by H. N. Kowitt
“Hey there.” I used my deep Talent Show Director voice.
“Just wondering.” Sophie tugged at my sleeve. “Are you drawing the poster for Green-a-palooza?”
My smile froze. Why were we talking about Ty’s show?
“No one asked me.” I shrugged, but I felt my confidence drop.
“That’s weird,” Emma said. “I mean, you draw everything else.” Glad she noticed. I was always making posters for some lame event.
Why hadn’t Ty asked me? He probably thought I wasn’t cool enough.
Yeah. That was it.
“Maybe the poster’ll have Skye Blue on it,” Sophie buzzed. “Oooh!”
“Skye Blue?” I was confused. He was a famous stunt bicyclist. Everyone had seen the YouTube video that had made the 22-year-old instantly famous. Now he was such a big star, he had his own video game.
“Duh,” said Morgan. “Haven’t you heard? He’s the headliner at Green-a-palooza!”
WHAT???
Ty had gotten Skye Blue for Green-a-palooza!?
“He’s a friend of Ty’s dad,” said Morgan, answering my next question.
My chest burned, thinking how unfair it was. Because of his dad’s contacts, Ty had lucked out.
TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!
The ear-piercing screech of Coach Kilshaw’s whistle made me jump.
“Hey, Shine!” he roared. “Are you in the girls’ class now?”
“Maybe he has his period!” yelled Axl, and all the guys snickered.
I hurried away from the girls and joined a ragged group jogging around the track.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Skye Blue. He was the definition of cool — a butt-kickin’ bike stunt rider known for signature moves like the Leap of Death and Jedi Knight.
No one was more popular than Skye. Jasper and I had seen him on our favorite show, Extreme Bike Smackdown.
Oh, man!
Just as the talent show was getting a tailwind, Green-a-palooza had to come along and blow it out of the water! No WAY could we compete with Skye Blue.
It had never even occurred to me to worry about Green-a-palooza stealing our thunder; I was picturing a snoozefest packed with nature lectures and recycling demonstrations.
Not the hottest ticket in town!
“What’s a matter, Shine?” Coach “Twenty Laps” Kilshaw pulled up beside me. “Pick up the pace.”
“Unh,” I grunted, trying to sprint away from him.
Ahead of me, two jocks were talking. “… see the video of him doing stunts at the Grand Canyon?” said a big-necked guy. “It was sweet.”
Everyone was talking about Skye!
Now Green-a-palooza would be bigger than ever. I cursed Ty under my breath, wondering how he’d managed to upstage us again.
“ARE YOU FREAKIN’ KIDDING ME?”
Jasper didn’t take the news well. “How did he get the coolest bike stuntman ever?” He shook his head. “Green-a-palooza gets Skye Blue, and we get” — Jasper looked at the clipboard — “Principal Kulbarsh. Yodeling.”
We were in Ralph the janitor’s closet, sitting on boxes of supplies, eating Twizzlers and taking care of business.
“Ty’s dad knows him,” I said. “But don’t freak out. We’ve got Chantal! And cool acts like the skateboarder/breakdancer. And even if Green-a-palooza’s a hit, Ty’s still going to embarrass himself at the talent show.” I smiled, remembering his eco-rap in the bathroom.
“You know, Danny.” Jasper’s voice was low. “It just hit me. Ty didn’t audition. I hope he’s still up for this.”
Crud. Jasper was right.
“Did he even sign up to try out?” I scanned the list. Ty’s name wasn’t there. “Oh, no. He’s our whole —”
“Reason for doing this.” Jasper’s face turned white.
“He’s got to be in the show.” My heart was pounding. How did this happen?
“Find him ASAP,” Jasper said. “Make sure he’s on board —”
“But —” School was almost over. “What do I do if …?”
“Promise him anything,” said Jasper.
“Um —”
“Ahem.” We looked up. Ralph the janitor was standing over us with a mop. The meeting was over.
I looked for Ty at his locker, but he was gone. Some girl said he was at the Lakeside Bird Sanctuary. I rolled my eyes. Why couldn’t he do normal things after school like the rest of us?
The shelter was a modern stone and glass building at the edge of a nature preserve. I found Ty in a huge room that looked like an indoor zoo. Birds were flying around everywhere.
Ty was cradling a wounded bird and feeding it through a tiny eyedropper.
“Danny!” He looked surprised to see me. “Are you a Youth Service Leader too?”
“No,” I said sheepishly. Even when he didn’t mean to, Ty always made me feel not-quite-good-enough. “What are you doing?” I asked, pointing to the eyedropper. I ducked to avoid flying birds.
“I’m feeding Tango,” he explained. “He’s a hybrid macaw, left homeless after the flood downstate. This is an animal rescue unit. We take wounded birds and rehabilitate them. Say hi to Danny,” Ty said to the feathery bundle.
“Um, hi, Tango,” I muttered. What do you say to a bird?
“I also help microchip new ones when they come in.” He put the macaw down, and showed me its ankle bracelet. “It’s not bad. On my last Service gig, I had to test the water quality of the drainage canal. This is better.”
THUMP! A red bird hit the table next to us like a B-1 bomber. I jumped back, startled. It began pecking a cloth-covered book, and Ty gently shooed him away. “Yours?” I asked, picking it up. I loved looking at people’s notebooks.
“Yeah, it’s mine,” Ty said. “I’m journaling while I do this.”
Of course.
“So, if you’re not volunteering,” Ty said, “what are you doing here?”
“Oh. Right.” My urgent mission suddenly felt a little stupid. Couldn’t I have waited until school tomorrow? “Jasper and I are putting together the talent show for Saturday night, the eighteenth, and we really want you to be in it.” I took a deep breath. “You’re going to do your eco-rap, right?”
“My eco-rap.” Ty narrowed his eyes. “H-m-m-m-m.”
K-KAW! K-KAW! A yellow bird sailed by. I was sure the next low-flying one was going to bonk me.
“You remember.” My voice went higher. “It’s a fund-raiser to renovate that children’s playground in the city. At P.S. 160.”
“Yeaahh,” he said slowly, rubbing his chin. “Problem is, I’m busy doing this thing Mondays and Wednesdays. Tuesdays I have Save The Oceans, Saturday’s soccer. Plus I’m totally jammed with Green-a-palooza. That reminds me …”
“But …!”
Crud. Crud. Crud.
“Can you draw the Green-a-palooza poster?” Ty asked. “I meant to ask you earlier….”
“Um, well —”
“Sorry I have to bail on the talent show,” Ty said. “But there’s so much to do for Green-a-palooza! Setting up a website and ticket sales. Working with the stage crew for tech rehearsals. Printing up a program. Getting donations to cover the costs of the show. Access for the handicapped. Ads in local papers to get the word out — and so on. But I don’t have to tell you about all that!”
Sheesh.
Listening to him, my stomach sank like a stone. We hadn’t thought about any of those things. And our show was two weeks before his!
YIPES.
Right now, though, my big job was to change Ty’s mind. My palms started to sweat. I grabbed his shoulders.
“Ty, listen to me.” My voice was deadly serious. “You’ve GOT to perform. It’s really, really important. You need to get —” I locked eyes with him. “Your ecological message out there!”
I made a sweeping hand gesture and hit a bird station, causing a flutter of wings behind me.
Ty stared at me. “Wow, Danny,” he said quietly. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about th
e environment.”
I looked at the ground and blinked.
“This is a whole new side of you,” he continued. “It’s cool. I respect it. About the talent show —” Ty bit his lip. “I’ve never rapped before in public.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” I pointed out.
“I don’t know.” Ty shook his head. “Tell you what. I’ll do your show, if you’ll draw the Green-a-palooza poster.”
“That sounds —”
SPLAT!
A green bird came out of nowhere, pelting my head like a crop duster.
“— awesome,” I said, wiping away the poop.
Now that we had Ty on board, we could announce the performers. That night, Jasper posted the results online. The fallout didn’t come until the next day, when I got to my locker.
“Guess Axl saw the posting.” I bit my lip.
We knew there would be trouble if we nixed his heavy-metal act. But what could we do? We couldn’t have Axl & Co. smashing furniture onstage.
In case we’d missed the words on our lockers, he left other messages at school. The cement wall outside the gym said, DANNY REEKS and HEAVY METAL RULES, NOT SHORT UGLY GEEKS. They also marked up my poster for the show:
Axl’s reaction was the most extreme, but there were tough moments with other people too. Katelyn Ogleby gave me a tearful look for rejecting her twirling glow stick dance.
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “We had a limited number of spots.” I felt like a rat having to say no to anyone. But the important thing was to get Ty up there, doing what he did worst.
We needed an emcee for the show. It hadn’t occurred to me until Ty mentioned it in his to-do list. But of course, an announcer had to greet the audience, introduce guests, say stuff between acts, and stop people who went on too long.
“You do it,” said Jasper. “Or I’ll do it.”
Jasper was perfectly comfortable with a three-minute silence in the middle of a conversation. He used phrases like, “Egads!” and “suboptimal.” His emcee style was only right for certain events.
And me? Not a good idea. I freeze in front of an audience like a deer in headlights. Once I had to give an oral report on “Traditions of the Hopi Indians,” and I forgot some basic things, like how to speak and breathe.
Other than that, it went great.
So who could we get? I tried to think of someone who was funny, but also mature, and comfortable with a crowd. Pickings were pretty slim. Funny and mature don’t really go together in middle school.
“Do you have an emcee yet?” Someone was tapping me on the shoulder. It was Malibu Nussbaum. “I’ve had a lot of public speaking experience.” She must have overheard us arguing about it.
Hmmm. Malibu was a student council type, always campaigning for Healthier Cafeteria Meals or No School Budget Cuts. Had I ever heard her say anything funny? If so, I couldn’t remember it.
“Thanks for asking, Malibu,” I said. “Just curious. What other shows have you emceed?”
“The Recycling Assembly,” she said. “The Teacher Appreciation Breakfast. The Student Council Awards.”
What a line-up.
“The important thing is, emcees need to show respect for other students,” Malibu continued earnestly.
I frowned. “Respect” isn’t a word that goes with comedy. I thanked her and said we’d let her know. Back at the “office,” I talked it over with Jasper.
“Malibu’s not a good fit,” I told him. “But who is? I can’t think of a student or faculty member who’s entertaining in the right way.”
We heard a bucket sloshing down the hall, and the metal door opened.
“RALPH!” we both shouted at the same time.
It hit me like a thunderbolt: Ralph would be the perfect emcee. Most janitors aren’t known for their public speaking skills, but Ralph was different. He was an actor!
He told us he’d only become a janitor to support himself between gigs. His real dream was to get a part on a TV show as a goofy dad or wisecracking best friend. He was always wondering if he should move to Los Angeles.
“G’day mates,” Ralph said in an Australian accent. He liked to practice accents in case of movie auditions. We watched him wheel his bucket into the corner.
While he squeezed out his mop, I whispered to Jasper. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked. “Let’s ask Ralph to emcee!”
“Another Vulcan mind-meld.” Jasper dapped me.
“Hey, guys,” Ralph sat down on a drum of disinfectant. “Want to run lines with me?” He pulled a script out of his pocket.
“Sure.” I shrugged. “What’s the part?”
“Guy in a laxative commercial,” he said. “You’re my wife.”
I took the script and located my first line.
“What’s the matter, honey?” I put on a high, girlish voice.
“Constipation,” Ralph said glumly. “And it’s the day of the big Johnson presentation!”
I pressed a Sprite can into his hand. “Bowel-Ade relieves constipation fast. And it comes in a delicious mango flavor —”
“Skip to eight hours later,” Ralph directed.
I turned the page. “How’d your day go?”
“No constipation,” Ralph said proudly. “And we won the Johnson account!”
“EWWWW!” I had just read ahead in the script. “No way I’m kissing you.”
Ralph laughed and we bumped fists instead.
“Good work,” he said. “But I’ll never get it.
“Well,” I said, seizing the opening. “We’ve got a part for you. Want to emcee our talent show in a few weeks?”
“Wow,” Ralph said. “What would I do?”
“Introduce people, banter between acts,” I said. “Like the host at the Oscars.”
“Cool,” Ralph said. “That sounds fun. I’m flattered.”
“We couldn’t afford to pay you,” Jasper said. “But you’d be doing us a big favor.”
“It’s about time people saw another side of you,” I said. “Not just the guy mopping up barf after a basketball game.”
“Emcee of the talent show,” Ralph repeated dreamily. “I like it.”
“Our people will call your people,” I said, standing up.
“Wunderbar,” said Ralph in a German accent.
“A JANITOR is emceeing the talent show?” shouted Amundson. “That’s whack!”
The assistant principal was standing up in his office, practically yelling at Jasper and me. At first, I had questions about using Ralph too. He wasn’t a very hard worker, and could be pretty self-absorbed. But Amundson’s shouting instantly wiped my doubts away. Any idea he hated that much had to be brilliant.
“Ralph studied acting at the Royal Shakespeare Academy of Milwaukee,” I said calmly. “He’s a member of the Screen Actors Guild, the Ventriloquists Union, and Pantomimes for Peace. He can tap-dance, sword fight, and impersonate Elvis. He’s just what we need.”
“What you need is a faculty advisor.” Amundson sat down. “This whole thing has gotten out of hand. Next you’ll be saying you want to set off fireworks!”
Jasper and I stole a guilty look at each other, remembering Chantal’s request for “pyrotechnics.”
“So I’m assigning you someone you can kick it with, a member of the faculty who’s down with your ideas. Someone who can say ‘yay’ or ‘no way.’ And that person will be …” He tapped on the desk dramatically with his pen.
“Me,” he finished.
I almost fell over. Work with Amundson? I couldn’t imagine anything worse.
Jasper and I both started sputtering.
“Um, really, we —”
“That’s not —”
“Dawgs, it’s settled.” Amundson got up. “From now on, we meet every few days to see how things roll. This should have been done weeks ago. My bad.”
What a low blow. He knew less about putting on a show than we did! Plus he was a complete doofus! On the other hand, he could be a useful
testing board. Anything he liked — we’d do the opposite.
Using my new Talent Show Director skills, I smiled and said we’d be in touch.
We steered clear of Amundson, but it didn’t take long for us to realize we needed other kinds of help — big time. So I put up flyers all over school:
I had a secret agenda: getting Asia O’Neill to volunteer by making sure she saw the poster right outside her homeroom. Instead of going to lunch, I snuck into the hall to find the bulletin board next to Room 209.
Too bad it was already crammed with flyers.
I rearranged the board to make room for our poster. Now Asia wouldn’t miss it. Maybe she’d come up to me at lunch. “Hey, Danny,” she’d say. “Do you still need people for stage crew?” And I’d say, “Sure. I think we could fit you in.” And then she’d say …
WHOMP!
A thud on my shoulder jolted me out of my daydream.
“Nice poster,” said a lazy voice.
Spinning around, I saw Axl, Boris, and Spike grinning. Boris was swinging a bicycle chain. Axl had his arms folded, looking at me through slitted eyes. Spike was grinding his teeth.
“Just the guy I was looking for.” Axl’s eyes glittered. “Let’s take a walk.”
Oh, crud.
Like I didn’t know what that meant! The last time I’d taken a “walk” with Axl, Boris held me down while Axl started to pound me. It was the worst hour of my whole life. Should I yell? Maybe someone down the hall would hear.
“But —” I sputtered.
“Someplace private,” Axl said. “Where we can talk.”
Right.
We headed for the stairwell, their favorite hangout. It was a good place to pelt people with ketchup-filled water balloons.