by H. N. Kowitt
Maybe I could overload it again.
I dashed off to the janitor’s closet and hauled back as many of Ralph’s appliances as I could find there, including his electric razor. If I plugged them in, maybe I’d blow the circuits.
Just as I was about to stuff the last plug into the board …
“What are you doing?”
I turned around and saw Droopy Mustache and the red-haired fireman.
“I, was, uh —” I stammered. Crud.
“Giving the thing a test run?” asked Droopy Mustache.
I looked up to see if he was angry. But his eyes were friendly.
Phew.
“Yeah.” I smiled weakly.
“Don’t worry.” He chuckled, picking up his axe. “We rewired the board so it’s twice as powerful as before.” The red-haired fireman went to the corner and picked up his tool box.
Unplugging the machines, I desperately scanned the room. “Look at that garbage can blocking the exit door!” I yelled. “Isn’t that a fire violation?”
The red-haired guy moved the garbage can off to the side. “Not anymore, it isn’t.”
I looked around for something … anything …
“How about that bundle of dusty old newspapers in the corner?” I pointed my finger.
Droopy looked over and shrugged. “Yeah? So?”
Crud! What now?
The firemen opened the door and waved goodbye. “See you shortly, kid. Good luck.”
Watching them leave the auditorium, I felt frantic. My last hope for avoiding disaster was walking out with them! There was no way to reverse our terrible idea. In an hour, Ty was going to get laughed off the stage — after doing us the world’s biggest favor. And we can’t stop it.
Opening the door, I flew after the firemen.
“There might be four hundred people here tonight!” I yelled down the hall. “Doesn’t that exceed MAXIMUM OCCUPANCY????”
But the main door clicked shut. They had already left.
Showtime was in — gulp — 10 minutes.
The line to get into the talent show stretched into the lobby, out the door, and onto the sidewalk in front of school. Once word got around that Skye was coming, everyone stormed the place. Our security team — Axl, Boris, and Spike — had their hands full.
“Single file!” Boris shouted.
“Anyone who cuts the line …” Axl flashed an evil smile. “Gets a swirly.”
“Eeeeeeeeeeew!” everyone squealed.
“Axl.” I pulled him aside. “Take it down a notch. No threats. How’s it going?”
“I’m keeping them in line, but …” Axl looked around, frowning. “It’d be a lot easier if we had Tasers.”
As I headed for the stage door, I overheard chatter about the show.
“… gotta see this guy … he’s unbelievable …”
I slowed down to hear more.
“… the worst rapper …”
“… sticking his thumbs out …”
“… almost died laughing …”
They were talking about Ty! Based on just a few moments at rehearsal, the whole crowd was buzzing. This was bad — really bad. A guy in a baseball cap held up a phone.
“I’m definitely recording him for YouTube,” he said.
“Me too,” said his friend.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.
My stomach turned over. Ty on YouTube? This was turning into a disaster. When we’d urged Ty to be in the talent show, we had never meant for it to go this far.
I’d wanted to take the guy down a peg, not destroy him.
Now he was going to be the butt of some huge joke that could spread throughout the school, maybe the world.
And on the Internet, it could go on forever. Thinking about it, I felt deeply, deeply nauseous. I had to stop Ty from performing — no matter what it took.
Even telling the truth.
As I bolted through the double doors, I ran into Amundson.
“Dawg, look at all these people,” he said. “You must be mad excited!”
“Yeah,” I said unhappily. “It’s really happening.”
“Hello, ladies and germs. It is FANTASTIC to be here.” Ralph, the janitor-turned-emcee, gripped the podium. He wore a glittery tuxedo with red high-tops. “Welcome to … the First Annual School Talent Show!”
“Woo-hoo!” “Yay!” “Woot-woot!”
Big cheers. The auditorium was so packed, it seemed like people were hanging from the ceiling. The crowd was excited. People started chanting, “Skye Blue! Skye Blue! Skye Blue!”
“We’ve got a GREAT show for you tonight,” said Ralph. “Clog dancers. Jump ropers. Yodelers. Skateboarders. Even a rapper …”
The crowd shrieked with laughter, and Ralph looked surprised.
“Okay,” he said. “Glad you’re looking forward to that. We just added a surprise act at the end, and — a VERY SPECIAL GUEST …”
The crowd went nuts.
“SKYE! SKYE! SKYE! SKYE!”
“So without further ado, I’d like to introduce our first performers … Peter and the Laff Riots!”
From backstage, I watched the guys run out with their squirt guns. Ty was scheduled to go on third. That meant I had just a few minutes to find him and bodily prevent him from going onstage.
“Has anyone seen Ty?”
I ran past banjo players, yo-yo-ists, hula-hoopists. Nobody knew where he was.
I poked my head into the boys’ bathroom. The more places I looked, the more frantic I got.
He wasn’t in the wings, or hallway, or the lobby. I opened the door to check the “Green Room” again, the space adjoining the stage, where the performers warmed up. Inside, I hit a huge wall of people gathered around someone. They were shouting questions:
“Are you going to do a backflip off the wall?”
“Was that your dog in the video?”
“How many bikes do you have?”
I jumped up to see over the crowd and spotted a guy with wild blond hair tucked under a beanie.
Skye Blue was in da’ house.
Normally, I’d be over there drooling with the rest of the pack, but I had to find Ty. I skirted around the edge of the mob, but Milo, our stage manager, grabbed me. “Danny! You’ve got to meet someone!”
He pulled me in, and the crowd parted. Suddenly I was standing in front of Skye Blue, everyone’s hero.
My hero.
Skye had piercing blue eyes and tanned skin. A Chinese character was tattooed on his wrist. He had a dangerous anything-could-happen gleam in his eyes.
“So you’re the dude who put this whole show together.” He smiled at me.
“Um. Yeah.” My eyes scanned the room for Ty.
“Cool.” Skye nodded. “I thought I’d do a Leap of Death, with a switchback down the ramp. Then a Flamingo or a Candy Bar, maybe even a —”
“Whatever. Sounds great,” I said, cutting him off. I turned and ran, leaving shocked faces all around me. I couldn’t believe I was ditching Skye Blue! But I didn’t have time for him now —
I had to find Ty.
As I flew down the hall behind the stage, Chantal grabbed me. In her gold-sequined top, she was clearly dressed to perform. Now that Skye was on board, I knew she wanted back in. She grabbed my arm.
“Not now, Chantal,” I said.
“Skye Blue’s here, right?” Her eyes lit up. “Doing the show?”
“I don’t have time to talk —”
“Danny.” Her voice was pleading. “Don’t mess with me.”
“You said you’d never be in one of my shows again,” I said.
“Hrrmph.” Chantal squirmed.
“Look, Chantal, I’ve got to find Ty —”
“Dang it, Danny.” Chantal threw down her giant purse. “What do I have to do? Get down on my knees and lick your sorry no-name sneakers?”
I pretended to consider it.
“Naw, that’s okay, Chantal,” I said. “We’ll put you back in.”
“Yay!” sh
e shouted. “Ladies, haul your shaggy butts in here. We’ve got a show to do!”
Five minutes to find Ty.
Running around, I spotted Jasper on a ladder.
“Jasper!” I panted. “Where’s Ty?”
He climbed down. “I dunno. Why?”
“Word got out about his rap,” I whispered. “People can’t wait to see him bomb! Between him and Skye Blue? He’s the bigger attraction.”
Jasper shook his head. “Oh, no. Geez.”
“It gets worse,” I continued. “People are planning to record his rap and put it on YouTube.”
Jasper groaned. “He’s on in …” He checked his watch. “Three minutes.”
Crud! I did one more frantic spin backstage and then —
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone heading for the wings. “TY!” I yell-whispered.
“Danny!” Ty walked toward me, and I practically tackled him.
“Where were you?” I was relieved. “I looked all over —”
“I was in the science lab,” he said. “Thinking. I don’t know about doing this rap, Danny. People had a weird reaction to it.”
“Uh-huh.” I looked at the floor.
“I’m probably just nervous, right?” He chuckled. “It’s important to get my message out there. And you think it’s good. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be doing this.”
Milo walked by. “You’re on in one minute, Ty.”
Say it. Now.
“Don’t do it.” I blurted out.
“WHAT?” He blinked.
“I led you wrong.” I swallowed.
“But …” Ty’s face darkened. “In the locker room, you said —”
“I lied,” I said flatly.
“You wanted me in the show….” Ty’s voice was fierce. “You begged me.”
“Because it was a terrible rap,” I said miserably. “I was mad at you. We wanted to show everyone.”
Ty looked at me stunned, now taking in the full horror of it. It was the worst moment of my life.
“Who else is in on the joke?” He said quietly. “The whole school?”
When I didn’t say anything, he squeezed his eyes shut. Beat me up, I begged silently. I deserve it! I’d rather have Axl punch my lights out a million times than look at Ty’s unhappy face a moment longer.
He didn’t lunge at me, though. Instead his shoulders went slack, and he just kind of crumpled.
Which was a thousand times worse. I felt like the lowest form of life imaginable.
“Ty.” Milo came up and pointed. “You’re on.”
Someone had to make the announcement.
I walked out onstage and stepped up to the microphone. The glare of the lights was overwhelming. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I squinted at hundreds of people.
Looking at me. Waiting.
Ty Randall won’t be performing tonight. I opened my mouth to say the words, but nothing came out. Looking over in the wings, I saw Ty slumped in his chair. What had I done? Could I ever make it right?
My hands were sweating. At the foot of the stage, one of the stage crew guys held up a cue card with Ty’s lyrics on it.
The music track came on, startling me.
BOOM-DIDDA-BOOM. BOOM-DIDDA-BOOM. BOOM-DIDDA-BOOM …
I started to say, “Turn off the music!” But glancing into the wings again, I saw Ty sitting with his head in his hands, trying to accept the idea that someone wanted him to make a fool of himself.
I took a deep breath, and looked at the cue card. With shaking arms, I lifted the mike to my lips.
“’Cuz I’m mean
I’m green
I’m an eco-freak
I’m Super Teen …”
My voice cracked. If you’re going to do it, I told myself, do it all the way. I started swinging my arms overhead, like the rappers on TV.
“Global warming u gotta prevent it
Let’s all write postcards to the Senate….”
People started to laugh. Although my brain must have known this could happen, hearing their ha ha has hit me like a punch in the stomach. I look every bit as ridiculous as Ty, I thought. I could see people laughing so hard they were doubled over.
A few hours ago, I would have said this was my worst nightmare. But the moment I’d told Ty the truth was far, far worse.
“If the ice cap melts, it’s gonna get tragic Ocean levels rise like magic …”
The real me was floating overhead somewhere, looking down on myself flailing around. The audience glittered with dozens of shiny objects — cell phones held up to catch the moment for eternity.
“Booooo! Booooo!”
The crowd was getting rowdier. Why had I started singing? Was I out of my mind? This was a total freakin’ nightmare, but now that I had started, I didn’t know how to stop.
“You reek! Go home!”
Now people were stomping their feet. PLONK! Someone lobbed a water bottle on stage. BLATT! Someone else threw a sandwich.
“Ha ha ha ha ha …” Laughter swelled again after someone pelted me with an open bag of Skittles.
Could a person actually die of embarrassment? My breath started to come in ragged bursts, and I didn’t know if I could keep going. My voice got thick, and my knees started to buckle….
“’Cause I’m … mean … I’m … green …”
“DU-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-DE …!!!”
Who was that? Suddenly, something shot out of the wings. Was it a bird? Was it a plane? No, it was …
Skye Blue, riding his bike full speed.
The cyclist flew onto the stage, and circled around me. Then Skye leaned back into a wheelie, hopping up and down on the rear wheel. I watched in amazement as he bounced across the floor, using the rear wheel like a pogo stick.
The audience gasped. He circled around me again and did a backflip off the wall.
“SKYE!” More cheers, screams, foot stomps. Skye rolled back across the stage, and then ditched the bike and joined me. He put his hand on my shoulder and bent toward the mike.
“Hey, people!” Skye took the mike. “This rap is SICK! He’s got a slammin’ message, and I’m behind him ALL THE WAY.” He gave his devilish, crooked smile. “We all are! If you want more bike tricks, stand up and REPEAT AFTER ME!”
Skye called out lines from the cue card. “I’m mean, I’m green —”
People sang tentatively.
“Louder, people!” Skye roared. “I can’t HEAR you!”
“I’M MEAN, I’M GREEN, I’M AN ECO-FREAK, I’M SUPER TEEN …” the audience yelled.
“I. CAN’T. HEAR. YOU!” Skye hollered.
This time, they screamed. Skye started clapping above his head, and the audience joined in. After his stunts, he could have flogged himself with a dead fish, and people would have copied him.
I looked over in the wings for Ty. He was standing up now, nodding his head, and almost …
Smiling.
Relief surged through me. I motioned for him to join us, but he looked hesitant. Other performers were flooding onstage, jumping at the chance to join Skye.
Not to be outdone, Chantal pushed her way through and planted herself next to me and Skye.
“Mackin’ on a fuel … that’s renewable
C’mon, people … it’s way do-able”
In a thousand years, I’d never have imagined Chantal leading the crowd in a song about biofuels. But her showstopping voice and sassiness took the rap to a whole new level. We all moved back to make room for her, and she started adding her own words.
“Wake up, people, will you? We got to do something about this problem, and I mean now. You think we got twenty years to figure this out? I got news for you, girlfriend.” She put her hands on her hips. “WE DON’T. And if the politicians can’t get off their bony butts, let’s take the matter into our own hands. Let me hear you say yeah.”
“YEAH!” the crowd shouted back.
“Yeah!” Chantal roared.
“YEAH!” The crowd shouted harder.
/> “YeeeeaaaaaaaaaAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Chantal extended the word, holding the note until she was red in the face. The event had transformed into a gospel show/rap contest/protest rally.
Talk about getting your message out!
Who would have pegged Chantal as an environmental crusader? But her bullying style worked perfectly. When the song finished, we all took a bow. Glancing at Ty in the wings, I saw him clapping for us. I felt like I would burst with relief and amazement.
Leaving the stage, I could hear music from the next act, a modern dance piece called “Inspirations.” When I got to the wings, Jasper ran up and pulled me over. “Danny.” He was out of breath. “Holy crud. Are you out of your mind?” he asked.
I looked at the ground. “Maybe a little.”
“You sure got lucky.” Jasper whistled.
I nodded.
“Skye saved my butt.” I shuddered, remembering all those phones in the air, recording it. “And could you believe Chantal?”
“Who’s talking about me?” Chantal came up to us, patting her forehead with a cotton ball. A slim boy followed her, carrying a bottle of something pink and strong-smelling.
“You were awesome.” I bowed down to the queen. “You should work for the Environmental Protection Agency.”
“Tell them to call my agent. I have to get ready for my number,” she said airily. She walked off in a flock of girls in glittery outfits.
“Hey, Danny.” Axl pushed his way backstage. “I didn’t know you rapped. I thought that other dork was supposed to —”
“I did it for him.”
“Yeah, okay.” Axl chuckled. “It doesn’t matter which dweeb gets up there. Neither of you is Killa Whale.” He loved to mention his favorite rapper. I pictured myself on his CD.
“The show’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” Axl admitted, nodding a little. “But if you had let in our band?” He gave an insane cackle. “MutilatoR would have brought down the house.”