Finally, after about fifteen minutes, the Amazing Mel walked to the microphone. Then he wiped his forehead like these stupid tricks were taking a lot of effort or something.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “Now then, for my next few tricks I have a little surprise for you. I’m going to need an assistant! How about it buckaroos! Is there anyone out there who’d like to come join me on stage?”
Wait a minute! Join him on stage? Is that what he had said? Had he asked for a volunteer?
I didn’t even have to think about it. Me! It had to be me! It would be perfect! I could stand on the stage and say my name and everyone in the whole school would see me. Maybe a few kids would even recognize me! That’d show Annabelle Posey and her stupid friends. They’d even have to clap for me. How could they clap for Mel and not clap for me at the same time?
I shot my hand in the air and began waving it around like crazy.
“Ooooh! Ooooh!” I said, straining to raise it higher and higher. But the Amazing Mel didn’t see me. Too many other hands were blocking me out. “Yo, Mel! Right here!” I screamed out. “Yo, Mel!”
Brian looked at me with disapproval. “Yo, Mel?” he repeated. “You’re shouting, ‘Yo, Mel,’ to a famous magician?”
I couldn’t waste another second. Mel was getting ready to pick. He had his finger all pointed and ready to go!
Quickly I sprang from my seat and headed for the main aisle.
“Oh no, Alex! Come on!” called Brian, grabbing for my shirt. “You were just getting back to normal!”
I heard him, but I didn’t stop. When I got to the main aisle, I blitzed for the stage. I’m not kidding. It was just like on The Price Is Right.
I could hear a few kids starting to laugh, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was getting on the stage, where I belonged.
Out of breath, I zoomed up the steps and ran toward the magician. When he saw me flying in his direction, the Amazing Mel got a funny look on his face. Scared, sort of. Like I had just zoomed in from a mental hospital or something.
“Er … ah, who do we have here?” he asked hesitantly.
I held out my hand. But before I could answer, someone from the audience answered for me.
“Oh no! Look! It’s Skinnybones! Oh, man! Not Skinnybones!”
And at that moment it seemed like the whole world started laughing at me at once. Skinnybones! God! How I hate to be called that stupid name! Why did they have to call me that?
For a second I tried laughing along with them. You know, trying to make it seem like I didn’t mind being ridiculed. But inside I was dying. This wasn’t the way I had it planned. Why couldn’t things ever be the way I had them planned?
My face was turning red. I could feel it.
The Amazing Mel looked confused. “Er, what was the name again?”
He held out the microphone for me to answer.
“Uh, Harold,” I blurted. “Harold Hiney.”
The place exploded in laughter. I did too. I don’t know where it came from. Harold Hiney. It just popped into my head and I said it.
The Amazing Mel didn’t think I was funny at all. He rushed me away from the microphone and hurried to begin the next trick. First he stood me out of the way. Then he held his magic hat up to the audience to show it was empty. I tried to lean forward and see inside, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Ugga-bugga-boop-boop!” he said, as if seventh graders actually believe in stupid magic words. Then he waved his wand across the top of the hat.
A second later the Amazing Mel started pulling beautiful colored silk scarves from the hat and giving them to me to hold.
A few kids were still laughing, but most of them were concentrating on the trick. Meanwhile Mel kept pulling more and more scarves out of the hat and giving them to me.
The bright purple one was the prettiest, I thought. When he handed it to me, I held it up for everyone to see. First one side, then the other, just the way a good assistant should.
Then I blew my nose in it.
I don’t mean I really blew my nose in it. I just pretended to. Just to be funny, you know? I held the purple scarf up to my face and did this big nose-blow sound with my mouth. It sounded real, too.
The audience started roaring all over again. It was kind of a thrill, if you want to know the truth. Sort of like I was in control of things. Like I could make them laugh any time I wanted to.
Mel hadn’t seen what I had done with the purple scarf, but he definitely heard the nose blow. When he turned around, he had this real grouchy look on his face.
“Heh heh,” I giggled sheepishly. “Heh heh heh.”
Irritated, the Amazing Mel handed me the top hat and snarled something at me. I think it was something about putting the scarves away. Then he turned back around to get ready for his next trick.
I stood there staring at the hat in my hands. I don’t know why, but I’ve always wanted to try on a top hat. I guess it’s because a top hat makes you look distinguished. Even a dirty old bum looks distinguished in a top hat. Even if he’s eating out of a pork-and-bean can.
The hat looked too big, but I decided to give it a try anyway. After all, a kid doesn’t really get that many chances to look distinguished. I got to be Old King Cole in a school program once, but I don’t think I looked that dignified. Old King Cole was a merry old soul. That means he was a simpleton.
I was right about the hat being big. As soon as I put it on my head, it fell over my nose and ears, right down to my chin.
I could hear the audience start to crack up, but I didn’t take it off. I just stood there quietly in the dark, rocking back and forth on my heels. Just minding my own business. After a second I took a step toward the microphone and started to whistle a little tune in there.
Since I couldn’t see, I’m not exactly sure what happened next. All I know is that after a second or two I felt the hat being lifted from my head and the Amazing Mel was staring down at me. He was sneering. Something told me I was finished being his assistant.
He shook my hand and led me over to the stage steps. I’m pretty sure he never “thanked me, thanked me, thanked me.” At least I didn’t hear him. Just as I was about to leave the stage, everyone in the auditorium started applauding so loud, you couldn’t hear anything else.
I looked out over the crowd. That’s when it hit me. It was for me! All that applause—it was just for me! Me! Alexander Bell Frankovitch!
I couldn’t believe it. It was like a dream come true. If you’ve ever been applauded, you know what I’m talking about.
Even when my parents tell me they love me, it’s not as good as applause. Let’s face it, my parents have to love me. It’s like a law or something. But nobody has to clap. Not unless they want to. Nope, nobody ever has to clap.
7
The tippy top. That’s what I used to call it when I was three. Whenever my parents would take me to get an ice cream sundae, I’d start jumping up and down at the counter screaming, “And put a cherry right on the tippy top!”
That’s where I was after the magic show. Right on the tippy top. So high up, I could feel people looking up to me as I walked down the hall. Kids I’d never even seen before pointed at me as I went back to class. “Hey! That’s him!” I heard them whisper. “The kid from the magic show!”
At lunch Chad Jones gave me free cuts in line. I’ve been eating lunch at school for seven years and this was the first time I ever got free cuts. Last year I tried shoving my way in front of a first grader, and the girls’ gym teacher picked me up and carried me back to the end.
Anyway, I was standing there giving old Chad a few pointers on his fake nose blow when Annabelle Posey and two of her snobby friends walked into the cafeteria and lined up near the door.
I didn’t even hesitate. Not for a second. I jumped out of line so quick, it made Chad’s head spin. Then I took a deep breath and waited. Waited for Anna-belle Posey to look up.
“Ha!” I bellowed the instant she saw
me.
Annabelle jumped! It had been the best “Ha!” of my career. It had erupted from deep inside me, from the place where frustrations stay all bottled up until you can’t stand them anymore. It sounded mean and mocking at the same time. It echoed off the cafeteria walls.
Annabelle rolled her eyes in disgust and pointed. “You were so stupid in that assembly, I couldn’t believe it! You made a total fool of yourself!”
Loudly, I clapped my hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Excuse me!” I yelled above the cafeteria noise. “But did anyone happen to see the end of The Uncle Happy Show this morning? I missed it, and it’s driving me crazy. I turned it off just as Uncle Happy was about to squirt Mr. Billy-Bob with his seltzer bottle.”
Anyone who heard me started to laugh. Annabelle’s face turned a hundred shades of red. After a second or two she ran out of the room.
I stepped back in line and gave Chad a high five. I bought myself an extra package of Twinkies to celebrate.
The two of us paid for our lunches and headed for the table. It was already pretty full. But when Willy Mumford and Raymond Vellenburg saw me coming, they squished together and made a place for me. I couldn’t believe it! Usually I have to force my way in, turn my tray around, and eat my lunch sideways.
All anyone talked about was the assembly. “You should have seen the sick expression on Mel’s face when you blew your honker in his scarf!” roared Willy. “I thought he was going to barf up that pigeon he pretended to swallow!”
Suddenly a boy sitting at the table behind me started tapping me on the back. “That was you! Right? You’re the kid from the show!”
I waited a second before I slowly turned around to face him. Then I gave him this real casual nod and pretended to shoot him with my finger. “You got it, Frederick,” I replied cooler than anything.
I blew the imaginary smoke away.
I’m serious. I was cooler than cool.
That night at dinner, I couldn’t sit still. You don’t have to act cool with your parents. They don’t understand it anyway.
“You should have been there!” I exclaimed. “The whole place was cracking up. I swear! I had that audience right in the palm of my hand! They loved me!”
My father gave a reluctant smile. Mom patted my arm. I guess I should have known they wouldn’t jump up and down or anything. They only get excited about unimportant stuff. Like if the cap is off the toothpaste.
“We’re glad you had a good day, Alex,” replied my mother, hardly sounding glad at all. “Just don’t count on anything to change, okay? I’d hate to see you disappointed again. You know how you felt when they didn’t like your commercial.”
“But don’t you see? That’s the great thing about this!” I explained. “There’s nothing to count on, it’s already happened! I’m already a hit! There’s even been talk of a fan club!”
The two of them looked at each other and quickly left the kitchen. I think they went somewhere to roll their eyes and groan.
I wasn’t kidding though. By Saturday my fan club had four members. I wanted to keep it small. Just close personal friends and relatives. Even though Brian hadn’t joined yet, I offered him the chance to be president. He stared at me a second and pushed me down.
“I’m serious!” I called as he walked away. “Think about it! This could be a chance of a lifetime. You could finally be in charge of something. You could call meetings and shout, ‘Come to order!’ I bet we could even get you one of those little wooden mallets.”
Suddenly he spun around and headed back in my direction. He continued coming until his mouth was about an inch from my ear.
“No!” he screamed as loud as he could. “Did you hear me, Alex, you giant jerk? No! No! No! No! No!”
Without waiting for me to respond, he turned and stormed away again.
I just shook my head and smiled. What a kidder.
“Let’s do lunch, you crazy guy,” I called after him.
The first meeting was held at my house on Saturday morning. Nanna and Pop Pop couldn’t make it. They wanted to. But they live in Florida.
The other two members showed up. But with only the three of us it was a little bit of a letdown. Fluffy refused to wear her nametag, and Ernest Wilson wet his pants and had to run home.
Luckily, at school things just kept getting better and better. Even though most of the guys had stopped talking about the magic show, they still saved a place for me at the lunch table. Why wouldn’t they? I was the best thing that had happened to that table since Butch Botts made milk come out his nose.
On Tuesday Tyrone Hayes asked me if I was going out for the lead in the school Christmas play.
“They’re doing A Christmas Carol,” he informed me. “I’m thinking about trying out for Scrooge, but if you’re going to try out I might not bother.”
I thought it over a minute. The idea appealed to me.
“Scrooge, eh?” I replied thoughtfully. “Yeah, I might give it a shot.”
Tyrone looked disappointed.
As I got up from the table, I gave him a pat on the back. “Don’t feel bad, Ty,” I said sympathetically. “You can probably still try out for one of the little unimportant parts.”
The more I thought about the idea, the better I liked it. Who would be better in the school play than me? Who had more experience? Who had more guts? The lead in the Christmas play! The perfect thing to keep me in the public eye!
I could see it all now …
ALEXANDER B. FRANKOVITCH
starring as
SCROOGE
in
A Christmas Carol
I could make some posters with me posing in my Scrooge costume and sell them to small, unsuspecting children. Little kids too young to know what they’re doing. Then I could use the poster money to hire an agent to get me jobs in Hollywood. Wow! Posters in Hollywood sell like hotcakes. Maybe I could have one with me all sweaty carrying a machine gun. Or one in the jungle where I’m …
“Alex … Alex … Alex!”
Raymond Vellenburg shouted me out of my daydream. When I looked up, he was halfway out the cafeteria door.
“The bell rang, Frankovitch! Where were you?”
As I picked up my books I couldn’t help smiling.
“Hollywood,” I muttered to myself. “I was in Hollywood.”
Tryouts were held on Thursday and Friday in the auditorium. The speech teacher, Mr. Tilton, was the director. He was tall and thin and had a skinny mustache that looked like he drew it on with a pencil. Also, he spoke with a British accent. I don’t think he was British though. I think he just wanted to be.
On Wednesday afternoon he held a meeting to explain things. When I got to the auditorium, Mr. Tilton was already on stage clearing his throat.
“People, may I have your attention please? Tryouts will proceed thusly.”
That’s how he talked. He said stuff like “thusly.”
“First of all I will give everyone a script, along with a sheet of paper describing the characters. There are a total of twenty-one parts available in this play. However, during tryouts all boys will read the part of Scrooge on page twenty-eight through thirty … and all girls will read the part of Mrs. Cratchit on pages fifty-five and fifty-six. This will make things immensely easier for yours truly.
“Questions thus far?”
Some kid in the front row raised his hand. “Who’s yours truly?”
Mr. Tilton glared at the kid for about ten minutes. When you’re trying to be British, you don’t like a lot of kids making fun of you.
Finally some kid from the back of the room shouted out the answer. “Yours truly is him, stupid.”
Mr. Tilton took a couple of deep breaths. I think he was trying to compose himself. If you ask me, guys like Mr. Tilton aren’t cut out to be teachers. Guys like Mr. Tilton should play the violin.
“Any other questions?” he asked then.
Another hand went up. “What if you don’t want to be in this play at all? Like
what if your mom’s just making you? Could you like not give us a part even if we’re really talented?”
Before he could respond, a girl in front of me stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Why aren’t there more girls’ parts in this stupid play?” she demanded.
A couple of the boys in the back started booing. Pretty soon we were all doing it.
I stood up on my chair and cupped my hands.
“Where do I get my Scrooge costume?” I yelled. “Do I go to a tailor or what?”
It was a simple question, I thought. No need for Mr. Tilton to get upset like he did.
His cheeks puffed up like a balloon. Angrily, he stomped off the stage and began handing out scripts. “For those of you who are truly interested in being a part of this production, be here tomorrow at precisely three o’clock!” he snapped. “The decision as to who gets which role will be mine and mine alone. It will be based on how well you read your part.”
He tried to calm himself down. “Those who seem most natural and at ease on the stage will have the best chance,” he offered. “The best advice I can give you is to become familiar with the part. Then relax and just let it flow. Flow is very important.”
This girl next to me took out a piece of paper and wrote down the word flow. I’m serious. She even put an exclamation point next to it. When she saw me looking, she covered her paper like it was a test or something.
I smiled smugly. “Don’t worry. I’m a professional. I already know how to flow.”
“Goody goody for you,” she retorted.
My smile got even bigger.
Yeah. Goody goody for me, I thought happily. Goody goody for old Alex “The Greatest Scrooge of All Time” Frankovitch.
8
I had the best audition of anybody. I’m not kidding. I flowed like you wouldn’t believe. I even added a line or two to make Scrooge seem more natural.
You should have seen me. It was the scene where Scrooge first sees the ghost of his old partner, Jacob Marley, and Jacob tells him about the spirits that are going to come and haunt him during the night.