Cloudy with a Chance of Boys (12 page)

Alex and I were kneeling on my bed with our faces pressed to the second-story window. “Stop breathing so much,” I told her. “You’re fogging up the window and I can’t see.”

I wiped the altocumulus cloud Alex had made on the window with the side of my fist. “There she is!” Alex pointed at Joey, a.k.a. Her Royal Spyness, sneaking up on the side of the Raven Theater next door to our house.

“What’s she wearing?” Alex asked, craning her neck.

“A raincoat?” I said, straining to see.

“But it’s not even raining, for once.” The sky was overcast, but the drizzle had stopped.

“Don’t you get it? It’s a spy thing.” We watched Joey reach into her pocket. She put on a pair of dark sunglasses. And a Sherlock Holmes houndstooth hat with earflaps from Dad’s props trunk. “All she needs now is a pipe.”

“Um, wrong century, Joey,” Alex pretended to call out, even though Joey couldn’t hear her. “I don’t think Shakespeare spies knew about Sherlock Holmes.”

“Never mind. Joey gets to be a spy. And you get to eavesdrop on Scott Towel. It’s win-win.” I grinned at my sister. It’s not like I’m into kissing — I felt pretty much like Joey did about it, high up on the Grossometer. But I have to admit, I was a little curious. It’s not every day you get to spy on two people when they’re going to kiss. A strange prickle set the hairs on the back of my neck on end.

“Yeah, but now if anybody sees her they’re going to know she’s a spy.”

Just then, Joey bent down and duckwalked along the side of the building, hunching beneath the windows. The monitor crackled. “Testing. Testing. I’m outside the theater. I’m almost to the back door.”

Just then her hat fell off.

“Let it go, Joey. Just let it go,” Alex willed her out loud.

Joey disappeared around the back of the theater until we couldn’t see her any more.

“What’s that sound?” I asked.

“It’s probably just the creaking of the back steps.”

“I’m on the back stairs,” Joey reported.

“She’s in!” I said proudly.

“She better stop reporting her every move. They’ll hear her. And I’ll be busted before I even get to spy on Scott and Jayden.”

“Shh. Who’s that?” I asked, motioning for my sister to be quiet.

Dad.

“Hi, honey.”
Rustle, rustle.
“Everything okay?”
Clank, clank, clank.
“I’m just sorting through a bunch of old props for
Romeo and Juliet.
I have swords, a dagger, a vial of poison, a bunch of grapes . . . but I can’t find that dozen roses with the dew on it, and this wedding cake, I think, will have to be painted.”
Crackle, crackle.
“It’s looking a bit shabby, don’t you think?”

“Sure, Dad.”

“So, what brings you over?”

“Um . . . I am here . . . um . . . because . . .”

“Just say anything, Joey,” my sister urged, even though Joey couldn’t hear her. “It doesn’t matter if it’s lame. Say something.”

“I’m not spying or anything,” said Joey.

“Joey!” Alex put her head in her hand. “I give up,” she said to me.

“Don’t worry. Dad’s hardly listening. I can still hear him rifling through stuff. There’s, like, a million boxes in that props closet.”

“Stevie, um, asked me to come over. Not Alex. Alex didn’t ask me. Yep. It was Stevie.”

“Me?” I exclaimed. “Thanks a lot. Don’t go blaming me, little sister.”

“Uh-huh,” said Dad, still half listening. “What did she want?”

“She, um, she, well, she . . . made you a sandwich!”

What!

“Great. What kind?”

“What kind? Technically, I’m not sure.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it, whatever it is.”

“You know, funny thing is, I forgot to bring it over. So, I’m just going to go back over there, to the house I mean, and get it. And then I’ll come back over here. So, I’ll be back.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dad.

“I’m sure. I’m just going to go now.”

“Okay, I’ll just be a little while longer, if anybody needs me, you know where to find me. I’ll wait till they’re done practicing in here and then I’ll lock up.”

“Can I go out there, Dad?”

“Not today, honey. I don’t think Mr. Cannon would like us interrupting practice.”

“How about if . . . can I just take a peek from backstage? I’ll stay behind the curtain.”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.”

Silence. More rustling. More crackling.

Alex held up the monitor and we glued our ears to it, trying to hear. But all we could hear was a lot of rustling and clomping and crackling and static.

Somebody coughed.

“What’s happening now? Do you think it died?” asked Alex.

“It didn’t die,” I told her. “I just heard a cough.”

“What cough? Who coughed? Was it a guy cough?” Alex asked.

“How should I know a guy cough from a girl cough?”

“Well, you know, was it deep like a man teacher’s do you think? Or was it just, you know,
heh-heh,
like a younger person?”

“You’re seriously warped, you know that.”

“Why can’t we hear anything? It’s not working. Do you think Joey bumped it? Or turned it off or something? What if she put it behind the curtain, like I told her, and now we can’t hear.”

“Take a chill pill. Just wait till Joey gets back. She’ll tell us what’s going on.”

Alex started biting her fingernails. I pulled her hand away and she stuck her tongue out at me.

“This is so cool,” I said. “It’s kind of like that Hitchcock movie.”

“The one where they have a chase scene on Mount Rushmore?” she asked. “Or the one where millions of birds attack people? Wait, it’s the one where the creepy guy has a skeleton in the basement, huh?”

“
Psycho
? You’re psycho. I meant the one where the guy is holed up in this room in a wheelchair. All he does is stare out the window all day. And he thinks he sees a murderer in the building next door. So he sends somebody over there to find out.”

“The only murder around here is going to be Joey’s if she doesn’t get back here soon.”

Just then, Joey Reel, Her Royal Spyness, burst into the room with a mud-streaked face and a hole in her jeans.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

“Stevie. Hurry. Quick. You have to make Dad a sandwich!”

It had been three days. Three days of listening in on play practice with the baby monitor. Three days of watching Alex mouth the words as Scott Towel and Jayden struggled through their lines.

Joey yawned. “Why do they call it eavesdropping? Why not ears-dropping? My ears are dropping off. Even kissing would not be this boring.”

“Shh! Joey! I can’t hear,” said Alex.

“So? All they ever do is go, ‘perchance, perforce, blah-blah. Anon! Anon!’”

“Yeah, how come we never get to hear Scott Towel and Jayden say stuff to each other?” I asked. “Un-Shakespeare stuff, I mean.” I could hear Shakespeare anytime, but I never got to spy on a boy and girl talking before.

“Because they’re practicing for a play? How should I know? Maybe they talk to each other all the time, but they don’t stand near the baby monitor. Maybe they have Pianophobia. Shush, you guys. I mean it.”

Alex flipped through her script book. “It’s the party scene at Juliet’s house. They’re in Act 1 Scene 5. Mr. Cannon only has two kisses in
Romeo and Juliet
and this scene has one of them. And this is the one where Juliet’s not dead.”

We could hear Scott Towel’s voice say, “My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, To smooch that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

“Smooch? He said ‘smooch.’ Was he supposed to say ‘smooch’?” I asked.

Alex rubbed her forehead like it hurt her head to listen. “No, it’s ‘smooth.’ Smooth. I don’t know why he’s messing up like this.”

“Good pilgrim, your hand is wrong, wait, good pilgrim, your wrong hand is, uh! I give up,” we heard Jayden say.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much!” said an exasperated Alex. “What’s so hard about that?”

“Everything,” said Joey.

“How can they screw this up so bad?” Alex asked. “This is a disaster. Even Scott keeps messing up. Can’t anybody in Drama Club act anymore?”

“The Nurse is funny,” said Joey.

“Yeah, she’s the only good one. And that was supposed to be my part. What is my problem? Maybe I should have stuck it out.”

“Maybe it’s not too late,” I suggested. “Maybe there’s still a part —”

“Shh!” said Alex. “Mr. Cannon’s yelling. I want to hear.”

“People, people. What is going on today? Scott, your delivery’s flat. Jayden, you’re tripping over your own tongue. You could try practicing simple tongue twisters. It’s a great vocal warm-up exercise to help with Shakespeare.”

“But I don’t even get what half of it means.” Jayden.

“Sure you do. Romeo is laying eyes on Juliet for the first time. I’m sure you’ve heard of love at first sight? He’s blown away by her beauty. He feels unworthy of her love. Let the feelings come, and the words will follow.”

“But why does she call him a pilgrim? Did they even have Thanksgiving back then? And why does she keep talking about hands and stuff?” Jayden again.

Mr. Cannon. “‘For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.’ Now you try. Don’t look at the script right now. Just try to feel the words inside you.”

“For saints have hands like pilgrims, palm by palm by palm holy kiss.”

“Let’s move on. I want to get to the end of this scene. Romeo? ‘Have not saints lips.’”

Alex mouthed the words, motioning to us to keep quiet. Scott Towel. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too?”

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer,” Alex whispered, her eyes closed.

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in . . . Ping-Pong?” Jayden.

“You should have been Juliet,” said Joey. “Not her.”

“Take five, people. We’ll pick it back up with Benvolio.”

“Oh holy of holies,” said Joey, imitating Juliet. “Kiss thy pilgrim hand and smooch thy pilgrim lips.”

“Even Joey is better than Jayden,” I said.

Just then, the monitor crackled and the voices got louder. “Shh! It’s them!” said Alex. “Scott and Jayden! They must be standing right next to the monitor.”

“I hope they don’t look behind the curtain,” said Joey.

“My fault? All I did was say ‘smooch.’” Scott.

“Yeah, no wonder I was thrown off.” Jayden.

“My bad. I make one mistake. You’re not even making sense.” Scott.

“Can I help it if Juliet talks in tongue twisters?” Jayden again.

“You’re supposed to read all your lines the night before so this doesn’t happen. We sound like idiots out there. I don’t know why Mr. Cannon . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Why Mr. Cannon what?” Alex practically screamed.

“Oh, don’t even go there. Look, I’m Juliet. Not her.” Jayden.

“Who her?” Scott.

“She’s talking about me!” said Alex.

“Alex Reel. Who else?” Jayden.

Alex turned to look at me, her eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Hey. This isn’t about her.” Scott.

“Oh, isn’t it? Little Miss Woe Is Me I Can’t Be in the Play If I’m Not the Lead. She’s been the lead in every play since, like, the third grade.” Jayden.

“Second grade,” said Alex.