CHAPTER 21

 

After the audition, I go to work at the Balloon Race booth on the boardwalk.

I’m pretty mad at myself. I should’ve practiced my lines—or even looked at them before today. I should’ve stuck to the script instead of cracking jokes. I should’ve realized that Shakespeare’s lines were better than mine because, hello, he’s Shakespeare and I’m Jacky Ha-Ha. Yes, I’m should-ing all over myself. Pouting on a stool in a plywood booth surrounded by freaky clowns with balloons growing out of the pointy nozzles in their heads.

“Yo, Jacky?” says Vinnie. “Wake up, why don’t you? We’ve got potential customers here.”

The boardwalk, of course, is packed. It’s a Saturday, so we have more day-trippers than usual.

I launch into my usual spiel. It works pretty well. Then, after maybe two hours, I dip into my back pocket where I stuck my sides from the audition and pull out Mr. Shakespeare’s words. I’m curious if I can say them without stuttering if I do them in character as a carnival barker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls: It’s time to neigh and bark and grunt and roar and burn. Step right up and take your turn.”

“What the…” says Vinnie. “What’s all them animal noises got to do with shooting squirt guns at a clown or popping balloons?”

I shrug. “Just trying to shake things up a bit.”

My goofy idea works. I fill the firing line with eager squirt gunners. They do funny grunts, growls, squeals, and squawks as they wait for the starting bell to ring.

Vinnie is impressed with the power of my words, words, words.

“Good job, Jacky,” he says, stuffing another wad of cash into his money box. “Keep on being goofy. Goofy is good.”

I finally head home around seven. Mom and Sophia have pulled together our standard summer Saturday dinner: hot dogs, baked beans, and canned potato sticks.

“How was work this week, girls?” asks Dad after we’ve all had dessert.

That’s our cue.

Time for all the Hart girls, except Riley and Emma, to add our paychecks to the family piggy bank, which is actually a cookie jar shaped like a pig.

“Mr. Williams gave me a ten-cents-an-hour raise,” reports Victoria. “Apparently, every time I’m working the taffy-pulling machine in the front window, business goes up ten percent. It’s because I smile. And a smile is happiness you can find right under your nose!”

She (finally) plops her paycheck into the pot.

“I was docked a half day’s pay at the Fudgery,” Hannah reports glumly. “I didn’t think they would deduct the cost of the free samples I sampled.”

“That’s okay, dear,” says Mom.

“How else am I supposed to know what all the different fudge flavors taste like?”

“You’ll do better next week,” says Dad.

I can tell they feel sort of bad about putting this much of a financial burden on their daughters’ shoulders.

“I did okay,” reports Sophia, stuffing a roll of cash into the cookie jar. She’s waitressing at a sit-down restaurant, so most of her paycheck is actually paper money. “Except some people just aren’t very good tippers. Including some people I thought were my friends…”

I go last. “Vinnie gave me a bonus. Sales are way up. People seem to like my snappy patter.”

“Way to go, Jacky!” says Dad when I add my check and cash bonus to the family’s bank account. “You really found a way to put your talents to work.”

The way he says “talents,” I know he really means my weird and wacky antics. The ones, as a straightlaced cop type, he’s never really understood.

“Thank you all,” says Mom.

“Definitely,” adds Dad. “Thanks to you guys, this summer is going to be a great start to the rest of our lives!”

Victoria applauds. “Bravo! Well said.” Hannah, Riley, and Sophia join in.

I fake yet another smile and clap along with my sisters.

How could this summer be a great start to the rest of my life?

I know in my heart I won’t be playing Puck. That my dream of being an actress or a performer is a big, fat joke. Unless, of course, the only shows I want to do are on the boardwalk with clowns and balloons.

Travis Wormowitz, the star of the high school drama club, is going to wind up a winner this summer.

Me?

I’m well on my way to L-L-Loserville.