by Betsy Haynes
Melanie came up to her after rehearsal. "Want to walk home together?"
Beth wondered if Jana had told Melanie about their argument. Melanie seemed the same, friendly and good-humored. Beth guessed that Jana hadn't mentioned their fight to the rest of The Fabulous Five, and she was glad.
"I'm going to Paul Smoke's house," Beth said, "but we can walk to the corner together."
"You're going to Paul's house?" Melanie asked, looking surprised. "He's really cute."
"He invited me to see his bats," Beth said. "Want to come?"
Melanie's eyes grew big. "Do you think he'd mind?"
"I don't think so."
"I'll come then," Melanie said, grinning, "but I'll spend more time looking at Paul than his bats!"
"I thought you wanted to work on props so you could watch Chet Miller," Beth reminded her.
"Oh, I have been watching him. He's gorgeous, and I love his Headless Horseman act. But let's face it, Paul's cute, too."
"Here it is," Beth said, looking up at the two-story brick house before them. "Two forty Franklin."
Paul met the girls at the front door.
"Hi," Beth said. "Do you mind if Melanie comes in? She's interested in seeing"—she felt Melanie poke her in the ribs—"uh, your bats."
"Sure," Paul said, grinning. "Robin will be happy to have a larger audience."
He led the girls into the family room, closing the door behind him. Shirley was stooping over a white wood-framed cage, and she looked up when they entered.
"Hi, Beth," she said. "Robin's expecting you."
Beth introduced Melanie to Shirley, then said, "Robin knows we're coming?"
"Of course!" Paul said. "He's very excited."
Beth peered into the cage. "He looks asleep to me."
"That's just to throw you off," Paul assured her. "He tries to be cool all the time."
"Right," said Beth, grinning.
"Okay, Robin," Paul said, and reached into the cage. "Here's your public. Get out here and do your stuff."
Melanie took a step back as Paul gently lifted the bat out of the cage.
"Don't be afraid," Paul said. "Robin won't hurt you."
"Don't bats drink blood?" Melanie asked nervously.
"Vampire bats do," Paul said. "But they live in the tropics. Robin is a fox bat."
Melanie giggled. "He does have a foxy face." She leaned down and looked at him closer. "He's kind of cute."
Paul put a finger to his lips. "Shhh. He'll get a big head."
"Where are Batman and Shirley?" asked Beth.
"In these other cages," Paul said, turning and pointing to two additional boxes.
"Aren't bats blind?" asked Melanie.
"Fox bats can see," Paul explained. "But many kinds of bats are blind. They have sonar ears. They make a very loud high-frequency sound, which we can't hear, but it helps them find their way around. They can fly and tell where they are by listening to the echoes of their cries as they bounce off objects around them."
"Wow," said Beth. "That's amazing."
"It's called echolocation," Paul said.
"Echolocation," Beth repeated. She looked at Paul with a new respect. He really knew a lot about bats.
"And it's a good thing we can't hear their cries," Paul went on. "I read that some kinds of bats—the Malayan naked free-tailed bat, for instance—have a cry that's as loud as a jet taking off. But it's too high-pitched for us to hear."
"That's incredible," said Beth.
"How do you know all this stuff?" asked Melanie.
Shirley laughed. "He's been nuts about bats ever since he was a little kid. Every Halloween, he'd dress up as a bat and go out trick-or-treating."
"I've read quite a bit about them," Paul said modestly. "They really are very interesting." He pulled Batman and Shirley out of their cages, handing them to his sister.
"They're fox bats, too?" Beth asked.
"Right," Paul said, grinning. "See? You're already identifying one kind of bat. But there are about nine hundred species. There's the fruit bat, the big-eared bat, the Philippine bamboo bat, the dog-faced bat, the mustache bat—"
"Whoa!" shouted Beth. "We won't make you name them all."
"Okay, Robin, time for your exercise." Paul tossed the bat into the air.
"Eeeee!" Melanie screamed, and ducked as the bat flew right over her head.
"Don't worry," Paul said. "Robin won't bother you. He's just showing off."
The girls watched Robin swoop and dive in the air. He flew over the couch, skimmed over the lamp on an end table, around a weeping fig tree by the window, along the edge of the wall, and returned to the fig tree, stopping.
"Look at him," squealed Melanie. "He's hanging upside down from one of the branches!"
"That's normal for him," Paul said. "If you look in their cages, they each have branches to hang from. They always see the world upside down."
"Is he going to stay in the tree now?" asked Beth.
"Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if he took another swing around the room," Paul said. "He knows there are show biz people here."
Beth laughed. "This is great, Paul. Thanks for letting us come over to see them."
"It's our pleasure," Paul said. "Robin," he called out, "you'd better come out of that tree. Beth and Melanie are about to leave."
To the girls' delight, Robin instantly took off again, swooping through the air and diving and soaring upward.
"What a ham!" Melanie said, applauding. "Robin, you're terrific!"
Robin ended his loop-the-loops in the tree once again.
Paul walked the girls to the front door. "See you at rehearsal Monday. Robin can't wait."
"After seeing Robin's performance today," Beth said, "I'm going to have to go home and work on my witch parts. Robin just might decide to steal the show!"
CHAPTER 10
"Double, double, toil and trouble," the witches crooned, stirring their brew with the branches at the rehearsal the following Monday. "Fire burn and caldron bubble."
"Cool it with a baboon's blood, then the charm is firm and good," Beth intoned in her deepest voice.
"The show today will make you shiver," Laura said, waving her arms around dramatically. "We have some acts to make you quiver."
"Laura," Mr. Levine interrupted, "I'm not sure I understand what you're doing with your arms."
Laura let out a huge sigh. "Well," she said pointedly in Beth's direction, "I don't have my magic wand! If I had it, you'd understand what I was doing with my arms because I'd be waving it."
"But Laura," Mr. Levine said, "you won't be using your wand during this scene. You'll use it in the Wizard of Oz skit."
Laura's face fell. "I can't use it while we're stirring the caldron?"
"No, definitely not," Mr. Levine said.
"Well," Laura said angrily, "I most likely won't be using it at all, anyway! It hasn't turned up . . . yet!" She directed the last word at Beth.
"I don't have it, Laura," Beth hissed. "I never . . ." She broke off, unable to utter another word as a grinning head rolled out from under the backstage curtain and came to rest by her feet.
"A head!" shrieked Dekeisha.
"It's only one of Chet Miller's heads that he uses in his juggling act," said Beth, finding her voice again.
"I know that," said Dekeisha. "But it's still a head, and why did it roll out here? Someone's trying to scare us."
"What's going on?" Mr. Levine called out, getting up from his seat in the front row.
"It's the curse!" Molly shouted from the left side of the stage. "Those heads were sitting on a table backstage. Chet put them there after he rehearsed his act."
"That doesn't mean it was the curse," Beth argued.
"Oh, yeah?" challenged Molly. "Well, nobody's been backstage for at least fifteen minutes. I would have seen them from where I was standing in the wings. Explain that!"
Beth looked uneasily at the head lying on the stage. It was only a ball, of course, painted to look like a real
head.
"But why would a head roll across the stage?" Laura whispered, her eyes big and round. "Unless it's some kind of omen."
"I'm outta here!" Molly shouted. She raced down the side steps of the stage, grabbed her backpack out of a front-row seat, and flew toward the door without so much as another look behind.
"Don't be silly," said Chet, picking up the head and bouncing it up and down with one hand.
Mr. Levine looked edgy as he called, "I want to talk to you all for a minute. You, too, Molly."
Molly turned around and slowly trudged back. Beth glanced at Laura, who was seating herself on the stage floor. She didn't look as frightened as she had a few moments before. Beth studied Laura's face. Could she be responsible for the mirror's breaking and for the head's rolling across the stage? Had she been faking being afraid? A thought came to Beth in a flash. Laura could have hidden her own wand so she could blame Beth. And maybe she could even have figured out a way to make the head fall off the table and roll onto the stage without actually being back there. Maybe Tammy Lucero or one of the other members of The Fantastic Foursome had sneaked backstage without Molly's seeing her and done it. Was it possible that Laura was so hungry for the limelight that she'd sabotage the whole show and blame Beth?
In a few minutes, all the kids surrounded Mr. Levine.
For the first time, Beth saw worry lines crease the drama teacher's face. Did he really believe in the curse of Macbeth?
"I've been doing some research on the Macbeth superstition," he said.
"Do you believe the curse is working on us?" Chet Miller asked, his eyes wide.
The director cleared his throat and shifted his weight nervously over the other foot.
"Well," he said, forcing a laugh, "I don't really believe in it myself, but if it will make you feel better, there were things listed in the book we can do to protect ourselves from the curse and bring good luck instead. Of course, they're superstitions, too."
"What? What?" Molly's voice bubbled up from the crowd. The other kids stepped aside as she gently pushed her way to the front. "I don't want any other bad things to happen," she said. "What can we do?"
Mr. Levine looked around at the kids. "There are several things," he said. "First of all, never say the name of the play that the witches' speech is from."
"You mean, Macbeth?" Melanie said, then slapped both hands over her mouth.
"Right," Mr. Levine said grimly. "Don't say it, especially inside the theater where we rehearse and perform."
"What else?" Dekeisha asked.
"You can protect yourself from forgetting your lines by sleeping on your script," he said.
"It'll get all messy!" someone complained.
"Place it under your pillow," Mr. Levine said. "And if you put a penny in your shoe, your scene will be a success. Or if you wear squeaky shoes, the whole performance will be good."
Melanie giggled. "My dad could be a superstar! He's got the squeakiest shoes I've ever heard."
Everyone laughed.
"Hey, this will be fun," Chet said cheerfully. "What else can we do?"
Mr. Levine smiled at Chet's enthusiasm. "There are lots of superstitions about the theater. Like, never whistle in your dressing room. . . ."
"I can't whistle anyway," said Molly. "See?" She puckered her lips and blew air.
"Rubbing a rabbit's foot over your face and hands before going onstage is supposed to be good luck, too," Mr. Levine said.
"I've got one on a key chain," said Paul. "I'll bring it and we can all share it."
"Sneezing in the dressing room of an actor means the actor will get sick," continued the director.
"Especially if it's the actor who sneezes," said Beth, laughing. Everyone joined in.
"Okay, so if anyone accidentally says the name of the play the witches' speech is taken from . . ." said Mr. Levine, looking at the faces in front of him.
"Something bad will happen," everyone said in unison.
"There is something else you can do to escape from the curse," said Mr. Levine.
"What?" asked Dekeisha.
"Say this line," Mr. Levine continued. "Angels and ministers of grace, defend us."
Molly gave Melanie a nudge. "Say it, Mel. Then we'll all be protected."
"Huh?" said Melanie, looking confused.
"A few minutes ago, you said the name of that play. You know."
"Oh, you mean—" Melanie began.
"Don't say it!" Molly cried, raising both hands. "Look, Mel, repeat after me: Angels and ministers of grace, defend us."
Melanie took a deep breath. "Angels and ministers of grace, defend us."
A cheer went up from the group.
"All right!" cried Molly. "Now the curse won't get us."
Beth rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe all the kids, and even Mr. Levine, believed that stuff. What a bunch of baloney.
"Maybe Laura's wand will turn up," Molly said. "Especially now that we've gotten rid of the curse."
Laura and Beth glared at each other suspiciously.
"Okay," Mr. Levine ordered. "Let's get back to rehearsal."
"Oh, look! There's my dress. Oh, Mrs. Nixon, it's beautiful!" Laura squealed as an older woman walked down an aisle with a dress on a hanger.
"My dad hired Mrs. Nixon to make my Wizard of Oz costume for me," Laura said proudly.
Jumping off the stage, Laura ran to the woman and took the dress. Holding it to her, she swirled around and around, letting the dress stream out in a circle.
Beth gasped along with everyone else. It was gorgeous. It was long and flowing and made of shiny, smooth satin. It had long sleeves with puffy shoulders and lace along the neckline, and the top was covered with bright, shiny sequins.
Beth imagined Keith in the audience watching Laura's every move. Why wouldn't he? Laura would be beautiful on opening night, and Beth would be wearing her long black cape and wig and her pointy hat. Her face would look all wrinkly and gray from the makeup, and she'd have a gross, ugly wart glued to her nose.
No! Beth thought defiantly. That's not the way it's going to be at all. I'm going to give the performance of a lifetime, and Laura McCall will just be part of the scenery.
I'd better give the performance of a lifetime, Beth thought. Because if I let Laura upstage me, I'll melt down for real.
CHAPTER 11
"Beth!" Brittany yelled later that evening. "Telephone!"
Beth leaned out of her bedroom. "Who is it?"
"How should I know?" Brittany called back from downstairs. "Just don't tie up the line too long. I'm expecting a call."
Beth sighed. When wasn't Brittany expecting a call?
"Hello?" said Beth, picking up the phone in the hall.
"Hi, Beth." Keith's voice sounded uncertain.
Beth's heart soared. "Hi," she said, hoping her voice didn't give her nervousness away.
"I didn't see you at school today, so I thought I'd call and see how you're doing," he said.
Keith sounded friendly. He must be sorry, Beth thought. He must be calling to apologize for defending Laura at Bumpers.
"I talked to Jana this morning," he said.
Beth froze. Did Jana tell him about what they argued about? Would she have told him how Beth felt about her body?
"I asked her how you were, and she said fine," Keith added.
Thank you, Jana! Beth said to herself.
"She's right. I'm fine," Beth said aloud. She kept her voice friendly, but distant.
"How did rehearsal go today?" he asked.
Beth's heart sank when she thought of Laura and her dress, but she put on a cheerful voice for Keith.
"Oh, just fine," she said.
"I heard that the Macbeth curse is at work again and that a bloody head rolled across the stage," he said with a sinister laugh.
"It wasn't a bloody head," Beth insisted. "It was just one of the heads Chet Miller uses in his juggling act. That curse is just a lot of superstition, anyway."
"Well, it's cer
tainly got everybody at school talking about it," said Keith.
Beth didn't say anything for a minute. "Laura showed us her dress today," she said carefully. "I'm sure it'll fit her like a glove."
"Uh-huh, I heard about it, too."
Word sure travels fast, thought Beth. "Really?" Beth said.
"Yeah, I'm sure she'll look terrific in it."
"Well, I have homework to do," Beth said coldly. "I'd better get at it."
"Say, what's bugging you, anyway?"
"What makes you think something's bugging me?"
There was a short laugh on Keith's end. "Are you kidding? You've been mad most of the time since—since—I guess since you started rehearsing that Halloween skit. Aren't you having fun, or what?"
"Of course I'm having fun!" Beth snapped.
"Then what are you so mad about all the time?" he demanded.
Without thinking, Beth shouted into the phone, "Well, how would you feel if there was a football player on your team who didn't know squat about the game and fumbled every time he got the ball, but everybody cheered him and flirted with him and thought he was just wonderful because he had the biggest biceps on the team?"
Beth stopped and her face grew hot. She was glad Keith couldn't see her red cheeks. There was a long pause and Keith didn't say anything.
"Well?" Beth said, still angry, but in a lower tone. "Aren't you going to say anything?"
There was another long pause before Keith spoke. "I gotta go. We're going to eat supper."
Beth snorted. "It's eight-thirty. Your family always eats at six."
"So, my dad's late tonight," Keith answered angrily.
Why am I acting like this? Beth thought miserably. She wanted so badly to make up, to say that it was okay, that she wasn't mad and didn't want him to be mad, either. But she couldn't do it, couldn't say the words. At least not now.
"Yeah, well, I have to do my homework," she said.
"Fine."
She imagined his shrugging her off as if she didn't matter. She hung up the phone without saying goodbye. I'm such a jerk! she thought. I just keep messing everything up! What's wrong with me?
"Hi, Pink," Beth said when Jana's stepfather answered the door. "Is Jana here?"
"Come in," said Pink. "I'll call her."