Alien Superstar

by Henry Winkler

  “Everyone who works on the show,” she explained. “All the department heads—you know, the people who are in charge of props and wardrobe, camera and sound. That woman over there with the red glasses is our set teacher, Janice.”

  “You go to school here on the show?”

  “We have to put in four hours a day. But it’s fun, because Janice is a great teacher. She brought in a shoebox filled with earthworms for us to study. Did you know that they breathe through their skin?”

  “Lower life-forms are strange. Did you know that the colossal red sand beetle poops through its mouth?”

  “Okay, you win the gross award,” Cassidy said with a giggle.

  A man sitting in back of us tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to the script.

  “Do you like your new lines, Cassidy?” he asked.

  “Yeah, they’re funny. You guys did a great job.”

  “Who is that?” I whispered to her.

  “That’s one of the writers. They’re the ones who look like they never go outside.”

  After the reading, we began the real rehearsal. Duane would tell me where to stand and help me interpret my lines. He worked with the whole cast, but mostly with me, since I was the newcomer on the show.

  As the rehearsal went on, I suddenly started to feel weak and dizzy. I sat down at one of the desks in the classroom set.

  “What are you doing?” Duane asked in an irritable tone of voice. “Stand up. The next break isn’t for another half an hour.”

  I immediately jumped to my feet and tried to concentrate on his directions, but my head was spinning. Cassidy continued on with her lines and went to shake my hand, just like it said in the script. I looked down and saw that one of my Zane Tracy fingers was starting to transform back to my alien spiny finger. Quickly, I pulled my hand away from hers and put it behind my back.

  “Hey,” Cassidy said. “What’s up with your hand? Something felt weird.”

  I knew right away what was happening. My earthly form was fading. I needed to recharge, and fast.

  I grabbed for my amulet and held it in the palm of my hand. I shut my eyes tight and said to myself, “I am Zane. Be Zane now.”

  Duane walked up to me, shaking his head.

  “Stop fidgeting with your jewelry,” he said. “It’s distracting from your performance. Why don’t we just take that necklace off and hold on to it for you. Wardrobe! I need you here on the double.”

  I clutched my amulet tighter, silently repeating, “I am Zane. Be Zane now” as fast as I could. Rosa, the wardrobe person, was approaching us.

  “Take his necklace,” Duane said to her, “and hold it for him until after the show.”

  “Duane, please,” I begged. “It’s really important that I wear this. I never take it off. It belonged to my grandmother, and it always brings me good luck. I promise I won’t fidget with it.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you one more chance. Rosa, next time he touches it, the necklace goes with you.”

  As they walked away, I slowly brought my hand out from behind my back. The long finger had disappeared and in its place was a regular human finger.

  “You look a little pale,” Cassidy said. “You’re not going to barf, are you?”

  I ran the word “barf” through my Earth dictionary and came up with this pleasant list: gag, heave, hurl, regurgitate, retch, spew, upchuck, toss your cookies. I certainly had no plans to do any of those things.

  “No,” I said. “I like cookies too much to toss them.”

  “Okay, cast,” Duane called out. “Let’s move on to the next scene. The writers worked on it last night and made lots of changes. The new material is on blue paper. Let’s begin. Interior, Day, the school cafeteria. Ulysses, we need you on set.”

  Ulysses got up and joined us in the cafeteria set.

  “First line is yours, Buddy,” Duane called out. “I’m waiting.”

  I cleared my throat, looked down at the blue pages, and began to recite the script.

  “Interior, Day, Cafeteria. Buddy is holding his lunch tray and notices Ulysses and Cassidy sitting at a nearby table.”

  “Cut!” Duane yelled. “Do you want to tell me what you’re doing, Buddy?”

  “Reciting the script,” I said. “Just like I’m supposed to do.”

  “You’re reading the stage directions, pal. That’s the part that tells the actors what to do and where to go. You’re only supposed to read your lines, which are right under your character’s name.”

  From the nearby table, Tyler laughed really loud. “What is this, acting for kindergartners?”

  He got up from his chair and threw his script down on the table.

  “Let me know when you’re ready for my scenes. I’ll be in my dressing room, reading my fan mail. Come on, Page, you’re not going to believe how many boxes of letters I get.”

  We rehearsed the cafeteria scene with Ulysses, who was really funny playing the art teacher, speaking as if he were the great Renaissance artist Leonardo da Vinci.

  “That-a Mona Lisa,” he said in a thick Italian accent. “She’s a-making me nut-so. And I say to her Mona, bellissima, why the mysterious smile? She never answers, but I know she’s thinking That’s-a for me to know and you to find out.”

  Duane got mad because Cassidy and I couldn’t stop ourselves from laughing when we were supposed to be serious.

  “Get all your giggles out now,” he said, “because cracking yourselves up is a big no-no when we’re shooting in front of a live audience.”

  Now that I knew what a live audience was, I felt a sudden streak of terror. Rehearsal was fun, but in just a few hours, I was going to be standing in front of a whole bunch of real human beings.

  “How many people are out there?” I asked Duane.

  “See those bleachers across from the set? They hold three hundred people and every seat is going to be full.”

  I could feel my heart start to beat faster and my third lung kick into gear like it does when I’m really scared. Under my Zane Tracy skin, I could feel my real chest heaving.

  “Do you get nervous?” I whispered to Cassidy.

  “Sure, everybody does,” she whispered back. “That adrenaline rush before a show makes you a better actor. The time to worry is when you’re not nervous.”

  That didn’t make any sense to me, but Cassidy had been in a hundred shows, so I assumed she knew what she was talking about.

  We did the scene a few more times until Duane was satisfied.

  “Buddy, take a few minutes to run your lines with Kate, the script supervisor,” he said. “Then go to dinner, eat light, and get your costume on for the dress rehearsal.”

  “My costume?” I gulped.

  “Yeah, your costume from yesterday,” Duane said. “The thing with the six eyes and that giant trunk on your back. That was killer. You brought it with you, right?”

  “Are you kidding?” I said, my voice cracking. “I keep it very close to me at all times.”

  Duane walked off to go over the shots with the camera operator, leaving just Cassidy and me on the stage.

  “Don’t worry, Buddy,” she said. “When people see you in that cool costume, they’re going to bust a gut laughing. You’ll be great.”

  “You’re so nice to me, Cassidy. And you’re beautiful too. I love the color of your skin.”

  Cassidy looked really surprised at that remark.

  “Buddy, people don’t just blurt out comments on other people’s skin color.”

  “But I mean it in the most positive way,” I told her.

  “I’m biracial,” Cassidy explained. “My dad is black, and my mom is white.”

  “Oh, how interesting. You have both a dad and a mom,” I said. “That’s so nice. And you all live together in one pod?”

  “Well, actually, my parents are separated.”

  “Oh no!” I said. “Where were they attached to each other? At the hip? Did they have surgery? Getting separated sounds so painful.”

  Cassidy loo
ked confused at first, then she burst out laughing.

  “Buddy, your jokes are so corny. We’re going to have fun together, you and me,” Cassidy said. “See you later, alien friend.”

  As I watched her go, I checked to see that Duane was nowhere around, then took hold of the amulet around my neck. I was tired from a long day’s work, and my jangled nerves were draining my strength even further. “You better come through for me,” I whispered to the amulet. I know it’s silly to talk to a piece of jewelry, but I’m just telling you what happened.

  “Who are you talking to, doofoid?” Of course, it was Tyler, returning from gloating over his fan mail.

  “I was just going over my lines,” I stammered.

  “Why bother? You’re never going to be as good as me. How’d you get this job, anyway? Is your father the head of the studio?”

  “My father isn’t even from here.”

  “What happened? He saw your face and ran the other way?”

  I couldn’t understand why Tyler was being mean to me.

  “Listen, Cheese Burger or whatever your name is,” he went on. “After tonight, you’re gone. This show is about me, so just don’t you get in my way. And try not to have the audience boo you too loudly.”

  As Tyler walked away, I ran the word “boo” through my Earth dictionary. I didn’t like what turned up. It said . . . to show contempt . . . to jeer, to heckle, to hiss.

  Suddenly, I wanted to run as far away as I could, right out the stage door, back to my spaceship, and take off for parts unknown.

  Anywhere would be better than this.

  10

  I’ll be honest with you—the thought of appearing in front of a live audience terrified me. I told myself that I had been given the chance of a lifetime, to be part of the movies and television shows I had loved ever since I was in my gestational pod. I thought of what Grandma Wrinkle always said to me.

  “Grandson, live your dreams, not your fears.”

  Grandma Wrinkle had sacrificed so much for me to go to Earth, maybe even her life, so I could pursue my dream. I couldn’t let fear take this opportunity from me. I wouldn’t.

  I found the rest of the cast and crew at dinner, lined up in front of a long table set up in a tent outside the stage. Mary was standing behind the table, serving steak and lasagna and salads from a long row of metal serving dishes.

  “Hey, little darling,” she said when I took a plate and approached the table. “What can I get you for dinner?”

  “Duane said I should eat something light.”

  “Light, huh? How about a plate of feathers?”

  “No thank you,” I said. “They’d tickle my throat.”

  Mary burst out into that big laugh of hers.

  Mary made a plate for me that was definitely not light. There was a green salad, a square of lasagna, which she said would give me carb energy, and a piece of smelly bread she called garlic bread. It was a strong odor. Even under my Zane Tracy skin, I could hear my sensory enhancer start to snort. I hoped Mary didn’t hear it, but she did.

  “I apologize,” I said. “I don’t usually snort in public.”

  “That’s okay, honey,” Mary said with a laugh. “A good piece of cheesy garlic bread makes me snort too.”

  I reached for a piece of corn on the cob, which I had seen so many times in movies. It looked like an interesting thing to eat.

  “Put that back, little darling,” Mary said. “That’s not for you.”

  “But I’ve always wanted to try it.”

  “An actor never eats corn on the cob before a performance,” Mary warned. “It sticks in your teeth, and trust me, no one at home wants to see your dinner hanging off those teeth.”

  “Oh, thanks, I’ll remember that. Is there anything else I shouldn’t eat?”

  “Lay off the almonds and spinach. They’ll make your mouth look like modern art.”

  Earth food was not only colorful, it was weird. The salad required a lot of chewing. The lasagna splattered all over the front of my shirt. But the garlic bread, that was a whole other thing. It tasted so delicious it made my mouth water like Niagara Falls. I kept going back for more. When I was on my fourth piece, Luis popped into the tent to say hi. He was still in his Frankenstein suit, at least from the neck down, but said that he’d be done with work by the time we did the show, and he’d come watch the taping.

  “Oh, and here’s some advice,” he said. “Go easy on that garlic bread, dude. Trust me, not only will it give you dragon breath, it will make your stomach do jumping jacks.”

  After dinner, Kate the script supervisor came and took me to my dressing room. It was in a little metal trailer outside the stage.

  “You want to change into your costume while we’re going over your lines?” Kate asked. “I won’t look.”

  “Uh, I’m a little shy about stuff like that,” I said.

  “Fine. Here’s the latest script.” She handed me some green pages. “It’s got the final rewrites. You better learn your new lines fast. The show is in ten minutes.”

  I held the script up to my forehead for a few seconds.

  “I’m ready,” I told her.

  “Do you at least want to read your new lines?”

  I couldn’t explain that I already had, so I took the pages and pretended to study them. We went over the lines, and I got everything right on the first read through.

  “You’re a quick study,” Kate said. “Get in your costume and I’ll see you on set.”

  When Kate left, I took my amulet and held it tightly in the palm of my hand. I closed my eyes and visualized the alien me. I could feel the titanium of the amulet start to heat up as the liquid crystal inside began to bubble.

  Be the real me, I thought over and over again. I opened one eye and glanced down at my hand. It still had five human fingers, but they were getting longer and were looking more like my alien hands.

  “Be the real me,” I repeated out loud, clutching the amulet. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

  “It’s Rosa from wardrobe, Buddy,” the voice called. “Here to help you with your costume.”

  I saw the doorknob start to turn.

  “Don’t come in,” I called out, panic in my voice. “I’m not ready.”

  I dropped the amulet and shoved my hands in back of me, in case she came in. Luckily, the doorknob stopped turning.

  “Okay,” she called. “Come find me if you need me.”

  I picked up the amulet again, but it took a minute to get my concentration back. In just those few seconds, the amulet had grown cooler and my fingers had shrunk back to earthling size.

  “Be the real me, be the real me.”

  I visualized myself on my home planet, running across the red sand with my suction cups popping, my sensory enhancer waving, and my six eyes scanning the horizon. Centering all my powers of concentration on that image, I felt an electrical current rising in my body. The hand holding the amulet grew so hot that my palm burned like I was holding a lit match. My forehead started to sweat.

  Biological alteration generates heat, I remember Grandma Wrinkle saying. And boy, was I hot.

  I felt like I might black out, when suddenly, I was overcome by a melting feeling. I opened one eye and glanced at the full-length mirror on the back of my dressing room door. I could actually see my Zane Tracy face dissolving into thin air. I could feel the hair on my head receding back into my skull and my familiar alien skin creeping up my neck and cheeks to cover my human face. My six eyes popped out and spun around my head. My fingers grew long and bony, two more sprouting on each hand. But, the process seemed to stop halfway down my body.

  “Be the real me, be the real me now,” I chanted.

  Within seconds, my suction cups replaced my stubby human toes, and my sensory enhancer broke free from my lower back. It was so happy to be released from its human skin that it whirled around in circles, squealing like a piglet slipping and sliding in a puddle of mud.

  “Buddy, they’re calling us to the
set!” It was Cassidy’s voice at my door.

  I opened my dressing room door, and Cassidy looked really surprised.

  “Whoa,” she said. “Get a load of you, Mister Alien Superstar.”

  “Do I look okay?”

  “I’ve never been to another planet, but I bet those space dudes look awesome, just like you.”

  “Now look who’s giving out the compliments,” I said, smiling.

  “They need you on the set, kids,” a voice from the intercom on the wall called out.

  “We better get going,” Cassidy said.

  I followed her down the hall to the stage. When we reached the set, the other cast members were already there.

  “Places, everyone,” Jules the stage manager said. “The audience is waiting.”

  At the sound of the word “audience,” the reality of what I was about to do hit me. My suction cups froze, sticking to the floor like glue. I used all my strength to pry my feet off the floor and tiptoed my way backstage to where I was to wait behind the cafeteria door for my entrance.

  “Curtain!” Duane called when I had barely taken my place. Suddenly, two stagehands appeared and wheeled away the red velvet curtain that concealed us from the audience, to reveal the bleachers filled with 318 earthlings. I know the exact number, because when you have six eyes, you can count things with supersonic speed.

  The audience burst into wild applause, and all the cast members waved, smiled, and took a bow. Everyone but me, that is. I couldn’t see the expression on my face, but it felt like a combination of terror and I’m-going-to-wet-my-pants-now.

  “We love you, Tyler,” a whole row of girls squealed.

  “I hear you, ladies,” he said.

  “You guys all ready to laugh?” Duane said to the audience members.

  “Yes!” everyone yelled out in unison.

  “All right, then,” Duane said. “We’ve got a good show for you.”

  The lights on the cafeteria set came alive. Five cameras moved into place, and the camera operators put on their headsets. Bruce, the makeup person wearing a fanny pack full of brushes, came in to give each of us a final touch-up. When he got to me and brushed a little powder on my nose, I had to hold back a gigantic sneeze. The last thing I wanted was any of my purple snot spraying all over his shirt.