Plastic Polly (21 page)

One by one we each certify it's tails.

“Then I declare this year's annual Groove It Up has now begun!”

More applause from the audience, and everyone hurries off the stage. Alyssa is waiting for me in the wings. “Kelsey told me a couple of the acts are missing. What's going on?”

I shake my head. “Where did Kelsey go?”

“She's on the phone, trying to get ahold of Derek. She can't find him.”

“Great.” I watch the stage as American River's first act begins. It's a boy and girl tap dancing duo.

“All right,” Kelsey says, walking up behind Alyssa. “Here's the scoop: Derek and the Glitter Girls aren't coming.”

“They're not coming?” I repeat numbly. “Why?”

“They're boycotting too.”

“You're kidding.”

“Boycotting?” Alyssa snorts. “Give me a break. Derek probably just ran out of eggs. And Jenna's friends are terrible dancers.”

Kelsey shoots her a look.

“What?” Alyssa says. “It's true. We're better off without them.”

“We're not better off without them.” For the first time, I'm sorry I've memorized most of
The PlanMaster's PlanMaster
. “The rules say we'll be automatically disqualified if we can't produce the required amount of acts. When is Derek supposed to go on?”

Kelsey opens her program. “He's second. And the Glitter Girls were the final act.”

The tap dancers finish, and Zack's voice booms over the sound system,
“And first up for Winston Academy . . . the Soccer Shakers!”

Kelsey and Alyssa look at me like they expect me to make some kind of decision. But I have no idea what to do. So I ignore them and watch while the Soccer Shakers take the stage and begin their impersonation of a boy band. I
peek out the side of the curtain. I expect the audience to cringe, but a lot of people—including my parents and all three of the judges—are laughing. The Soccer Shakers are so bad, they're actually hysterical.

Alyssa places a hand on my shoulder. “Polly, it's going to be okay. Things like this happen all the time in drama and choir. Stuff comes up at the last minute, and you just have to deal with it.” She pauses and adds, “We'll think of something.”

Which, actually, does make me think of something.

I turn to Alyssa. “I need you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need a second act, pronto. Someone who can get up there and blow the crowd away. Please, Alyssa?”

“I don't know, Polly.” Alyssa looks unconvinced. “I don't have my music. Or a costume.”

“We'll find you a costume. And what do you need music for? Can't you sing without music?”

When she doesn't answer right away, I add, “Please, Alyssa? You wanted a slot on the Talent Team. This is your chance.”

Alyssa hesitates. Then she breaks into a wide smile. “All right. I'll do it.”

While Alyssa hunts for a costume, I send Kelsey to tell
Zack we've switched our second act. Meanwhile, American River's next act goes on, a mime that, actually, is totally boring.

“Are you ready?” I ask Alyssa, helping her adjust her costume. She found a sparkling blue dress from the drama department.

Alyssa closes her eyes. “Ready.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I've just been informed there's been a change to Winston Academy's program. Replacing Derek Tanner will be . . . Alyssa Grace.”

“Knock 'em dead,” I say.

Before Alyssa can respond, Montana stomps over to us. Her beady black eyes look fierce. “I object. You can't just change the program. It's against the rules.”

“No, it's not. Go look it up in
The PlanMaster's PlanMaster
. You can change the acts at any time, if needed.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Alyssa chimes in, “don't you know the first rule of show business? The show must go on.”

We giggle and turn away from a still complaining Montana, and Alyssa gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I'm sorry I never called you back last year.”

Then Alyssa steps out onto the stage. And she begins to sing. No music. Just Alyssa with the silvery spotlight shining on her. Her voice starts out soft. Wispy, lilting. Like a feather floating on the breeze. From my spot at the
edge of the curtain, it looks like the audience is leaning forward, straining to hear her. But slowly Alyssa's voice grows and gains momentum, soaring like the wind itself.

“Wow,” breathes a nearby member of American River's planning committee. “She's really good.”

“Oh, shut up,” Montana hisses, and stomps off.

Standing there, watching Alyssa sing, I forget I'm still one act short. I forget I still have a million other things to do. I forget everything, and everyone. Except Alyssa.

“Was she always this good?” Kelsey comes up behind me.

“She was always good,” I say without taking my eyes off Alyssa. “But now she's amazing.”

It occurs to me, listening to Alyssa sing, that everyone deserves their chance on the stage. I never would have voted for the Soccer Shakers—I think they're a bunch of goofs. But everyone liked watching them perform. So who am I to judge who has to stand in the shadows and who gets the chance to shine? I look at the audience. I bet there are talents hidden within each one of us. Sometimes it just takes some of us longer to find them than others.

Alyssa finishes on a high note, and the audience is silent. Then Winston's side rises up and gives her a standing ovation. American River's side remains seated, and looks highly annoyed.

“Beautiful,” Kelsey whispers. The applause continues, until Zack booms over the sound system that we still have several more acts to go before intermission.

A crowd swarms Alyssa as she walks backstage. I wave to her and mouth,
Congratulations
.

“Okay,” Kelsey says. “That's done. So what are we going to do about the final act?”

“I don't know. I'm thinking.”

But nothing comes to me as one act and then another performs. During intermission I have Alyssa quietly make a couple of inquiries to see if there's anyone who could go on at the last minute. But after intermission ends, she comes back shaking her head.

“Don't you have any friends who play musical instruments?” I ask as another act from American River begins, a cute boy playing the saxophone.

“Yeah,” Alyssa says, “but most of them aren't here. And if they are, it's not like they brought their instruments with them.”

As the show goes on, I realize that, surprisingly enough, we're competitive. Tasha and Dominique, the Shakespeare Twins, also get a standing ovation when they rap to
Hamlet
. And the audience seems amazed by Kai and Aidan's hacky sack routine.

I peek over at the judges' table. They seem to be thoroughly enjoying watching Kristy and the cheerleaders perform. The judges don't score each act individually; they announce the winning school after seeing the entire show. And right now I think it could go either way.

After we congratulate Kristy and her girls on a great routine, Kelsey and Alyssa and I fall silent. The sharp panic I felt earlier seems to have settled in my chest and turned stale. This late in the game it'll be next to impossible to find a replacement act.

Zack steps out to center stage. “And for American River's final act, may I present . . . the Rockin' River Choir!”

Kelsey, Alyssa, and I watch as a choir of thirty students files onto the stage and begins to sing. And when two boys appear with electric guitars and the choir starts rocking out with them, the audience goes wild.

Justin is on the other side of the stage, in the wings, fist bumping with the rest of his planning committee. So that was their big act.

Finally Alyssa says, “What should I tell Zack?”

I sigh. “Tell him the truth. Tell him we don't have a final act.”

“No,” Kelsey says. “We're not giving up. There's got to be something we can do.”

“There's not. And we're out of time.” I turn to Alyssa. “Go tell him.”

American River's choir launches into another song—apparently they're determined to go out with a bang—and I tiptoe away from the curtain, slump down against the wall, and hug my clipboard to my chest. Kelsey joins me, and we lean against each other.

“You did the best you could,” she whispers. “Much better than I ever could've done.”

I shake my head and don't look at her. Because if I do, I'm afraid the tears I feel building up behind my eyes will come spilling out. In a couple more minutes I'm supposed to produce our closing act. And I've got nothing. I close my eyes and imagine the looks on everyone's faces when Zack announces that Winston Academy doesn't have a final act. Somewhere in the audience I'm sure someone will whisper, “I just
knew
Plastic Polly would screw up the show.”

Monday at school I'll probably be banished from the Court. I'll probably be the least popular girl at Winston Academy, but I don't even care anymore. When I told Principal Allen I wanted to be the PlanMaster, I guess I wanted to prove to everyone, to Mom, to Kelsey—and most of all, to myself—that I could be a leader, not just a follower. I wanted them to realize I'm more than Plastic Polly, that
there's more to me than what they see on the outside. Now all they'll see is the girl who single-handedly got Winston disqualified from the competition.

“Melinda's going to have a field day with this next week,” Kelsey says softly as she watches the American River choir. “I can't believe we're going to lose.”

“
You
don't have to lose,” I answer in a hollow voice. “On Monday you can just banish me from the Court. We can be, like,
secret
best friends.” I look at her and try to smile, but my face muscles won't cooperate. “I know how much you've loved being Queen Kelsey,” I add, and she smiles faintly in response.

“Yeah, a lot of times it's pretty great.” She looks down and traces Alyssa's signature on her cast. “But . . . sometimes it hasn't been so great, you know? I know I never say it, but . . . I've missed Alyssa too.” She rolls her eyes and adds, “Even if she
is
totally stubborn.”

Kelsey nudges me with her shoulder. “And secret best friends? Really, Polly? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Besides”—she straightens up and fluffs her hair—“I'm fabulous no matter where I sit in the cafeteria.”

Kelsey grins at me, and this time I manage a small smile in return.

Mr. Fish's oldest daughter appears backstage with a plate
of brownies and starts handing them out to everyone. My stomach rumbles when she hands one to me and Kelsey. I take a bite, figuring if I have to lose, at least I have chocolate. The brownies are good. Almost as good as the ones Mrs. Grace used to bake when Kelsey and I would go over to Alyssa's and—

I sit up straight. “Kelsey, do you remember the last time we hung out at Alyssa's house?”

Kelsey looks at me like I just told her two plus two equals red. “You're asking me this
now
?”

“Just think about it. What did we do the last time we hung out at Alyssa's house?”

“How should I know? That was, like, forever ago and—” Kelsey breaks off. I can see her remembering that day, and realizing what I'm about to ask her. “No. No way. You're out of your mind if you think—”

Just then Zack and Alyssa appear backstage. “Polly, what's going on?” Zack says. “Alyssa just told me you don't have a tenth act.”

I look at Kelsey. “Please?”

Kelsey sighs and stands up. “All right, fine. But don't say I never did anything for you.”

“Great.” I whisper to Alyssa the errand I need her to run. I scribble something on my to-do list and show it to Zack. “This is exactly how I want you to announce our final act.”

True Confession: I have a recurring nightmare where I walk into a crowded room and everyone holds up a number grading my appearance and how cool they think I am.

K
ELSEY AND
I
ARE ALONE ON THE STAGE, WAITING FOR
the curtain to rise.

“I'm going to kill you for this,” she whispers.

“No, you're not.”

“I'll never be able to go out in public ever again.”

“Yes, you will. And be quiet. And turn your microphone on.”

Kelsey and I both click our microphones on and straighten up at the sound of Zack's voice:
“And now for Winston Academy's final act of the night . . . May I present . . . Plastic Polly and Queen Kelsey: The Karaoke Queens!”

“You remember how it goes, right?” I whisper to Kelsey out of the side of my mouth.

“Uh, maybe?” Kelsey whispers back. “It's not like we can read the words from the screen this time.”

The curtain rises, and the music begins.