake.

  “Pepper!” Zinnia tried.

  Spots clouded Pepper’s vision. She felt light-headed. “You were never my friend! You were a spy! You used me!”

  Pepper swiped at her tears, furious at herself for caring, even now. She pointed at the door and said, “Leave! You are a horrible person, Zinnia Clarke. I never want to talk to you again!”

  A shocked silence fell over the room.

  Zinnia muffled a cry—such a good little actress—and fled the room.

  “I think Pepper made Zinnia’s decision for her now. Wouldn’t you say?” Lacey spoke blandly. “It doesn’t matter what Zinnia wanted to do, my Sparkies, because she’s obviously not going to be friends with these UDM wonkos after that.” She took off her sparkler headdress. “Rune, go after Zinnia and act like you’re worried about her. Later we can welcome her back to the Sparkies, but not until she pays for her mistakes.”

  “How will she pay?” asked Rune.

  “Oh, we’ll make her do something,” said Lacey. “Something creative. It’ll be fun.”

  Pepper didn’t understand. Pay for her mistakes? Welcome her back to the Sparkies? If all along, Zinnia had been a spy, then why would she have to pay for her mistakes? Why keep up the act now?

  “She was trying to help us,” Nory told Pepper. “She wasn’t a spy. Lacey told Zinnia she had to choose between us and them. And Elliott and I said the same thing. Which we probably shouldn’t have.” She looked uncomfortable,
but then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “But Zinnia chose us.”

  The world shifted beneath Pepper’s feet.

  “I froze all our instruments,” Elliott confessed. “I panicked. Nory was freaking out, so I wanted to make her a cold pack, and my magic went wild because I was nervous. But Zinnia melted the ice on Andres’s drums and Willa’s water bowl. And on my guitar and Marigold’s clarinet. She burned the piano, but she saved everything else.”

  The seventh-grade flare teacher popped his head into the prop room. “Curtain time, kids,” he said briskly. “Oh, hello. What’s this? Why didn’t anyone use a fire extinguisher? That’s really basic safety, you guys.” He stepped over to the wall and sprayed the last of the smoking floor.

  “Guys, we have to go on,” Andres said.

  “He’s right,” Nory said. “My father is out there.”

  Marigold and Pepper spoke at the same time. “But—”

  “Zip it,” Elliott said. “I agree with Andres. We’re going on.” He looked at Sebastian. “Right?”

  Sebastian straightened his spine. He was the conductor, the leader of the band.

  “Let’s do this thing!” he said.

  Pepper’s head spun.

  She had betrayed Zinnia, not the other way around.

  Sebastian pushed her toward the stage, his hand between her shoulder blades. Elliott was already on, along with Marigold, Willa, and Andres. They had brought the instruments (except the piano, which didn’t exist anymore) and attached Andres’s leash to the chair Marigold sat in. Mics were set up for the singers.

  Everyone looked nervous in the glare of the lights. Sweat shone on Elliott’s upper lip. He kept changing the way he held his guitar, as if it had turned into a foreign object when he wasn’t looking.

  The crowd was huge, a shadowed mass of heads, faces, and bodies.

  “They’re waiting for us to start,” Sebastian said to Pepper in the wings. “Go on. Take your place.”

  Pepper dug her heels into the floor. “I don’t think I can.”

  Sebastian spoke firmly. “You’re fine. You’re also the star of our act. Go.”