Mia the Melodramatic (7 page)

I sat down on the steps behind the stage and peered into a hand mirror. Half of my smile was pointing up and the other half had been smeared into a frown. It’s a wonder the kids didn’t flee in terror at the sight of me.

I’d just filled in the last of my smile with bright red face-paint when the little red hen and her lazy friends filed off the stage, tripping over me as they clambered down the steps.

Henry motioned at me and said, “Get back out there, Mia.”

“They’re already done?”

He shrugged. “What do you expect, Shakespeare? They’re only kindergartners. They each say a couple of lines and that’s it.”

“But what do I do now?” I asked helplessly.

“You sing a song and then introduce the next show.” He looked at a sheet of paper. “It’s called,
The Land of the Elves.”

“But what song should I sing?”

“How should I know? Do you think I actually pay attention to any of this stuff? Just sing any song you know, but unless you get the kids to move around, they’ll be too restless during the next play.”

I ran out onto the stage and faced the audience of kids—they
were definitely getting a little squirmy. Using my best babysitting voice, I said, “All right, everyone, stand up. We’re going to sing a song.”

As the kids climbed up onto their feet, my brain began racing.
What song do I know? Oh no, I can’t think of any songs. Quick, what was the last song I heard on the radio? Think!
My mom, tuned to an oldies station, was listening to some song from the ’80s that’s also on her aerobics DVD. It had something to do with celebrating... Kids like celebrating, don’t they? What was that song? Just as I was about to flee backstage, inspiration hit and I started singing.

“There’s a party goin’ on right here, a celebration to last throughout the years.
”

The kids simply stared at me. Maybe I didn’t have enough enthusiasm. I started clapping my hands, shuffling my feet, and singing even louder.

“So bring your good times, and your laughter too. We gonna celebrate your party with you. Come on now.
” I motioned for the audience to wave their hands in the air. “Celebration.
Let’s all celebrate and have a good time.
Celebration.
We gonna celebrate and have a good time.”

The kids and their parents hesitantly started following my motions. Taking that as a good sign, I improvised some more hand gestures.

“It’s time to come together. It’s up to you. What’s your pleasure? Everyone around the world, come on.”

I pumped my fist in the air and shouted, “
Wah-hoo! It’s a celebration. Wah-hoo!”

Getting into it, I cheered, “Come on, kids! Sing with Playhouse Pal.” I waved my arms in the air. “Celebration.
Let’s all celebrate and have a good time.
Celebration.
We gonna celebrate and have a good time.
”

I sang at the top of my lungs as I rotated my arms in front of me.
“We’re gonna have a good time tonight. Let’s celebrate. It’s all right, baby.
”

“Let’s hear you now!” I put my hand to my ear.
“We’re gonna have a good time tonight. Let’s celebrate. It’s all right, baby!”

I spun around to add a little spice to my routine and saw Zoë, Henry, and Eric staring at me with the most unusual expressions on their faces. Thinking I needed to wrap it up, I pumped my fist one last time to end the song.
“Wah-hoo!”

I motioned for the kids to settle back down. “Now, I want you all to sit back and get ready to watch
The Land of the Elves
!”

The audience applauded and I ran backstage beaming. I wasn’t half-bad at this clown thing.

Zoë grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “What is wrong with you?”

I looked at Eric and Henry for support, but they were too busy convulsing in laughter.

“What did I do?”

“Playhouse Pal doesn’t sing Kool and the Gang,” Zoë replied. “She sings songs like ‘Do Your Ears Hang Low?,’ ‘The Hokey Pokey,’ and ‘John Jacob Jingle Heimer Schmidt!’”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” I sputtered. “Henry just told me to sing a song to get the kids moving. I thought I did a pretty good job.”

“Man, I needed that,” Henry said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I haven’t laughed so hard since I saw Eric wearing tights in
Robin Hood
last year.”

“Hey!” Eric said, pushing him. “What do you mean? I looked good in those tights!”

“You looked like the Jolly Green Giant,” Henry said, bursting out in laughter again.

Zoë shook her head in disgust and started walking back to the other side of the Play Wagon.

“What should I sing next?” I called.

“How about something from
Flashdance
?” Eric said. “That was big in the ’80s.” He sang in a falsetto voice,
“What a feeling
...”

“No, make it something from Madonna,” Henry said, dancing suggestively.
“Like a virgin, touched for the very first time
...”

Zoë rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

A
t the end of the day, I wearily pedaled my bike into the garage and trudged into the house. Who would have guessed that acting happy all day could be so exhausting? And that wasn’t even the half of it. In addition to my clown duties, I found out I was also responsible for helping to set up the show wagon, unload the set, prepare the stage, and make sure all the props were in the right place. And then I had to do it all over again for the next round of shows. After the fifth park, I was ready to keel over. I definitely wasn’t built for a life of hard labor.

Too tired to make it to my room, I stumbled into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to Chris.

“You stink,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “And what’s that white stuff on your chin? Are you foaming at the mouth?”

“It’s Noxzema.” I wiped off the cold cream I must have missed earlier. “I used it to get the clown makeup off my face.”

A wide grin spread across Chris’s face. “You were Playhouse Pal today?”

“Go ahead and make all the jokes you want, because I’m too tired to fight back,” I said, leaning my head against the couch cushion and closing my eyes.

“Let me get this straight—you were a clown? Like, you got all dressed up in a clown suit, painted your face, and sang songs in front of an audience?”

I kept my eyes closed. “You got it.”

“How’d you manage that? Mom’s got plants more exciting than you.”

“Is that the best you can do?”

“Hold on! I’m just warming up. I got it.” Chris snapped his fingers and said, “You couldn’t be a clown because you’re so boring, even your dreams have Muzak.”

I yawned loudly.

“How about this?” Chris said, furrowing his eyebrows together. “Your brain is two clowns short of a circus.”

“Keep going,” I said. “Get it out of your system.”

“Jeez, if you’re not even going to try and fight back,” Chris said as he stood up, “I’m leaving.”

I smiled and stretched out on the couch, taking up the spot Chris had vacated. There was nothing better than making Chris crazy. And he was only going to get crazier. He might think I’d forgotten how he’d shredded all of Tim’s e-mails, but I hadn’t. And when he brushed his teeth tonight with the green dye-infused mint toothpaste I’d created earlier this morning, we would finally be even.

I was just about asleep with the thought of Chris’s new mossy smile playing in my head, when my mom walked into the room. “Oh good, you’re home. I can’t wait to hear all about your day.”

“I can’t talk. I’m too tired.”

“Nonsense. How tired can you be? You have the best job in the world,” she said, pushing my legs off the couch and propping me into a sitting position. “Now, go get washed up. It’s time for dinner.”

“I’m too tired to eat.”

“Then I guess you’re too tired to read the e-mail Tim sent you today.”

My eyes flipped open.

“Go read your e-mail, but hurry.” Mom patted me on the leg as she left the room. “The tater tot casserole is ready, and I don’t want it to get cold.”

I grimaced. There was nothing worse than my mom’s tater tot
casserole, except for my mom’s tater tot casserole after it had been sitting out for ten minutes.

I ran to the computer and logged on.

I’d been waiting three days for that? I’d cried myself sick over our relationship, but Tim hadn’t given it a second thought. Life was so not fair. Here I was, working myself to death while Tim was out sailing the ocean blue. This summer trip to visit his grandparents had turned out to be very convenient for Tim—he’d simply traded in one neighbor girl for another. And how wonderful for him—this one’s parents even owned a sailboat!

Not bothering to respond, I deleted his message and went to the kitchen to choke down tater tots already congealing in cream of mushroom soup.

The next week flew by, one day blurring into the next. I’d been grounded because of my toothpaste transgression, so all I did for the next four days was wake up, ride my bike to work, climb into my
Playhouse Pal costume, put on my makeup, set up and take down the Play Wagon five times in a row, get out of my costume, wipe off my makeup, ride home, laugh at Chris’s stained teeth—which had strangely turned a weird shade of puce—and then collapse.

But after a weekend of doing nothing but sleeping, I was refreshed and ready to tackle my Tim troubles. It had been six days since I’d heard from Tim, and his lack of e-mails was desperately crimping my strategy of playing hard to get. After all, it’s awfully difficult to be elusive when no one’s even trying to catch you in the first place.

At first, I was convinced the absence of Tim e-mails were just another one of Chris’s pranks. But after I threatened to sabotage his acne cream, Chris swore he had nothing to do with my empty inbox, and I accepted the truth: Tim had simply forgotten about us. And now it was up to me to take matters into my own hands. After all, I’d never let Tim get the best of me in the past, and I wasn’t going to let him do it now. There was no way I was going to let him string me along if he was swapping spit with Popeye the Sailing Woman.

I took a deep breath and wrote:

Then, before I could change my mind, I hit send.

I was just about to log off when my computer chimed, alerting me I had an e-mail. I looked at Tim’s return address in disbelief. Here I’d waited all week for him to contact me, and the second I give him an
ultimatum, he’s suddenly the Speedy Gonzales of e-mail.

I bit my lip. Did I dare open it? What if he said we were off? Did I really want to know? Maybe it was better living my life in uncertainty... No, it wasn’t. I had to know right now, no matter how painful it was.

Closing my eyes, I clicked on his reply. Then, slowly cracking open one of my scrunched eyelids, I read,

I wilted in my chair as relief washed over me. I couldn’t believe I’d let my imagination get the best of me just because Tim hadn’t e-mailed for a few days. I mean, we were Mia and Tim. Nothing could break us up. I sat up in my chair as a smile stretched so far across my face that it hurt. Quickly, I typed: