Chapter 63
KNOCK, KNOCK! WHO’S THERE?
By Monday, things are pretty much back to normal.
I’m in my garage room at the Smileys’ after school, doing my homework. I haven’t cracked open my comedy notebooks or jotted down any new ideas for fresh routines since that fateful day when Aunt Smiley and I called the people out in Hollywood to let them know I wouldn’t be able to appear in Las Vegas.
I mean, what’s the point?
Unless Gilda organizes another hallway performance, I won’t really need new jokes anytime soon.
It’s okay. I’m cool with it.
Not having to worry about my comedy act gives me more time to concentrate on my schoolwork—what Uncle Frankie called my meat and potatoes. Now that he’s on his heart-healthy diet, he’d probably call it my baked chicken and wild rice.
Except for severely missing his burgers, fries, and milk shakes, Uncle Frankie is doing great. The diner has never been busier, and he’s never seemed happier.
Gaynor tells me his mom has watched my YouTube act “at least a dozen times” and tells him to “enjoy the go” every morning when he heads out the door for school. Mrs. Gaynor is between treatments. Everything is going great, and her doctors are really optimistic.
So, yeah—normal is okay. It’s not as glitzy as Las Vegas, but it’s good.
Then there’s this knock on my garage door.
A very loud banging.
Now what?
I say a quick prayer: Please don’t let it be Stevie Kosgrov. He didn’t sell every one of his whoopee cushions at my hallway show, and the people who make them in China don’t believe in refunds.
“Jamie?” It’s Mrs. Smiley.
“Open this door!” Mr. Smiley.
I reach over and undo the lock. Yank it open.
“What’s up?” I say. “Is everybody okay?”
“You tell us,” says Mr. Smiley.
That’s when Mrs. Smiley hands me an envelope.