by Chad Morris
“I was thinking of auditioning for Juliet,” Yasmin said. I could tell from her eyes and bouncy walk that she was pretty excited about that part. A lot of the girls wanted to be Juliet. When the community theater closed down a few years ago, they gave the school a bunch of costumes. Juliet’s was the best costume, and super pretty. A light-blue dress, long and flowy, with puffy sleeves and a big sparkly necklace. Plus, she was the most famous part of all of Shakespeare’s plays. Everyone’s heard of her. Her lines were kinda lovey, and she didn’t say much that was funny, but it would still be really fun.
“No,” Cassie said, shaking her head. “I don’t think Juliet’s right for you. What about the nice sister in Taming of the Shrew? Bianca. She’s pretty and that one boy super wants to marry her.”
That part would be okay, but it wasn’t Juliet.
“Why don’t you think Yasmin should be Juliet?” I asked. “I think it’s a great idea.” I did think it would be a great idea. Yasmin was smart and could memorize her lines. Plus, she was probably good on stage. I mean, she was pretty fun when we walked home together.
But, like with Lexi, I didn’t really ask even though I thought maybe I should. I don’t know why. Sometimes I don’t say what I think I should.
One by one, Cassie went through the group, giving advice on what to write down. Sailor wanted Juliet too, but Cassie didn’t think it was right for her, either. We were passing the school again. We had walked around once and were starting our second time. I saw Lexi sitting alone against the doors to the school, waiting for recess to be over.
My heart flopped a little. Been there. Lots of times.
I wished I would have said something about Lexi. Of course it wouldn’t have done much good. Cassie didn’t always include everyone, but we all liked her, and she really could be nice. She was just picky sometimes.
“Maddie,” Cassie said. “Do you know what part would be great for you?”
I took another deep breath. I had an idea, and I thought I’d try it. “All I care about is that I get to rock a mustache,” I said and raised my pink mustache to my lip. I had been thinking up that line for the last half lap.
I don’t know why I could talk about mustaches but not ask if Lexi could join us or if Yasmin could be Juliet. They were just different.
Thankfully, everyone laughed again.
Well, everyone except Cassie.
“I like it,” Yasmin said. “Maybe Hamlet. He gets to do an awesome sword fight with poison-tipped swords.”
“You could be the fairy king,” Sailor said.
“No,” Cassie said. “Maddie can’t be a boy in the play.”
I wanted to disagree. We learned that in Shakespeare’s day, boys used to play the girls’ parts, so it would only be fair if I could put on a mustache and play a boy’s part.
“I think you should be Juliet’s nurse,” Cassie said. “Then we could be together.”
The nurse? I didn’t want to be the nurse. The nurse was a funny enough character in the real play, but she was only in one of the two Romeo and Juliet scenes we were doing, and she only had two or three lines. And they weren’t even good. She just kept calling for Juliet to come inside and stop flirting. Of course she said it all Shakespeare-style, like “Forsooth, Juliet, get thine self backeth inside thine house. Thou art boy-crazy.”
Okay, maybe I made up that bit.
Wait. What had Cassie said? Then we’d be together? Why would we be . . . ? My brain finally figured it out. Cassie wanted to be Juliet. Was that why she was recommending what everyone else should write down? Was she trying to make it more likely that she would get the part she wanted? No. She was probably just being helpful.
“Maybe the nurse would be okay,” I said. Why did I say that? I didn’t want to be the nurse. Then again, it would be fun to be in a scene with Cassie. With the way she moved and talked, always drawing everyone’s attention, it would probably be the best scene of all of them.
Cassie pulled her sparkly pink phone from her pocket. Not only was it cute, but it was one of the newest, fastest phones out there. “The bell is about to ring.” I guess she had checked the time. “Let’s run in and fill out our papers. I bet if we turn them in first, we get first choice.”
All the girls ran. Cassie was in the front, her hair bouncing as she moved.
I ran too but couldn’t keep up. I was the slowest and the trippiest of probably everyone in my grade. Maybe I was so clumsy because my legs were growing. I think the teacher might have mentioned that in the awkward class. Or maybe I was really a centaur from some fantasyland, but I was cursed to stay in a human form because I was the princess centaur destined to overthrow the maniacal wizard who had a face like a boar and who had taken over my world. Since I’d been in human form for so long, my legs were getting a little slow.
Yep. Centaur legs don’t like being human legs for long. It was kind of like my left hand. I just hoped I could remove the curse soon, because if my clumsiness started to bother Cassie like my arm did, maybe I wouldn’t get picked anymore—even with my mustaches. Then I might end up like Lexi again, alone during recess.
I was the last of the girls to get into the classroom. Cassie and the others gathered by the in-box on Mrs. Baer’s desk to turn in their preferences. I looked at my paper. I wanted to quickly write down “Hamlet,” “Katherine,” and “Juliet,” but that would mess things up.
“Can I see what you wrote?” I heard Cassie ask Hannah before she dropped her paper in the box.
“Fairy Queen for all three,” Hannah said, showing Cassie her paper.
Cassie celebrated and gave Hannah a hug.
Oh, no. My insides rolled. Cassie was probably going to ask to see my paper too. I quickly scribbled down three names:
1. Juliet’s nurse
2. Katherine
3. Hamlet
I didn’t put Juliet’s nurse for all three, but if I put it at number one, I’d get it. I doubt anyone else was trying to get that part.
I didn’t even wait for Cassie to ask. I showed my paper to her as soon as I walked over to Mrs. Baer’s desk.
She beamed. “I’m so excited,” she said. “It’s going to be fantastic.” She passed me as she went back to her seat. She had already dropped her paper of her top three choices in the box.
I looked at my sheet again. It would be fun to be in a scene with Cassie, but . . . I wrinkled the corner of the paper and looked around the room. Lexi had finished her list and was walking back to her desk. She saw me, and then looked to the floor.
I glanced back at Cassie. She was happily talking with Devin and flipping her hair. I took out my pencil and erased part of my first answer. Now it only said “Juliet” for my first choice.
I didn’t just imagine it. I really did it. And I turned it in.
“This Halloween I want to be Frankenstein so I can eat people’s brains,” Emery, one of my twin brothers, said. Yep, twin brothers. Emery and Ethan are eight, and identical. Have you ever noticed how many twins in movies are evil troublemakers? Well, there’s a reason. My brothers are crazy and probably evil.
I’m just kidding. Kind of.
“Frankenstein doesn’t eat brains,” Ethan said. “That’s zombies.” They both have high-pitched voices and speak really fast. They kind of sound like hyper chipmunks. Evil hyper chipmunks.
“Oh, yeah,” Emery admitted.
“Unless it’s a zombie Frankenstein,” Ethan said, rising out of his chair, his eyes wide. He pushed aside the plate of meat loaf and potatoes in front of him for a moment.
“Awesome. I’m so glad I thought of it.”
“No, you didn’t. I did.”
“Boys,” my mom said, her voice raised to be heard above the chipmunk chatter. “Eat your dinner and stop talking about the undead at the table. It’s gross.” She had a point. Plus we were eating ground beef.
My m
om’s fun, funny, and looks young for her age. My dad says she has a baby face, but that’s stupid. Can you imagine a full-grown mom with a baby’s face? Weird.
I took a bite of my baked potato. I think we can probably all agree that potatoes are the best food ever. They should be an essential part of every meal. It’s like they are sent straight from heaven by angels with amazing taste buds. Mashed, baked, French fried, and even sweet potatoes . . . I love them all.
They were especially good after going against Cassie’s orders and putting down that I wanted Juliet. I kind of felt bad, and I kind of didn’t. And it made me hope that I really could get Juliet, but also terrified that I would.
I took another bite of potato, ignoring my meat loaf. I hate meat. It’s the worst food group ever. Nasty. I don’t like the idea of killing any animals, especially cows. Cows are cute. But I loved the idea of putting mustaches on cows and watching them chew grass really slowly.
So funny. Cow’staches.
“Yeah, let’s worry about Halloween later,” my dad said. “It’s eight months away.” My dad is bald. That’s the most important thing to know about him. Well, it’s the most obvious thing anyway. If you saw him, you’d want to rub his head for luck.
He’s also a writer. He writes curriculum for schools, but on the side, he’s been trying to get a book published for years. He’s written several stories and sent them to lots of places, and he finally got a deal for his first book. I think it’s pretty awesome, but he still has a few months before it comes out. He’s even going to go on a tour to promote it.
I love my dad’s stories. I love that we share the same kind of imagination. Telling stories and making up stuff is one of my favorite things to do with my dad.
Dad glanced at my plate. “Maddie, eat your meat loaf.”
I shuddered. “Meat is disgusting.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” my dad said.
“Yeah, you’re being widiculous,” Max, my littlest brother, said, smiling big. He’s the only one in our family with red hair, and he’s the youngest. Three years old. Plus he’s adorable.
“If ‘ridiculous’ means ‘awesome,’ then yes,” I said. “I’m being ridiculous.”
My parents laughed. It wasn’t fake laughing either. I hear adults do that a lot when kids try to be funny. But I could make my parents laugh, a really real laugh, from the belly. “Nice job, my little comedian,” Mom said, then pointed at my plate. “Now, eat your meat loaf.”
That didn’t make me laugh.
At all.
“Dad?” Ethan asked. “When does your book come out?”
“You ask that all the time,” Christopher said.
Yep, that’s another brother—and the oldest. And you counted right. I have four brothers. Four. And no sisters. So my house was crazy and full of boys and boy stuff like soccer balls, dragon movies, and really stinky socks. And if you didn’t know, boys’ feet stink a lot more than girls’ feet. I’m sure science has proved that somewhere.
“It’s on March fourth,” Christopher said. He loved books. He spent most of his time reading, writing, or playing his trombone. Sometimes all at the same time. Just kidding. That would be really hard.
“I just forget,” Ethan said.
“I didn’t,” Emery said.
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.” It was a high-pitched twin argument.
“Boys, calm down,” Mom said.
“You’ve got a problem with your brain,” Ethan snapped.
They could go from joking to upset really quickly.
“You’ve got a problem with your face,” Emery shot back. “Ugly face.” He fake-punched his twin. They weren’t supposed to hit each other, so that was the way they showed they were really mad. I knew what was going to happen next. They’d start yelling and both would end up in time-out. That wasn’t all bad. Then I could eat my potatoes in peace.
But that didn’t happen.
My dad burst out laughing.
Everyone looked at him. Usually he would reprimand the twins for saying mean things to each other, not crack up.
Dad opened his mouth to say something but had to wait a few seconds before he could get the words out. “You said he had an ugly face,” he said. I still didn’t get why that was funny. He laughed a little more. “But you’re identical twins.” There was another pause. “You have the same face.”
Laughter bubbled out of me. I mean, I got the full-on giggles until I noticed my mom looking at me.
“Maddie,” she said. “You’re holding your arm a little strange again. Are you sure it’s alright?”
I looked down at my arm. “Oh, sorry. It just feels comfortable like this. I think it’s fine.” I stretched my arm out straight to show her it was okay. They had asked about it before, and I’d convinced them it was because I was growing. I didn’t want to mention that I’d noticed my hand was different. A little slower to move. It was probably going to get better soon.
Dad was looking at it too. “I think we need to check it out.”
“I agree,” Mom said. “I’ll make an appointment with the doctor.”
“It feels fine,” I said. Okay, maybe I didn’t tell the whole truth, but I didn’t like all the questions. Plus, I didn’t want to go to the doctor. Going to the doctor meant that something was wrong with you. I wasn’t sick. I didn’t cough and lay in bed all day. I was fine. And instead of talking about all this stuff, I’d rather just eat potatoes, hope everything would go well with my Shakespeare part, and pray my dad wouldn’t actually make me eat my meat loaf.
“I’m glad,” Mom said. “But I’m still calling the doctor.”
“Romeo. Romeo. Wherefore art thou Romeo?” Cassie asked no one in particular. Yasmin, Cassie, and I were in line with a string of other students to audition for our parts, and apparently Cassie was auditioning a little early. The other girls—Sarah, Hannah, and Sailor—were with the other half of the class in computer time with Mrs. Larkin. They would audition after us when it was our turn on the computers.
“Wherefore art thou Romeo,” Cassie repeated. This time she put the emphasis on the word thou instead of Romeo. She sounded pretty professional.
Even though Mrs. Baer had already explained that in this case wherefore meant why and not where, I had an idea for a joke. I gave it a shot.
“Maybe Romeo’s right there,” I said. I started to extend my arm to point, but it didn’t want to move. Weird arm. I quickly used my other arm to point at Cesar. He was the first boy I saw, standing next to Devin, his best friend.
Cassie looked where I was pointing. Yasmin looked at Cassie. “Are you blushing?”
“No,” Cassie said. “I’m not.”
But she did kind of look like she was turning red. She didn’t do that very often. “Are you sure?” I asked. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but this was pretty fun, and her cheeks were a little rosy.
“I did not blush,” Cassie insisted in a that’s-final tone. “And you’re holding your arm funny again, Maddie.”
I looked down. It had slipped back. Maybe I was turning a little red now. My doctor visit wasn’t until next week. I guess it was hard to find a time that would work between the doctor’s schedule and my mom’s. And my hand was getting a little harder to open. “It’s probably because of my ninja training,” I said.
Yasmin laughed.
Cassie didn’t.
Maybe I shouldn’t have tried my joke.
The door to the small room ahead of us opened. “Great job, Jack,” Mrs. Baer said, her hand on the doorknob. Jack walked out and looked like he had just escaped a torture chamber. Apparently, he wasn’t as excited as we were about the play.
“Okay, who’s next?” Mrs. Baer looked back at the line. “Come on in, Cassie.” I could see Mrs. West inside the room writing notes on a clipboard. She was the music teach
er and was helping Mrs. Baer cast the parts. Cassie walked in her very best Juliet walk.
Yasmin waited for them to enter the room and close the door before she leaned toward me. “I think she blushed,” she said.
“Definitely,” I agreed. I hoped it wouldn’t bother Cassie that we teased her and she’d still let us hang out with her at recess.
Yasmin looked at the closed door for a moment and played with her fingers. “I’m way nervous,” she said.
“Me too,” I admitted. My palms were getting sweaty.
“You are?” Yasmin asked. “You’re great in front of people.”
Really? She thought that? I was usually pretty terrified when everyone was watching me.
“I’m not like that,” she said. “I’m practically shaking.”
“Oh, I’m not very good in front of people,” I said. “But you’ll do great,” I was already feeling calmer. With Cassie gone and me just hanging out with Yasmin, I felt a lot of the pressure fade away. But I didn’t want to think about being nervous for my audition or what part I might get. Or about how my arm was being weird again. We both could use a distraction. “What if you could pick between being superstrong or being able to fly?” I asked Yasmin.
Yasmin smiled. “That’s random.”
“Just answer,” I said.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I haven’t thought about it.” She squinched her eyebrows a little. “How about you?”
“I think I’d fly,” I said. “Because really, how much am I going to have to lift?”
“Good point,” Yasmin said. “But then if Coby teased you like he teases some of the other kids, you could punch him into the Pacific Ocean.”
“Oh, that’s tempting,” I said, laughing between words. “But if I could fly, I could just pick him up and drop him in the Pacific Ocean. Or even better, the Arctic Ocean. Then he’d be a Cobysicle. Plus every morning I could sleep in ten more minutes and then just shoot over to school and not be late.”
“Good call,” Yasmin agreed. I think we were both feeling a lot better.
