by Carol Gorman
Ms. Landers frowned. “Oh, my gosh. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
She scratched her head and seemed to be thinking hard.
“You probably don’t want me to model in the show, right?”
“I’ll model the swimsuit,” Lisa blurted.
Ms. Landers turned to Lisa. “No, Lizard will model the swimsuit,” she said firmly. She looked back at me. “Of course you’re still in the show, Lizard. We’ll have to make a few adjustments so you can get the garments on easily over your cast. You can’t wear narrow sleeves, for instance. I’ll have Samantha help you with your changes if you need it.”
I couldn’t believe it! “But a model’s supposed to be flawless,” I said.
“Who said that?” Ms. Landers asked, surprised.
“Lisa.”
“That’s baloney. A model should be attractive and graceful, but also human, with personality.” She stared at me a moment. “Maybe we can even use this to our advantage.”
Lisa hmmmphed and stomped off.
It was fun seeing Lisa mad, but the panic was back, clutching at my throat. I was going to have to model the swimsuit. I couldn’t believe it. I had a broken wrist, and it wasn’t going to do me any good! It seemed that I was never going to figure out how to get out of the fashion show.
We went through the rehearsal as usual, practicing to the four songs. “Remember, ladies,” Ms. Landers said at the end of the rehearsal, “the show is one week from tomorrow.”
The other girls squealed with excitement. My stomach lurched.
“Lizard, tomorrow morning I’ll choose outfits that’ll work with your cast. Please go for your fittings between noon tomorrow and Sunday afternoon.
“Everyone, rehearsal will be here, as usual, Monday evening. Think through the songs over the weekend so you won’t be rusty on Monday. And don’t anyone else break any bones before the show!”
Everyone laughed and looked at me. “I promise not to play football over the weekend!” Karen called out, laughing.
Right. Like she’d ever played a game of football in her whole entire life.
I went home, thinking how weird things can be. After I’d broken my wrist, I thought I’d be out of the fashion show. But here I was, still in the show, and Ms. Landers thought we could “use it to our advantage.”
One step forward, two steps back.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SATURDAY MORNING MY stomach was filled with butterflies. I kept imagining myself modeling my swimsuit to that third song, with everybody laughing at me.
In the afternoon, I had to go to the mall for my fittings. Mom didn’t want me riding my bike with my cast on my arm, so I had to convince her that I was perfectly capable of controlling my bike using my good right arm and the fingers on my left hand. I rode up and down the street in front of our house while she watched.
“See?” I said, shrugging as I passed her. “No problem.”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “But wear your helmet. And be careful!”
Mothers are funny about that. They always say “Be careful,” as if their kids wouldn’t be careful unless they said it.
I got to the mall with no problem. I was glad Ms. Landers had chosen the clothes with my cast in mind. The sleeves all went over it without a problem.
First were the jeans, polo, socks, and cross-training shoes at The Trap. They were really comfortable and fit fine. The manager was busy, but she said, “That looks great,” when I stepped out of the dressing room to show her. If only I’d been assigned to wear those clothes through the whole show!
Then I went to Pearson’s and tried on the denim skirt, blouse, and pumps. They weren’t bad, and I figured I could handle wearing them in front of everybody if I didn’t get the hiccups.
The next store was Claussen’s, where I tried on the dressiest thing I’d ever worn, a red column dress. I thought I’d hate it because it was long and narrow, and I figured it would be uncomfortable. But when I put it on and looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe it was me! I looked about sixteen. It didn’t matter that I was thin, because there were gathers in front that made me look … well, pretty good. In fact, the dress looked really good because I was thin.
“That’s stunning!” the manager said when she saw me wearing it. “It looks wonderful on you.” She smiled wryly, adding, “It would look even better without the cast.”
I was beginning to feel a tiny bit better. I’d put off the swimsuit for last. But I had to try it on eventually, so with shaky knees, I walked to the end of the mall and into McCloud’s Sporting Goods.
“I’m Lizard Flanagan,” I said to the first woman I saw. “I need to try on the swimsuit for the fashion show.”
“I don’t work here, honey,” she said, and she pointed to the person behind the counter. “Ask him.”
A man!
Good grief, was he the manager? I looked at his name badge. JEFF WASHBURN, MANAGER, it said. I felt dizzy.
How could I show him how I looked in the suit?
He saw me staring at his badge. “Can I help you?”
“Uh … well, I’m here to try on a suit. You know, for swimming. A swimsuit. For the fashion show.”
“Oh. Okay.” He walked back to a rack of brightly colored swimsuits. “The woman from the fashion show came in this morning.”
“Ms. Landers,” I said.
“Right, Ms. Landers,” he said. “She looked around and said you should pick one from this rack of competition suits.”
“Do you … uh, do I need to show you?” He looked at me with a blank face. “Do you want to see what it looks like? On, I mean?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Just make sure it fits.”
I blew out a breath I’d been holding. “Sure.” What a relief.
“And bring it back to me so I can give it to Ms. Landers when she stops back here next week.”
He went to the front of the store, and I looked through the rack of suits. I stopped at a pretty one, blue with red and white racing stripes. It was my size, so I took it to the dressing room and tried it on.
It fit and looked just the way I thought it would. Flat, flat, flat. I liked the racing stripes, though. Maybe some of the people in the audience would notice the stripes and not me.
I knew I wouldn’t find a suit that looked any better, so I took it off, got dressed, and took it to the manager.
“I’ll wear this one.”
“Okay.” He took it and tossed it onto a chair behind him.
That was that.
I walked out to my bike, climbed on, and headed toward home.
Three blocks from my house, I spotted Zach. He was walking along the sidewalk, holding a big cardboard box. He looked very serious as he crossed the grass toward the ravine.
I was curious about the box. And I was even more curious about the way Zach had been acting lately. I decided to follow him.
He ran down the side of the ravine and sat on the log at the bottom near the creek. I stopped at the edge behind a tree and watched.
Zach sat on the log for several minutes. Even from where I stood, I could see he was breathing hard. Then he did something surprising. He put the box over his head. Just for a second. Then he took it off.
He sat awhile longer, leaning his elbows on his knees. Then he sat up straight and put the box over his head again. This time, he kept it on a second or two longer. Then he took it off again.
I thought about the last time Zach and I were in the ravine. He told me the story he’d made up about his uncle who was kept prisoner under the witch’s porch.
That made me think about the story he’d told me about his baby-sitter locking him in the closet.
And that’s when I understood why he’d been acting so funny lately. And why he was putting the box over his head.
I walked down the side of the ravine. He heard me tromping through the weeds and turned.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Zach looked nervous, his eyes darting around and not looking at me.
He was also sweating, even though it wasn’t very hot.
I sat down on the fallen log with him.
“I just got back from trying on clothes for the fashion show.”
“Oh.” He fingered the box nervously.
“I’m still going to be in the show, even though I’m wearing the cast.”
“That’s good.”
“No, it’s not. I’m scared to death.”
Zach looked at me. “You are? How come?”
“I’m scared of being in front of a crowd,” I said. “I get stage fright, big time.”
Zach frowned. “I didn’t know that.”
“In fourth grade I had to give a report, and I was so nervous, I started hiccuping and couldn’t stop. I’m afraid that’ll happen in the fashion show.”
“Wow. I didn’t know you were afraid of anything, Lizard,” Zach said. “You always seem so, well, so brave and ready to try anything.”
I smiled at him. “You wouldn’t believe how scared I’ve been all week, just thinking about standing up in front of all those people!”
Zach seemed to relax a little. I think he was glad I told him about my fear. Then he frowned. “So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m going to go through with it and hope I don’t hiccup. And hope people won’t laugh at me.”
“Why would they laugh?” Zach asked.
I looked at the stream. “Maybe they’ll think I’m really … thin, or something. I have to wear a—a swimsuit.”
“I don’t know why they’d laugh at that,” Zach said. “You look great in a swimsuit.”
“Really? Thanks, Zach.” A good feeling about him was flooding into me. “You’re a good friend.”
Zach leaned his elbows on his knees, stared at the box, and sighed deeply.
“I’ve been scared lately too.”
“What about?” I asked. I already knew, but I wanted him to tell me.
“Oh, you know how I’m playing Dracula in the scene at school?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” he said, running his finger along the edge of the box, “I have to lie in a coffin for five minutes before I hear my cue.”
“I bet it’s kind of scary. Like your uncle getting locked up under the porch.”
Zach turned to me. “That’s it. That’s it exactly. I hate being in small places. I’m claustrophobic, big time.” His ears started turning pink. “I came here to sort of practice.”
“That makes sense.” I smiled. “I thought you were falling in love with Cassandra.”
“Really?”
“I mean, her having such a nice neck and all. I think she’s nice, too, but it made me sad. The kids have been saying that you want to be her boyfriend.”
Zach frowned. “They have?”
I laughed. “You haven’t been tuned in lately. That’s what everybody’s saying.”
Zach shook his head. “Gee. All I’ve been thinking about is how horrible it’ll be to lie in that box.”
I grinned again. “You can’t believe what a relief it is that you’re not in love with her. But I’m sorry you’re scared about the coffin. It’s horrible being scared.”
“Alan’s dad is making the coffin for us,” Zach said. “I climb out of it when Cassandra says, ‘What a lovely night. The sky is filled with stars.’ Boy, will I be waiting to hear those words!”
I sighed. “I’m glad I told you that I’m scared.”
Zach grinned. “I’m glad I told you I’m scared. You’re the only person who knows.”
“Sort of makes it easier when you can talk about it, hunh?”
“Yeah,” Zach said. “I’ll be there in the front row at the fashion show, Lizard. When you get scared, look at me and I’ll send you some ‘calm down’ vibes. And remember, I’ve seen you in a swimsuit hundreds of times.”
“Thanks, Zach. And I’ll be in the audience when you do your scene the next week. You won’t be able to see me from inside the coffin, but I’ll be sending you some ‘calm down’ vibes too.”
Zach grinned. “Thanks, I’ll need them.”
I stood up and held out my hand. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah.” He stood up too, and took my hand. “Let’s go. I can practice with my box at home.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ALL THE NEXT WEEK, while we rehearsed, I imagined myself wearing that swimsuit. I wondered if I’d be able to hear the music over all the laughing in the audience.
Then I thought about Zach sitting in the front row, sending me calming vibes. That made me feel good until I realized that Stinky would probably be sitting next to him, laughing his stupid head off.
Then I thought about Mom, Dad, Sam, Mary Ann, and Grandma sitting somewhere in the audience, the only serious—and red—faces in a sea of hysteria.
How would I ever get through it?
I also thought a lot about Zach. It would be horrible for him, lying in that closed, dark coffin, waiting for his cue to come out.
The girls in the fashion show started talking more and more about who would win the Supermodel contest. They were all going to the hair salon and getting their nails done.
Lisa showed up at school on Wednesday wearing ankle and wrist weights.
“Wow, Lisa,” Ginger said, impressed. She’d arrived at our locker with Tiffany at her side. “Are you going to wear those during school?”
“Yes,” Lisa said. “My mom’s trainer says they’re good for toning up. Of course, I’m not flabby, but I want to look my best.”
Ginger nodded. “Especially when the fashion show is a mere three days away!”
It was funny that Lisa thought she could firm up her muscles in three days. Fortunately, though, I had my head in the locker, and they didn’t hear me snicker.
Ginger grabbed her camera off the shelf and snapped a picture of me pulling books out of the locker.
I made a face. “Don’t do that, Ginger.”
“I’ve decided,” she announced, “to document the days leading up to the fashion show. I’ll make copies and put them in albums for us.”
“I don’t want any pictures,” I said.
“But what if you’re picked to be the Supermodel?” Ginger said. “This’ll be your first modeling experience, the beginning of your career.”
“What do you mean, what if Lizard is picked as Supermodel?” Lisa cried. “Some friend you are!”
“Well …” Ginger shrank back a little. “You never know.”
“There’s not going to be any career,” I said. “Not for me.”
“Especially wearing that cast,” Lisa said. She turned to Tiffany, smirked, and said quietly, but loud enough for me to hear, “And that swimsuit.”
She and Tiffany snorted and peeked at me to see if I was mad, while Ginger snapped a picture of them. I didn’t give them the satisfaction of looking as if they were bothering me. I just pretended I didn’t even hear, and walked away.
The only chance I had to talk with Zach alone was Thursday after school. We were waiting at the bike rack for Ed, Stinky, and Mary Ann. Sam had football practice.
“How are you doin’?” he asked me, squinting in the sun.
I was glad he asked. “Pretty nervous. Haven’t you heard my knees knocking together?”
He grinned. “Nope. You’ll be great. Ed and Stinky and I will cheer for you Saturday.”
“Thanks. How are you doing?”
“I kept hoping the coffin wouldn’t be finished by next Tuesday. But Alan said today that it’s almost ready.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Ed and Stinky arrived then, so we stopped talking. We smiled at each other. It felt good to share a secret with Zach. I was glad he felt he could tell me about his claustrophobia. And I was happy that he’d be in the front row, cheering me on.
Now if I could just make it through the fashion show without hiccuping or throwing up because I was so nervous!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IT FINALLY CAME, THE DAY I’d been dreading. I woke
up Saturday to see the sun slanting through my window and stretching across the floor of my room.
My heart started to race.
I got up, and as I made my bed, I thought, The next time I lie in this bed, it’ll all be over.
I got dressed and thought, Tomorrow morning when I get dressed, I won’t be worried anymore.
I made my breakfast and thought, The next time I pour milk on my cereal, it’ll all be behind me. Of course, I might never want to show my face in this town again.
I ate only three bites of cereal. It felt as if the butterflies in my stomach were playing racquetball with the Cheerios, and I couldn’t eat any more.
The fashion show was at two o’clock. We were supposed to be at the mall at noon.
I went upstairs and sat on my bed. I thought through the whole show, all the entrances, all the choreography. The show wasn’t hard; I wasn’t worried about that. It was all those eyes that would be out there watching.
Mom stuck her head in the door and smiled. “Hi, hon. Your big day is here! Grandma should arrive in a few minutes.”
“Okay.”
She left. I got up and went to my dresser. I picked up my comb and pulled it through my hair.
Hic.
I slapped a hand over my mouth. Oh, no! Please, not the hiccups!
I was breathing hard, waiting to see if there would be another one. Calm down, I said to myself. Just calm down.
Hic.
This was it, my worst nightmare. It was fourth grade all over again!
I ran down the hall and got a drink in the bathroom. I held my breath. Hic.
NO! I’d been through enough! The interview, the rehearsals, Ms. Landers saying I needed a bra, being humiliated when the clerk announced my size to practically the whole store. I’d even gotten into a fight with Lisa at rehearsal.
I shouldn’t have to put up with anything else!
Hic.
I raced downstairs. “Mom, I’ve got the hiccups!”
Mom smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “They’ll be gone by this afternoon.”
“Don’t bet the house on it.”
She pulled a paper bag out from under the sink. “Put this over your head.”
I did.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” Mom instructed.