Take Two! (16 page)

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Authors: John J. Bonk

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“Okay. But why would I –”

“For telling Zack. That you called him sludge. Well, him and the Fireballs.” She was talking in camouflaged sound bites so
Lynch wouldn’t catch on. “You remember. At the Shedd?”

“Uh, kinda.”

“It sorta just slipped out. Zack’s my boyfriend now, so…”

Ouch!
Pepper gave me a constipated look from two rows down. She was right – Candy really
had
been drooling over that boneheaded Neanderthal the whole time. Candy went back to working on her report, nervously twisting
her tresses over one shoulder. The message that was suddenly revealed on the back of her shirt made the SLUDGE thing pretty
clear:

     
S
ports

     
L
overs

     
U
nite!

     
D
rama

     
G
eeks

Bit
E
!

Seems like the jocks had taken my snide remark and practically turned it into an all-out battle cry. Lynch was making a racket
rummaging through his supply closet and the printer was still coughing out page after page, so I took that opportunity to
drag Candy through the mud.

“Well, that was a chintzy thing to do, snitching on me like that,” I whispered. “You cheated on the acronym, by the way. ‘Drama
Geeks Bite’? Pretty slack. More like a slack-ronym.”

“Poetic license.”

“Yeah? Yours should be revoked.”

“C’mon, Dustin, don’t hate me.” She turned all the way around to face me. Her eyelids were hot pink to match her shirt. “Zack’s
dad is on a rampage – it was his idea to have the shirts printed up. He thinks the athletes really need to take a stand before
they all get swallowed up by the artsy-fartsy freaks. His words, not mine.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Hard to believe you got sucked in by that crowd.”

“Is it? Don’t you remember my nickname last year?” I tried to think, but drew a blank. I’d barely noticed her back then. “Stale
Candy. Well, look at me now. Suddenly I’m sitting at the cool girls’ table at lunch; suddenly I’m on the cheerleader squad
and dating the captain of the Fireballs. Suddenly I’m cashews, pecans, and almonds dipped in chocolate with a creamy caramel
center!”

She’s nuts all right
.

The room got quiet again. Lynch was back at his desk stapling stuff and undressing his cranberry muffin with his eyes – so
we had no choice but to get back to our aquarium reports. I made an executive decision right then to change my topic from
“Penguins: Just the Facts in Black and White” to

POISONOUS FROGS: THE PRETTIER,
THE DEADLIER!

Beware of the beautiful dart frogs! They may look real tasty, but looks can be
decieving
- deceiving. Their bright colors serve as a
warning to potential predators

The loudspeaker clicked on, derailing my train of thought, and Futterman’s voice came ringing through. “Sorry I’m late with
my morning announcements –
cough-cough
– but I’m battling a nasty head cold today. I spent the entire weekend searching for my dog in the freezing rain. Thankfully,
he’s home safe and sound.”

Shatzi! I’m glad he’s okay
.

“Let’s see, the first item on the agenda… the Slam-Dunk Basketball Tournament we were subbosed to be hosting at our school
this year will be held at Claymore Middle School in Lotustown again. Sorry, guys. No big explanation, except that our facilities
didn’t beasure up.”

“So it’s official!” Tyler blurted out through an eruption of moans and groans.

“Also, Coach Mockler will be on a short leave of absence starting – abbarently, last Wednesday.” A few kids gasped. “In the
beantime, Miss Blodget will be taking over his gym classes as well as the bractice sessions for the Fireballs.”

“That cow?” someone yelled. “No way!”

“We’re doomed!” Pig snarled, pounding his desk. The rest of the SLUDGE-wearers went ballistic. I’m talking booing, hissing,
and gnashing of teeth.

“People, people!” Lynch lurched. “I won’t have this behavior in my classroom!”

“Settle down, everyone,” Futterman said, as if he could magically hear the uproar too. “I’m sure this will all be worked out.
Eventually.” That brought things down to a simmering grumble. “Oh, just one bore thing. The Arts Committee has wrapped up
their final auditions at Fenton High, and the cast list for
Oliver!
will be posted ASA” –
gross, wet nose-blowing
– “P.”

Lynch was in a crabby mood for the rest of the day. And as if the war brewing around us wasn’t bad enough, he assigned us
four Civil War chapters to read for homework, plus a five-page essay of our choice on the Battle of Gettysburg, the Battle
of Fredericksburg, or the Battle of Shiloh. I guess that’s what they mean by picking your battles. Not very
civil
if you ask me. But I wasn’t about to let anything rain on my parade.
Not Lynch, not Candy, not the clump of SLUDGE-wearing Fireballs tearing up the school grounds at three-fifteen.

I hid behind the monkey bars until they dispersed, then sprinted all the way home. Perfect timing! I could hear our upstairs
kitchen phone ringing as I rumbled up the porch steps.

“Hello? Hello?” I was still panting like a choo-choo train when I answered it.

“Justine Grubbs?”

“Dustin Grubbs – yes, speaking!”

“Oh, that’s a
D?
This is Sylvia LeRoy from McKenna Casting, Inc. I’m afraid I have some bad news
.”

Chapter 16
Pande-phone-ium

WARNING: TITLE CHARACTER’S HEAD MAY EXPLODE DURING THE FOLLOWING TELEPHONE CONVERSATION. PLEASE PROCEED READING WITH EXTREME
CAUTION!

“Are you still there, Mr. Grubbs?”

“I’m here. Sorry, I just had to grab onto something.”

“Oh, uh-huh. I’m calling to acknowledge that we did receive your message earlier today about a scheduling conflict, but I’m
afraid… only one day of callbacks… October eighth.”

Shoot! It was that gray-haired lady whose voice always fades out.

“Excuse me? Only one day did you say?”

“Yes
.”

No!


The Stink-Zapper executives will be flying in… only going to
be here for just that one Saturday… final decision on casting their commercial
.”

“Oh, man.” I could barely speak – but I
had
to. “Well, do you think – can I maybe get an earlier time slot? It’s super-important or I wouldn’t even ask. See, my aunt
is getting married at two o’clock that day. I could still make it down to Chicago and back in time – but the trip takes a
couple hours, so any time before noon would work for me. Any time at all -ten, nine, eight, seven, six –”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible. We’re booked solid
.”

“But – then – can’t I just switch times with someone?”

“We make it a policy never to do that. These are professional… very busy lives… can’t just rearrange their schedules willy-nilly
.”

Freaking out on my end. Brain working a million miles a minute. Heart too.

“Hello? Mr. Grubbs
?”

“Umm. I could get, like, a written excuse from my mom, if you want – or my doctor. Or my priest! Whatever it takes.”

“We’re not running a grade school here, honey – although sometimes it seems like it. [BEEP]… the real world. Oh, I’m getting
another call. Can you hold for a sec?”

You’ve gotta be kidding me! It was the longest, gnarliest “sec” since the beginning of time. I kept pick-pick-picking at the
loose corner of the apple wallpaper border until it looked more like apple brown Betty.

“Sorry. It’s our busiest time of day… always happens. Now which agency did you say you were with again
?”

“Uh, I didn’t. No agency. Just me, Dustin Grubbs, remember?”

“Oh, right, of course. Yes, we’re going to need a definite answer from you before the week is out. If you can’t make it… us
know as soon as possible so we can arrange for another actor to fill your time slot, okay? [BEEP] Oh, I apologize, but I really
have to take this other [BEEP]…”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said all polite. “Thank you very much for –”

But she’d already hung up.

I slammed down the phone and shook my fists at the heavens. “This is not happening! This is totally whacked out!”

Why I started revving up the can opener on the kitchen counter after that is anybody’s guess – but I couldn’t stop. The
grrrrr
sound must’ve matched how I felt inside.
Okay, easy, cowboy. Just calm down. Aunt Olive would definitely understand if I skipped out on her wedding for something this
huge, right? Right. “Grrrrrrrr!” She’s a reasonable woman, right? Right. So just suck it up and lay it on the line
. I backed away from the can opener, turned to the sink, and splashed some cold water on my face.
You mean right now?
I asked myself.
The sooner the better
.

I meandered down the back steps with Cinnamon nudging my ankles from behind. Sometimes I wondered whether
that cat wasn’t really LMNOP in disguise. Aunt Olive was in the kitchen winding up a phone call of her own – to the bug man
no doubt.

“Thanks, Pookie Bear, for doing this. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” She dropped her volume way down when she saw Granny approaching.
“Yes, until tomorrow night then. I’ll miss you,” she cooed. “No, I’ll miss
you
more! No,
I’ll
miss –”

Granny grabbed the receiver from her and barked into it, “Meet my friend, Click!” and hung up the phone.

It was pretty funny, but I was too frenzied to laugh. My aunt didn’t get upset either – in fact, she seemed really excited
about something. “Oh, just the guy I’m looking for. Wait’ll I tell you – you’re gonna flip!”
My thoughts exactly
. She pulled me into the walk-in pantry to get out of earshot of Granny, and closed the door. “Now this doesn’t compare to
your TV commercial – not even close,” she said, opening a bag of Oreos and stuffing one into her mouth. “But I know from personal
experience –
crunch
– that nothing can beat the thrill of entertaining a live crowd.”
Crunch-crunch
. “Am I right? Cookie?”

“No.”

“No?” she asked, chewing.

“No to the cookie part.”
Just be direct. “Grrrr.”
“Listen, Aunt Olive, I have something really imp –”

“Your grandmother leaves these goodies lying around on
purpose like booby traps. For spite. She knows I still have a few more pounds to shed before the wedding.”

“Piece-a-cake.”

“Where?” Aunt Olive asked, scanning the shelves.

“I meant easy. But you know… if you changed it to a spring wedding, you’d have plenty of time to slim down. And there’d be
roses on that trellis out back instead of dead vines. Something to think about.”

So much for being direct.

“Don’t be silly, we couldn’t possibly postpone the date. The RSVPs have already been returned,” she said through chocolate-stained
teeth. “Not to mention nonrefundable deposits on the cake, and the caterers, and the priest –”

“People can be very understanding,” I lied. “Or you know what would be cool? Eloping! Flying off to Vegas and having, like,
an Elvis-themed wedding.”

I was definitely on a roll!

“Okay, now I know you’re razzing me. Being surrounded by family at my wedding means the world to me, you know that. I couldn’t
imagine getting married without seeing your smiling face – right there.” It got quiet for a minute. Aunt Olive hid the Oreos
behind a giant can of sunflower oil, then turned to me with sad eyes.
Not the sad eyes!
“You realize we’re not going to be seeing as much of each other anymore, you and I,” she whispered. “Not after I move away
to Hinkleyville.”

Ooh, didn’t see that one coming
. I almost launched into the auto-response of “Sure we will. You’ll visit us – we’ll visit you,” but I stopped myself. Even
if it turned out to be true, things were never going to be the same. She was dead right. In an awkward moment of not knowing
what to say I ripped into a nearby bag of minimarshmallows and shoved a fistful into my mouth.

“Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh! The promotion for my Dennis’s new business. He was going on about hiring an actor through
a talent agency to hand out fliers in a funny costume at the Hinkleyville Mall. Well, that set off a bell in my head! I told
him, ‘You call them right back and cancel, because I have the perfect guy for the job.’ So? Are you interested?”

“Oh, I don’t think I could –”

“It pays seventy-five bucks.”

“– pass up an opportunity like that. Thanks for pulling for me.”

Not exactly the acting role of a lifetime, but how could I say no? Aunt Olive grabbed a box of Ding Dongs off a shelf and
we were done. Mission aborted. I’d officially chickened out.

It’s not over till it’s over
, I told myself, leaving a marshmal-low trail on the way upstairs,
or until the fat lady sings
. But when I reached the top landing, “I’m getting married in the m
ooor
ning…” came wafting up in Aunt Olive’s wobbly soprano. It was a sign.

Operation desperation! There had to be another way.
Maybe I should tackle the whole thing from a different angle?
But there weren’t any more angles. I figured I’d call Dad -he’s always full of advice – he’d know what to do. But when I
picked up the phone again, my brother’s voice came squawking through the receiver.

“No, Becca, not the song from the karaoke bar. I just rocked out to a Foo Fighters tune – but they really ate it up. Yeah,
for real! They said they were lookin’ for a guy like me with a good strong voice who could –”

“Sorry, Gord, but you have to hang up right now. I’ve got a real emergency.”

“Get off the freakin’ phone, you nosy, little –”

Why can’t we have our own separate phone lines like civilized people? I had to regroup, organize my thoughts, and really kick
things into high gear. Desperate situations called for working things out with a pen and paper – for some reason that always
helped. So I made a mad dash to my room to equip myself with stationery, then hauled butt back downstairs again for a series
of frantic phone calls. Luckily, no one was hanging out in the kitchen and their telephone was
(whew!)
available.

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