Allie Finkle's Rules for Girls: Stage Fright (6 page)

He looked at me with his eyebrows raised and went, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can,” I said. “I’m the queen. So I’m the boss of you.”

Defenseless in the face of such logic, Stuart did the only thing he could, which was take out a piece of paper and frantically start drawing headless zombies.

I kind of knew how he felt. I mean, I would have started drawing headless zombies, too, if I thought it would have made me feel better.

But I knew the only thing that was going to make me feel better was…well, getting to play Princess Penelope.

But since I knew that wasn’t going to happen now, I guessed I was going to have to settle for going up to Sophie myself when the bell for morning recess rang, and say, “Hey, Sophie. Congratulations. I’m really glad you got the part you wanted.”

And act like I mean it.

Which was exactly what I did. While Cheyenne stomped off to go call her mother on her cell phone and tell her to call Mrs. Hunter, I went up to Sophie and congratulated her for getting the role of Princess Penelope. The role I thought I should have gotten.

Because that’s what gracious losers—and best friends—do.

“Oh, my goodness, Allie,” Sophie said, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a huge hug. “Thank you so much! And I’m so sorry you didn’t get it. You were really good, too.”

“Yeah,” Caroline said. “But it’s okay, because Allie didn’t really want it the way you did, Sophie. She just tried for it to make sure Cheyenne didn’t get it.”

I practically had to blink back tears when I heard that. I didn’t want it as much as Sophie? Um, yes, I so totally had.

But considering I hadn’t gotten it, I guess it was just as well everyone thought this.

“Yeah,” I said casually, hugging Sophie back. “I’m fine with the part I got. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to go call my mother and complain, like Cheyenne.”

“Can you believe she’s doing that?” Sophie let go of me and pushed some of her curly hair out of her big brown eyes. “Talk about being a princess! She must think
she
is one or something!”

“Totally,” I said.

“You’ll make such a good evil queen, Allie,” Erica said. “You’ll be the best evil queen ever.”

I just stared at her. “I will?”

“Of course,” Sophie said.

“You’re always the best when we play queens at recess,” Caroline said, seeming to agree with Sophie and Erica. “Why wouldn’t you make a great evil queen? And you know Stuart and those guys will do what you say.”

My shoulders sagged. “Oh,” I said. “That’s right.” No wonder Mrs. Hunter had given me the part of the evil queen! It wasn’t because she hated me. It was so the boys playing the evil soldiers would obey me. I sat next to them all day, didn’t I? Well, me and Rosemary. She probably thought Rosemary and I would keep them in line at rehearsals the same way we did all day in the classroom.

Well, it wasn’t fair! Just once, I wanted to get to play the part of the pretty princess instead of the tough girl who keeps the bad boys in line.

But I guess that was never going to happen. At least, not with this play. And not with this teacher. All my hopes had been raised that, for once, things might turn out differently, only to be dashed.

And I knew exactly who to blame for that. For the raised hopes, anyway.

So. It was all up to me.

I’d always known that, in the end, it would be.

Well, Mrs. Hunter didn’t have to worry. I was ready. I knew all of Princess Penelope’s lines and her blocking. I was completely prepared to step into her part. I even had a costume—my gold flower-girl dress. I would wear it with my black patent leather party shoes (if they still fit…I hadn’t tried them on in a while).

Of course, there was the small question of who would play the part of the evil queen.

But I even had an answer ready for that: Mrs. Hunter, of course. Mrs. Hunter could play the evil queen herself. There was no reason why she shouldn’t. She wasn’t doing anything during the performance, anyway, except running around making sure we had our props, like Erica’s reusable cloth shopping bags and such, and seeing that we got onto the stage on time, and opening and closing the curtains.

But Mrs. Jenkins could do all that. She was only the principal, after all.

And yes, I did feel bad for Sophie. Of course I did.

But she had made her own misfortune by letting her celebrity go to her head. I mean, my mother was the star of a local cable television program, but had I let that go to my head and become super bossy and started telling my friends that I hated them? No.

Sophie really had no one to blame but herself.

“But has Mrs. Hunter
asked
you to take over Sophie’s part?” Mom inquired that day at lunch. Because I’d brought down my flower-girl dress for her to iron, assuring her I was going to be needing it that night at the open house.

“Well,” I said. “Not officially. But I’m positive she’s going to.”

“Oh, honey.” Mom took the dress from me. “If she hasn’t asked you, I really don’t think you should get your hopes up.”

“But, Mom,” I said, “there’s no one else she
can
ask. Cheyenne has been acting horribly lately. There’s no way Mrs. Hunter is going to ask
her
to play Princess Penelope. And I’m the next-best actress in the whole class. I mean, not to be a braggart or anything.”

“She really is good, Mom,” Kevin chimed in from the kitchen counter, where he was eating grilled cheese. “You should see her. She killed.”

“Well, I hope you’re right,” Mom said. “Because I hate to see you disappointed. And your father was really looking forward to seeing you in his Dracula cape.”

“This will be much better,” I assured her. “You’ll see.”

It had been hard walking a sobbing Sophie home for lunch. Mainly because I’d been waiting for her to apologize for saying she hated me, only she hadn’t. Not even once. Possibly because she’d been crying so hard over losing the part of Princess Penelope. Still, you would have thought she’d stop to think about
my
feelings, for a change.

We’d tried to support her as best we could, telling her that maybe Mrs. Hunter would change her mind.

But of course I for one didn’t really believe that. I suspected Sophie had been rehearsing the part of Princess Penelope so much she had actually temporarily turned into a princess herself and thought she could start telling other people what to do (like me with my shoes for my evil queen costume) and had failed to remember the number one rule—
Treat people the way you yourself would like to be treated
(like the way she’d told me that she hated me).

Especially since Sophie refused even to consider apologizing to me. She kept saying she thought Mrs. Hunter should apologize to
her
for taking her out of the play.

She never even
mentioned
apologizing to me.

Oh, yes. The part of Princess Penelope was going to be mine, all right.

Erica was really worried about Sophie—especially when we were walking back to school after lunch, and Caroline appeared all alone at the stop sign where we usually met to walk to Pine Heights together.

“Sophie’s mom says she made herself too sick from crying to come back to school,” Caroline explained worriedly. “So she has a stomachache and is going to stay home for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, no!” Erica cried. “That’s terrible.”

“Well,” I said philosophically, “Sophie brought it on herself. She should have apologized to all of us for being so bossy.” I didn’t mention that she should have apologized to me for saying she hated me. That seemed like it should have been a given.

“Yes,” Caroline said. “But don’t you think the whole thing was only nerves about tonight?”

“Or maybe she thinks she really is a princess,” I said.

“Come on,” Caroline said. “Sophie doesn’t think she really is a princess.”

“Then why was she telling me what to do with my own costume?” I asked. “And why did she say she hated me?”

“Well,” Caroline said, “maybe taking the afternoon off will give her a chance to cool down.”

Maybe it would. But maybe it would also be too late for her to get the part of Princess Penelope back.

Because maybe it was mine now.

What if Mom invited Lynn Martinez from
Good News!
to the show tonight to see me? They were such good friends now, on account of sharing that tip about false eyelashes, she probably would.

And if Lynn saw me as Princess Penelope, she would probably ask me to come on her show so she could interview me. And then a talent scout from Hollywood would see me and ask me to star in my own reality show about a fourth-grade animal lover with two pesky little brothers whose mother is also a TV star.

The only problem with this plan was, when we got back to school, Cheyenne was going around saying Mrs. Hunter planned to ask
her
to play Princess Penelope.

“Naturally,” Cheyenne said, loud enough for all of us to hear her over by the swings, where we were standing. “I mean, who else would she ask at the last minute, but the one
semiprofessional
actress she has in her class?”

“But what about your fairy queen costume?” Dominique asked her. “You said your mom spent over two hundred dollars on it.”

“It can easily be converted to a princess costume,” Cheyenne said. “Simply by removing the wings.”

“Oh!” Erica said when she overheard all this. “Do you believe them? Talking about taking over Sophie’s part like she’s dead or something. You know, Mrs. Hunter would probably still give the part back to Sophie if she’d just apologize to Allie.”

I didn’t want to tell Erica she was wrong straight to her face. First of all, I for one didn’t plan on forgiving Sophie that easily. And second of all, I didn’t want to get her hopes up, either.

“Well, it’s good to make alternative plans,” I said. “I mean, just in case Sophie doesn’t come back.”

“But you don’t really think Mrs. Hunter would give the part of Princess Penelope to Cheyenne, do you?” Erica looked worried.

“Probably not,” I said. “I think Mrs. Hunter would probably give the part to the next-best person who auditioned for it.”

Erica thought about that. “Well, Marianne and Dominique weren’t very good. And I can’t imagine her giving it to Elizabeth or one of the other elves…and Caroline, you wouldn’t want it, would you?”

“No way. I love being a unicorn. But who else…” Then I caught Caroline looking at me. “Allie. Would
you
want it?”

Erica’s eyes widened. “Allie? Really? Do you know all of Sophie’s lines?”

“Sure,” I said, shrugging modestly. “Memorizing lines is easy.”

“But then…” Erica looked stunned. “Who would play the evil queen?”

“Mrs. Hunter, I guess,” I said with another shrug.

“But you’re so good as the evil queen,” Erica cried. “We love you as the evil queen. You make us laugh!”

I stared at her. “Really?” I knew I made Mrs. Hunter laugh. And my little brother. And the boys. But not the rest of the class.

“Really,” Erica said. “Oh, you can’t
not
play the evil queen. You’re so good at playing her! The play won’t be as good without you!”

I had never considered this before—that I was so good at playing the evil queen, the play might not be as good if I played Princess Penelope instead. I had wanted to play Princess Penelope so badly, that was all I had ever really thought about.

“It really would be a shame,” Caroline said. “I don’t think Mrs. Hunter would be as good as you are at playing the evil queen.”

“Well,” I said. I looked down at my feet. I was still wearing my red high-tops. It had been too much trouble to take them off after rehearsal…although it had occurred to me if I was going to be playing Princess Penelope that night, I’d have to take them off, anyway. Unless I decided Princess Penelope was the type of character who would wear high-tops. You never knew. As I portrayed her, she might be. “I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

When we got into Room 209 after lunch break, the mood of the class was somber. You could tell everyone had noticed Sophie hadn’t come back from lunch.

“Well, class,” Mrs. Hunter said, coming to the front of the room. “It appears that Sophie Abramowitz won’t be able to perform tonight as Princess Penelope, and we’re going to need to replace her part. Is there anyone here who thinks she knows her lines well enough to—”

Even before the words were all the way out of Mrs. Hunter’s mouth, Cheyenne’s hand shot up into the air. Not to let her have the advantage, I put my hand in the air, too. Mrs. Hunter looked at both of us.

“Cheyenne and Allie, you both think you know all of Princess Penelope’s lines?”

Cheyenne put her hand down and turned in her chair to look at me. I would not be exaggerating if I said she was giving me the stare of death.

“I know Princess Penelope’s part cold, Mrs. Hunter,” Cheyenne said. “And furthermore, Dominique knows
my
part, the part of the compact fluorescent bulb fairy queen, cold, and can easily step into my place. Her part, as you know, has few spoken lines, and the lines she does have can easily be given to Marianne. Whereas I don’t imagine anyone here knows all of
Allie’s
lines.” Cheyenne’s tone implied that no one would
want
to bother memorizing the evil queen’s lines.

And basically, she was right.

I glanced desperately at Mrs. Hunter. Surely she would say, “Actually, Cheyenne,
I
know Allie’s part, and I’ll be happy to play the evil queen so that Allie can play Princess Penelope, because she is such a better and more talented actress than you, and we all want her and not you to play the part of the princess. So just pipe down.”

Only Mrs. Hunter didn’t say that. She looked over at me and asked, “Well, Allie? Is there anyone you can think of who would be willing to take the part of the evil queen?”

In the last row, where I sat, both Stuart Maxwell and Rosemary swiveled in their chairs to face me, their faces masks of astonished betrayal.

“You
can’t
quit playing the evil queen to play the stupid princess,” Rosemary hissed down the row at me. “That part is so dumb! You’re so funny as the evil queen!”

“Yeah,” Stuart whispered. “And besides, princesses stink!”

And Patrick, down at the very end of our row, leaned forward to whisper, “Who’ll help me with my lines if you’re not around as the queen? Huh? Who?”

Beside me, Joey made growling noises, a clear indication he was just upset in general.

Blinking, I put my hand down. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Cheyenne was right. The evil queen
did
have a lot of lines…and of course, there wasn’t anyone who knew them all and could—or wanted to—take over my part. It didn’t look like Mrs. Hunter wanted to.

And so it seemed as if I was stuck playing Queen Melissa the Maleficent, whether I wanted to or not. Story of my life.

“That’s okay,” I said to Mrs. Hunter, even as I saw all my Hollywood dreams slipping down the drain. “Cheyenne can have the part. I’ll just go on playing Queen Mel—I mean, the evil queen.”

“Well,” Mrs. Hunter said, “that’s settled, then. Why don’t we turn our attention to social studies.”

So. It was over. I was just going to be plain old Allie Finkle—not Allie Finkle, Superstar, or Allie Finkle, Best Actress in a Starring Glamorous Role—forever. Would no one ever recognize that there was princess potential in me? Or was I going to be stuck being the evil queen—what Uncle Jay called a character role—for all time?

And okay, it was nice that I was able to make kindergartners and my friends and the boys in the last row of Room 209 laugh.

But it would have been nice to have had my princess power recognized for once.

And now Cheyenne—bratty, horrible
Cheyenne
—was going to get what she wanted.
Again.

And the worst part was, I could see her sitting over there looking all pleased with herself, passing notes with M and D. She really was going to turn into an evil queen—an
actual one
, who went around murdering anyone prettier than her—if this kept up. Cheyenne
always
got what she wanted…high-heeled zip-up boots, pierced ears, hundred-dollar amethyst earrings, the most expensive costume, and now the lead in the play…

But wait.

Wait a minute.

She didn’t
have
to get this. Not if I had any say in it.

Because even though no one wanted me to
play
a princess, that didn’t mean I couldn’t
act
like one.

Or rather, like a queen.

I knew how to do the queenly thing and save the day. I guess I’d known it all along.

And when you know the right thing to do, you have to do it. That’s a rule.

Yes. It really
was
all up to me.

I guess I’d always known, in the end, that it would be.

Which was how, after school, instead of going straight at the stop sign, I convinced Erica to turn down Caroline’s street. And we all three of us walked to Sophie’s house and knocked.

“Oh, hello, girls,” Sophie’s mom said when she came to open the door. Sophie’s mom was working on her PhD, so as usual, she was dressed in sweats and had a pencil stuck haphazardly into her hair. “Did you come to check on Sophie? Isn’t that sweet of you. She’s feeling a bit better. She’s up in her room. Why don’t you go up to see her?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Abramowitz,” we said, and ran up the stairs to Sophie’s room.