“A ventriloquist?” Clifton Davro said. “We’ve never had one of those.”
“As a matter of fact —” B said, but Nancy cut her off.
“You have got to see this; she’s incredible!”
B turned to Nancy and pleaded, “Ma’am, I can’t do this!”
The director leaned closer and whispered back, “Sure you can, honey. Don’t be shy. Just do what you showed me backstage. They’ll be crazy about you.” She patted B on the shoulder and walked away, her high heels clicking on the wooden floor.
B felt the silence of the audience and all eyes on her. This must be a nightmare. B closed her eyes and opened them again, but nothing had changed. What could she do? What if someone figured out that B wasn’t really throwing her voice? She’d blow the secret of witches existing, not just to her entire school, but maybe even on national television!
She had to get out of there. She was about to just plain bolt for the wings, when a stagehand moved Frankie’s microphone right over to where B stood, still holding Mozart.
“Nice hat,” Clifton Davro said. “All right, then, Miss … What was it?”
“Beatrix,” Nancy called from the wings.
“All right, then, Miss Beatrix, show us what you’ve got.” The celebrity talent judge leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head.
B closed her eyes and leaned toward the microphone. “I’m really sorry,” she began, but jumped at the echo of her voice playing back at her through the speakers. “There’s been a mix-up, and …”
“Darn right!” Jason’s voice yelled from the audience. “It was a big mix-up letting you in here. People with real talent are waiting to go on.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mozart cried. “Zat you, Freckle Face? You’re mixed up in the head!” The microphone caught his squeaky voice and blared it through the auditorium. A ripple of surprise ran through the crowd.
B couldn’t help smiling, just a little. “Not now, Mozart, okay? Let’s go.”
“Wait a second,” Mozart said, sniffing the microphone. “Does this thingamabob make it so all you kids out there can hear me?”
“Yes!” the audience yelled.
“All righty, then.” Mozart rubbed his paws together. “Listen up, cuz I’ve got a long list of stuff I’ve been wanting to tell you bozos, and now you’re gonna hear it.”
B wished she could disappear. But that would draw even more attention to her magic than a talking hamster. How, oh, how did she always get into such trouble? B saw the judges grinning and whispering to one another. Mozart was a hit.
“Did you know that a middle school hamster sees about fifteen kids a day pick their noses when they think no one’s looking? Ain’t no gold up there, folks, no matter how you dig!”
The audience laughed.
“And there’s usually a kid or two who doesn’t care if anyone’s looking or not. Not gonna be named Peter Popular, if you know what I mean.”
More laughter.
“And don’t get me started on the pickers and eaters!” Mozart squeaked, waving his little paws high. “People: I got something to say to you. Three words. Wait. For. Lunch!”
The audience was howling now, with a bunch of “Eeew, gross” remarks mixed in. No doubt about it. Mozart was a hit.
If they thought B was a ventriloquist, she might as well play the part — and get off the stage as quickly as she could.
“Now, Mozart,” she began. “Isn’t it time for your nap?”
“Naps are for sissies,” Mozart retorted. “Speaking of lunch, see these teeth? Nature made these teeth to chew through anything! No more of the dusty kibble food, okay? A carrot now and then wouldn’t hurt anybody. Or one of those chocolate bar thingies I see you sneak at your desks when the teacher’s not looking. Think of the hamster now and then, eh?”
“That’s enough, Mozart,” B said. “We’ve taken too much of their time. Let’s go back to your tank.”
“You kidding? I’m not gonna take no stinking nap! This here’s a talent show, and I’m not leaving till I show my talent, see? Now, listen up, folks. They don’t call me Mozart for nothing.”
Oh, no. What next? B glanced sideways to see the judges watching, enjoying Mozart’s show with big grins on their faces.
“I got a song for ya,” Mozart said. “You know that Elvis guy? Well, my version is called ‘Fish Tank Rock.’ I’m not a fish, but ‘Hamster Tank Rock’ didn’t fit the beat so good.”
And without missing a beat, Mozart launched into his song, bopping from side to side and swinging his paws in the air.
“The hamster threw a party in the old fish tank,
But no one’d cleaned his sawdust so the party stank.
The rabbits from the science room brought carrot sticks,
You should’ve seen the hamster’s crazy dancing tricks,
Let’s rock! Everybody, let’s rock.
Everybody in the sixth-grade block,
They was dancing to the Fish Tank Rock!
Yeah!”
He waved his paws in the air for the finale, Broadway-style.
B was speechless.
But not Clifton Davro.
“Incredible!” he yelled. B looked to see him rise from his seat and give her a double thumbs-up. “Fantastic, stupendous, incredible! You’ve got it, Beatrix!”
Oh, no! Had she just accidentally landed herself a spot in the finals?
The audience rose to their feet and cheered. Jason Jameson roared out a big “Boo!” but he was drowned out by the applause. B bowed, which made her tall hat fall to the floor. She scooped it up and ran off the stage into the wings …
… and ran straight into a scowling, fuming Dawn.