Chapter Four
Bubble-Gum Ice Cream
Dear Diario,
It’s been a loooooooooong month. We have drama class twice a week, and I still can’t decide if I like it. Yesterday, Ms. Tinkle told us that we are going to have to audition for the class play. “Audition” means “try out.” I’ve been to soccer tryouts, so hopefully this won’t be too hard.
The play is called Forest Gifts and is about the creatures that live in the woods—animals and fairies. I never liked fairies much—what do they do besides be tiny and fly around, anyway?
Shalom,
Lola Levine
“Guess what, Lola?” my brother says on Saturday morning. “Mira is coming over today!” Mira is really sweet, even if her older sister is Alyssa Goldstein.
“What are you guys going to do?” I ask Ben.
“Mom’s taking us to the park and Ice Cream Palace!” Ben says. Ice Cream Palace has about three zillion flavors of ice cream—it’s the best ice cream in town, in my opinion.
“Lucky!” I tell Ben, but I’m not too jealous, because I’m going to spend the morning painting with Dad.
“Ready to create?” Dad asks.
“Yes!” I say, and we walk out to his studio in the backyard.
When I come out of Dad’s studio a long time later, I see Ben and Mira in the backyard. I notice that Ben’s and Mira’s lips are… blue.
“Blee blot blubble blum blice bleam!” Ben says, his mouth full of chewing gum.
“You got bubble-gum ice cream?” I say.
“Blee blar blaving bla blubble blowing blontest!” says Mira.
“Have fun,” I say, “and let the biggest bubble win!”
I know I need to work on my audition, but first I need Mom’s advice.
“Mom,” I say. “I need help.”
“With what?” Mom asks.
“My audition for Ms. Tinkle. We have two minutes to audition with a song, dance, or monologue. Ms. Tinkle said a monologue is the expression of a character’s mental thoughts.”
“Aren’t all thoughts mental?” Mom laughs.
“I said the very same thing, but she told me not to interrupt. She said we can choose our own characters or she’ll give us a monologue to read. What should I do?”
“What do you want to do?” asks Mom.
“Mom,” I say. “Why do you always answer my questions with another question?”
“Because I think you’re pretty smart,” Mom says with a smile, “and I like to hear your answers.”
“Well, I don’t really know how to dance, and I’m not used to singing, but I have a lot of mental thoughts,” I say.
“Yes,” Mom says, “but you’re supposed to be a character, not yourself, right?”
“Right,” I say. “So what character should I be?”
“How about another famous Dolores, like Dolores Huerta?”
“That’s a great idea!” I tell Mom. Dolores Huerta was a leader who helped farmworkers in California—I learned about her from Ms. Garcia. “Didn’t Dolores Huerta always say ‘¡Sí, se puede!’—‘Yes, we can!’—to workers trying to make their jobs better?”
“Yes, she did,” Mom says.
“I’m going to be Dolores Huerta! I’m going to start working on my monologue right now—thanks, Mom!” I say, and give her a hug. I start up the stairs, where Ben nearly knocks me over.
“Lola! I need your help,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to his room.
“Where’s Mira?” I ask.
“Shhhhhhhhhhh!” he says.
“Because I’m in trouble,” says Ben.
“What did you do?” I say. I see Mira sitting on the floor of Ben’s room, playing with his Legos. Oh no.
“Hi, Lola!” Mira says with a smile. I guess she doesn’t realize that she’s missing a great big chunk of hair on the side of her head. “I won the bubble-gum blowing contest, Lola! But I got my bubble gum stuck in my hair, so Ben cut it out.”
“Wow,” I say, but I’m looking at the space where a chunk of hair is… missing.
“Can you fix it?” whispers Ben.
“Hmmmmm,” I say. “I guess I can try.” But I’m a little worried. The last time I tried to cut hair, it was my own, and Mom wasn’t too happy about it. I liked the way my spiky hair looked, but I sure didn’t like being teased about it. I go get a brush and some rubber bands and ribbons and try to find a hairstyle that covers Mira’s bald patch. It’s not working, but Mira likes the ponytails I’ve put all over her head.
“Maybe we can paint it,” I say.
“Yes!” says Josh.
“I like purple!” says Mira, but as soon as I’m done mixing up the color, we hear Mom’s voice.
“Ben! Mira! Come downstairs. Mrs. Goldstein is here to pick up Mira.”
I feel like hiding under my bed, but instead I walk downstairs with Mira and Ben. I’ve never met Mrs. Goldstein, but I’m not surprised when I do.