Mustaches for Maddie

by Chad Morris

  Cassie looked away and back again. She exhaled long and hard, like she was trying to calm down and keep in either tears or screams. Maybe both. She smiled big and blinked a few times. I suspected she hadn’t had to deal with disappointment much.

  “So can we hang out at lunch?” I asked. I had done everything she asked.

  Cassie looked at me for a second, and her fake smile left. “Why were you hanging out with Lexi?” Apparently she had seen us walking around at recess.

  What should I say? I knew Cassie didn’t like Lexi, but Lexi had just been really helpful. And she was fun to be around. I shrugged. “She asked, and I didn’t want her to be lonely.” Maybe that wasn’t the entire truth. She kept me from being lonely, too.

  Cassie looked at me strangely. Maybe it was the same way she looked at Lexi. Maybe she was starting not to like me, ­either. “I think you should stop it,” she said.

  “To your seats, please,” Mrs. Baer said.

  Cassie’s hands rested on her hips for a moment before she spun and went to her desk. I still couldn’t tell if she was mad at the situation, or at me, or both. I probably wouldn’t know until recess.

  I wanted to talk to Lexi, but Mrs. Baer got us started on state capitals. My favorite was Tallahassee. Weird word. Really fun to say.

  Finally, when we’d both finished our assignments, I whispered over to her. “You were an awesome distraction.”

  “Thanks,” Lexi whispered back. “Sorry you tripped.”

  “That’s okay,” I said.

  “What did you find out about you-know-who?” She was blushing already.

  “He didn’t say it,” I said, “but I think he likes someone in our class.”

  Lexi pointed toward Cassie and raised her eyebrows.

  I shook my head. “I think it might be a girl with brown hair who is great at being a distraction.”

  I didn’t think a person’s face could turn that red.

  “Now, before we go to lunch,” Mrs. Baer said. “I have some news you’ve been waiting for.” Everyone moved up in their seats, murmuring about parts to the play. My heart beat superfast. “But before any official announcements, I need to tell you a few things.” Mrs. Baer gave the speech everyone knew was coming. It was about how we were all talented and how lots of us could have done all of the leads, but they had to pick someone. It was kind of useless. Not because it wasn’t true or nice. It was. It was just useless because when someone doesn’t get a good part, they feel bad. And that happens whether or not your teacher gives a speech.

  “The fairy queen will be played by Hannah Williams,” Mrs. Baer said. “And the fairy king by Coby Ahmed.”

  A few of the guys pushed Coby. He looked a little embarrassed. Hannah was beaming.

  “Sailor, Yasmin, and Jen will be fairies. And Ford will be Bottom.”

  Everyone laughed at that. Bottom was a character’s name in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. And if that wasn’t funny enough, he was the guy who got his head changed to a donkey head. So awesome.

  Mrs. Baer continued to announce part after part for what seemed like forever. I didn’t get Hamlet. No poison-tipped sword fighting for me.

  When Lexi got Viola in Twelfth Night, I gave her a high five. As soon as I had, I hoped Cassie hadn’t seen.

  “And Cassie will be playing Juliet,” Mrs. Baer said.

  That was to be expected. She was the prettiest and a really good actress.

  Except for that wasn’t what Mrs. Baer said. I had expected it so much that it took me a moment to realize that Mrs. Baer had said something different.

  “And Cassie,” she had said, “will be playing Bianca.”

  Not Juliet.

  Cassie’s mouth spread into a forced smile. She looked like a perfect plastic doll. She looked around the room as if trying to find out who’d gotten the part that was destined for her. My stomach did all sorts of backflips while Mrs. Baer finished the Taming of the Shrew cast. I was a little disappointed I hadn’t gotten Katherine.

  Only one play left.

  “Devin will be playing Romeo,” Mrs. Baer said. There was more teasing and pushing for this announcement than any other. Devin blushed bright red. I didn’t think any of the boys wanted that part. At least they would never admit it.

  Cassie’s smile became a little more fake.

  “And Juliet will be played by . . .” Mrs. Baer paused.

  My little heart was banging like a drum, but the drummer had eaten way too much sugar, plus drank a few sodas, and downed some Pixy Stix. Seriously, it was going crazy.

  “Maddie Bridger,” Mrs. Baer said.

  Yes!

  Wait. I could feel Cassie glaring at me.

  Oh, no.

  “Maddie,” Cassie said. When we lined up for lunch, she purposefully stood right next to me. And she wasn’t smiling. “How did you get Juliet? I thought you were going to be Juliet’s nurse.”

  I shrugged. “That was what you wanted. Not what I wanted.”

  Nope. You guessed it. I didn’t really say that. Part of me wished I could be that honest with Cassie, but I just couldn’t. I mean, she was Cassie. But I did shrug.

  “Then how did you get it?”

  I shrugged again. Though I had put it down on my paper and I had auditioned for it, I really had no idea how I got the part. Who would pick me over Cassie? I wasn’t as tall or as pretty, and my arm and leg were weird.

  “There must be some sort of mix-up,” Cassie said. “Come on.” She grabbed my arm, we stepped out of line, and marched up to Mrs. Baer, who was leading the class.

  “Mrs. Baer,” Cassie said. Her painted smile was definitely back. “I think there might have been some sort of mistake.” Her tone was perfect. Cassie had a way of talking to adults that made her sound like the sweetest thing. It’s not that she wasn’t sweet, just not as sweet as she sounded. “I really wanted to play Juliet, and Maddie didn’t even request that part.”

  Mrs. Baer looked surprised and then turned toward me. Oh, no. Here was when she would say something like, “Yes, she did. It was her first choice.” And all of the kids walking behind Mrs. Baer in the lunch line would hear us. And Cassie would hate me more. And then I would never get to hang out with her again.

  Which, of course, might not matter since I had a tumor in my head and might not live much longer anyway.

  I braced myself for the worst.

  But Mrs. Baer turned back toward Cassie. “You would have made a marvelous Juliet, but we chose to give the part to Maddie. She’ll do a great job too.”

  “But I really want it, and I didn’t even put down Bianca and—” Cassie started.

  “No,” Mrs. Baer cut her off. “There is no use complaining. We have made our decision. But you will make a wonderful Bianca. Now fall back into your place in line.”

  Cassie looked like she was going to say something again.

  We were just entering the cafeteria, and Mrs. Baer waited by the door as the class filed past her. “Wait with me, Maddie. I want to ask you something.”

  Cassie didn’t look very pleased, but there wasn’t much she could do. I felt like I was in trouble as everyone else in my class walked by. Cassie merged back in line, but I could tell by the rhythm of her walk that she wasn’t happy.

  Mrs. Baer led me away from the cafeteria.

  I braced myself. Was she going to talk about the part? Or worse, had she somehow heard about my tumor? Was she going to ask me about it? Was she going to tell everyone?

  “Maddie, you did request Juliet,” Mrs. Baer said. “Why did you tell Cassie something else?”

  “I . . .” I started. I didn’t know how to explain it, but there was something about Mrs. Baer that made it easier to talk to her. “I guess because I knew she really wanted it, and I didn’t want her mad at me.”

  Mrs. Baer looked at me, and I was pretty sure she could r
ead my thoughts. Some teachers have that power. “You know you don’t have to please everyone.”

  I blinked.

  “It’s okay to just be you. If Cassie doesn’t like it, that’s fine.”

  I nodded. Did Mrs. Baer actually think that I would do a better job playing Juliet? Or was she trying to teach me to be myself even if Cassie didn’t like it? Or was it both? I wanted to ask her why she chose me, but all I said was “Thanks.”

  Mrs. Baer walked me to the end of our class line. I didn’t bother trying to move up by Cassie. She was almost to the food anyway. As I got my tray and utensils, I wasn’t really sure I even cared about lunch anymore. Partly because I was thinking about how much Cassie was upset, and partly because of my tumor, and partly because they weren’t serving any potatoes.

  I really could have used some potatoes.

  As I walked out of the line with my food, looking for a place to sit, I saw Cassie with Sailor and Hannah and Yasmin and the rest of the girls, the group I’d tried to hang out with all year. It was the group I’d just risked a lot for to find out who Devin liked. A group I’d wished would give me a break from worrying about a tumor in my head. And that group was looking right at me. But Cassie was pointing. No one waved for me to come join them.

  Lexi did from a different table, but Cassie didn’t want me to hang out with her either.

  I sat down by myself, still remembering Mrs. Baer’s words. It was okay to just be me. Just be me. I really wanted to believe it, but it was hard sitting alone at a lunch table with my old friends pointing at me.

  Devin looked at me, then back down at his script. He wiped his palms against his pants and started. “But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”

  I know. It’s super mushy stuff. Apparently he was in love with me. Not Devin, but Romeo. It felt weird, but I didn’t hate it. We were just doing a read-through of our script. We only had four weeks to get ready for our performances, but Mrs. Baer said we would practice every day. She wanted us to try to be memorized in a week. That’s superfast, but our scenes were only a few minutes long. Good thing I have a genius brain.

  “It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!” He said it all with his face almost buried in his folder. He sounded more like a robot than an actor. I wanted to say that he didn’t have to worry, that I knew he didn’t really like me, that we were only pretending. He probably would have been crazy red if Lexi had gotten Juliet’s part.

  “See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand,” Devin said, still not looking up.

  Oh, sweet-potato fries! Apparently I was supposed to be leaning my cheek against my hand. I hadn’t noticed at all. That would be really funny if he said that in the play but when everyone looked at me I was in the totally wrong position. I rested my head on my right hand. My left hand was balled in a fist again and starting to tuck back. Probably not the best Juliet position.

  “O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!”

  Really, Shakespeare? Romeo wanted to be a glove? Super-de-duper mush-a-rrific. I mean I liked love stories, but that was a bit much.

  But I also didn’t totally hate it.

  Oh. It was my line. I wasn’t paying attention. I looked down at my script, found my place, and quickly called out. “Ay me!”

  Yep. That was my first line. Shakespeare is famous for making up the best plays in the world, and my first line in my scene was “Ay me!” That would never jump-start my career as a famous actress.

  Devin talked more, calling me a “bright angel” and “a winged messenger of heaven.” I was pretty sure he was wishing he was sword fighting right now. Or maybe even wishing his head had been changed to a donkey head.

  Oh, no, my turn again. “O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?” I pretended I was on some high balcony looking over a courtyard.

  “Uh, I’m right here,” Devin said. I guess he thought he could relax and joke around now that it was my line. Well, it worked. We both laughed.

  “I was trying to act, but you just blew it,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he said, his lips curling up for a change.

  Was I the only one listening when Mrs. Baer explained that wherefore meant why? At least he was having fun.

  There was a moment of silence as we both looked for our spots in the script. “This is a little awkward, huh?” I said.

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  “Maybe we should do it again,” I said, “but wearing mustaches.” I tried to make the mustaches sound as exciting as I could. I pulled two of them from my pocket.

  Devin looked at them for a second, then a smile slowly crept over his face. “I get the fuzzy black one.”

  “What?” I said. “So selfish. But I guess that’s okay.”

  We both put them on and tried the scene again. This time, we about died laughing at every other line. I caught Cassie glaring at us a few times from the other side of the room, but I tried to ignore her. When a guy in a big bushy black mustache was calling me “a winged messenger of heaven,” I was going to pay attention. You don’t get a lot of those opportunities in life.

  Shakespeare should always be done with mustaches.

  We made it through our first scene before the last bell rang. We still had one more to go.

  “That was fun,” Devin said and took off his mustache.

  “Yeah, it was,” I said, taking mine off too. When I took his mustache from him, our hands touched a little, but I pretended not to notice. Maybe being Juliet would be a great thing. Maybe Mrs. Baer would actually let us perform in mustaches. Well, probably not me. But even if Devin could, that might make it more fun. And maybe it would the best scene of all of them. Maybe the crowd would laugh and cry and clap loud and long at the end, standing on their feet in a teary ovation.

  It was only after I grabbed my backpack that I remembered about my tumor. The monster waiting for me. I could almost picture its eyes like glowing fires watching patiently, waiting for the perfect time to attack.

  It sure had been nice to forget.

  Thank you for hanging out with me today. I had a lot of fun. And you have a great imagination.

  P.S. You’re going to make a great Juliet!

  I found the little card in my backpack when I unloaded it after school. I took it with me in the car. And I read it one last time before the neurosurgeon walked into the room. The neurosurgeon—that’s a fancy word for a brain doctor—looked down at me. Her name was Dr. Montoya. She had short hair, golden-brown skin, and wore a white lab coat. Apparently those are super fashionable at hospitals and in doctor’s offices. She took a deep breath.

  “Maddie only has three days to live. There’s nothing we can do.”

  Three days.

  My heart plummeted. Three days? As the reality set in, my heart sunk even further. I was only going to have a couple of days to squeeze in everything I ever wanted to do? Could we still go to Disneyland? Maybe I could fit in a little skydiving. Maybe my first film role? Oh, and taking over a small country, crowning myself queen, making every day a holiday in which all the people would have to cook me my favorite meals of potatoes.

  Okay, the neurosurgeon didn’t say that. Thank heavens. I had been day-nightmaring she would. I had also been hoping that she wouldn’t say, “This tumor is actually a living creature and is feeding on Maddie’s brain. In a while, it will take over her body and use it to take over the world, make her queen, and make every day a holiday in which all the people would have to cook her meals of potatoes.” That would be a bummer because my body would be taken over and I wouldn’t get to enjoy any of the potatoes.

  But I did talk to Dr. Montoya. We were at my appointment to talk about my surgery. She was really calm, and older than my mom but younger than my grandma.

  “So,” Dr. Montoya said, “from the images we can see, we
believe that the tumor is actually on Maddie’s pituitary gland.”

  Pitui-what?

  “It’s the part of the body that regulates growth, maturation, blood pressure, and hormones. And the tumor is pressing up against her brain and optic nerves. To get as much of it out as we can, we’d like to do what’s called a transsphenoidal approach.”

  Pituitary? Transsphenoidal? Was she making these words up?

  “Which basically means we will use little tubes and go up through Maddie’s nose until we reach just under the brain.” She was mostly talking to my mom and dad.

  Whoa. Do you remember in first grade how you used to make jokes that you should be careful about picking your nose because you could scratch your brain? Well, apparently if your finger was long enough, it just might work. But I didn’t like the idea of anything scratching my brain.

  Dr. Montoya explained that some of the tubes had tiny cameras so the doctors could see what they were doing, which I thought sounded pretty awesome. Some of the other tubes had tools on them to chop up the tumor, and some had sucky things to suck it out. It was the most disgusting and amazing explanation ever. Of course, it would have been a whole lot cooler if all those tubes were going into someone else’s head.

  My nose was too small, though, so they were going to cut a little hole under my top lip but above my gums and shove all of those tubes into my brain. I couldn’t stop running my tongue over that area of my mouth after she told me.

  Ready for the weirdest part?

  Then they were going to cut my stomach and take some fat tissue out to plug up the hole they made. It was supposed to keep my brain fluid from leaking out.

  Tummy fat shoved through my mouth? Weird. And kind of awesome.

  But mostly weird.

  I really hoped that I wouldn’t accidentally wake up while they were doing any of those things.

  “How many times have you done this surgery?” my dad asked.

  I would have never thought about that question, but now that my dad asked it, I thought it was a really good one. I didn’t want someone who had never done this before messing around with my brain.