From the braces on her teeth to her round, red glasses, Principal Sterling was the very opposite of Mr. Bland. There was a sign on her office door that read: REMEMBER, THERE’S ALWAYS A PAL IN PRINCIPAL. So, even though Fiona had never been sent to the principal’s office before, she wasn’t scared. Besides, Principal Sterling had one of the nicest laughs Fiona had ever heard. It was like pennies splashing into a wishing well.
“Insomnia and an awful case of the giggles,” explained Fiona.
“Do you plan on having insomnia tomorrow or the rest of the week?” asked Principal Sterling.
“No way. My insomnia days are over.”
“What about your giggle days?”
“Them too.”
And then that was all. Principal Sterling said she could go.
Except for one thing. Fiona had to give a sincere apology to Mr. Bland. Fiona made a face at that but then said okay. She supposed it could have been worse. She got up to leave.
“Oh, Fiona,” said Principal Sterling. “Before you go, could you tell me what was so funny? I could use a good laugh.”
Fiona wasn’t sure if what she thought was funny and what Principal Sterling thought was funny would be the same thing. But she had been pretty nice, and Fiona wanted to hear her laugh again. “Mr. Bland in tightie whities.”
Principal Sterling smiled. “Thank you. You can go now.”
Fiona nodded. She could hear the sounds of pennies splashing all the way down the hall.
• • •
On the walk home from school, Fiona passed by Ordinary Fudgery and got a sick feeling in her stomach. In the window, right beside a sign that read EGGNOG AND PUMPKIN-PIE FUDGE ARE HERE! was a poster for The Nutcracker. Under the date, time, and how to buy tickets was a picture of Clara watching a toy soldier fight a rat. Her eyes were wide, and she looked afraid.
Fiona’s own eyes grew wide as she stared at the poster. She pictured a train barreling straight for her, getting closer and closer every second, while she was lying there helpless on the tracks, tied up with heavy rope made from somebody’s underwear. Unless she figured out a way to untie herself, she would be run over—smushed!—by The Nutcracker Express.
Fiona couldn’t let that happen. She wanted to be on the train, not under it. This was her one chance to be a big-time ballerina. She had to figure out what to do. Operation Underwear had sort of worked. But not in the way that she’d thought it would. Sure, picturing Mr. Bland in his tightie whities made her laugh and sort of forget her nervousness. Sort of. But it made her laugh so much and so hard that she turned into a pile of giggle mush. And that was no good. What if that happened on the stage? It would be almost as bad as barfing on Benevolence. “What is the matter with that angel?” people would want to know.
Fiona pulled out her cell phone from her coat pocket. Mom answered on the fifth ring. “Hello, darling.”
“Did you, I mean Scarlet, push Nash off the boat?”
“I did, and it was a big splash. The director said that we got it on the first take, but I had so much fun, I asked if I could do it again.”
“And did he let you?” asked Fiona.
“Of course, darling.”
“Were you nervous?”
“When?” said Mom.
“When you had to push him off the boat?”
“No, not nervous. Excited.”
“Were you ever nervous?” asked Fiona. “Like when you were just starting, maybe?”
“Only once, when I ate an egg salad sandwich with expired mayonnaise. Why?”
“Just wondering,” said Fiona.
• • •
One evening after dinner, Fiona plopped down on the couch beside Mrs. Miltenberger. Max was on the floor cleaning his goggles with the corner of his cape.
“He’s on!” Mrs. Miltenberger pointed the remote control at the TV and turned up the sound. Dad had been giving the weather report on TV for more than a week now, but it still was exciting.
Fiona got up from the couch and stood next to the TV. As she watched her dad on the screen, she moved her arms from left to right, just like he did.
“With this high pressure area to our west combined with cold temperatures, we have just about the right ingredients for some snowfall,” Dad said.
Fiona took it from there. “Do you see all this white stuff over there?” she said, pointing to a pretend map behind her. “That’s a snowstorm. And it’s headed right for us over here.” She jabbed the air with her finger to show where Ordinary would be on the map.
Fiona grinned at Max, who had put down his goggles and was staring at the invisible map behind her. Mrs. Miltenberger laughed. “Very good, Fiona. What else?”
“You know how you need ingredients to make a cake?” Fiona continued. “Well, you need ingredients to make snow, too. You need clouds, a gray sky, cold wind, and a couple of ice cubes. Mix that all together and bake it at below-freezing temperature until flakes start falling.” Fiona twirled. “And that’s how you make snow. Oh, and since I don’t have a math test tomorrow, I predict that we’ll get a foot of it. Because for some reason, it never, ever snows when I have a math test. This has been ‘Fiona’s Fabulous Forecast.’ Back to you, Baxter.”
Mrs. Miltenberger clapped and laughed. “Bravo!”
Max jumped up and shouted, “All right, no school tomorrow!”
Fiona curtsied. She wished for a foot of snow so she could have a day without Mr. Bland. She had said she was sorry to him, just like Principal Sterling told her to do. But after that, Mr. Bland gave Fiona the awful job of Classroom Courier. Even though it was her turn to be Electrician.
Max leaped onto the couch and practically landed in Mrs. Miltenberger’s lap. “Can I stay up late?” he asked. “Please!”
“No, sir, you cannot.” She patted his head and adjusted his cape, which had swung around to the side.
“Can I?” asked Fiona, hoping the fact that she was nine years old might finally pay off in some way. Mrs. Miltenberger shook her head.
“But Fiona and Dad said it’s going to snow,” Max said.
“You know how crafty the weather can be,” said Mrs. Miltenberger. “Besides, I’ve got big plans tonight to catch up on Heartaches and Diamonds. It was my turn to drive the Bingo Bus this week, so I had to record the last four episodes. I think Nash Barrington’s evil twin, Marcus, is about to wake up from his coma.”
“That stinks,” said Max.
“Stinks?” said Mrs. Miltenberger. “If Marcus wakes up soon, he’ll take over as chief of staff of Sparkling Valley Hospital, and then everybody’s doomed.”
“Can I watch too?” asked Fiona. It had been a long time since she’d watched an episode of her mom’s show. These days, she saw more of her mom on TV than in real life. Her mom had gone from a starring role in Fiona’s life to one of those extras who didn’t have a big part.
“Not tonight, dear,” said Mrs. Miltenberger. “Your father would not be very happy to know that I let you stay up past your bedtime on a school night.”
“But if it snows, we won’t have school tomorrow,” reasoned Fiona. “And then it’s not really a school night.”
“Yeah,” said Max, his arms folded across his chest.
Mrs. Miltenberger gave Fiona and Max a look out of the corner of her eye, which Fiona took to mean Nice Try.
“Can I watch tomorrow then?” Fiona asked.
“If you don’t have school tomorrow, then, yes. Now run upstairs, get your pajamas on, and get settled,” said Mrs. Miltenberger. “I’ll be up to tell you good night in a bit.”
Max got to his feet and raced past Fiona to the stairs. Fiona stayed behind. She wasn’t ready for sleep just yet. “Did you see Nash get pushed off the boat?”
“No. When did that happen? Wait . . . don’t tell me. You’ll ruin the surprise.” She shook her head. “Pushed off a boat, huh?”
Fiona nodded.
“Scarlet, right?”
Fiona nodded again. “Who else?”
Mrs. Miltenberger clapped her hands. “I knew it. I knew something would happen to keep them from getting married. Nash deserves so much better. Scarlet is up to her usual tricks again.”
“Like posing as a nurse and trying to poison her sister?” asked Fiona.
“That’s right. Then she lied in court to make it look like somebody else did it, and then she faked a car crash so she could claim she had amnesia.”
“She sure is busy,” said Fiona. Of course, TV problems were worse than real-life problems. Sometimes.
“She’s a slippery noodle, that one. Somehow, she always seems to find a way out of it,” said Mrs. Miltenberger. “She knows how to get out of any sticky situation.”
Fiona wished that Scarlet von Tussle could help Fiona out of her own sticky situation. To someone like Scarlet, getting rid of stage fright would be small potatoes compared to murder and faking amnesia. And then she began to wonder, What would Scarlet do?
She went to the phone in the kitchen and dialed California again. Ten rings and her mom’s voice on the recorded answering message. Why wasn’t she answering? Fiona scratched her cheek. After a long beep, she left the following message:
“Mom! I need your help, pronto. Call me back right away. I have to ask you something very important. Oh, yeah, this is Fiona. Your daughter.” She banged down the phone. Of all the moms in the world, why did hers have to live in California? She might as well live on Mars.