Like Carrot Juice on a Cupcake (4 page)

When I got to school the next morning,

Pearl and Ainsley were already in the music room,

waiting for class to start.

I stopped near the door to the room for a second,

watching them laugh together.

Pearl kept smiling

even after they’d stopped laughing.

And I could see

that she might be very, very happy

on Mondays and Wednesdays,

with Ainsley.

And without me.

The morning bell rang then,

and everyone started sitting on the music room rug.

I walked toward my usual spot,

where I’d sat every other day for the entire year.

But before I could get there,

Ainsley took it!

My spot!

Right between Pearl and our friend Katie.

Pearl didn’t try to stop Ainsley.

But she didn’t forget me, either.

She scooted over and made a space for me

between her and red-haired, freckly Ben.

I didn’t want to sit next to Ben,

who can be mean sometimes.

But I couldn’t exactly fight with the new girl

over a space on the rug.

So I sat.

And Pearl said,

“Listen to this joke Ainsley told me earlier!”

I leaned closer to her, to listen.

“Why should you close your eyes

when you open the fridge?” Pearl said.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“So you don’t see the salad dressing!” Pearl said.

“Isn’t that
hilarious
?”

Normally I would’ve laughed.

But I wasn’t in a laughing mood.

So I only smiled a little.

Pearl noticed.

“You’re sad,” she said,

losing all her laughter.

Then she said, “I bet I know why.

I’ve been worrying about this.

You don’t want to be alone

on Mondays and Wednesdays. Right?”

I nodded.

We both knew that I wouldn’t actually be alone.

I’d be with Natalie and Antoine.

But still.

I’d be missing my best friend.

Pearl frowned.

Then our music teacher, Mrs. Quaid,

clapped her hands to get our attention.

“Time to begin,” she said.

“And what a day we’re going to have!

As most of you know,

every year I write a springtime musical

about bunnies

for the fourth graders,

who perform it in front of the whole lower school

and fourth-grade parents.

Who remembers last year’s hit,

Mary Hoppins
?”

Lots of kids raised their hands, including me.

I’d liked that show, about a magical bunny nanny.

“This year,” Mrs. Quaid said,

“we’ll put on

A Tale of Two Bunnies
.

It’s very loosely based on a book for adults—

A Tale of Two Cities
, by Charles Dickens.

Raise your hand if you’ve heard of it.”

Only nice Adam,

whose hair always sticks up a little in the back,

raised his hand.

“My mom loves that book,” he said.

“As well she should,” Mrs. Quaid said.

“And I know you’ll all love the musical, too.

Now, our show must be cast!

To play a role,

you must be free for rehearsals Mondays,

Wednesdays, and Fridays.

Who will be the first to audition?”

Pearl leaned close to me then

and whispered,

“I have the most brilliant idea!”

Before I could say a word,

she was waving her arm in the air and yelling,

“Eleanor! Eleanor wants to audition!”

“What?”
I cried.

I did
not
want to audition.

I did
not
want to sing in front of the class

or the whole lower school

and fourth-grade parents!

I started pulling down

on Pearl’s arm.

But she kept her arm up.

I had no idea she was so strong!

“You need something to do in the afternoons!”

she told me, in a very bossy whisper.

“Or you’ll be sad and lonely!”

“I don’t like singing in front of people!”

I whispered back. “You
know
that!”

“What’s happening over there?” Mrs. Quaid asked.

“Would you like to audition, Eleanor?”

“Yes!” Pearl said,

before I could open my mouth.

“She’s just scared of singing in front of people,”

Pearl said.

I glared at her.

I didn’t want her
announcing
that!

“Sorry!” she whispered. “But I’m doing it for
you
!”

“Ah,” Mrs. Quaid said.

“Stage fright.

It’s important to nip that in the bud.

It can become quite debilitating.

I have an idea.

Pearl, why don’t you audition
with
Eleanor?”

“I wish I could,” Pearl said,

sounding miserable. “But I can’t come to rehearsals

on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“I’ll do it!” someone shouted from across the room.

I recognized that voice.

Sure enough, Nicholas Rigby

popped up from his place on the floor.

“You
will
?” I said,

shocked.

And Mrs. Quaid looked as surprised

as if she’d just seen a flying trumpet.

Because Nicholas had never done
anything
in music

except get in trouble

for burping to the tune of “God Bless America.”

(He’s a ridiculously good burper.)

“I’m ready,” Nicholas said,

walking over to Mrs. Quaid.

Then he asked me, “Are you ready?”

I still hesitated.

Pearl elbowed me.

And Mrs. Quaid said,

“Let’s conquer that stage fright, Eleanor.”

So I went to stand beside Nicholas.

“This is marvelous!” Mrs. Quaid said.

“What song will you two sing?”

“I’ve got one,” Nicholas said.

Then he sang, “You better watch out,”

and paused

and looked at me.

And waited

and waited

for me to sing the next line.

What else could I do?

“You better not cry,” I sang. Quietly.

“Yay, Eleanor!” Pearl shouted.

Other kids started laughing.

Maybe because we weren’t the greatest singers.

Or maybe because we were singing a Christmas song

in
April
.

Nicholas ignored them and kept singing.

So I did, too.

I got a little louder by the end.

And

after the last “Santa Claus is coming to town,”

everyone cheered.

“That was very brave, Eleanor,” Mrs. Quaid said.

“And very kind, Nicholas.

Now, who’s next?”

Nicholas and I sat back down.

Pearl hugged me

as nice Adam stood up and started singing

“Silent Night,”

very beautifully.

Then freckly Ben sang “Frosty the Snowman.”

And tall Nora, with her brand-new glasses,

sang “Jingle Bells.”

And short Kai sang

“Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

When Kai finished, Mrs. Quaid sang out,

to the tune of “White Christmas,”

“I’m dreaming of a