In the House with Mouse!

by Deborah Gregory

  We immediately straighten up our act, because Miss Drinka is very particular about professional behavior from her. students—inside and outside the studio.

  “Tell Drinka, darlings—mother wants to sip every detail, right down to Mariah’s manicure!” Drinka flings her hand at us, and flashes her foot-long red claws. Whenever we think her outfits can’t get any more, well, creative, Drinka outdoes herself again. Today, she’s wearing red cigarette-leg pants with a matching bustier, and a cape with pom-poms and jingle bells hanging off it.

  “That girl has octaves to spare,” Drinka says, stomping down the hallway with us.

  “We had twenty-five people in our posse!” Galleria boasts, listing everyone who came with us to the concert.

  “Even our father came,” I tell Drinka. She met our father once, when he came to pick us up. He just wanted to see what the conservatory was like, since he pays for our training.

  “How is that handsome father of yours?” Drinka asks, her dark, dramatic eyes sparkling up a storm.

  “He’s fine,” I say.

  Don’t tell me that the legendary disco queen, Drinka Champagne, likes our father! All of a sudden, I’m feeling disappointed inside. Why couldn’t Daddy pick someone dope for a girlfriend, like Drinka Champagne? They still love her in places like Japan, and in Holland, where people tend to be more liberal-minded than we are in the States. At least if Drinka were his girlfriend, we would have some fun! She would be like a “fairy stepmother” or something. But no, Daddy has to go and meet the kookiest bird in the flock, and she has to fly her broomstick right to our house!

  “Excuse me for a second, dolls,” Drinka says, hurrying toward her office. “Get inside the studio—I’ll see you in a New York minute.”

  We continue our bragging in the studio, and everyone wants the juicy details—everyone, that is, except for this tall, skinny guy in snake-skin pants (skinnier at the bottom than Drinka’s) and matching jacket. We’ve never seen him before, and he just eyes us kinda coolly, then turns away. Another group of guys is huddled in the corner as Wolfman Lupe, the pianist, sits down on the piano bench and waits for the rest of the class to file in.

  “Knucklehead alert, dead ahead,” Galleria mumbles under her breath, nodding at the group of guys in the corner.

  “I don’t know … they look kinda cute,” Chanel grins back. “So does the guy in the snakeskin pants.”

  “Oh, you would think so,” Galleria whispers. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t hiss and bite.”

  Chanel grins right at the guy in the snakeskin pants, and he walks over to her. I guess it must help, using crutches—people think you’re helpless or something. Boys never walk over to me and Angie when we smile. It always seems that guys like Galleria and Chanel anyway, because they’re real pretty. Angie and I try not to let it bother us. Not that boys don’t look at us—they do, sometimes—but we’re not supposed to look at boys until we’re sixteen, or Daddy will bury us alive!

  “Hi, I’m Eddie Lizard,” the skinny boy says to Chanel, flashing a beautiful smile.

  Dag on, his teeth are white! I don’t even realize I’m staring at him, until he introduces himself to me, too. “Oh, hi—I’m Aquanette,” I say, trying to snap myself out of it.

  “Eddie Lizard,” he says.

  “We’ve never seen you before—we would have noticed,” Chanel says, grinning.

  I think Galleria must have poked Chanel in the back or something, because she seems like she’s losing her balance on her crutches for a second. “That’s okay, I don’t need any help,” she says, as Eddie Lizard extends his hand.

  “I just moved here from Los Angeles,” he says, folding his arms across his chest, which makes him seem very mysterious and mature. I guess he must be a little older than us—maybe in tenth or eleventh grade.

  “We’ve been to Los Angeles!” I exclaim excitedly, but Eddie keeps looking at Galleria and Chanel.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Galleria tells him all about our trip to Hollywood—performing in the Def Duck Records Showcase at the Tinkerbell Lounge, and staying at the Royal Rooster Hotel. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was trying to make him like her—even though Galleria doesn’t have to try very hard. All the boys like her.

  Now I realize that Eddie does look familiar—and maybe that’s why I’ve been staring at him (well, I’m sure not gonna admit that I think he’s very cute. No, ma’am—especially since he doesn’t seem the least bit interested in me!). Where have I seen his face before?

  “Are you a singer?” Dorinda asks him, curious.

  “No … well, yes—well, not exactly,” Eddie Lizard says, like he’s confused. He nervously toys with a silver talisman, shaped like a heart, dangling on a chain around his neck. I wonder if it’s some kind of lucky charm or something. He does seem kinda mysterious. “I’m an actor, but I want to get vocal coaching, and my Dad used to know Drinka Champagne back in the day—so I came here, because everyone says she’s the best.”

  “That she is,” I reply, wondering if his dad is a singer or an actor too.

  “Is that your real name—Eddie Lizard?” Galleria asks, smirking.

  “Yes, it is. My father’s name is Doktor Lizard,” Eddie explains.

  “Oh, he’s a doctor—like a forensic pyschologist?” I ask, getting excited. Angie and I want to be doctors when our singing careers are over. I want to be a Chief Medical Examiner, and examine corpses for autopsy clues, and Angie wants to be a neurosurgeon, and operate on people’s brains.

  “Well, he’s not that kind of doctor—um, it’s spelled D-o-k-t-o-r Lizard. He’s a hoodoo practitioner. He was the consultant on the movie Vampire Voodoo Voyage—maybe you saw it?”

  “Are you kidding? We love horror movies!” Angie says excitedly.

  “I played one of the corpses who falls in love with the voodoo queen Marie Fangella,” Eddie says, chuckling.

  “That’s where I saw you!” I say excitedly “I didn’t recognize you with your eyeballs still in your sockets!”

  “Oh, right, that was a good makeup job,” Eddie chuckles in his soft way. “Now my dad is here in New York, curating the hoodoo exhibit at the African-American Museum. I, um, live with my dad, so we’ll be here for a few months.”

  I wonder where his mother is…. It sure seems like we have a whole lot in common. All of a sudden, I feel something for a boy I’ve never felt before—except maybe for Major “Beethead” Knowles, who tried to get my attention when I was ten years old by throwing a rock at me. He made me fall off the swing instead, and I ended up with a big gash in my left knee. Our grandmother, Big Momma, made Beethead swear he would never talk to us again, and he didn’t—until we saw him in Houston on Thanksgiving this last trip.

  “Is hoodoo like voodoo?” Dorinda asks, curious.

  “Um, yes, it is from the same tradition—but it’s practiced more in the United States. Voudoun, or voodoo, as you call it, was formed in Haiti,” Eddie says nonchalantly.

  Now Chanel looks at Eddie, really impressed. I wonder who he likes more—Galleria or Chanel—and I still can’t help wishing it was me!

  “I know all about Santeria and brujeria!” Chanel says proudly.

  “Really?” Eddie asks her, getting more intrigued by the second.

  “I’m Dominican and Cuban,” Chanel explains.

  All of a sudden, Drinka claps her hands loudly, waking us out of our cozy little chat with the Lizard. “Enough chatting and batting lashes ladies—it’s time to get to work.”

  We all move to the center of the studio to begin our vocal warm-ups. All during the warm-ups, I’m wondering if I should tell Eddie Lizard about High Priestess Abala Shaballa. No, then he’ll think I like him or something, I decide. I’d better just get all of this nonsense out of my head. Too bad, because he sure is cute. Real cute.

  After vocal class, I grab my cheetah backpack and head for the door. I notice that Galleria is lingering inside the studio, and feeling around in her backpack like she’s lookin
g for something.

  “You lost something?” I ask. But I already know the answer—she’s just trying to get Eddie’s attention! It works, too. After a few minutes, Eddie makes his way over to Galleria, and they are chatting with each other as we all walk to the elevator. Galleria is telling him all about the Cheetah Girls—but it doesn’t look like she needs any help from us!

  “The record company—Def Duck—you know, the same label that Kahlua Alexander is on—said they’d put us in the studio with producer Mouse Almighty. We’re supposed to cut a few songs for a test demo or single, but we haven’t heard a peep yet,” Galleria laments like a damsel in distress.

  Eddie acts like he’s real interested in our music group, but I can tell he’s even more interested in Galleria. Once we’re outside, the two of them are stuck together like Popsicles—standing in front of the building, gabbing, while the rest of us just look on.

  “You are mad funny,” Eddie Lizard riffs, as Galleria tells him about our Cheetah Girls escapades in Hollywood.

  I wonder if we’re going to eat lunch together, like we usually do after Drinka’s vocal class. I decide right then and there that I’m not going if the Lizard joins us. Why does it always seem like Galleria is the rooster with something to crow about? Well, that’s not exactly true—’cuz the Cheetah Girls would’ve never gotten to Houston if it wasn’t for me and Angie.

  I throw Angie a look, like, “Let’s go home.” She just stands there, like she’s mesmerized by this horse and pony show.

  “Man, I went on so many auditions before I even got a gig as an extra in a crowd scene,” Eddie laments, talking about his struggling acting career. I guess he wants Galleria to feel sorry for him, too.

  “Really?” Galleria asks, like he’s so cute, she can’t believe he wouldn’t just walk onto a movie set and become an instant star!

  All of a sudden, a homeless man wearing a plastic bag wrapped around his body runs up to us and screams, “Satan lives! Satan lives!”

  The rest of our crew try to act like it’s no big deal, but Angie and I almost jump off the sidewalk, because he scared us half to death!

  “Yes, he sure does,” Eddie chuckles at Galleria, like he sees things like that every day in Los Angeles. “New York is such a trip, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is, but I grew up here, so I’m in it for the ride on the Coney Island Cyclone!” Galleria riffs at him. “Where do you go to school?”

  “Because I have to travel so much with my dad, and for acting, I have a private tutor. That way I’ll be able to finish high school next year.”

  “Oh, so you got it like that?” Dorinda pipes up. “Is it hard?”

  “You mean, studying with a tutor?” Eddie asks. “Yeah—I’ve always got a lot of homework assignments. But, hey, listen, I’ve gotta go meet my father at the museum by three o’clock. Do y’all wanna go eat something around here? Where can we get our grub on?”

  “Well, we’re gonna go home, y’all, ’cuz we have to help Daddy with the remodeling,” I blurt out.

  “Come on, Aqua—I know the two of you aren’t passing up a trip to Atomic Wings—not the dynamic wing-eating duo!” Galleria riffs at me and Angie.

  Suddenly, I feel myself wincing inside. I know Galleria is just being her usual self, but why does she have to embarrass us like that in front of Eddie Lizard? I mean, she makes it sound like Angie and I are bone-chomping bugaboos, with incisor teeth like dinosaurs, or something country like that.

  “Well, we’re gonna cook something to eat at home,” I respond. I’m trying to act normal, but I guess I’m just showing off. After all, one thing Galleria can’t do is cook—not like me and Angie.

  “Wish we were invited over!” Galleria says. But I know she’s ready to head over to Atomic Wings and chow down on an order of Insanely Hot Chicken Wings, which is exactly the way we like to eat them.

  Suddenly, I feel my mouth watering, but I decide I’m not going to back down. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Angle looking at me like I’m crazy. “Come on, Angle, let’s go,” I mutter.

  It’s all right with me. Let Galleria hold court with Eddie without our interference. That’s just fine and dandy with the fabulous Walker twins—a.k.a. the Hot Sauce twins, a.k.a. the Huggy Bear twins.

  “Aqua, come on, let’s stay;” Angie whispers, holding my arm to keep me by her side.

  “No, thank you, ma’am—the Huggy Bear twins are going to head uptown and help our father,” I insist. I can see the surprised look on Galleria’s face. Good. Now she knows that sometimes other people have feelings too!

  “Don’t go, Aqua!” Chanel says, her eyes pleading. Now I’m starting to feel a little silly for being jealous, but I’m not backing out. Big Momma says I’m stubborn, and this time, I don’t mind living up to my reputation. Not one bit!

  Chapter

  5

  When you’re an identical twin, you kinda take for granted that your “other half is gonna stick up for you all the time. But today, Angie is being real trifling—even after the way Galleria insulted us in front of that “scaly creature.” I don’t believe for one second that Eddie Lizard’s father is a hoodoo practitioner, or whatever kind of bogus doctor he calls himself!

  “I thought I’d seen it all, with the likes of High Priestess Abala Shaballa Hexagone and her kooky coven of misfits,” I mumble to Angie, but she doesn’t say one word.

  I’ll never forget the first time Abala brought her cronies over to our house: Bast Bojo, with the bald head and beady eyes; Hecate Sukoji, the only lady I’ve ever seen with no eyebrows; Rasputina Twia, the dwarf with the straggly-looking teeth. They sure are a motley-looking bunch!

  Abala Shaballa brought them over one night to concoct a Vampire Spell, so that the Cheetah Girls would win the Apollo Amateur Hour contest. Well, we lost—even after drinking that dees-gusting brew, and performing the Bogo Mogo ritual with all of them!

  The whole way back on the train to our house, I have my mouth poked out, and Angle doesn’t say a word—until she decides to start some trouble.

  “I can’t believe the way you were staring at that boy,” she mumbles as I put the key in our front door.

  “I was not staring at him,” I snap back.

  “Yes, you were—and I can tell you’re jealous because he likes Galleria and not you,” Angle says, hurting my feelings.

  All of a sudden, I realize that Angle probably likes him tool After all, we’re twins, right?

  “I don’t care who he likes!” I say, calling her bluff, then decide I’m not going to help Angie with her math homework after all. It’s her problem if she fails the test!

  “Yes you do,” Angie says, folding her arms across her chest. “No sense in lying to me, ’cuz I know better.”

  I’m going to get Angie real good for this. “So what if I do? It doesn’t matter.”

  “It sure doesn’t,” Angie says.

  I shoot her a look, because I wonder what she means by that. Not that I care anymore. Eddie Lizard can go eat a frog—and so can Galleria!

  Knowing “Miss Show-off,” right about now she’s probably showing him all the songs in her Kitty Kat notebook, and licking chicken grease off her fingers. I hope she gets fried chicken skin stuck in between her braces! That’ll make her look real cute in front of Eddie Lizard.

  As I open the apartment door, I wonder why the lights are on…. Daddy is real particular about turning off every light when we’re not in the room. I know he went out with High Priestess Abala Shaballa to the African Arts dealer to pick out some new decorations. At least, that’s what he told us he was doing when we left this morning.

  Angie marches straight into the kitchen, and I let out a big sigh. Finally. I just want to go eat some lunch, then listen to some music in my room and be by myself. I hope Angie finds something to do with herself instead of bothering me. I can’t seem to shake the bad feeling I have in my chest.

  I put my keys on the side mantel in the foyer, but I notice there isn’t any mail there. Usuall
y, Daddy leaves all the Saturday mail on the table, and goes through it over the rest of the weekend. Hmmm. Maybe he took the mail with him. I go back to the outside foyer, and I notice that our mailbox is jam-packed—Daddy didn’t even open it!

  I wonder why Daddy didn’t get the mail…. Looking down on the floor, I realize that he didn’t pick up his newspapers either, because The Amsterdam News and The New York Times are still lying where the delivery woman left them!

  Daddy was probably so engrossed with High Priestess Abala Shaballa and her shenanigans that he didn’t have time to read his morning newspaper in peace, while sipping his coffee and some dees-gusting shake whipped up in his new blender.

  I’ll bet Abala came over with a toolbox and a tape measure, trying to figure out how she’s gonna rearrange everything, then carted Daddy away to all these kooky home furnishing places where witches shop!

  I put the newspapers and the mail on the side mantel, then head for the kitchen, and make myself a catfish sandwich from last ’ night’s leftovers. Plopping down at the dining room table, I ignore Angie completely. I open one of the newspapers to today’s horoscope for my astrological sign—Virgo.

  The unconditional love for which you yearn cannot be bought at any price, so don’t be tempted to sell your soul to the devil. Watch out for sheep wearing wolves’ clothing, and vice versa. It may not be Halloween, but many evildoers will cloak their wrongful actions in disguises you may not recognize. Due to unforeseen circumstances, now is the time to take action, despite naysayers.

  I wonder what “unforeseen circumstances” means? I almost forget that I’m mad at Angie, and open my mouth to ask her—then catch myself. She wouldn’t know anyway. If I don’t know something, she usually doesn’t either.

  “Can you believe Eddie Lizard is the same guy from Voodoo Vampire Voyage?” Angie says, biting into her catfish sandwich. She would make herself the same thing to eat as I did. “He looks a lot skinnier in person. His eyes are prettier than I would have thought, too.”