The Talent Show (15 page)

The crowd erupted in a huge round of applause. It wasn't for The BluffTones. It was for
him
. Don
had never felt so
alive
. He made a deep bow and pulled open the curtain.

Paul took a deep breath and looked out at the audience. He spotted his father in the fifth row and winked at him. Then he looked at his bandmates, nodded his head, and began to sing.

Stacy's mom has got it going on …

Stacy's mom has got it going on …

For a moment, the audience just sat there, confused.
That's not “Wipeout”!
Everybody knows “Wipeout” starts with a drum solo.

Stacy can I come over after school.

We can hang around by the pool …

And then, as the judges finally realized what was happening, Reverend Mercun tried to get up from his seat and stop the song. Mayor Rettino put her arm up to grab his jacket, and he sat back down. Looking around, he could see that heads in the audience were bobbing up and down, toes were tapping, and some kids were even dancing in the aisles. Reverend Mercun sat stone-faced until the song was over.

I know it might be wrong but I'm in love with Stacy's mom.

Paul and The BluffTones took a quick bow and hustled off the stage as if they had a plane to catch.

“Ha!” Paul yelled to the rest of the band as they slapped one another on the back. “That'll show 'em!”

“Do you think we'll get kicked out of school?” Victor asked. But Paul couldn't hear him because the cheering was so loud. He had never had so much fun in his life.

The BluffTones had played the forbidden “Stacy's Mom,” and the world hadn't fallen off its axis. No innocent children were corrupted. Life went on.

Mrs. Marotta went out to center stage.

“Well, that was … a surprise,” she said.

She introduced the remaining acts one at a time. Some of them were flat-out terrible. Others that started with next to nothing at their audition came together, and some were surprisingly good. But all of them, even the worst performers, had a feeling of accomplishment when it was
over. They had stepped up on a stage and sang, danced, pounded a garbage can, or did
something
they weren't used to doing. It takes courage for anybody to do that.

And each of those kids, having faced that challenge and overcome it, was a stronger person after it was all over. The entire Cape Bluff community could feel it as they rose to give one more round of applause to the kids. They knew that if you can face one challenge, you're better equipped to handle the next one. Those kids had pulled the whole town together.

When the last act had left the stage, Mayor Rettino, Principal Anderson, and Reverend Mercun put their heads together and discussed their scores in whispered voices. While they were working on their decision, Honest Dave climbed up on the stage with a bouquet of flowers and presented it to Mrs. Marotta as a gift for all the hard work she had put into making the talent show a success. The only thing that could have made it better, he said, would have been if Elke Villa had been able to sing.

Involuntarily, the audience turned around and looked at the back door, as if it was about to open
and Elke would walk in. But the door remained stubbornly shut.

The three judges were taking a long time to reach a decision. The audience was buzzing with people trying to predict the winner. Most of them seemed to think it was between Julia, the ballet dancer, and Raccoon, the rapper. The BluffTones might have won, but they probably disqualified themselves by playing “Stacy's Mom.” Of course, there was always the chance that the judges would pick Jimmy the violin player or even The Drumming Gorillas. There was some casual betting going on within the crowd.

“Julia! Julia! Julia!” some of the girls started to chant.

“Raccoon! Raccoon! Raccoon!” countered some of Raccoon's friends.

“
All
of these kids are winners if you ask me,” Mrs. Marotta said, holding her fingers in a
V
to quiet the crowd. “But judges, have you reached a decision?”

“We have,” said Mayor Rettino.

“And what have you decided?”

“The winner of the Cape Bluff Elementary School's talent show is … Don Potash!”

Well, Don Potash just about passed out. He wasn't even supposed to be
in
the talent show, but his comedy routine turned out to be the winner.

Honest Dave went over and handed Don the keys to the Hummer. A bunch of boys picked Don up and carried him around the auditorium like he was a king. It had been some night.

But it wasn't over yet.

Avis Is Not Gonna Be Happy

Seconds after Justin Chanda pulled the Prius convertible off Interstate 44, he spotted something out the corner of his eye—a funnel-shaped cloud.

“Holy—”

He had seen one tornado in his life, as a young boy. It had touched down briefly in the outskirts of Cape Bluff, but didn't do much damage before moving on. This one looked bigger, darker, more dangerous. Or maybe it just seemed that way because he was older now, and had more to lose.

The tornado looked like it was about a mile away, hovering over the center of the town, not moving left or right. After he got past his initial
surprise, Justin quickly went into survival mode and began to formulate a strategy.

He looked in the rearview mirror. There was no way to turn around and get back on the highway. All the cars were heading the other direction, jamming the ramp onto the I-44.

He pounded the steering wheel.
I never should have pulled off the highway,
he scolded himself.
I should have gone straight to the airport.

He also kicked himself for not checking the weather report before he left. But it wouldn't have made a difference anyway. Tornadoes sometimes just pop up out of nowhere without warning.

It was getting dark. Justin glanced at his watch. He didn't remember what time the talent show was supposed to begin.

It was starting to rain.
Why in the world did I rent a convertible?
he asked himself. One bad decision after another. There had to be a way to put the top up. Justin punched every button, twisted every dial, and pulled every lever he could reach. He did eventually find the latch that raised the hood. It went up about six inches and then stopped. Jammed.
Great
.

He flipped on the radio. Maybe it would tell
him which direction the tornado was heading. Static came out of the speakers. Ambulances and fire trucks were zipping by on both sides, sirens blaring. It was dangerous. Justin didn't want to take his eyes off the road to fiddle with the radio. He kept his hands on the wheel.

This could be a public relations disaster for me,
it occurred to him. If he drove in the opposite direction of the tornado and anybody found out, the press would say he was a coward. If he drove toward the tornado, the press would call him stupid. And if he got caught in the middle of the tornado, well, the press might call him dead.

Hmmm, dying might be a good career move,
he thought. Die young, leave a good-looking corpse. It worked for Elvis. He never got old. It worked for Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe—

No, don't be a fool.

Justin wasn't thinking straight. This was the time to make smart decisions. And the only choices were bad ones.

Looking in the distance, there was something almost
beautiful
about the tornado. It enveloped
the whole sky for miles, with a small whitish funnel hanging down and getting progressively narrower as it got closer to the ground. Power lines in the distance were sparking from the lightning strikes. It was mesmerizing. Justin found it hard to keep the car on the road, because he just wanted to stare at the sky.

The road, Pompton Turnpike, ran east-west alongside Cape Bluff. Justin didn't have a sense that he was driving toward the tornado, but it appeared to be slightly larger in his field of view.

He struggled to remember what he was told back in elementary school during all those tornado drills. If you see a twister in the distance and it's not moving to the right or left relative to trees or telephone poles, it may be moving toward you.

Great
.

If the tornado was moving toward him, it could be going as fast as seventy miles per hour. Or faster. It could catch him and sweep him up in its path.

He remembered one piece of advice he used to hear all the time. If you're in a car and you
see a tornado coming toward you, get
out
. Take shelter. It's tempting to try and outrun it, but a tornado can pick your car up like a Matchbox toy and heave it into the next county. The best thing to do is get out and lay in a ditch.

The average person will heed that advice. There are three kinds of people who won't. Really stupid people, for one. Crazy people, for another. And the third kind of person is someone who is wildly successful at everything they do.

Someone like Justin Chanda.

From a very early age, Justin seemed to lead a charmed life. He had never failed at anything important. He got rich and famous very quickly. Everything he ever tried worked out. Every risk he ever took paid off. He had no reason to think it would be any different now.

I can outrun a tornado,
he decided. Jamming his foot on the accelerator, he pushed it to the floor and the Prius bolted forward.

At the Villa house, the search party arrived with flashlights and axes. The house was fine. The tornado hadn't touched the block.

“Elke!” her father shouted desperately as he ran in the door. “You in here, sweetheart?”

No answer. Her bicycle wasn't in the garage either. Mr. Villa feared the worst. She was out on the street somewhere.

Meanwhile, Justin Chanda's speedometer had nosed past seventy miles per hour. Flecks of mud were hitting his windshield now, and slapping him in the face too. He fumbled for the wiper switch. He could see the tornado looming in all three of his rearview mirrors. It looked almost like it was following him.

There weren't many other drivers on the road, but the ones who were out there appeared to have forgotten everything they learned in driver's ed class. Red lights and stop signs no longer mattered. People were driving full throttle on sidewalks and even lawns. Nobody was using turn signals. Some of them were trying to get away from the path of the tornado. Others were crazies who liked to chase tornadoes and shoot video of them up close.

A blue SUV with some teenagers inside sideswiped Justin's Prius and then veered off into a fire hydrant, sending a geyser of water high in the
air. It was a free-for-all. Every man for himself. The few people outside were running for their lives. It was not a good night to be out on the streets.

A bolt of lightning lit up the sky. The wind was picking up. It was getting nasty. Justin tightened his grip on the steering wheel and squinted to see the road in front of him. His ears were popping from the change in air pressure. He told himself that he would gladly give up his gold records—
all
of them—to be in California right now. Back home, all he had to worry about were mudslides, wildfires, earthquakes, and agents. But not tornadoes.

He was doing eighty miles per hour in a thirty-five mile per hour zone, but the tornado was still closing from behind. Debris was flying around and slamming into the back of the Prius. He had to get off this road. Get indoors.

Justin made a screeching turn onto a local street, which forced him to slow down. He tried to remember his Cape Bluff geography.
Where's the old elementary school?
Everything looked so different. A lot can change in ten years. It was hard to read the street signs in the dark.

He was a few blocks from the school when he heard a roar and saw a pig—
a pig!
—come flying out of the sky and crash in the backseat of the Prius. He was chauffeuring a pig around! He almost wet his pants.

When he turned around to get a good look at the pig, the funnel was right behind the car. Debris was flying everywhere. The roar of the wind hurt his ears.

He stepped on the gas again, urging the little car to go faster. There was junk scattered all over the road. Justin prayed that he wouldn't run over anything sharp and pop the tires. That would be the end of this joyride.

Suddenly, he saw something at the side of the road that made him slam on the brakes. It was a bicycle. On top of the bicycle was a huge branch that had just about crushed it.

And next to the bike was a girl.

She was lying on her side, clutching her leg with one hand and a small dog with the other.

It was Elke.

She was crying and calling for help. The Prius screeched to a stop and Justin jumped out. He wasn't sure if he should pick her up. When people
get a spinal cord injury, he knew, it's important not to move them.

“Are you okay?” Justin shouted over the roar as he knelt over Elke. Her face was streaked with sweat, dirt, and tears. She held her dog tightly and nodded her head. The dog was soaking wet and looked terrified too.

Elke wiped her face with her sleeve, looked up at Justin, and a second or two later, her mouth dropped open.

“Aren't you … Justin Chanda?” she shouted. “The singer?”

“Yeah!”

“What are you doing
here
?”

“I was on my way to a talent show!” he shouted back.

“Me too!” yelled Elke. “I wanted to walk my dog Lucky first!”

“Come on, let's go together,” Justin shouted. “We'll bring your dog with us. Can you walk?”

“I don't think so,” Elke groaned, testing to see if she could put weight on her leg. “My leg might be broken.”

No time to think. He scooped her up in his
arms and carried Elke and Lucky to the Prius. The pig had already jumped out and was limping away. It had wisely decided that the backseat of a convertible was not the safest place to be in a tornado.