The Superstar Sister (4 page)

“You kidding? I’m not gonna take no stinking nap! This here’s a talent show, and I’m not leaving till I show my talent, see? Now, listen up, folks. They don’t call me Mozart for nothing.”

Oh, no.
What next? B glanced sideways to see the judges watching, enjoying Mozart’s show with big grins on their faces.

“I got a song for ya,” Mozart said. “You know that Elvis guy? Well, my version is called ‘Fish Tank Rock.’ I’m not a fish, but ‘Hamster Tank Rock’ didn’t fit the beat so good.”

And without missing a beat, Mozart launched into his song, bopping from side to side and swinging his paws in the air.

He waved his paws in the air for the finale, Broadway-style.

B was speechless.

But not Clifton Davro.

“Incredible!” he yelled. B looked to see him rise from his seat and give her a double thumbs-up. “Fantastic, stupendous, incredible! You’ve got it, Beatrix!”

Oh, no! Had she just accidentally landed herself a spot in the finals?

The audience rose to their feet and cheered. Jason Jameson roared out a big “Boo!” but he was drowned out by the applause. B bowed, which made her tall hat fall to the floor. She scooped it up and ran off the stage into the wings …

… and ran straight into a scowling, fuming Dawn.

“Nice act, B,” Dawn said, her arms folded across her chest. “How come you never mentioned at home that you were planning to enter the competition? And
jeopardize the witching world
in the process?”

“Dawn, you have to believe me, I didn’t mean to —”

“How can you say you didn’t mean to, when there you were, on the stage with a top hat and a talking hamster? That kind of thing doesn’t happen by accident!”

“But that’s just it!” B said. “It
was
an accident. I was just watching, when —”

“I don’t have time to listen to this,” Dawn
interrupted again. “Hope you’re proud of yourself, B.” She spun on her heel and left.

“Geez Louise,” Mozart said. “
Somebody
needs a sense of humor.”

B glared at the troublemaking hamster. “I think we’ve heard enough from you today. S-P-E-E-C-H-L-E-S-S.” Mozart blinked at her disapprovingly, then snuffled around her palm.

B took a deep breath. She felt shaky all over. It was bad enough being out there on the stage in front of half the school. Now her big sister was furious with her. Her parents were sure to hear about this, and then she’d be in even bigger trouble.

She turned to leave the stage through the back door, then paused. The announcer had called the next act, but she hadn’t heard the name. She peeped through the curtains.

It was Jason Jameson, looking smug as usual.

In spite of herself, B wondered what Jason would do, after all that bragging.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I present
to you feats of escape that will blow your imagination!”

Feats of escape? What?

He’s stolen George’s act!

Somehow Jason had come up with a fancy wooden cupboard, decorated with shiny moons and stars. B groaned. He had taken George’s idea — and
improved
it.

“Behold: a straitjacket and regulation police handcuffs. May I have a volunteer from the audience to assist me? Jenny, how about you?”

B gritted her teeth. Jenny Springbranch was always fawning over Jason. B was sure she was no random volunteer. She’d probably be slipping Jason the keys to his handcuffs.

“Jenny, do these objects appear to be tampered with in any way?”

Jenny shook her head. “No, Mr. Jameson. They look perfectly normal.”

Mr. Jameson!
Jumping jinxes. Who did she think she was kidding?

“And how about this cupboard? Will you
investigate it for the audience and make sure it’s solid and intact?”

Deep, sinister music began to play. The effect was definitely suspenseful.

“Now, Jenny, will you assist me in getting into this straitjacket and fastening the handcuffs on tight behind my back? Make sure there’s no way for me to escape.”

Jenny secured Jason into his bindings, showing the audience how tightly he was bound. He entered the cupboard, and she shut and locked the door.

“Everyone, count with me,” Jenny cried. “Ten, nine, eight …”

The audience joined in. The auditorium boomed with each chanted number.

“Four, three, two …”

B held her breath. On the count of one, Jason burst from the cupboard, completely free from his handcuffs and his jacket. He took a flamboyant bow, and the audience went wild.

Clifton Davro shoved his shades down the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got it, kid,” he said. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll see you in a couple of days.”

Jason punched the air with his fist, then bowed once more. Jenny Springbranch helped him carry his stuff off the stage.

B drooped. Poor George! He must be devastated right now. Mozart climbed up B’s arm and onto her shoulder, as if he wanted a better look.

“And now, for our last contestant,” the announcer said. “George Fitzsimmons!”

George hopped onto the stage, wrapped from head to toe in rope and padlocks. His face was glum but determined. He had apparently abandoned his thought of telling jokes while he did his escape act. B figured that was probably just as well. But after Jason’s spectacular performance, no one seemed to pay attention to George. Even the judges were whispering among themselves and writing on their notepads. They barely even looked at him.

George struggled on and on with his rope. Finally Clifton Davro looked at his watch.

“Time’s up, son,” he said in a kindly voice. “Thanks for showing us your act. It’s got potential. You just need to practice escaping faster.”

George stopped wriggling, nodded, and shuffled off the stage. Nancy appeared by the scoring table and collected sheets from all the judges, then hurried back offstage near where B stood to tally her results. B hid behind a curtain to watch. Music played from the speakers to pass the time while the votes were counted.

Nancy rose to take the results back to where the judges waited. Just then, her cell phone beeped. She set her clipboard back down and flipped open her phone. “Hi. What’s up? Yeah, I can’t really talk right now. I’m … Okay. Give me one sec.” She looked both ways, then slipped through the backstage door and out into the hallway.

B couldn’t help herself. She tiptoed to the table to look at the clipboard. There in black and white were the results — the names of the contestants who
would progress to the final round and compete against winners from nearby cities for the coveted place on the television show. Nancy had listed the top vote-getters in order:

Beatrix

Jason

Dawn

B had won the first round!

I won the talent show, and I didn’t even mean to enter.

B let the thought sink in.

I even beat Dawn.

Jumping jinxes. This couldn’t be happening.

But Dawn had earned her spot through talent and lots of hard work. B’s accidental gig was based solely on magic — that, and Mozart’s crazy personality. She had to put a stop to this somehow.

“Nancy? You still back there?” It was Clifton Davro’s voice. At any second the director would return from her phone call. There was only one thing to do.

“C-H-A-N-G-E,” she whispered, staring at her name on the page. B’s name faded from view as
though an invisible hand had scrubbed it out with an eraser, stroke by stroke. But before a new name could appear, the door opened, and Nancy ran back through, looking flustered. B retreated out of sight just in time. Nancy snatched the clipboard off the table and hurried back out to the microphone.

“Each of you kids did a great job, and you should be very proud of yourselves for having the courage to audition,” she said. “Let’s have a big round of applause for all our contestants!”

Everyone clapped, then stopped, eager to hear the results.

“I’m pleased to announce our winners,” she said. “These are the names of the contestants who will represent your city on Friday night, where they’ll compete with the winners from nearby cities for just one place on our live TV show. When I call your name, please come up onstage. The contestants who will be progressing are …” There was a drumroll sound, then a pause while Nancy looked confused. She shrugged and announced, “Jason Jameson and Dawn Cicely!”

Jason came running up to the stage, shaking his hands over his head like a boxing champion. Dawn followed after, with several of her high school friends cheering for her. They stood side by side and bowed to the audience.

Clifton Davro peered over the top of his shades. “Um, Nancy, are you sure you read the right names?”

Nancy checked her clipboard.

“That’s right, Cliff,” she said. “According to the point scores you judges gave, these are our winners.”

Clifton Davro shot a confused look at his fellow judges, then smiled and said, “Well, then, congratulations! You did a fantastic job, and you’re going on to Friday’s finals. The best act from that will be on the TV show. See you then. That’s a wrap.” He rose and turned to leave.

B tiptoed away quickly, in case any of the judges or contestants left by the stage door near where she stood. She needed to get Mozart back to his cage.

When she left Mr. Bishop’s room after refreshing Mozart’s water, she headed for George’s locker. She found him there, stuffing his jumbled escapologist ropes and padlocks inside without really looking at what he was doing.

“Hey, George,” B said. “I thought you did great.”

“Ha.” George didn’t look up. “I was a disaster.”

“No, you weren’t. It was a really original idea. It was only because Jason swiped it from you that it didn’t go over so well.”

George closed his locker. “I looked like an idiot. Where did Jason get his hands on a straitjacket, anyway? And that cupboard? Man!”

“He wasn’t so impressive,” B said. “There’s no way Jenny Springbranch was just a volunteer. She probably slipped him the keys to his handcuffs. I don’t see why the judges chose him as the winner.”

George looked at B for the first time since she’d shown up, but he still wasn’t smiling. “Your act was better than his,” he said. “How come you didn’t tell me you were entering the competition?”

“I wasn’t planning to. I …”

George wiped his glasses on his sweatshirt. “Well, it doesn’t matter. You did great.”

They left the school with their backpacks and started walking home. B explained everything that had happened, from Mozart begging to see the auditions to Nancy giving her the hat.

George laughed at last. “This could only happen to you, B.”

“And then when Mozart started singing, I just wanted to disappear.”

“That song was hilarious,” George said. “But the best part by far was Mozart telling off Jason. Mozart deserves to win the contest.”

“Next time we have a conversation — which, if I have any sense, won’t be anytime soon — I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“If everyone is in their groups, please begin to discuss the list of questions about
Harriet the Spy.
I’ll be back in a minute.”

Mr. Bishop stepped outside his classroom. Everyone had moved their desks into groups. B, George, and Jamal formed one, while Jason, Trina, and Jenny Springbranch formed the group next to them.

“Question one,” George said. “‘What was Harriet’s favorite kind of sandwich?’”

“Um, cheese,” Jason said. “Like how I’m the big cheese in the talent show.”

“Excuse me, Jason,” B said, “but the answer is tomato. And you’re supposed to discuss the book
with
your
group. So if you’ve got to barge in and brag, at least get the answer right.”

Trina read the next question aloud. “‘Why do you think Harriet liked to go spying?’”

“To watch me win the school talent show!” Jason said, snickering.

Trina and B exchanged annoyed glances.

“You’re really pathetic, you know that, Jason?” Jamal said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” Jason replied. “Did you say I’m really fantastic? Because I already knew that. And on Friday, the judges are going to find out for themselves. And then, I’m on TV, baby!”

“We’re supposed to be working, Jason,” Trina said.

“Did anybody else here make it to Friday’s finals?” Jason said, with a pretend-innocent face. “You tried out, didn’t you, George? Oh, right, you had that lame escape act with the rope. Don’t know why you bothered. You tried out, too, didn’t you, Beeswax? Oh, wait, no. It was the
hamster
that auditioned. If it wasn’t for you, the hamster would have won!”

Jason laughed triumphantly.

“So the hamster is better than you?” George said. “Wow. Must stink to be beaten by a rodent.”

Jason scowled.

For a second B regretted changing her name on the winner’s list. It would have been so sweet to see Jason’s face after B came out on top. Then she reminded herself how many other disasters that would have caused.

“B’s sister made the finals,” George said. “She came up with her
own
act. Not a rip-off of someone else’s.”

Mr. Bishop came back in the room, and that settled Jason down for the rest of the class period. But during lunch, B, Trina, and George sat down together just in time to see Jason parading out from the lunch line, followed by a string of giggling girls.

“What on earth?” Trina asked. “Look! That’s not what I think it is, is it?”

Sure enough, Jason sat down, whipped out a pen, and began signing autographs!

“I think I’ve lost my appetite,” B said, pushing her lunch away.

“Look, he’s charging a dollar for each autograph,” Trina said. “I’ve never seen anyone so stuck-up. That kid is unbelievable.”