Take Two (15 page)

I put away my school stuff as the final dismissal bell rang. Time to go into extracurricular mode.

I shifted some books to the side and then realized something. Oh, no! I was supposed to go to my “slave shift” under the stage, but I'd forgotten to bring spare clothes. I looked down at my outfit.

Silky pale green tank
(Summer Slave clothes)

White hoodie
(An Emma-purchase during twin switch from the mall)

My favorite skinny jeans

Some of my favorite clothes! Clothes that would be totally ruined under the stage! Destroyed!

I leaned against my locker and groaned. My clean, organized locker. I stood up straight as I realized something. Just like Emma had my locker combination, I had the combination to her locker. And Emma always had backup everything. Calculators, pencils, and . . . clothes! Emma-clothes, which meant that I wouldn't have to worry about getting them dirty!

If Emma could go into my locker without permission then it was my turn. (Okay, she was in mine to help me, and I was in hers to steal and ruin her clothes but . . . anyway.)

I twirled her lock and opened her locker. And there, shelved under the section “Miscellaneous” that she'd marked with her label maker, was a bag of clothes. Score! I looked inside. Apparently, I'd be wearing a
CALCULUVS
! shirt and some gray sweats. Whatever.

It wasn't like anyone saw me under the stage, I thought as I walked to the stage basement. Or heard me, or even pretty much knew I existed under there. Okay, yeah. I'd been feeling sorry for myself ever since I saw everyone from Drama getting together without me. Tess had told me that Mrs. Burkle had given them a pass to rehearse together.

I climbed down the ladder to the stage basement and looked around. Today I was supposed to organize five bajillion lightbulbs into the right boxes. Fun!

I could hear the play rehearsal start upstairs.

I heard Sydney say, “‘I'm Glinda, the Good Witch of the North.'”

Tess, as Dorothy, was saying, “‘But witches are old and ugly! You can't be a witch! I've never heard of a beautiful witch before, like you are.'”

Ugh, ugh. I should have brought my iPod so I could block out hearing Tess tell Sydney she was beautiful.

“‘Oh, but only bad witches are ugly,'” Sydney said, reciting her line.

I know someone who is ugly on the
inside
, I thought bitterly. I put a lightbulb away so hard I broke it. Oops.

Okay, I needed to chill. I couldn't let my jealousy and leftoutedness turn me into a witch, too. I continued to listen to everyone reading their lines as I put lightbulbs into little boxes. I'd heard the play so many times now, I practically had it memorized. I started to recite the lines along with everyone.

“‘We're off to see the Wizard!'” I sang along. “‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz!'”

Ah, it would be so fun to be an actress. As I boxed bulbs, I imagined being a famous actress onstage. I daydreamed about being in the play, and having someone discover me. Like, a talent scout from Broadway! (Okay, I can't really sing but in my daydreams I could.)

And the talent scout would come watch our school play and would make it a point to tell Mrs. Burkle that he had spotted the newest, hottest, undiscovered raw talent.

And Burkle would gasp and say,
“Who?”

And the agent would say:
“Payton Mills!”

“Payton! Payton Mills!”

I blinked myself out of my daydream. Because someone was really calling my name!

The trapdoor was open, and Zahra, the high school helper, peered in.

“Payton!” she said. “Mrs. Burkle said to tell you someone is here asking for you.”

I had the sudden crazy thought that it was a Broadway talent scout. Of course, that couldn't be possible! I wasn't even onstage! But maybe it was someone exciting! I was slightly dazed as I climbed up the ladder to see who was here for me.

I climbed up onto the stage, and waiting for me backstage was—one of Emma's tutor twins. Oh. I slumped a little bit.

“Payton!” he said, running up to me.

“Jason? Mason?” I peered at him closely.

“Mason,” he said. “Honest. I'll tell you a secret trick. I have a freckle on my belly and Jason doesn't.”

He showed me, proudly.

“Mason.” I sighed. “Am I supposed to babysit you again today?”

“Nope,” he said. “Nick is! Nick said I could help him backstage with the lighting! I get to blink the lights on. And off. And on! And off—”

“I got it,” I said. “Well, that's cool. Why did they call me?”

“I asked Burkle where you were,” he said. “She said you were cleaning under the stage and then she asked me to get you. She says you're needed.”

“Really? Is that true?” I asked him.

“Payton Mills, this way!” Burkle's voice boomed across the stage. “I need another live body to help out onstage today.”

“I gotta go,” Mason said. “Nick said I could help with props. I don't know what props are, but I'm gonna help!”

He went off one way, and I went off to see Mrs. Burkle.

“A couple of people had to leave early for choir, so you can help out in the show,” Mrs. Burkle said.

Yay! Even if I was just filling in, it was still my stage debut! Unfortunately, I was wearing Emma's
CALCULUVS
! shirt and her sweats, but I wasn't going to complain! I followed Burkle onstage. There was Tess and . . . Ah. Reilly.

“Please go over by Reilly,” Mrs. Burkle said.

“Hi, Payton,” Reilly said.

Ahhhh. Starry-eyed, I went to stand near Reilly. I wondered what part I was going to be playing.

“Hmm. Payton, hold your arms out to the side,” Mrs. Burkle said.

I held my hands out, like a scarecrow. But Reilly was playing The Scarecrow, so I still didn't know what I was doing.

“Nick, how does Payton look?” Mrs. Burkle called from offstage, where Nick and Mason were standing.

How did I look? I saw some of the cast in the audience seats start cracking up at that. I blushed. What was he supposed to say?
Fine? She's kinda cute?

“Lopsided,” Nick said.

WHAT?

People really laughed hard now.

“Her hand needs to be a little higher for the apples to go past without hitting,” Nick said. He walked over and gestured for me to raise my right hand.

“Nick,” I whispered. “What am I supposed to be?”

“The tree,” he said. “There's a scene where a creepy tree throws apples at The Scarecrow, The Tin Man, and Dorothy when they're walking down the path to scare them away.”

I'm a creepy tree?

“I'm making a tree with a device that throws apples,” he said. “Don't worry, they're just plastic fake apples. We're working on stage props this week.”

I'm not even a person? I'm a stage prop???

“Perfect!” Mrs. Burkle said. “Let's do the scene. Nick, just launch the apples for now until we get the real tree built.”

They're launching apples at me? Nick and Mason went over to some lever/pulley thing.

“Okay, Mason,” I heard Nick say. “When I say, launch . . .”

“Bombs away!” Mason clapped his hands, happily.

“Action!” Mrs. Burkle called out.

So I stood there like a tree as Tess, Reilly, and the boy playing The Tin Man walked up to me.

“‘I think we're lost,'” said Tess/Dorothy.

“Launch!” I heard Nick whisper.

Suddenly a plastic apple flew over my shoulder and landed in front of Tess/Dorothy.

“‘Who threw that?'” The Tin Man asked. “‘Who-who's there?'”

They looked around dramatically.

“‘That tree is really creepy,'” Reilly said, pointing to me.

Reilly just called me a creepy tree. This was humiliating. This was my stage debut? I slumped my shoulders in defeat. And then—

OW!

“Whoops!” Mason yelled. “You moved your arm! I didn't know you were going to move!”

The plastic apple that nailed me rolled noisily off the stage. People were roaring now.

“Payton, are you okay?” Mrs. Burkle asked. “I'm sorry, maybe that wasn't the best idea. Nick, move a chair over to
where Payton's standing and use that as your tree. We'll just make do for now. Payton, I'm sorry to have called you up here. We're fine without you.”

I was being replaced by a chair.

They were fine without me.

I went back to the basement, in utter defeat. I looked around. It looked as clean as my Emmafied locker. I had to admit, I made a good Drama slave—erm, school service worker. I'd swept, scrubbed, and decluttered. And the basement makeover was complete.

Now what?

I pulled out my cell phone and texted Emma.

Emma's response:

I texted: