Mia the Magnificent (4 page)

“I should’ve known you’d be on her side,” Chris grumbled as the doorbell rang. “All you Amazons stick together.”

While my mom sat back down, apparently convinced there wasn’t any permanent damage to Chris’s eye, my dad looked out the window and said, “It’s Gina, and she’s with her parents. They probably brought her over here to apologize.”

“Elaine Carlson is president of the Diocesan School Board,” Mom said, climbing out of her chair again, “and I need her on my side for a grant I’m writing for new books for my classroom. The last thing I need is for her to think I’m mad at Gina.”

As my parents went to answer the door, Chris looked at me with panic. “Hand me those sunglasses. Quick! Before Mom and Dad let them in.”

“What’s the big deal?” I asked, handing over the glasses.

“I don’t want Gina to see me like this,” Chris whispered as he shoved the sunglasses onto his face and slouched back in his chair, trying to assume what I can only guess was supposed to be a macho
stance. “All the eighth-grade babes think I’m kind of God’s gift to women, and I don’t want to let them down.”

I stared at him in disbelief. Babes? God’s gift to women? I shuddered at the familiarity of those terms. Maybe it was time for me to have a serious discussion with Tim about his influence on Chris. After all, one Tim in the neighborhood was bad enough. Two would be unbearable.

“Off the chain, dude!” Jake yelled the following Monday afternoon as our driver’s ed car hit another pothole and we bounced up and down like a canary-colored yo-yo.

Bracing his arm against the dashboard, Mr. Bodey said, “Jake, I’ve asked you repeatedly to drive around the potholes, not through them.”

“Sorry, dude, I keep forgettin’,” Jake said as he aimed for another crater-sized hole.

“Maybe this will help you remember.” Zoë reached over the front seat and flicked Jake on the back of his head. “I don’t want to be all banged up for my
Guys and Dolls
audition tonight.”

“What are you cheezin’ about?” Jake asked, swiveling his head toward the backseat. “Dudes playin’ with dolls?”

“Jake!” Mr. Bodey shouted, grabbing hold of the steering wheel. “Keep your eyes and attention on the road! You almost hit a lady back there!”

“Hey, dude, that wasn’t my fault.” Jake returned his limited attention to the reality that he was driving a two-ton vehicle. “She was, like, totally in the middle of the street.”

“It was a crosswalk,” Mr. Bodey replied tersely, pulling out his clipboard and scribbling some notes.

“Huh. I always wondered what those white lines were for,” Jake
muttered.

I quickly checked my seatbelt to make sure it was still securely fastened while I cursed the Catholic Church for getting rid of Saint Christopher, the patron saint of travelers. I definitely needed his help right now.

“It’s not guys playing with dolls,” Zoë said after Jake returned the car to the right side of the road. “It’s
Guys and Dolls.
It’s a musical about the mob and gambling. I’m trying out for the part of Miss Adelaide.”

“You’re gonna be in a play?” Jake laughed. “What, did you lose a bet or somethin’?”

“No.” Zoë flicked Jake on the back of his head again. “I’m trying out because musicals give me stage experience, which helps me when I’m singing in my band. Maybe you should be in a play, too, because after watching you with your band, I know for a fact you need help with your moves.”

“My moves are fine.” Jake’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Whatever Mia told you about me ain’t true.”

I instantly dropped my gaze and studied the floor mat. While it was true that making out with Jake had been like tongue-wrestling a sponge, I didn’t feel like discussing it with my ex-boyfriend and my new kind-of-crush’s cousin sitting on each side of me.

“If you were serious about making your band a success,” Zoë said, “you’d be in your school’s musical.”

“No way, dude,” Jake snorted with disgust. “Musicals are for chicks.”

Tim nodded. “For once, I agree with Jake. Real men don’t do musicals.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Eric’s in plays all the time.”

“Thank you for making my point for me,” Tim replied with a smirk.

“Are you saying my cousin isn’t a real man?” Zoë said.

“Look,” Tim said, “I’m sure Eric’s a great guy and all, but he’s not what I’d call a manly man.”

“So, I take it you think you’re one of these manly men?” I asked with a raise of the eyebrow.

“Let’s just say, I don’t eat quiche,” Tim said, “and I don’t do musicals.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” I replied, “because I’d hate to think I was going to have to spend every night during the next six weeks stuck in the auditorium with you.”

“Yeah, right.” Tim laughed. “Like you’re going to try out for the musical.”

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” I said.

Tim’s smile faded. “Are you serious? When did you get so interested in acting?”

“About the same time you did,” I said. “While you were acting like you were still my boyfriend while two-timing me with that girl in Maine, I was learning to act onstage. The only difference is that my acting didn’t hurt anybody.”

“Nice one, Preppy,” Zoë said.

“This grudge is getting really old,” Tim said. “Is there any chance you’re going to get over it anytime this century?”

“No,” I said, “especially since you’re turning Chris into a mini-Tim. The other night at dinner, he sounded exactly like you. You’re totally brainwashing him with your one-dimensional caveman views about men and women.”

“I’ve got dimensions,” Tim replied. “And I think I’ve done a pretty good job with Chris. In fact, last night he asked my advice on how he could impress Gina Carlson. I gave him a few pointers. After a few more of my coaching sessions, I bet Chris will have her eating out of the palm of his hand.”

“I don’t want my brother thinking girls are goats, so kindly leave the coaching to me,” I said, realizing Tim’s influence on Chris was worse than I’d suspected. “Besides, you have your own brother. Why
not corrupt him instead?”

“I gave up trying to teach Kevin anything about girls long ago. He’s got some random family gene or something—he’s so wholesome, he makes the Boy Scouts look like a bunch of thugs,” Tim said. “And I’m not
corrupting
Chris. I’m just being myself. I can’t help it if he wants to be like me. I mean, can you blame him?”

“Considering Chris has the morals and intellect of an eggplant, no, I can’t,” I replied. “But I can blame you. So lay off the girl talk with Chris for a while, OK?”

“Why?” Tim asked. “You want to teach Chris how to be sensitive like Eric?”

Zoë balled her right hand into a fist. “You say one more thing about my cousin and you won’t be so pretty anymore.”

“Hey, settle down back there,” said Mr. Bodey, turning around and placing his gigantic hand between Zoë and Tim. “I think we’re all ready for a break—I know I am. Jake, why don’t you pull into that parking lot over there and we can switch drivers?”

“Sure thing, dude,” Jake said, lurching the steering wheel to the right as he headed into the parking lot. “But first, all this cheezin’ about acting made me remember this cool stunt I saw in a movie once. I wanna try it out.”

Mr. Bodey tried to say something to stop him, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the engine as Jake gunned the accelerator. He aimed the car directly at a row of speed bumps, and I braced myself for the worst. Ignoring the church’s decree, I began praying to Saint Christopher with all my might.

We hit the first speed bump going about 30 miles an hour, and the car flew into the air. My head smashed into the car roof and I landed with a thud, with just enough time to grab my seatbelt before Jake barreled toward the second bump. As the car hit the raised pavement, we soared like a bird in flight, and then landed with a sickening crunch.

Hitting the gas once more, Jake zoomed toward a third bump,
but Mr. Bodey was too quick for him. He slammed his teaching brake to the floorboard, and the car screeched to a halt, smashing the rest of us into the front seats like bugs on a windshield.

“That was freakin’ better than the movie!” Jake yelled as the car skidded to a stop, the smell of burning rubber assaulting the air.

While Tim, Zoë, and I pried our bodies from the back of the seats, Mr. Bodey reached for the door handle and, without a word, stumbled out of the car.

Jake turned around and gave us a perplexed look. “What’s up with him, dudes?”

“Uh,” I said, looking out my car window at Mr. Bodey, who was now sitting on the speed bump, his head buried in his hands, “I think he’s going into shock.”

“But you still think I passed today’s lesson, right, dude?” Jake asked with his first hint of hesitancy.

Tim looked at Mr. Bodey, who looked kind of like he was crying. “I think I read somewhere that one of the first rules in passing driver’s ed is to keep all four wheels on the ground at all times.”

“Aw, snap!” Jake exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

In the hard auditorium chair, I adjusted my still-bruised tailbone as Mrs. Ingram called from the center of the stage, “Quiet, everyone!”

Her announcement did nothing to stop the noise, so Lisa took matters into her own hands. Sticking her index finger and thumb into her mouth, she let out an ear-piercing whistle. The auditorium immediately silenced.

“That’s much better.” Mrs. Ingram cleared her throat and continued. “First of all, I would like to thank each and every one of you for auditioning for this year’s musical,
The Music Man.
I’m sure it will be difficult for our panel to choose between you.”

Nervously, my gaze shifted to the panel of teachers who would be determining my fate. There was Mr. Benson, Ms. Jackson, Mrs. Williams, Mr. Juarez, my mom...

My mom?! What was she doing here? When I left home a half hour ago, she was at home grading her freshman class’s compositions.

“Lisa,” I whispered, grabbing her arm and yanking her toward me, “why didn’t you didn’t tell me
my mom
was going to be here tonight?”

“You know, if you focused on improving your interpersonal relationship skills with your mom,” Lisa replied, “you wouldn’t have to rely on me for that information.”

“Don’t use your psychobabble on me,” I said. “You and my mom purposely kept this from me, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes,” Lisa said. “We didn’t want you getting any more nervous than you already were. But your mom is going to excuse
herself from grading your performance, so there won’t be any personal bias.”

“But with my mom there,” I said in exasperation, “no other teacher is going to give me a bad grade on my audition. I don’t want to get a part just because my mom is a teacher and my best friend is the assistant director. I want to see if I can get a part on my own.”

“I promise we won’t interfere with your audition. You’ve got to stop worrying so much about everything. You’re starting to get wrinkles.” Lisa gathered her papers together. “It’s a good thing I know how to get rid of them. I’ll whip you up an asparagus and green tea shake as soon as auditions are over.”

My anxiety level immediately doubled.

“I think I’d better make it an extra-large,” Lisa said as she slid out of the row of chairs and headed toward the stage. “See you after the auditions. Good luck!”

I waited until Lisa turned her back to me before frantically massaging the skin between my eyes, hoping to erase any and all worry lines fast. There was no way I was going to let Lisa anywhere near me with a stalk of asparagus.

Grabbing my cheeks, I pulled my skin back to my ears to give myself a mini-facelift. Just then, Tim sat down in the chair next to me.

“Is that some kind of method acting?” Tim asked. “Like, are you pretending you’re in a windstorm or something?”

I quickly dropped my hands into my lap and let my face fall back into place. “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t do musicals.”

“I don’t. Real men do stage crew. So when Lisa asked me to help build the set, I thought I’d come by to check out what this whole scene was about.” Tim nudged me in the ribs. “Get it? Scene? Plays?”