“But that’s club day,” Danika said.
“I know. It’s just that this is something I have to do.”
“All right,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
I’m not as bad at singing as I thought I would be. At least that’s what Danika said, and she should know because she’s had singing lessons. She sings in front of people all the time.
“Are you sure about the song?” I asked.
“Positive. Look, it’s You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown, right?”
I nodded. I needed to hear this logic again.
“And all the characters in that play are kids, right?” she said.
“Well, Snoopy’s technically a dog,” I pointed out. I just felt like arguing. Maybe it would get me out of singing …
“Rubber Ducky’s the perfect song!” Danika threw her hands up in the air like she had just solved the world’s hunger crisis.
“For a Muppet!” I whined.
“Toni, trust me on this.” Danika put an encouraging hand on my shoulder. “You need to do something that will make you stand out. It’s like my voice coach always says: You don’t want to be forgettable.”
Danika made me sing that stupid song about twenty times before I went home. I had to sing while jumping rope, sing to a stuffed animal, sing at the top of the huge balcony that looks down on the McAllisters’ living room, and sing while playing some video guitar game down in the basement. “This way you’ll never forget the words. Plus, it makes your movements look a lot more natural,” she explained.
How can anyone look natural while singing, “You make bath time lots of fun” to a stuffed hippopotamus? But she’s right. I’ll never forget the words to Rubber Ducky.
I was hoping tryouts would be in the music room, but since some of the rented props for the musical have already arrived, they decided to have auditions onstage. I was relieved to see Mindi Stewart, a girl I’ve played club basketball with for about four years, looking over her sheet music on the stage near the piano.
“Hey, Mindi,” I said, trying to be casual and cool about the whole thing.
“Toni Diaz, are you serious?” Mindi smiled that huge smile she is famous for. She smiles when she fouls, when she gets fouled, and last year when she dislocated her finger she even came off the floor smiling at the fact that her finger was pointing in entirely the wrong direction. I needed that smile today.
“I’m trying out.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“Sa-weet! I didn’t know you did theater.”
“Neither did I.” I laughed. “I just need to try something new.”
“You’re going to love it!” Mindi smiled.
“Yeah. I’m really nervous,” I told her.
“Aw, I was, too, the first year. You want to know the secret?” she asked me.
I thought I knew this one. “Picture everyone in their underwear?”
“Ew, gross!” She giggled. “No, see, you don’t want your first time onstage to be just you, singing all alone. What you should do is find a place up here where you can sit unnoticed and be really close to the action. It’ll help a lot when it’s your turn.”
I looked around on the stage and noticed that Snoopy’s doghouse had already arrived. It had a flat roof, was hollowed out inside, and had white picket fencing attached on both sides.
“How about behind the doghouse?” I asked Mindi.
“That’s perfect!” Mindi said, and her smile lit the stage. It was a great plan. The first four kids who tried out were okay, but three of them sang the same song. I was beginning to see the wisdom in Danika’s advice to be unique.
The only problem with my location was that if I peeked over the top of the doghouse I could be seen, but from inside the doghouse I could only see shadows. Mindi was onstage next, and I really wanted to see everything that she did. I needed some ideas about how to move when it was my turn to sing.
I snuck out of the doghouse and crawled along behind the picket fence to a place that gave me a perfect view. About halfway through Mindi’s song my right leg, which I had been squatting on, fell asleep. I shifted my weight over to the left leg. The movement somehow dislodged the rubber ducky that was in the front pocket of my hoodie, and I watched it clatter to a stop about three feet in front of the picket fence. If that wasn’t bad enough, it’s a motion sensitive toy, so it flashed and quacked every time Mindi moved toward it.
Reaching through the fence I found that my arms were just too short to reach the duck. I mean centimeters short. I thought if I could just get my shoulder through the gap in the fence it would give me the extra length I needed.
Quack. Quack. Blink. Flash.
I pushed extra hard. One more millimeter … and then it happened. Not only did my whole shoulder manage to get through the fence, but my head went through as well. And there I was. Center stage, head stuck in a white picket fence, my fingers wrapped around a blinking, quacking rubber ducky, laughter rippling throughout the entire auditorium.
And for the first time since I had met her, Mindi Stewart was not smiling.
CHAPTER 9
Another Career
I burst into Mrs. V’s classroom and slammed the door behind me. Leaning breathlessly against the wall, I tried to drown out the sound that was still ringing in my ears. Laughter—people laughing at me. I have been hearing that sound far too often this week. Hopefully, my Secret Keeper Girl sisters wouldn’t laugh at me.
Suddenly it occurred to me … where is everyone? Danika did say that today was the first day of club, didn’t she?
Then I saw them. Eight eyeballs peering at me from behind a long table in the back of the room. Or should I say four pairs of eyes? After all, they were attached to the faces of my new friends and Mrs. V. They seemed surprised to see me.
“How did your audition go?” Danika was the first to pop up. She had a look of high expectation on her face. I felt my own face fall.
“I didn’t do it.”
“What? Why not?” Danika looked shocked.
“Well, I was … hey, what are you guys doing back there?” I asked.
Approaching the table I found myself feeling a lot of regret that I hadn’t just come here to begin with. It was awesome. Underneath the table was what I can only describe as paradise. The floor was laid with carpet pieces that were white, fluffy, and soft looking. Icicle lights, the kind people put on their roofs at Christmas, hung from the edges of two large square art tables that were pushed together. It looked like a gigantic girls-only fort! There were big, soft, comfy pillows all over the furry rugs, a couple of stuffed animals for emotional support, and a ton of yummy food to eat. Since I didn’t eat lunch, I was starving.
“Wow,” I whispered.
Without another word we all sank down onto the warm, white carpet. Mrs. V patted the spot next to herself, and as I crawled toward her I picked up a mushy, deep red pillow and two homemade chocolate chip cookies.
“So what happened, Toni?” Danika asked.
As I told the story, everyone munched on junk food and listened like I was reading their favorite bedtime story or something. There were a lot of reactions—like Yuzi choking on her Cheesy Chips when the ducky fell out of my pocket and rolled onstage, and Kate screaming, “Oh no you didn’t!” when I talked about my head popping through the fence. Mrs. V comforted me with pats on the back when I talked about how the drama teacher had to use actual tools to remove one slat of the rented fence to set my head free, and Danika fumed over how some of the same girls who have been messing with her, especially Laney Douglas, stood pointing and laughing at me the whole time.
“Don’t worry about them, Toni,” she said. “They are so not worth it.”
“I’ve never been this embarrassed in my life,” I said miserably.
“Where is Sharkey’s costume when you need it?” Yuzi said with a little grin on her face.
“I know, right?” I said.
Danika soon called our first official Secret Keeper Girl club to order. We started talking about
the new club rules—which would include “No wearing of costumes!” Then, we ended up talking about other things, which made me happy. Enough of my try-out troubles—I’m done!
Kate and I walked out to the parking lot together after club. “So what’s next, Toni?” she asked me.
“Well, I think I’m done with performing,” I said, and we both laughed. “Thanks, by the way. I feel a ton better after club.”
“I totally want to go after Laney and her little groupies,” Kate said. “They are so stinking mean!”
“I don’t care about them,” I said.
“Are you serious?” Kate asked.
“I still have no idea what I’m good at. Or if I’m good at anything,” I said.
“Oh please,” Kate said, “you’re like the best athlete in our class!”
I shook my head. “There has to be something more, Kate.”
“Danika said you’re a good singer,” Kate offered. I shrugged.
We plopped on the curb to wait for our moms, which made my digital camera fall out of my backpack. Kate caught it just before it hit the pavement.
“Hey, Toni, these are really good!” Kate said. She was looking at the photos on my camera. “Where are these from?”
“Oh, Milo came home this week and we went hiking. I don’t usually take my camera, but I got some good shots, huh?” I leaned in and looked over her shoulder.
“Toni, these are more than good,” Kate said. “These are amazing. In fact …”
Suddenly Kate sprang to her feet and grabbed the shoulder of my hoodie. “C’mon!” she said.
“What are you …?” I sputtered.
“Come on!” she insisted. She was still pulling me by the shoulder of my sweatshirt, talking so fast I could barely follow all that she was saying. Something about her friend Jenna’s dad being the advisor of the yearbook staff and really cool digital cameras with big zoom lenses. … It was all I could do just to keep up with Kate and stay on my feet.
A couple of minutes later Kate pulled me through the door of the yearbook room and she introduced me to Mr. Billings, Jenna’s dad. Mr. Billings seemed as confused as me, until Kate pulled the camera from the top of my backpack and began showing him the pictures I had taken that weekend at Hickory Grove Lake.
“You’re in sixth grade, Toni?” Mr. Billings asked.
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“Do you take a lot of pictures?” he asked.
“I guess so,” I said. “I got that camera for Christmas last year.”
“Your pictures are very good,” he said.
I was shocked. I never think anything I do or make is good, other than on a ball field, that is.
“Have you ever used one of these?” he asked. He went to his desk and brought out a bigger, professional-looking camera. It had an actual lens on the front that could be focused, and then he showed me an even bigger lens that was used for taking close-up photos. He showed me how to focus and how to change out the lenses.
“So what do you say? Do I have a new photographer for the yearbook?” he asked with a smile.
“Really?” I asked. “You would let me have this camera?”
“Well, it’s more use than have,” he said. “Deal?”
“Deal!” I said.
“You’ll need your first assignment then,” Mr. Billings said. He shuffled through some slips of paper scattered across his desk. “Ah, this one looks perfect,” he said.
And Mr. Billings handed me my first photographic assignment ever. I could sense the importance of the moment, almost like it would play a big part in my future someday. Who knows? I could win the Pulitzer Prize and be really famous if I am as good as Kate and Mr. Billings think I am. With a deep breath I smiled and looked down at my future:
Assignment: Junior high football practice, this Thursday.
CHAPTER 10
Where I Belong
“They can’t make me do it!” I said.
Mrs. V stayed quiet, waiting for me to go on.
“What do I do now?” I asked.
“Well,” Mrs. V said, “I suppose you could take the camera back and tell Mr. Billings that you won’t be able to take pictures for him today after all.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do that. He’s depending on me. Why can’t I just take pictures of the marching band, or the cross-country team?”
“Maybe there is a reason you are supposed to go to the football field,” she said.
“Like what?” I pouted.
“Unfinished business?” Mrs. V said with a smile.
“I’d rather wear a tutu and become a ballet dancer than finish any business with Trevor Kenworth,” I said.
“And what if your business isn’t with Trevor?” Mrs. V asked.
She hopped up on the tall countertop behind her desk and pushed aside a bunch of crispy papers that had been left there by her watercolor class. With one easy jump I joined her.
“Why aren’t you playing soccer, Toni?” Mrs. V asked. “I don’t know,” I said, staring at our dangling feet. “Maybe girls just shouldn’t play sports.”
“Do you really think that?” she asked.
“I don’t like it when people say I can’t do something because I’m a girl,” I said quietly.
Mrs. V kind of made a humming noise and then she was quiet for a while. “I tried out for a few teams when I was in school,” she finally said. “Didn’t make any of them.”
“Which ones?” I asked her.
“Let’s see.” She thought for a moment. “In middle school I was cut from basketball and softball. In high school I tried out for gymnastics and soccer. ” She shrugged. “I tried, but it just wasn’t who I was created to be.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s a lot of times to get cut.”
“Oh yeah.” She smiled. “I was a pro at getting cut!”
“But you’re really great at art,” I said, hoping to make her feel better.
“Yep, I’m pretty great at art.” She smiled. And then I knew what she was saying. I’m pretty great at sports—not pretty great for a girl, but just pretty great, period.
I looked at the clock on Mrs. V’s wall. Three fifteen. If I hurried I could make it just in time.
Halfway across the room I realized I forgot something. I ran back to Mrs. V and threw my arms around her neck. “Thanks, Mrs. V,” I said. “You’re the best!”
I took a deep breath as I approached the track around the football field. Was it really only three days ago that Yuzi and I created the world’s greatest mascot disaster ever—right here on this very ground? Across the field I could see the team gathering to take a knee around Coach. He saw me and waved me over.
Oh great. Mr. Billings must have told him I’m coming. I put my head down and began the long walk across the field. The wind has been picking up lately and there’s a new chill in the air. Fall is definitely just around the corner.
I heard the boys begin to clap their hands. One clap, then another, and another … the claps were picking up speed and getting louder. And the guys were saying something … what was it?
Stone?
Phone?
Tone? Toni?
Toni! That was it! They were saying my name, and clapping, cheering, waving towels in the air. Then I really had to look twice. It sure looked like the guy standing next to Coach Klutz was … my dad?
Beast and Smitty couldn’t wait any longer. They grabbed something off the table behind them and came running at me. I stopped in my tracks when I saw what it was.
A green football jersey. Number fifty-one. The name Diaz was printed in neat block letters across the back.
“We thought you’d never get here, Diaz,” said Smitty.
“Yeah.” Beast grinned. “Man, it takes girls forever to get ready!”
“Wha—What’s this?” I stammered.
Smitty laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “We have an opening for a kicker, if you think you can handle the job.”
I must have looked totally confu
sed. “What about Trevor?” I asked.
“He got in trouble or something.” Beast shrugged.
“Besides, your foot is the one we’ve always wanted,” said Smitty. “Dude, no other middle school in the whole county has anyone who can boot the ball like you.”
My dad and Coach wandered out to where we stood. They were both grinning from ear to ear.
“Did you hear, Daddy?” I knew it was a dumb question, but I didn’t know what else to say. “I heard.” My dad smiled.
Coach Klutz started explaining what was going on. “The yearbook advisor told me at lunch today that he was sending a nice young lady named Toni Diaz—one of his best, he said—out to photograph our practice today. It took some doing, but we thought we’d use that information to our advantage and give you a proper welcome to the team.”
“Wow.” I was speechless. “But Dad said …”
“I called your dad after Trevor left the team,” said Coach. “I said, ‘Albert, did you see your daughter kick that ball at mascot tryouts Monday?’”
My dad put his arm around Coach Klutz and laughed. “And I said, ‘It’s Alberto, and yes, I saw. She’s been kicking like that since she was in her mom’s belly.’”
Usually it really embarrasses me when my dad says that—it’s so lame. But today, for some reason it made me cry.
“So … does that mean … I can play?” I asked nervously.
I looked to my dad. Our eyes kind of locked together for a second and then he put his hands on my shoulders. “First things first, Toni,” he said. “You are still grounded for three weeks. Comprende? You come straight home after football.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I know my dad. He finishes everything that he starts.
My dad smiled down at me. “When I spoke with Coach Klutz, he told me something I already knew, Toni. You’re a natural athlete. You’re strong. You’re quick and you’re a great team player. So, I decided we should give it a shot. … You aren’t like every other girl, and that’s what makes you my Toni. Plus, he promised me that he would watch out for you and make sure nobody disrespected you in any way.”
I threw my arms around my dad and felt him pick me up about two feet off the ground. Then—I don’t know what I was thinking—I threw my arms around Coach. When I looked at Smitty he just said, “Don’t even think about it, Diaz,” and he gave me a high five.
Secret Keeper Girl Fiction Series Page 8