AT RECESS THE NEXT DAY, I broke the news to Heather. I looked for her at tetherball, which is her favorite game, but she wasn’t there. Finally, I found her pacing up and down along the back wall of the playground, which is a huge mural painted to look like the desert of Arizona.
“Hank,” she said, “I’m so glad to see you. I’m having trouble with the scene where the king is disrespectful to Anna. And I’m still nervous about the dancing part…”
“Heather,” I interrupted. “I can’t be the king.”
I thought it was best to just lay it out there. But she didn’t get it.
“I understand,” she said. “Just like I’m having trouble being Anna, which is why I thought we should rehearse this section before we show it to Devore.”
“No, Heather. You’re not understanding what I’m saying. I got a B on my math test, and my father is sticking to our agreement. I can’t be the king.”
“It’s all my fault,” she said. “I didn’t do my job as your peer tutor.”
“It’s not you, Heather. I did better than I’ve ever done on a math test.”
“So what happens with the play?” she said. Slowly, I could see the horrible realization dawn on her. “Oh, no. McKelty.”
“Maybe he’ll surprise us,” I answered. But we both knew that the only surprising thing about Nick McKelty was how he could constantly break the world record for obnoxiousness.
If I thought telling Heather the news was hard, telling Devore was no picnic, either. I went to the multipurpose room after school and asked if I could have a word with him before rehearsal started. When I told him about my father’s decision, he seemed stunned. I don’t think anything like that had ever happened to him. I’m pretty sure people who act in off-Broadway shows don’t get their acting privileges taken away by their dads.
“But surely your father knows the age-old rule of the theater world,” he said, tossing his black cape over his shoulders. “The show must go on.”
“My dad doesn’t exactly live in the theater world,” I tried to explain. “He lives more in the Do-As-I-Say-Or-You’re-Grounded world.”
“But doesn’t he understand that your journey through the world is traveled on the river of the arts?”
“He gets seasick on rivers. Once he even threw up when we took a boat tour around Manhattan. He hurled right into the East River.”
“I was speaking more of a poetic river,” Devore said.
“He gets a little nauseous around poetry, too.”
Devore paced back and forth, rubbing his goatee.
“The only solution is for me to call your father to discuss the matter,” he said at last.
“That would only make my dad more angry,” I said. “I made a deal, and I came close to holding up my end of it. But I didn’t, and a deal’s a deal.”
I had to stop talking then, because I could feel the tears just on the other side of my eyeballs, waiting to flow down my cheeks. I turned away from Devore and took a seat in the folding chairs where only the understudies were sitting.
Devore took a deep breath, then clapped his hands and cleared his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the cast and crew,” he said. “I have a very important announcement. As of today, Mr. McKelty will play the part of the king.”
You could hear everyone in the room groan in unison. From their places up on the stage, Frankie and Ashley looked over at me with such sad looks. I could tell they felt sorry for me, and to tell you the truth, it gets really old always being the one your friends have to feel sorry for.
The only one in the multipurpose room who didn’t groan was you-know-who. When he heard the news, Nick McKelty shot out of his chair, pumped his fist like he had just hit a home run in the World Series, and did a victory dance so twitchy you could see his stomach jiggle under his shirt.
“Now you guys will see what a king really looks like,” he shouted.
“Mr. McKelty, we don’t have time for your shenanigans,” Devore said. “Take your place on the stage.”
McKelty clomped up to the stage, his big shoes making a loud echoing noise in the silent room.
“Places, everyone,” Devore called.
But no one moved. Frankie was in the wings with his headset still around his neck. Ashley had stopped adjusting Heather’s costume, and just stood there looking at me with tears in her eyes. Even Luke Whitman, as the elephant boy, actually took his finger out of his nose for a moment. That was a first.
“Mr. McKelty, I hope you’ve been watching very carefully these last two weeks, and paying attention to what Hank has been doing,” Devore said. “An understudy must fit seamlessly into the production.”
“Are you kidding? I’m not copying him,” McKelty said. “I’ve been practicing my own style at home. You’re not going to believe what you see.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I heard Devore whisper under his breath.
Mr. Rock had been sitting at the piano, watching everything unfold. I could feel him observing me, but I was glad he didn’t say anything. Those tears were still there behind my eyeballs, and I wanted them to stay right where they were.
“Let’s begin with the scene where Anna and the king dance for the first time,” Devore said.
“Goody,” McKelty said. “I’m a great dancer.” Then he turned to Heather.
“Come on over here, pigtails. I’ll give you a twirl around the stage like Zipzer could never do.”
“Do I have to?” Heather asked Devore.
“I’m afraid so,” Devore said. “Take your places. Mr. Rock, if you will.”
Mr. Rock put his hands on the piano and played a big, fancy introduction. Frankie put on his headset, Ashley gave Heather a final fluff-up, and McKelty grunted like a wild boar. I guess it was his way of saying to Heather, “Shall we dance?”
He galumphed over to her and put his paw-like hand around her waist. With no warning, he grabbed her and started to spin in a circle. He twirled her so fast that she spun totally out of his grasp, careened across the stage like a top, bounced off Luke Whitman, bumped into at least four kindergartners playing the king’s children, and landed in a heap on the throne, sideways, with her legs over the arm of the chair.
“Now that’s how a king does it!” McKelty shouted, strutting across the stage like a peacock.
“Mr. McKelty, I suggest you control your enthusiasm before you throw your dance partner through the wall,” Devore said.
Heather looked like she was going to cry.
I couldn’t watch another second. I jumped to my feet and raced down the aisle, across the multipurpose room, through the double doors, and out into the hall.
I just stood there, hating my brain. For not remembering to put the date on my math test. Come on, that is so simple. For missing the first three easy problems. Why didn’t I check my work like Ashley said? For not copying over the right answer on that last problem. I should’ve gotten that right. I mean, I knew it.
“Hank, you forgot this.”
I turned around and there was Mr. Rock, holding my backpack. As usual, I had left it behind.
Is there anything I can do right? I can’t even leave a room without forgetting something.
“Thanks, Mr. Rock,” I said, taking the backpack from him. I turned to leave.
“Hank,” he called after me. “If you really want to be in the play, there’s got to be a way.”
“It’s not fair,” I said, feeling all my frustration come rushing out at once. “And besides, you don’t know my dad.”
I let loose with the whole story and some of those tears, too. I wasn’t embarrassed, though, because Mr. Rock is the kind of teacher you can say anything to. I don’t know what I would do without him. He just listened to me talk, nodded, and then listened some more.
“Have you tried telling your feelings to your father?” he said, when I had finally come to the end of my words.
“Trust me, I did.”
“Then you have to do it again,” he said. “You’re going to have to make yourself heard.”
“Changing my father’s mind about anything is impossible.”
He nodded. We were both quiet. In the silence, we heard Nick McKelty’s horrible, screeching voice blubbering through his lines.
We looked at each other and we both understood what I had to do.