Like Carrot Juice on a Cupcake (16 page)

And then I was standing in silence.

I blinked a few times.

It was hard to see

with the stage lights bright in my eyes

and the houselights off.

But then, right in the middle of the third row,

I saw Pearl and Ainsley grinning up at me.

And my parents, grinning, too.

Pearl started waving and waving,

and I almost waved back!

Then someone coughed, and I realized

I had to
act
.

I stood a little straighter and said,

not very loudly or clearly,

“It was the best of carrots,

it was the worst of carrots.”

My voice was shaking.

But still,

I heard grown-ups laugh.

Then Nicholas came onstage.

I think he gave me a thumbs-up,

but it was hard to tell,

because his hands were covered with furry paws.

I spoke louder and clearer after that.

And

for some reason,

my early scenes with Nicholas

were especially easy.

But whenever I was offstage, I kept thinking,

Solo, solo, solo, solo.

My heart was beating to that sound!

Finally,

when that solo was thirty seconds away,

I pushed my way to Mrs. Quaid

and I said,

“Can Nicholas sing with me?

Like at our audition?

I can’t do it by myself!”

She put her hands on my shoulders

and looked in my eyes

and said,

“You
can
do it.

You’ve worked so hard.

Just remember—do
not
be Eleanor!

Now, go!”

And she practically pushed me onto the stage.

The piano started.

I thought,

I can’t breathe!

And then I thought,

I’m going to sound like a garbage truck!

I missed my cue from the piano—

I was supposed to be singing.

But instead I was thinking,

Garbage truck!

Then I knew what to do!

The piano started the song again.

I imagined holding a boom box high in the air,

and when I heard my cue the second time around,

I sang my solo right to my mom.

I just pretended I was my dad

outside her window.

As soon as I finished,

Pearl leapt to her feet

and shouted, “Yay, Eleanor!”

Ainsley jumped up, too, clapping and clapping,

and so did both my parents.

I bowed a tiny bit to them.

And then I hurried as fast as I could,

in my furry suit,

off the stage.

The next time I went on,

I had to hug Nicholas.

I’m a rabbit, I’m a rabbit, I’m a rabbit,

I told myself.

And then I hugged him as fast as I could

and stepped back.

Mrs. Quaid shouted out from backstage,

“The end!”

And the whole audience cheered and cheered.

Every bunny in the play came onstage.

Nicholas stood on one side of me

and Katie stood on the other.

We took one another’s paws,

and we all bowed together.

Then I heard someone yell, “Eleanor!”

I looked out at my row of fans,

and my dad started tossing flowers on the stage.

That
was almost as embarrassing

as hugging Nicholas!

Still,

even with those flowers at my feet,

I was glad I hadn’t quit that play.

My parents let me eat my bunny-decorated cupcake

(with no disgusting carrot juice anywhere near it)

for breakfast the next morning

as a special treat.

“To celebrate your newfound stardom,” my dad said.

That cupcake was very delicious,

even though it wasn’t a brookie.

And that wasn’t even the best part of my day!

The best part came later,

when Pete Pain brought my dog home.

He parked the Yip-Yap U van

in front of our apartment,

and I ran to unbuckle Antoine.

I hugged that puppy tight.

Then I checked him all over,

for cuts and bruises.

And other signs of torture.

But he looked very healthy.

And he kept licking my face!

“I’m happy to see you, too,” I told him.

Pete Pain stayed with us for hours,

teaching us to shout “Ow!”

and stop playing, if Antoine nipped.

And to say “Sit!” instead of “No!” when he jumped.

And to yell “Leave it!” whenever he started to chew.

Pete told us over and over

to always use the exact same commands,

all three of us,

all the time.

I had to admit,

Antoine behaved
very
nicely

during that training session.

Still,

after Pete Pain left, for the whole rest of the day,

I kept Antoine away from my parents’ room

and all of their stuff.

I decided to do that

for the whole rest of my life, too.

Because I did
not
want my dog

sent away from me

ever again.

The next Monday in school,

just before the morning bell,

a wadded-up piece of paper flew through the air

and landed on my desk.

I knew exactly what that flying paper was.

I opened it up

and smoothed it out.

Sure enough, Nicholas had drawn me a picture.

But

it was a new kind of picture.

For the first time ever,

Nicholas had drawn himself

with me.

Just the two of us,

together on a stage,

in our bunny suits,

holding each other’s paws.

I stared at that picture for a long time.

My heart felt jumpy

and my face felt blush-y

as I looked at just the two of us,

together,

holding each other’s paws.

I couldn’t stop myself from thinking,

I might like that
.

And suddenly, I felt very shy.

I could
not
turn

and look at Nicholas.

So this time, I thanked him

without turning.

He kicked the back of my chair,

not too hard,

like he always did.

Then I folded the picture neatly

and put it on top of the pile in my desk.

Like I always did.

But I already knew

that later,

I’d take that picture out

and put it in my backpack,

so I could carry it home with me

and do some more thinking

about Nicholas,

who’d drawn marshmallow Peeps for me

when I was sad.

And burped my solo for me

when I was scared.

And stood up for me,

twice,

when Ben was mean.

I knew, too,

that I’d sneak that picture into my backpack

when no one was looking.

Not even my best friend, Pearl.

Because

I wanted to keep that picture

and my thoughts about Nicholas

to myself.

At least for a while,

I wanted to keep a secret of my own.