Cloudy with a Chance of Boys Part 10

We could hear Scott Towel's voice say, "My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, To smooch that rough touch with a tender kiss."

"Smooch? He said 'smooch.' Was he supposed to say 'smooch'?" I asked.

Alex rubbed her forehead like it hurt her head to listen. "No, it's 'smooth.' Smooth. I don't know why he's messing up like this."

"Good pilgrim, your hand is wrong, wait, good pilgrim, your wrong hand is, uh! I give up," we heard Jayden say.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much!" said an exasperated Alex. "What's so hard about that?"

"Everything," said Joey.

"How can they screw this up so bad?" Alex asked. "This is a disaster. Even Scott keeps messing up. Can't anybody in Drama Club act anymore?"

"The Nurse is funny," said Joey.

"Yeah, she's the only good one. And that was supposed to be my part. What is my problem? Maybe I should have stuck it out."

"Maybe it's not too late," I suggested. "Maybe there's still a part -"

"Shh!" said Alex. "Mr. Cannon's yelling. I want to hear."

"People, people. What is going on today? Scott, your delivery's flat. Jayden, you're tripping over your own tongue. You could try practicing simple tongue twisters. It's a great vocal warm-up exercise to help with Shakespeare."

"But I don't even get what half of it means." Jayden.

"Sure you do. Romeo is laying eyes on Juliet for the first time. I'm sure you've heard of love at first sight? He's blown away by her beauty. He feels unworthy of her love. Let the feelings come, and the words will follow."

"But why does she call him a pilgrim? Did they even have Thanksgiving back then? And why does she keep talking about hands and stuff?" Jayden again.

Mr. Cannon. "'For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.' Now you try. Don't look at the script right now. Just try to feel the words inside you."

"For saints have hands like pilgrims, palm by palm by palm holy kiss."

"Let's move on. I want to get to the end of this scene. Romeo? 'Have not saints lips.'"

Alex mouthed the words, motioning to us to keep quiet. Scott Towel. "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too?"

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer," Alex whispered, her eyes closed.

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in . . . Ping-Pong?" Jayden.

"You should have been Juliet," said Joey. "Not her."

"Take five, people. We'll pick it back up with Benvolio."

"Oh holy of holies," said Joey, imitating Juliet. "Kiss thy pilgrim hand and smooch thy pilgrim lips."

"Even Joey is better than Jayden," I said.

Just then, the monitor crackled and the voices got louder. "Shh! It's them!" said Alex. "Scott and Jayden! They must be standing right next to the monitor."

"I hope they don't look behind the curtain," said Joey.

"My fault? All I did was say 'smooch.'" Scott.

"Yeah, no wonder I was thrown off." Jayden.

"My bad. I make one mistake. You're not even making sense." Scott.

"Can I help it if Juliet talks in tongue twisters?" Jayden again.

"You're supposed to read all your lines the night before so this doesn't happen. We sound like idiots out there. I don't know why Mr. Cannon . . ." His voice trailed off.

"Why Mr. Cannon what?" Alex practically screamed.

"Oh, don't even go there. Look, I'm Juliet. Not her." Jayden.

"Who her?" Scott.

"She's talking about me!" said Alex.

"Alex Reel. Who else?" Jayden.

Alex turned to look at me, her eyes wide as dinner plates.

"Hey. This isn't about her." Scott.

"Oh, isn't it? Little Miss Woe Is Me I Can't Be in the Play If I'm Not the Lead. She's been the lead in every play since, like, the third grade." Jayden.

"Second grade," said Alex.

"At least Alex Reel takes it seriously. At least she knows her lines. Look. Just forget her, okay?" Scott.

"I will if you will."

"What a snot," said Alex. "Go back to The Princess Diaries," she called.

"Who says -" Scott Towel.

"Oh, come on. Don't even try to lie. You wish Alex got the part, don't you? Just say it." Jayden.

Silence. Static.

"Say yes, say yes," said Alex, crossing her fingers.

"Well, I'm sick of her! 'Ooh, I'm so pretty with my big green eyes' and 'Ooh, I'm so into Shakespeare' and 'Ooh, I've known all the lines since I was, like, four.' Well, guess what? Mr. Cannon didn't pick her. He picked me. Deal with it." Jayden.

Alex leaned back on her feet. "I so do not sound like that," she said.

Crackle, crackle. Static. White noise.

Alex shook the monitor. "Hey, what's happening to this thing? Don't break on me now."

"Yeah, crackle, well, crackle, that was in a lake." Scott.

"And guess what else? You're going to be kissing me, Romeo, not Alex Reel." Jayden.

The monitor crackled again.

"We'll cheese a snack." Scott.

Joey looked at me. I looked at Joey. We both looked at Alex. "Did he just say 'that was in a lake'?" I asked.

"And 'we'll cheese a snack'?" Joey asked. Joey and I busted up laughing. I snorted, and Joey held her sides like they hurt.

"I hope he said, 'That was a mistake.' You know, like he thinks picking Jayden was a mistake. And the second part was, maybe, 'I'll be right back.' No wait, I think it was, 'We'll see about that.'"

"Wow," Joey said. "You're like a master spy who cracked the code."

"Yeah," I said to Alex. "Who knew? You speak Scott Towel!"

On Sat.u.r.day, I came downstairs from reading in bed till almost noon, my favorite weekend thing. It's rare in our house to have a quiet Sat.u.r.day morning, and usually Joey jumps on my bed, waking me up by eight o'clock. (Unless Sir Croaks-a-Lot beats her to it.) Today, I hated to leave the warmth of the covers.

I thought I smelled something cooking . . . or was it burning? Maybe it was just the wintry smell of wood smoke from neighboring chimneys. Whatever it was, it did not smell like breakfast.

In the kitchen, Mom had zucchini littered all over the table and countertops and she was talking out loud to herself.

"What's with the zucchini factory, Mom?"

"Stevie, honey, I'm so glad you're here. I need your help."

"Where is everybody?"

"They're all next door at the theater. Something about a trap door in the floor? Dad wanted to show Joey, and Alex went too."

"So you started talking to zucchini?"

"Of course not. Just thinking aloud. I'm trying to come up with a recipe for next week's show. They want me to do a show on healthy foods for kids. So I'm working on a way to get kids to eat zucchini."

"You're going to need a magician to get kids to eat zucchini, Mom. The Nutrition Magician!" I couldn't help cracking up at my own joke.

"The Nutrition Magician?"

"Don't ask. He came to our school to give an a.s.sembly. It's a long story."

"Well, I'm no magician, but I thought I'd try out a recipe for zucchini-crust pizza. But as you can see, this one came out with a lake in the middle - see how soggy it is? And this one fell apart completely."

Mom exhaled loudly, wiping her hands down the sides of her jeans and plopping into a chair. "I just have to sit for a minute. Would you mind grating the rest of this zucchini?"

My mom is an actress turned chef. A.k.a. Fondue Sue. She has a cooking show (even though she's the world's worst cook). She recently graduated from Hamburger Helper to Tuna Helper, but it still tasted like tofu. And her chicken Kiev, well, let's just say it should go back to Ukraine.

I started grating.

"So, what's new, kiddo?" Mom asked.

I paused. "Is this about detention?" I asked.

"Did I say detention?" Mom asked, holding up her hands defensively.

"Mom, don't worry. It was no big deal. Honest. Olivia and I were just trying to be nice to some new kid, but we weren't supposed to be talking during an a.s.sembly." Grr. Grate, grate, grate.

"Well, that's good of you two. What's her name?"

"Um . . . well . . . actually, it's a him."

"A him, huh?" Mom said teasingly.

"It's not like that! Why does everybody - never mind." I pushed down on the zucchini and grated my knuckle instead. A little bubble of blood appeared.

"Youch. That hurt," I said, sucking on my thumb to stop the bleeding.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to tease. I didn't realize this was a sensitive topic. I know this is a tough age, honey, but -"

"Mom. Spare me. Not the 'tough age' speech. Can we just please not talk about this!" Sheesh. What was wrong with me? I was beginning to sound like Alex. And I was supposed to be the normal one. Middle child. Peacemaker.

"So. Any ideas for my zucchini pizza?" Mom asked, changing the subject.

"Maybe press all of the water out of the zucchini before you mix it up into the crust? And I would bake the crust by itself first, so it hardens, before you put the sauce and cheese and stuff on it."

"Good idea. I'll try that."

"Maybe turn the oven up, too. To four fifty?"

"Okay. Got it. Thanks."

Done grating, I set the grater down. There was an awkward pause, where the room felt too quiet.

"Well, I better go get a Band-Aid for my thumb."

"Are you sure everything's okay, honey?" Mom asked.

"I'm sure," I said, even though inside I felt a little shaky.

Upstairs, the house was quiet. It was rare to have the house (almost) to myself. I walked past Alex's room on my way to the medicine cabinet. I paused, listened. Just familiar kitchen sounds, of Mom opening cupboards, running water, clinking dishes.

Without thinking, I ducked into Alex's room and hurried over to her dresser. Before I even realized what I was doing, I yanked open the third drawer, rifled through her pile of T-shirts, and dug out the black shirt. The one. The one Joey and I had discovered the other day.

Grabbing the shirt, I peered out the doorway of her room, looking both ways down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. Then I quickly rushed into my room and shut the door.