Star Time Read online

  Mrs. Farelli tilted her head. “I have a dress the same color as the wall. I’ll wear it to Madam Ballantine’s play tomorrow.”

  “Lovely,” Gina said again.

  “Lovely,” Destiny said at the same time.

  Too bad Destiny’s voice was louder than hers.

  Gina headed for the music room. She hadn’t been there for a few days. Mr. Sarsaparilla, the music teacher, must miss her. After all, she was going to be an opera singer when she grew up.

  She passed the gym. Charlie had a bandage on his nose.

  “From your Yellow Wing-O invention?” Gina asked.

  Charlie shook his head. “From my Walk-on-a-Rope-O invention.” He looked a little sad. “The rope-o broke-o.”

  Gina knew how he felt. Suppose she turned out to be a crybaby alien instead of the star?

  She went into the music room.

  Mr. Sarsaparilla was banging on his drums. He was banging a mile a minute. His hair was flying, his feet were jumping.

  He was singing something.

  Gina tapped her foot.

  She began to sing. She sang loudly. Her notes got higher as she went along. It was lovely. “OOH-LA-LA.”

  Mr. Sarsaparilla jumped. His drumsticks crashed. “Oh, Yolanda,” he said. “It’s you.”

  Gina shook her head.

  “I mean Destiny,” he said.

  “I’m Gina, the opera singer,” she told him.

  He pulled on his long, sweeping mustache. “Right. The loudest singer in the Afternoon Center.”

  Gina looked around. No one else was in the music room. Poor Mr. Sarsaparilla was in there all by himself.

  “I liked your song,” she said, “about—” She couldn’t remember what it was about.

  “It’s called ‘You Can Do Almost Anything,’ ” Mr. Sarsaparilla said.

  “Is that true?” Gina said.

  Mr. Sarsaparilla banged his drum with his stick. “Yes indeed.”

  An idea popped into her head.

  She could do something!

  She could be the star.

  She could help Mr. Sarsaparilla, too.

  The audience would be clapping. She could see them!

  The meat man at Stop & Shop would give her a slice of bologna.

  “The Afternoon Center is putting on a play,” she told Mr. Sarsaparilla.

  “Enchanting,” he said.

  Sometimes Mr. Sarsaparilla didn’t talk regular English.

  “Not one singer in the whole thing,” she said. “It’s about a bunch of robots, and bad guys, and crying aliens.”

  “Unfortunate,” said Mr. Sarsaparilla.

  Gina pointed to herself. “We could use some opera in there.”

  Mr. Sarsaparilla yanked on his mustache again. “I don’t think—” he began.

  “And drums,” she said. “Lots of nice banging drums.”

  Mr. Sarsaparilla yanked harder. “But I’m the only one who plays the drums.”

  “Yes,” Gina said. “It’s lucky. Peter and Mitchell are my friends. They might give you a good part.”

  He looked up at the ceiling. “Teaching music is not easy,” he whispered.

  Gina smiled. She was so glad she’d thought of this. Mr. Sarsaparilla might never have been a star in his whole life.

  She skipped out of the music room. She sang, “You can do almost anything, tra-la.”

  She sang it under her breath.

  Everyone didn’t have to know about it just yet.

  CHAPTER 5

  STILL MONDAY

  Gina went to find Mitchell. She sang all the way down the hall.

  She’d have to do something about her hair.

  How could she be a star with straight-as-a-string hair? If only she hadn’t used up all of Destiny’s Curls Galore gel.

  She thought of Grandma Maroni’s loopy pearls. It made her sad.

  But Grandma Maroni said she didn’t mind. “I have a drawerful of look-like-real jewels,” she said.

  Gina threw open the gym door.

  “ROBOTS-AND-SPACESHIPS-OH-MY,” she sang.

  Beebe stopped hopping on one foot. She stared at Gina.

  Sumiko stopped swinging on the gym rope. She slid to the floor.

  Charlie was on top of the bleachers. He looked surprised. He probably thought she was a star singer.

  Destiny was in the corner. She was waving her arms around. She was talking to herself. But now she stopped. Her mouth was open.

  Gina nodded. Everyone in the gym was staring at her. It was her singing, of course.

  Too bad about today’s shirt. It had a teeny-but-you-could-still-see-it noodle soup spot.

  Peter was leaning against the back of a chair. He had a notepad in his hand.

  Mitchell was lying on the floor. His legs were wiggling around in the air. He looked like a skinny spider. “What next?” he was saying.

  Gina thought of Mr. Sarsaparilla again.

  You can do almost anything.

  She sank down next to them.

  She peered at the notepad.

  Cross-outs all over the place.

  “Erasers are helpful,” she said in a Ms. Katz voice.

  She said it kindly.

  “It’s our sloppy copy,” Peter said. “We have to add another bad guy. My brother, Trevor, wants a part.”

  “That’s just what I wanted to talk to you about,” Gina said. “I’m here to help.”

  “No thanks,” Peter and Mitchell said together.

  They might turn out to be difficult boys, Gina thought.

  “Madam Ballantine might want a girl writer, too,” she said.

  Mitchell frowned. “I didn’t hear her say that.”

  “Me neither,” said Peter.

  “Really?” Gina said. It was the perfect answer. Not a lie.

  Mitchell filled his mouth with air. He puffed out one cheek. Then he puffed out the other. “We can ask her tomorrow.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t bother her,” Gina said.

  Clifton, Trevor’s best friend, slid up to them. “How come I’m not in this play?” he asked.

  Mitchell stopped puffing. “We’ll add another bad guy.”

  “I want to be a robot,” Clifton said.

  Mitchell sighed. “We have a zillion robots.”

  “One more won’t hurt,” Gina said.

  “All right,” Mitchell said.

  She sat back. She was getting nicer by the minute. And helpful!

  Clifton slid away.

  “You don’t have any opera stars,” Gina said.

  “This is a space story.” Mitchell began to puff again.

  Gina frowned. “I bet you don’t have one crashing drummer.”

  “You think there are drummers in outer space?” Peter asked.

  He sounded like her father when his socks got all mixed up, she thought. “Don’t worry. We’re going to do this together. It will be …”

  She tried to think of the word Mr. Sarsaparilla had used.

  “Enchanting,” she said at last.

  Peter began to shake his head.

  Mitchell puffed out his cheek one more time. “We’ll think about it.”

  “Think hard,” she said.

  CHAPTER 6

  TUESDAY—FIELD TRIP DAY

  Bus Thirteen pulled up in front of the Afternoon Center. It was the worst one. It always had smoke coming out the back.

  Gina was out the door. She walked right behind Mrs. Farelli in her auditorium-colored dress.

  Today they were going to see Madam Ballantine in her play.

  It would be a long ride. They were having snacks on the way. Purple yogurt.

  Gina carried her mother’s huge purple purse. Just in case! It would cover every single yogurt dot.

  It had a bunch of other things, too:

  A writing pad for helping Peter and Mitchell.

  A pencil with the sharpest point in the world.

  A brand-new eraser that smelled like orange juice.

  And a dollar for just-in-cas
e.

  Destiny rushed past. Gina knew she wanted to sit next to the bus driver. It was the woman who looked just like Charlie.

  Charlie came along next. He was carrying a paper bag. It was dripping a little.

  “It’s for my Wet-O Dry-O invention,” he said. “I want to see how long it takes for water to disappear.”

  Gina stepped back so Sumiko could go next.

  “Thanks,” Sumiko said.

  “Don’t worry,” Gina said. “I’m waiting for Peter and Mitchell.”

  Mitchell was last.

  That made her last, too.

  “Where’s Peter?” she asked.

  “Home with double earaches,” Mitchell said.

  They had to sit in seats at the back. Not a great spot.

  Very bumpy for the yogurt!

  But never mind that.

  “Did you think hard?” she asked Mitchell.

  Mitchell didn’t answer. He was trying to balance his yogurt on his writing-the-play pad.

  Gina pointed to the pad. What a mess it was, with those cross-outs. There was a big rip down the middle, too.

  Mitchell took a huge spoonful of yogurt.

  She almost said, “Watch out!” But it was too late.

  Yogurt dripped on Mitchell’s shirt and jeans.

  Even his chin was purple.

  The bus lurched.

  A huge glump of yogurt landed on Gina’s knee. It was wet; it was cold. All because of Bus Thirteen.

  It was a good thing she had the purse.

  “Yeow!” Charlie yelled. “My Wet-O Dry-O invention is all over the floor.”

  “I knew it,” the driver said.

  The bus bumped up to the curb. “Hold on, everyone!” the driver yelled. The bus rolled to a stop. “This bus is trouble.”

  “Oh, no,” Destiny said. “We’re going to miss the play.”

  Gina looked down at the writing-the-play pad. It was filled with little purple yogurt blobs.

  “Don’t worry,” the driver said. “Another bus will be along soon.” She began to sing. “Row, row, row your boat …”

  The driver was right. In a few minutes, Bus Eight came along.

  It was the best one.

  Everyone began to rush off Bus Thirteen. Quickly Gina stuck her mostly empty yogurt cup into her purse.

  “Want me to put your write-the-play pad in my purse, too?” Gina asked Mitchell. “Plenty of room.”

  “Good idea,” Mitchell said.

  They climbed onto the new bus.

  Gina made sure to hold the purse over her yogurt-splatted pants.

  And then they were at the door of the Star Theater.

  “Hurry,” said Mrs. Farelli.

  Inside, it was dark. Gina didn’t have to worry about yogurt stains and huge purses.

  She’d talk to Mitchell about the play later.

  She sank down into the plushy seat.

  A moment later, the curtain started to rise.

  The play was ready to begin.

  CHAPTER 7

  STILL TUESDAY

  Gina sat between Mitchell and Destiny. Her purse was smushed against her knees.

  She looked at the huge blue curtain in front. It looked like velvet.

  The dark was like velvet, too.

  Gina loved it.

  The curtain was still rising slowly. Everyone began to clap.

  Onstage was a big black cat.

  The cat didn’t pay attention to the clapping. Instead, it held one round paw up to its whiskers.

  Slowly it washed one ear.

  It waved its curved tail.

  It was almost as if the cat were real. It acted like Grandma Maroni’s cat.

  Soon a girl came out onto the stage. She wore a long dress. It had green look-like-real diamonds on it. It had roses down the front.

  It was gorgeous.

  The girl was singing a little. “Tra-la.” She had flowers in her hand.

  Gina leaned over. She whispered to Mitchell, “See. It’s good to have singing.”

  This is a perfect play, Gina thought. It is about a princess and a frog.

  The cat reached out with one paw.

  Would it catch the frog?

  Gina took a deep breath. Poor frog.

  But the cat sat back. It licked its paw.

  It seemed as if the cat were smiling.

  But Gina knew what would come next. The star would kiss the frog.

  The frog would turn into a prince.

  And that was just what happened.

  The cat closed its eyes and yawned.

  The curtain came down. The lights came on.

  Everyone clapped for a long time.

  It was time to ask Mitchell again. “Did you have time to think hard?”

  “I guess Peter and I can do it alone.”

  “Maybe not,” she said.

  “Mrs. Farelli says I’m a good writer,” Mitchell said.

  “You’re the best,” Gina said, before she had time to think.

  The stars came to the front of the stage.

  They all bowed.

  The cat took off its mask.

  Gina drew in her breath. It was Madam Ballantine.

  What a surprise!

  It was time to get back on the bus. They had to hurry.

  “Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Farelli. “It’s Bus Thirteen again.”

  The bus driver turned on the motor.

  Nothing happened.

  “I knew it,” Destiny said. “We’ll be here until midnight. We’ll be starving.”

  Gina didn’t care how long it took to get home. She needed time to talk to Mitchell—

  To beg Mitchell.

  Besides, there was still a little purple yogurt left in her purse. She might be hungry, but she wouldn’t starve.

  She followed Mitchell to the back of the bus.

  She passed Charlie. “I might grow some frogs in a tank,” he was saying.

  “That’s not a neat idea at all,” the bus driver said.

  Sumiko was doing a handstand on the seat.

  It was a good thing Mrs. Farelli didn’t see her. Mrs. Farelli’s head was stuck under the hood of the bus.

  The used-to-be-famous actress came outside. She was smiling at everyone.

  Too bad her hair was a mess.

  Gina poked her head out a window. “You were the best cat in the world,” she said.

  “That’s what acting is all about,” the actress said. “I’m a great cat.” She gave a little hop. “I’m working on being a frog.”

  Gina shook her head. “Frogs aren’t easy.”

  There was a rumble from the bus.

  Mrs. Farelli had fixed the problem. She jumped back on the bus.

  Her auditorium-colored dress was engine-colored now.

  There was a roar and some smoke.

  They pulled away from the curb.

  The actress waved after them.

  “Whew,” said Mitchell. “I didn’t want to stay here until midnight. I’m hungry already.”

  “I’ll share my yogurt,” Gina said.

  She reached into her purse.

  Everything inside was gooey.

  It felt like Destiny’s Curls Galore gel. It wasn’t, though.

  It was the rest of her yogurt.

  It had dripped onto her pencil, her paper, her just-in-case dollar.

  Mitchell was watching.

  She pulled out his play-writing pad.

  It was covered with yogurt.

  Mitchell tried to wipe it off.

  “I can’t read one word,” Gina said.

  “Me neither,” Mitchell said. “I’ll have to start over.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gina said. “I’m really—”

  Mitchell rubbed his hands on his shirt. “I just changed my mind,” he said. “You can help.”

  “Enchanting,” she said.

  CHAPTER 8

  WEDNESDAY

  Gina sat on the edge of the Afternoon Center stage.

  It was like the one at the Sta
r Theater. So was the soft blue curtain.

  It made her think of Madam Ballantine.

  She remembered the actress’s black cat costume and her round black paws.

  Gina swung her legs back and forth. It was nice to be up there alone with all those empty seats.

  In a couple of days, they’d be filled.

  The audience would clap. They’d yell “Olé!” For her!

  Gina stopped to think. Olé was for bullfighting. Maybe they’d yell “Bravo!”

  “Yes, that’s it,” she told herself in a star voice.

  Something bumped behind the curtain. Was someone back there?

  Yes. The thing was laughing. It had a weird voice. It cackled like a witch.

  Maybe it was a witch!

  But no. It was worse.

  “I have come to take you to my planet,” the voice said.

  Gina’s mouth went dry. She didn’t want to go to another planet. Her mother was baking ravioli for dinner. Grandma and Grandpa Maroni were coming.

  Too bad Grandpa couldn’t fix the pearls. It was a good thing Grandma was bringing another set.

  Gina opened her mouth. Out came a hyena cry.

  “Yeow, there’s an animal out there!” the thing yelled.

  It sounded a little like an alien.

  Or maybe like Destiny.

  The back door of the stage slammed shut.

  The thing was gone.

  But what about the animal?

  Gina jumped off the stage. It might be a big one with curved teeth.

  Maybe it had escaped from the zoo in Bridgeport.

  The auditorium door banged open. Peter raced in.

  Mitchell raced in behind him.

  “I have paper!” Peter yelled. “I have a pen. We have to write this thing in two seconds.”

  Gina took a quick look around.

  No animal.

  No alien.

  They sat in the front row.

  Peter began to write: A ROBOT WORLD.

  “I have lots of ideas,” Gina told them.

  Peter looked at her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Mitchell said I could.”

  Peter sighed. “You’d better have fast ideas. Madam Ballantine is coming.”

  Mitchell looked sad. “I don’t even have time for snack in the lunchroom today.”

  “I checked,” Gina said. “It’s leftover soup with red things.”