A Bunch of Eyewash
“I can’t figure it out,” Peatmouse said as we were sitting out on the Pepperdine monkey bars the following morning. “I think I’m actually learning something. I mean, considering who’s our teacher.”
“Me too,” said Banana. “Anybody here thinks she’s maybe as good as … well, as good as Miss Switch?”
We all looked at each other and shrugged. “Nobody’s that good,” I said, which I just happened to know was exactly the truth.
“I don’t know how she does it when she’s such a mess doing everything else,” said Creampuff.
“Romeo and Juliet! Lo-o-o-ove! Sheesh!” Peatmouse said.
“Yeah!” we all agreed.
“But that was dorky Mr. Dorking’s idea, not Miss Blossom’s,” Creampuff said. “I guess she had to go along with it.”
“Yeah,” said Banana. “There’re only two people in the balcony scene, though. I wonder what the rest of us will be doing?”
“What do you mean, ‘rest of us’?” Creampuff said. “What makes you so sure you won’t be the lucky one who gets to be Romeo?”
“Not me,” Banana said. “I can’t do heights. I’ll just tell Miss Blossom if I have to climb a ladder to any balcony, I’ll throw up all over Juliet.”
We all knew this was not exactly a true statement, considering that at that very moment Banana was dangling from the top rung of the monkey bars. But we didn’t say anything. After all, we knew we’d all back up any of our excuses no matter what they were.
Of course, of everyone there, of everyone in the whole class, actually, I was the one person who could be sure of not having to be a Shakespearean actor. Miss Blossom would be counting on me to do some very serious detective work, especially at the performance, where she would be busy with the PTA and trying to keep the sixth grade under control. She’d be counting on me to go snooping around, not standing up on a ladder waving my arms. That is, of course, if we ever got to that point without discovering what Grodork had in mind for the sixth grade, and having Miss Switch put a stop to it. Yes, indeed, I was quite safe from having to play Romeo, but I would stand by my friends and do all I could to keep it from happening to them!
Miss Blossom announced as soon as the bell rang that morning that we would be having tryouts for the scene just before lunch.
“I’m so sorry there are only the two roles,” said Miss Blossom, flapping her eyelashes at us and giving us this big sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you all want a part. But the rest of you will be onstage as an audience just as they were in Shakespeare’s day. Now, won’t that be fun?”
Well, it would be more fun than the alternative, at any rate, I thought to myself. But Miss Blossom was half right when she said we would all want to win a part. All the girls wanted to be Juliet. After all, Mr. Dorking would be out there with the rest of the PTA watching them. But none of the boys cared to be Romeo. And there were all sorts of escape routes tried. As for me, what I did was read the part in such a dead voice, nobody in their right mind would have even cast me as a doorpost. Miss Blossom smiled sweetly through it all.
Jessica Poole got chosen to be Juliet. And guess who got chosen to be her Romeo? I could have dyed my face blue. I could have suddenly grown a tail or ears the size of flapjacks. It wouldn’t have made any difference. Miss Blossom had me in mind all along, and the tryouts for the Romeo part were just a bunch of eyewash. I sidled up to her desk as soon as the classroom had cleared for lunch.
“Excuse me, Miss Blossom,” I said, “but what’s the big idea of making me Romeo? How am I going to keep my nose to the ground, my eyes peeled, and my ears pricked if I can’t spend my time lurking around instead of standing on a ladder in front of everyone making an idiot of myself.”
“And just exactly where you should be!” said Miss Blossom.
“Excuse me again, Miss Blossom,” I said. “But are you referring to the idiot part, by any chance?”
“I don’t care to dignify that question with a reply, Rupert,” snapped Miss Blossom. “I was, of course, referring to your being in the play, which means being at every rehearsal without having to ‘lurk around’ to be there. What, pray tell, do you think Mr. Dorking, aka Grodork, even with his limited brain power, will think if he shows up at rehearsals and finds you ‘lurking around’?”
“But won’t Mr. Dorking get suspicious, anyway, when he gets a load of my acting talents, which don’t exist?” I asked. “I mean, considering my connection to—er—Miss Switch?”
“When I think of your performance at Witch’s Mountain putting that computowitch out of commission,” said Miss Blossom, “I have every confidence you’ll do just fine. Get Guinevere to work with you on this. I have a feeling she’s a guinea pig with talent as well as brains.”
Acting lessons from a guinea pig! This could have been funny under any other circumstances. But the consequences of my blowing this could be serious. It could wreck Miss Switch’s Miss Blossom cover if it didn’t appear as though I was chosen for the part for my great acting talents. I was going to have to put on a good performance no matter what. I just hoped Guinevere was up to the coaching job. I knew I was going to need all the help I could get!