by John J. Bonk
“No, Father!” Pepper said, bursting into tears. “I cannot marry the Prince, for his heart beats cold. And truth be known, I love another - Jingle Jangles the Jester!”
“And I love her!” I said, leaping forward, feeling the love oozing out of every pore.
“Young fool,” Wally said, chuckling. “Surely you jest?”
“I jest indeed - ‘tis my lot in life. But I assure you, my love for your daughter is true.”
“But you’re nothing but a simpleton, a worthless twit, a penniless boor -”
“I get the point,” I said with a deadpan look toward the audience. Huge laugh. I’ll probably be nominated for a Tony Award.
“Simple, perhaps,” I continued as the laugh died down, “yet my riches abound.”
“Limericks and limber limbs are not the riches of which I speak!” Wally said.
“Nor I, Your Majesty.”
I ran offstage and came back with a burlap sack, which I ripped open at Wally’s feet. Shiny coins and jewels came spilling out, and the lords and ladies oohed and aahed.
“My dear father left this to me upon his untimely passing. It seems that over his lifetime as court jester, he’d collected a small fortune - as did his father before him and his father before him. A bauble for a bawdy verse, a fourpence for a ditty…”
“Oh, Jing!” Pepper gushed, wrapping her arms around me.
The cast cheered, and the audience did too.
“Well, well, it seems that true love and a frugal nature have conquered all,” Wally said. “So raise your goblets high, good folk! Let the celebration commence!”
The curtain closed behind Cynthia and her lute, and she sang the closing song:
Thus ends our tale of crowns and clowns, and love so fair and true, And in our wake I hope you’ll take this thought away with you:While breeding, grace, and handsome face are lovely to behold,
A titter here, a giggle there, are worth their weight ingold!
Curtain call. I was up last. Maybe it was just me, but I swear the applause-o-meter went crazy when I took my bow. Actors are lucky. Not many people get applause. Even the guy who cloned that sheep probably just got a hearty handshake. It was like being in a ticker-tape parade, jumping out of an airplane, and winning the lottery all at the same time. Like a thousand pats on the back saying, “Great job, Dustin Grubbs!”
The cast formed a line across the front of the stage for our final bow, and the audience gave us a standing ovation! I must’ve been hovering about three feet off the ground. The houselights came up and I got a good look at the first row. Mom, Granny - even Gordy and his new girlfriend were on their feet, clapping. My eyes shot over to third-row center -the aisle seat C101. Crash and burn.
Unless Dad had transformed into a tall black woman, he was a no-show.
Chapter 21
Most Valuable Player
“Fire up the grill, Ed!” Bunny hollered, holding open the door of the Yankee Doodle Diner. “Christmas just came early this year!”
The whole cast and half the audience piled into the diner, taking up every chair, stool, and booth for this unplanned celebration. Futterman, who was acting very un-Futtermanly, waved a fistful of wet money over his head and announced, “Order all the Uncle Sam Burgers and Doodle Dogs you want, folks. It’s taken care of!”
“Eat your heart out, Jukebox Café!” Bunny shouted to her competition across the street.
It was the best night of my life and the worst. It’s hard being both happy and miserable at the same time, and I wasn’t going to eenie-meenie-miney-mo. So I opted for miserable.
Aunt Olive had dropped Mom and me off at the diner and driven Granny and Aunt Birdie home. I wanted to go home too, but Mom thought it’d be a good idea if we put in an appearance, since I was the star and everything. She was in a much better mood, probably ‘cause Dad never showed up. We squeezed into a booth with Wally and his parents. They’d be driving us home. I didn’t feel much like eating - or breathing.
“I’m sorry he disappointed you,” Mom whispered.
Or talking.
“I know you were hoping for a happy ending, like in the play,” she went on, “but that doesn’t always happen in real life.”
The Dorkins were gushing about Wally’s performance and asking him stuff like, “How did you remember all those lines?” So they weren’t listening in, I don’t think.
“He’s always marched to a different drummer, your father,” Mom said, straightening her silverware. Mrs. Sternhagen used to say that about me too, but I thought it was a good thing. “Maybe I’m too overprotective of you and Gordy when it comes to him,” she said, “but I know how it hurts when someone you care about doesn’t live up to your expectations.”
“Yeah. Now I know what a bowling pin feels like.”
The smell of fresh peach pie came wafting by - but it wasn’t on the menu. It turned out to be Miss Honeywell. She floated up to our booth, wearing a silky dress splattered with pink rosebuds. Why is the town’s deputy sheriff standing in her shadow?
“Dustin, I’m just so gosh-darn proud of you,” she said. “The audience ate you up! Wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Grubbs. You have a very talented, enthusiastic son.”
“Don’t I know it!”
“And what a fine job you did too, Wallace.”
Miss Honeywell finally noticed that King Kong was breathing down her neck.
“Oh, where are my manners?” she said. “I’m sure y’all know my fiancé, Mr. Lutz, the deputy sheriff.”
“Fiancé”? She’s engaged to that science experiment gone wrong?
The adults at the table congratulated them, and Lutz the Klutz grunted. He had Olympic-size sweat pools around his pits. Miss Honeywell was blushing, and she grabbed his hairy hand, all lovey-dovey. Well, if it had to happen, I’m glad it was near the end of the school year. I don’t think I could’ve lived through seeing her in class every day, knowing she belonged to another man - and one who was allowed to carry firearms.
Okay, can we please get through the rest of the night without any more surprises?
I sank low into the cracked vinyl, trying to make out the words that were bleeding through a flyer taped to the window: TRECNOC GNIRPS. I was thinking of what Mom said. It really does sting like hot arrows when somebody lets you down.
“Spring concert,” I said out loud.
“Huh?” Wally said.
“The flyer - on the window right behind you. Check it out.”
Wally reached around, peeled the flyer off the window, and gave it the once-over.
“It says there’s an outdoor concert in Lotustown. It’s next Saturday.”
“Cool,” I said. “Wanna go? My treat.”
“It’s free.”
“Like I said, my treat.”
“But it’s classical,” Wally said, scrunching up his face. “You hate classical music.”
“Yeah? So?”
Wally stared at me as if he were counting pores. I figured it was about time I bit the bullet and did something that he liked to do, for a change. People could slip right through your fingers if you didn’t hang on tight enough.
“Okay,” he said. His eyes were shining brighter than Miss Van Rye’s sequined dress. “Let’s go!”
“You’re on - Wallace.”
Bunny zoomed over to our table and took our drink order. She brought us our two Diet Cokes and three regulars in record time. The booth was rattling with conversation, but my mind kept jumping back to one thing. It wasn’t long before my thoughts turned into words.
“There could be, like, a million reasons why Dad didn’t come,” I said to Mom. “What if he’s really sick - or hurt? What then?”
“Dustin, for heaven’s sake,” Mom said out of the side of her mouth, “just drop it, okay?” She took a long sip of Coke through her straw and swallowed hard. “He didn’t have much of a problem dropping us.”
“That’s not true,” I blurted out. “He used to call the house, and you kept it a big secret from me
and Gordy. And I know he used to send us presents too, but you sent them right back.”
I knew I was sworn to secrecy, and I didn’t want to upset her twice in one night, but the words just came out. Mom had that surprised look on her face again. Shocked, even. But I could tell from her reaction that what I had said was true.
“I’m really fed up with your aunts’ filling your head with this garbage!”
“But it’s not garbage, is it?”
No answer. Wally’s family stopped talking. They were probably listening to every word we were saying. I didn’t care.
“I mean, what’s the big deal if I talk to Dad every once in a while? Or see him, even?”
“Dustin, I can’t believe you’re thinking of such things after what he pulled tonight. When will you learn? Enough is enough!”
“You’re a Grand Old Flag” came blaring through the diner’s new jukebox, and that was the end of that. It was hard to admit, but Mom was right. He had his chance and he blew it.
The chitchat in the booth slowly picked up again. I dug into my pocket and pulled out the Reach for the Stars! key chain Dad had given me. “To Dusty. Luv, Da.” That’s how sixth-graders sign their Valentine’s Day cards. “Luv” - not “love.” ‘Cause they don’t really mean it.
A spider plant was sitting on a ledge next to our booth. I reached over and dropped the key chain in the dirt.
“Attention, everybody,” Futterman shouted. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” He was standing on a chair, clinking his root-beer mug with a spoon.
Uh-oh. Now what?
“First off, great show!” he said as the talking petered out. “And we didn’t need that smart-aleck Hollywood delinquent to pull it off either. Well, after all the tickets were sold, anyway.” He chuckled at that. “The play tonight raised enough money to cover the repairs for the baby-grand piano - and then some! Who knew that people around here would go for this stuff in such a big way?”
“Hey!” Pepper’s stepdad said with a mouthful of Doodle Dog. “Us Buttermilk Fallians appreciate culture too, ya know!”
“That’s right,” Mrs. Plunket said. “We’re not a bunch of boobs and rubes.”
“Okay, settle down,” Futterman said, raising his voice over the commotion. “I have more good news. First thing Monday morning I’m placing an order for the Mascot 2000 electronic scoreboard for our gymnasium! Plus, I think I could manage to set aside a little cash for next year’s show.”
“Next year’s show”? I have to be dreaming. I’ll be hitting that snooze button again any second now.
“Can we do a musical?” Darlene asked. “I’ve had three years of tap and baton.”
“We’ll see,” Futterman said. “Now, I’m not real big on mushy sentiment, but I like to give credit where credit is due.”
Since when? What’s gotten into Futterman?
“Here’s to everyone who made this night possible,” he said, raising his mug. “Miss Van Rye, Miss Honeywell… and Dustin Grubbs, our MVP!”
Camera flashes went off in my face. Major head rush. My scalp was tingling.
“So, raise your goblets high, good folk!” Wally shouted. “To Dustin Grubbs - the biggest star ever to hit Buttermilk Falls!”
Well, I’ve never used the word flabbergasted before, but I was totally flabbergasted - especially when Felix told me what MVP stood for.
Chapter 22
That’s a Wrap
“Could somebody get the door?” Aunt Birdie called from the bathroom. “I’m not presentable.”
“I’m on the phone!” I said with my hand covering the receiver. “Sorry, Dr. Devon. Yeah, Granny’s just fine. Uh-huh. My mom? I think she’s swamped in our kitchen right now, upstairs. Can you call back in, like, a half hour? Okay, nice speaking to you again too. Bye.”
The doorbell rang three times in a row.
“Is someone gonna get that?” Granny hollered from her bedroom. “Or are you waiting for an engraved invitation?”
“I’ve got it, Gran!” I yelled.
Jeez, I officially live upstairs. How do they cope when I’m not here?
I opened the door and saw Aunt Olive’s rear end. She was bent over, digging through her purse and mumbling. LMNOP was next to her, sitting on a stack of newspapers.
“Oh, thank goodness,” my aunt said, looking frazzled. “I must’ve forgotten my keys. But look what the cat dragged in.”
“Hi, Dustin Grubbs,” LMNOP said.
“Hi.”
I hadn’t spoken to her since that day with the posters when I chewed her out. Not one of my best moments. I knew I owed her an apology for acting like a gigantic goober, but steering clear of her was a lot easier.
“I was just going to leave these papers on your porch, but then your aunt came and - well, anyway, you’re in print again!” LMNOP said, flipping through one of the newspapers. “Page eight. Two whole paragraphs.”
She handed me a copy of the Penny Pincher, a free local paper containing mostly grocery coupons and advertisements -
LOCAL BOY SAVES SHOW!
- and fascinating articles! My name had already appeared in bold type in last Sunday’s Willowbridge Gazette. I wasn’t letting it go to my head or anything, but in the week since the play I’d been treated like a celebrity in Buttermilk Falls. I was glad I had Jeremy Jason Wilder as a role model - of how not to behave.
“In or out?” Granny said, sneaking up behind me. “You’re letting mosquitoes in the house.”
“This is so excellent!” I said, skimming the article.
“Well, aren’t you going to invite your little friend in, Dustin?” Aunt Olive said, hanging her jacket on the coat stand. “After she went through so much trouble for you?”
“Sure, come on,” I said. LMNOP followed us inside. “Our channel five upstairs is all fuzzy, so we’re watching Show-Biz Beat down here. They’re doing a follow-up on Whatever Happened to My Favorite Celebrity Kids? and Jeremy might be on.”
Aunt Birdie hurried out of the bathroom with gigantic curlers in her hair and a green face. “Did I miss the program?” she asked.
“Alien abduction!” I yelled, diving onto the sofa. “Hide your organs!”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Aunt Birdie said, patting her face. “I’ll crack!”
Everybody found a seat, and I read the article out loud. It mainly talked about the huge turnout we had for the show and how I’d switched roles at the last minute. Then it said, “The adroit Mr. Grubbs reveled in delightful antics as the Jester, skillfully providing comic relief.” Aunt Olive said adroit was a good thing, that it meant I knew what I was doing.
“You’re a hit!” Aunt Birdie said, and Granny kissed me on the head.
“Dustin’s not the only big shot around here,” Aunt Olive said. “Turns out Ellen’s got a serious case of the smarts. Won second place in the National Science Fair. Show them your ribbon, honey.”
LMNOP took off her backpack and spun it around. A yellow ribbon with shiny gold writing was pinned next to her I’m Terrific! button.
“All this time we had a genius living next door,” Granny said, examining the ribbon. “Who’d have guessed?”
Not me, that’s for sure.
“Well, aren’t you going to congratulate her?” Aunt Olive said to me.
“Congratulations,” I muttered. “What was your project on?”
“Oh, you don’t want to know,” LMNOP said.
I would’ve left it at that, but my aunts egged her on.
“Okay. It started out as a basic soil characterization study,” she said, poking up her glasses. “I took sand, silt, and clay samples from all over Buttermilk Falls. Then I set up rain gauges and wind vanes, and measured pH levels so I could evaluate the harmful effects caused by acid rain. Oh, I’m boring you guys. I can tell.”
The whole room was staring at her as if she were speaking in Japanese.
“No, go ahead, sweetie,” Granny said. “We’re listening.”
“Well, that’s it, rea
lly,” LMNOP said, winding down. “I wanted to expand my research to the effect of acid rain on the aquatic ecosystem, but there wasn’t enough time. There’s always next year.”
And all the while I thought she was making mud pies and burying doll parts.
“That’s wonderful, Ellen,” Aunt Olive said. “You keep at it and you’ll go far.”
“It’s six o’clock,” I said, clicking on the TV with the remote. “The show’s on.”
“What do they put in these facial masks anyway?” Aunt Birdie said with stiff lips. “Cement?”
“That looks like French clay,” LMNOP said, studying her. “Montmorillonite.”
“Oh, uh-huh,” Aunt Birdie said. “You should try some, Ma. It’s supposed to make your skin as smooth as a baby’s bottom.”
“You stay away from me with that stuff.”
“Shhhh, it’s on!” I said, turning up the volume.
Jeremy’s face flashed on the TV screen. He and Callie Sinclair were sitting across from each other in brown leather chairs - definitely a step up from his last interview. We caught the tail end of Callie’s question.
“… a far cry from doing school plays and living at the Dew Drop Inn on the outskirts of Buttermilk Falls. What’s it feel like to be back in Hollywood?”
“The Dew Drop Inn?” Aunt Birdie muttered. “That place is a dump.”
“Shush!” Granny swatted her.
“It’s great, Cal,” Jeremy said. “With the Double Take lawsuits and stuff, my family was going through a pretty rough time moneywise, so we moved to Buttermilk Falls. It was a lot cheaper to live out in the middle of nowhere.”
They were broke?
“Plus, my parents thought it’d be the best thing for me -and them. But they were wrong.”
“I understand they’re going through a divorce now,” Callie said with a sorrowful head tilt. “That must be tough on you, huh?”
Looks like we had a lot more in common than I thought. Jeremy didn’t answer, but ran his hands through his hair. He had a lump-in-your-throat look on his face.