“Is this thing on?”
“Yes, Principal Ball!” said the entire auditorium.
“Good. Well, boys and girls, welcome to the last week of school.”
Mr. Ball looked surprised when the audience erupted with applause, booyahs, shouts of joy, and some scattered chants of “USA! USA!”
Assistant Principal Ball raised two fingers, the school’s universal signal for everyone to be quiet or wind up in detention hall. It was extremely kindergarten, but it worked.
“Now, as a special end-of-the-school-year treat, I want to bring on a very famous singer, the one and only Tony Peroni.”
The crowd went wild.
Tony Peroni, bathed in a bright white circle of light, sashayed onto the stage, snapping his fingers.
“Hit it, Jack!”
And he still couldn’t remember Jake’s name.
Jazzy music featuring a ton of trombones, sizzling cymbals, and a plinking piano boomed from the speakers.
Riley figured it was track one from the CD.
On the downbeat, Peroni crooned, “Make me merry, Mary, say you’ll marry me. Make me merry, Mary. C’mon and marry me.”
Fortunately, Mr. Peroni didn’t sing too much more. The lyrics kind of repeated themselves.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. It’s a special thrill and honor for me to be here at . . .”
Peroni glanced at the inside of his palm.
“. . . Fairview Middle School. You know, that little ditty, ‘Make Me Merry, Mary—Marry Me!’ has certainly made me a merry man. A number-one hit back in the late eighties, and still available on iTunes, it has made me so much money, well, I’m always looking to give a little back. To encourage kids to use their talents and follow their dreams. That’s why I set up the All-School All-Star Talent Scholarship fund!”
The audience applauded.
“Thank you. Sincerely. I mean it. From the bottom of my heart. Last year, we did the high schools. Next year, we’re hittin’ the elementary schools. This year? Well, you beautiful middle schoolers, it’s your turn! And, dig this: the finals will take place at the Brookhaven Country Club. Beautiful venue. Love what they’ve done with their lawn. The top talents from all three middle schools in the district will compete for the grand prize—a ten-thousand-dollar college scholarship!”
More applause and a couple whoo-hoos, mostly from Mongo.
“Okay. Here are the rules. Today, by listening to your applause, I will pick one singing act and one other act to move forward to the finals. Later this week, I’ll host competitions at the other two middle schools until we have our six finalists. And, since it’s my scholarship, I can also pick one wild-card contestant, an act I personally think deserves a shot at the crown, even if you kids don’t clap for ’em!”
Riley wondered if Peroni would use his “wild card” to bump Sara Paxton up to the finals after Briana won the applause-o-meter contest. After all, he seemed to work a lot at Sara’s father’s country club.
“But hey, school’s almost out for the summer,” Peroni continued. “Enough with the rules. Let’s get this show on the road, baby!”
The audience screamed in agreement.
Peroni reached into his tux pocket and pulled out a note card.
“First up, from the seventh grade, singing and tap-dancing to ‘America the Beautiful,’ let’s give it up for three American beauties—Sara Paxton and her Star-Spangled Starlettes!”
The three girls, looking like an American flag made out of reflectors, jumped around the stage as if they were doing a cheerleading routine. They also shook red-white-and-blue Mylar pom-poms. They sang okay—if you enjoy hearing people shout lyrics while making choppy hand gestures to act out all the words (they pretended to pluck apples out of a tree for “above the fruited plain”).
But it was a patriotic song. Sara, Kaylie, and Brooke had all sorts of energy and did a flashy finish where they jumped into a full split and tossed their sparkling baseball caps up into the air.
The audience gave them a ton of applause, so they definitely had a shot.
Until people hear Briana sing, Riley thought.
Sara and her crew hurried offstage—squealing, clapping, and doing cheerleader kicks. They took seats down in the front row so they could watch the other acts.
“Okay,” said Tony Peroni. “Beautiful. God bless America. I mean that. Sincerely. Next up, from the fifth grade, the Rockin’ Rollers!”
Riley craned his neck so he could check out Sara Paxton’s reaction as the six daredevil fifth graders skated onto the stage and started rolling through their incredible jumps, spins, leaps, and stunts—without their wheels flying off.
Surprisingly, Sara didn’t seem shocked at all.
In fact, she was clapping and pumping her arm in time to their music.
So were Brooke and Kaylie.
“This is bad,” mumbled Riley.
“Really? I think they’re pretty good,” said Mongo.
Riley could see Jamal down with the fifth graders. He whipped around with a panicked what’s going on? look on his face.
All Riley could do was shrug.
And applaud with the rest of the audience when the skaters finished their awesome act.
“Wow,” said Tony Peroni. “That was incredible! I mean that. Sincerely. That’s the act to beat, boys and girls!”
The fifth graders in the audience screamed for their classmates.
“And now, the song stylings of another seventh grader. The one and only Briana Bloomfield!”
Peroni gestured to the wings.
Nobody came onstage.
“Briana Bloomfield?”
Nothing.
Peroni fumbled with his note cards. “Is there a Briana Bloomfield in the house?”
That’s when Jake, his head hanging low, plodded out from his sound tech station in the wings.
“Um,” he mumbled, “Briana’s not here.”
9
“OKAY,” SAID TONY PERONI. “BRIANA Bloomfield is a no-show.”
The crowd gasped.
Except for Sara, Kaylie, and Brooke. They were giggling.
“We’ll just scratch her from the competition,” said Tony Peroni as he flipped through his note cards. “Let’s move on to sixth grader Lenny Gonzalez, who’s going to favor us with his fuzzbox version of the ‘Iron Man’ guitar solo.”
As the guitar player rolled his amplifier onstage, Riley scooted up his row.
“’Scuse me. Coming through.”
Mongo was right behind him.
They reached the aisle.
“Where are you boys going?” whispered Ms. Kaminski, the science teacher. She was supposed to supervise Riley’s group of seventh graders in the auditorium during the assembly.
“We need to check on our friend,” said Riley. “Briana must be sick. No way would she be a ‘no-show.’”
“Go on,” said Ms. Kaminski. “Hurry. When you find her, take her to the nurse’s office!”
“Will do,” whispered Riley. He and Mongo exited out the rear doors of the auditorium.
“Let’s go check the greenroom,” said Riley. “Maybe Briana’s still back there.”
They headed down the side corridor that led to the stage door.
“Why would she be in the greenroom?” asked Mongo.
“Maybe she got slammed with a bad case of stage fright.”
“Briana?” said Mongo. “She’s not afraid of anything.”
Suddenly, Sara Paxton stepped out of the auditorium. She was grinning like the cat that had just eaten every bird in its backyard.
“Oh, hello, boys. Looking for your girlfriend?”
“We’re looking for Briana!” said Mongo eagerly. “Do you know where she is?”
“Not really, Butt Munch. Maybe she had a wardrobe malfunction. Did you see that cheesy white dress her mother sewed together out of a tablecloth from Kmart or something? What is this, Little House on the Prairie?”
“Where is she, Sara?” demanded Riley.
<
br /> Sara shrugged flippantly. “I dunno. All I know is where she isn’t: onstage!”
“What’d you do?”
Sara flashed her shark-toothed smile. “Me? Um, excuse me, Riley. I think the better question is what did you and your stupid friends do?”
“Huh?” said Mongo, squinting hard.
“You texted Briana on purpose,” said Riley, finally figuring it out. “You sent her that message to lure her into the skate shop.”
“Well, duh,” said Sara. “You think I would still have that gork’s number in my phone book?” Sara made a few barfing sounds. “And then, of course, we had to wait for her to show up and, when she did, she was wearing that ridiculous granny costume. She smelled like mothballs.”
Riley felt so stupid! They’d been set up.
“I knew you and your idiotic Gnat Pack would act all noble and heroic and cook up some kind of convoluted scheme to save the poor little fifth graders from mean ol’ me. I knew you’d take your eyes off the real prize.”
Of course, Riley thought.
Two acts from Fairview Middle School would move on to the finals: one singer, and one other act. Sara and her Star-Spangled Starlettes couldn’t lose to the Rockin’ Rollers. They could only lose to Briana or some other singer.
Sara smirked triumphantly. “Sorry, Riley. Game over. You lose.”
“This isn’t over, Sara.”
“Um, yes it is. Because no way will I lose this competition to an ugly nobody from nowhere whose hippy-dippy parents are so beyond poor they couldn’t even afford a real costume, not to mention all the private singing lessons and dance tutors and music coaches my daddy’s bought for me.”
“She has talent,” said Riley. “It’s all she needs.”
“Oh, grow up, Riley Mack. There is absolutely no way that I will ever lose to a gork singing a sappy song from, gag me now, Shrek!”
“We’ll see about that, Sara,” said Riley, trying to muster a little of his cocky swagger. “Come on, Mongo.”
Mongo’s horror-filled eyes were the size of doughnuts. “Where are we going?”
“To find Briana.”
Sara laughed. “Ha! Even if you two morons do find her, I guarantee you she will not be setting foot on that stage. If she does, she’ll get expelled for ‘indecent exposure.’”
Riley did not like the sound of that—or the look on Sara’s face when she said it.
“Guess I better head back inside,” Sara said with a fake sigh. “Tony Peroni will be announcing the winners in fifteen minutes and we got like a ton of applause from the audience! Too bad Briana won’t be getting any!”
Sara turned on her heel and gave Riley and Mongo a bouncy little cheerleader kick as she dashed back into the auditorium.
“The girls’ locker room!” said Riley, remembering where Jamal had said Briana was changing into her costume. “Come on, Mongo. If we hurry, we might be able to get Briana onstage before Tony Peroni announces the winners.”
They jogged up the empty hallway toward the gym.
Ten seconds later, they both wished they hadn’t.
Briana stumbled around a corner, tears streaming down her face.
She was clutching a towel wrapped around her otherwise naked body.
“They stole my clothes and my costume!” she cried. “Sara, Brooke, and Kaylie! They stole everything!”
10
RILEY COULD HEAR TONY PERONI’S amplified voice echoing up the hallway from the auditorium.
“The winners who will be representing Fairview Middle School at the All-School All-Star Talent Show in two weeks are: From the fifth grade, the Rockin’ Rollers! And, from the seventh grade, Sara Paxton and her Star-Spangled Starlettes!”
The crowd cheered. A bell rang. School was done for the day.
So were Briana’s chances of winning the scholarship.
Riley and Mongo were guarding the entrance to the girls’ locker room.
“Hang on, Bree. Jamal and Jake are on the way.”
Riley had sent the other two members of what Sara had called his Gnat Pack down to the costume storage room in the basement of the auditorium. Jake, who worked on the technical crews of every school play, knew where to find the wardrobe room. Jamal knew how to open any and all locks that stood in their way. Together, they would retrieve Briana’s Maid Marian costume from last year’s drama club production of Robin Hood—The Musical.
“Psst!” Briana whispered through the vent at the bottom of the locker room door. “Riley?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you and Jake catch Sara on video?”
“Yeah.”
“Good! They are so busted. We should take the video to the office and . . .”
“I already thought about that. She played us, Bree. If we show the video, Sara will just claim that they were tightening the nuts on those axles to prevent the fifth graders from having an accident.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Mongo. “They’re mean girls.”
“But the wheels didn’t fly off. Nothing bad happened when the fifth graders rolled onstage. If we show Mr. Ball the video clip, he’ll probably give Sara a safety medal to go with her talent show trophy!”
Riley heard a whimpering noise on the other side of the door.
Mongo knelt down and whispered through the vent. “Briana? Don’t cry. Everything will turn out okay.”
Jamal and Jake hustled up the hall with the Maid Marian costume.
“This is egregiously offensive, Riley Mack!” said Jamal. “Do you know what that means?”
“Yeah. It sucks.”
Riley closed his eyes and knocked on the locker room door. “Okay, we have your costume. Jake texted your mom so you won’t have to ride home on the bus.”
The door creaked open an inch.
Riley passed Briana the dress.
“Thanks, you guys,” said Briana. “Give me a second.”
“Take all the time you need,” said Riley as he, Mongo, Jake, and Jamal formed a human wall outside the door.
“So, Riley,” whispered Jamal, “did Briana really hang with Sara and that bunch back in the day?”
Riley nodded.
“Was she mental?”
“What can I say? She was young.”
“She was also, you know, confused,” added Jake.
“Yeah,” said Mongo. “I get that way sometimes, too. Especially during math class.”
Riley remembered when he and Briana had first become friends. All through elementary school, Briana Bloomfield had hung out with Sara Paxton, Brooke Newton, and Kaylie Holland, who—according to everybody except Riley—were the coolest, prettiest, most popular girls in whatever school they attended.
But the minute seventh grade started, Briana’s three “BFFLs” turned against her and started calling her Flaky Wakey and Gork Girl. Over the summer, the Mean Girls of Fairview Middle School had decided that they were way too mature to hang out with artsy-fartsy Briana Bloomfield.
Riley had known she would need new friends. So he became the first.
The locker room door opened. Briana stepped out in a puffy-sleeved, floor-length gown trimmed with fake fur and gold ribbons.
“Come, noble Sir Robin,” she gushed to Riley, trying to hide her hurt under another make-believe character. “Wouldst thou and thy band of merry men kindly hie me hither to my mother’s carriage?”
“That’s from the show!” said Mongo.
“Um, not really. I’m kind of improvising here.”
“You’re good, girl,” said Jamal. “It’s like we’re in Sherwood Forest—and I don’t mean the subdivision out by the mall!”
Riley, Mongo, Jake, and Jamal created a box formation around Briana and walked her out of the building to the parking lot.
“Thanks again, you guys, for finding my costume.”
“No problem,” said Jake.
“Did you want the pointy pink princess hat with the streamer?” asked Jamal. “If so, I can . . .”
“Nope.”
>
“Well, school’s out in four days,” said Jake, trying to make Briana feel better.
“That’s right,” said Riley. “This time next week, we’ll all be swimming in Schuyler’s Pond.”
“Booyah!” said Mongo.
“Schuyler’s Pond?” said Jamal, who hadn’t been on Riley’s crew last summer. “Where’s that?”
“It’s our secret swimming hole,” said Jake. “We typically go there at least once a week, June through August.”
“Schuyler’s Pond is so secret,” added Mongo, “nobody even knows it’s there except my dad, who’s the one who told me about it. And, I guess Schuyler, whoever he was. He probably knew about his pond, too.”
“We’ll go there,” said Riley, who knew Briana needed more than a pep talk. “After we make sure Briana is in the talent show finals at the country club.”
“Um, Riley—I totally missed the audition!”
“So?” said Riley, with a crafty twinkle in his eye. “I have a funny feeling that you’re going be Tony Peroni’s wild-card pick.”
“Really?” said Mongo. “How’s that gonna happen?”
“I’m not sure. But, don’t worry—I’m working on it.”
11
THE LAST WEEK OF SCHOOL flew by in a blur.
Sara, Kaylie, and Brooke were still giggling at Riley, especially during lunch in the cafeteria. And on the school bus. And in homeroom.
Riley could not have cared less.
Because, by Wednesday, he had hatched his counterattack.
“I call it Operation Granny Smith,” said Riley.
On Thursday night, his whole crew was assembled in Jake’s basement, where their parents thought they were studying for the “final final” of the school year.
“Does your plan involve apples, Riley Mack?” asked Jamal. “If so, there are other varieties with much more interesting names than Granny Smith. For instance—Jonalicious, Geeveston Fanny, and Fukutami.”
“Whoa,” said Briana. “Have you switched from memorizing the dictionary to memorizing the encyclopedia?”
“No. I have not ‘switched.’ I enjoy spending time with both. Did I also mention that I’ve been working up a new card trick this week?”
Jamal pulled out a deck of playing cards.
Riley Mack Stirs Up More Trouble Page 4