The Superstar Sister (7 page)

“Yes, there’s a short break,” Trina said, “but what difference does that make? There’s nothing you can do from here, B. Dawn will figure things out on her own.”

“I can be quick. Maybe I can help!”

“This is risky, B,” Trina said, looking around. “You could miss something and lose your place in the competition.”

“Trina,” B said, “we know Jason’s up to something. We saw him steal … whatever that was.” Could she get there and back in time? Of course she could. She’d just take a quick look around and be back before anyone noticed anything.

“I won’t be gone long,” B said. “I promise. Cover for me, okay?”

Before Trina could answer, B spelled, “T-R-A-V-E-L.” She vanished in a swirl of magical wind.

B had meant her transportation spell to take her just outside the auditorium at the school, so naturally, she landed in the wings offstage. Better than landing on the stage, at least. A cameraman spotted her. It wasn’t Ed.

“Hey,” he said. “Where did you come from?”

“Sorry,” B said. “I’ll just be a second.” She peered through the curtains. Jason was about to go on! Jenny Springbranch was there in a special costume, whooping up the crowd while the sinister music filled the auditorium. B ground her teeth as she watched Jason perform his act perfectly. He’d even added a few special touches like having Jenny blindfold him after he had the straitjacket and the handcuffs on. What a show-off!

B tiptoed out of the wings, down the stairs in the outer hallway, and into the back of the auditorium. There, just in front of the stage, was the panel of judges. Clifton Davro was in the middle. A soap opera star wearing a glamorous red dress covered with sparkles, her hair all piled on her head in an elegant ’do, was on his left. On his right was a
famous baseball player, wearing a baggy white T-shirt and cap. They were just about to give Jason his score when B spotted her father, just a few rows ahead in the audience. Oh, no! She’d be in big trouble if he saw her here. She took a step backward and nearly toppled a temporary lighting stand.

“I saw Jason Jameson’s act in the auditions, earlier this week, and I was impressed then,” Clifton Davro was saying, his voice booming over the auditorium’s sound system. “But I’m even more impressed now. That young man is a natural showman.”

“Yeah, pretty cool,” the baseball player said. “But I wish he had cut his assistant in half.”

“Oh, stop it, Rocko,” the soap star giggled. “Jason was amazing. He doesn’t need to change a thing.”

No sign of Dawn, and no sign of trouble from Jason, yet. B backed slowly toward the stage door, watching everything except where she was going. She stumbled into someone carrying a walkie-talkie. It was George!

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“I’m helping Ed with the backstage cameras,” George said. “They film all the performers going on and off. Pretty much everything that goes on; then they use it later. Isn’t that great? I’m Ed’s gofer. That means I ‘go-for’ whatever he needs me to get. Get it? He remembered me from the cafeteria, and asked me after school if I’d like to come tonight and help out. It’s really fun.”

“Fantastic, George!” B said. “What a lucky break.”

“Hey,” George said, “aren’t you supposed to be at your competition tonight?”

“Yes,” B said. “I came back here to see what Jason Jameson was up to. He stole
something
, and I know he’s got something nasty up his sleeve. He kept saying there was no way Dawn could beat him. He must be trying to cheat.”

George frowned. “With Jason, I think we have to assume he’ll try. Come with me. I want to check something out.”

Off in the far rear corner of the stage, where old props and boxes were jumbled together, George fished out a backpack. “I saw Jason leave this here earlier,” George said. “I figured it had props for his show. But it’s still here, and his act is done.”

“Open it,” B said. “It’s got to be a clue.”

George peered into the bag. He lifted out a tall clear bottle.

“
Oil?
” they both said together.

“There are four of these in here,” George said. “Is this how he got out of his handcuffs? By making them slippery?”

“I don’t think he’d need quite this much,” B said.

Just then, a producer backstage announced it was time for the next act to go on.

Time.

B looked at her watch. “Holy cats! The Special Spell competition has already started. I’ve got to get back to the M.R.S!” She took a deep breath. She’d made it here, but solved nothing. Jason Jameson was still on the loose. “Keep an eye on Jason for me, will you?”

B left through a backstage door and ran down the school corridor until she was far from where anyone could see her. “T-R-A-V-E-L,” she said, and her transportation spell whisked her to the M.R.S. She tried to return to the couch where she and Trina last were, but instead she arrived outside the door to the ladies’ restroom. She had to sprint
halfway around the great circular building to find Trina and the other contestants.

“Where have you been?” Trina whispered. “I was worried that I might have to go find you. Special Spells has started. Someone’s out there now doing a spell to make flowers grow. It’s taking a while.”

B collapsed on the couch, too out of breath to say much.

“You’re all red in the face,” Trina said. She fanned B off with her competition program. “Did you see anything? Has Jason sabotaged Dawn’s act?”

B shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “I saw the end of his act. The judges loved it. Dawn hasn’t gone on yet.”

From inside the M.R.S. library, they could hear the sound of polite applause. A tall, sad-looking young witch left the stage clutching a pair of nearly empty flowerpots. Uh-oh.

“I’m up next,” Trina said, “and you’re after me. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll be great, Trina,” B said. “Your spell is amazing.”

Trina smiled nervously, then strode onto the stage like the experienced performer that she was. B peeked through the doorway to watch.

Madame Mel gave Trina a nod, and Trina sang her song-casting spell. Her voice reached into every corner and crevice in the great library. B saw people seated on the upper mezzanines crane their necks for a better look. That was the kind of voice she had.

When she’d finished singing, her spell swirled around Madame Mel, teasing loose some strands of her blue hair. A jazzy, big-band-style tune began to play, and a baritone singer sang a song about dancing shoes.

The audience clapped and laughed, especially, B noted, the older ones. Madame Mel’s face flushed beet red as the magical music video showed a tall, thin woman with shiny black hair, looking suspiciously like a much younger Madame Mel, dancing at an old-fashioned nightclub with a tall soldier in his dress uniform.

B shook her head and smiled. Trina’s spell didn’t
just write songs; it wrote love songs that brought back people’s most tender memories. Jumping jinxes, that was good magic.

B was so caught up in Trina’s spell that she forgot that she was next, until Trina ran off the stage and gave her a friendly high five. “You’re up, B!”

B headed out into the bright lights once more. Now was the time for her story spell. Now or never.

Madame Mel dabbed her eyes with a tissue and nodded for B to begin. B licked her lips but they felt as dry as sandpaper. She took a deep breath. She closed her eyes.

She thought about the library — the library where she now stood, and all the libraries she’d ever loved. She thought of the couches, the beanbag chairs, her bed, and all the places she’d ever spent happy hours curled up with a book. She let her mind wander through book after book, like a phantom spirit passing along the shelf, from stories of home and stories of school and stories of lands far away. She felt the places, the characters, the danger, the
excitement, the romance, the suspense, the indulgence, the delight.

“S-T-O-R-Y,” she said, and as she did so, she knew for the first time just what a glorious, powerful, magical word it was.

A warm, pleasant, crackly voice began to tell a story. It sounded a bit like B’s own Granny Grogg. Books slid out from their library shelves and began dancing in midair around the great round library room.

“Once upon a time,” the voice said, “in a forest, high in the mountains, a woman lived with her beautiful younger sister, Flora.”

B was delighted to see that while the story unfolded, brown books floated down and gathered together to form a mountain behind B. Green books formed trees, and a few red books gathered together to make a little cabin on top of the mountain.

“One spring day, a prince ambled up the path to where Flora and her older sister lived. He spied Flora picking spring flowers, and stopped in his
tracks. He fell in love instantly and asked for Flora’s hand in marriage, but her older sister refused. ‘How can I give away my Flora?’ she asked. ‘You must pass three tests to prove that you are worthy.’”

The story went on. Even B forgot that she was standing on a stage in front of hundreds of people, the story was so exciting. When it ended, with Flora herself helping the prince complete the final challenge so they could be together, Madame Mel clapped enthusiastically. B was startled to realize that the applause was for her, not just for the story.

“Congratulations,” Madame Mel said. “You pass this level.”

“That was amazing!” Trina cried, as soon as B rejoined her in the hall. “We’re both going on to the final round!”

B squealed along with her friend and jumped up and down — then slipped on something and lost her balance. It was a patch of mud from the flowerpot spell. B sat on the ground, looking at the smeared wet soil. And then it hit her — that was what Jason
wanted with so much oil. Slippery, trip-over-and-hurt-yourself oil! She had to warn Dawn.

“How much time did that take?” B asked, switching gears immediately. “Do you think there’s been enough time for Jason to sabotage Dawn’s act at the talent competition?”

“B …” Trina said, shaking her head. “Your mom’s headed this way. It looks like she wants to congratulate you.”

“Keep her busy for me, please,” B begged. “Stall her. I only need a second to warn Dawn about Jason. I just hope I’m not too late!” And before Trina could stop her, B transported back to the school and arrived in the wings. She spotted George right away.

“George!” B gasped. “Where’s Jason?”

“I don’t know,” George said, looking worried. “I think he saw me following him and gave me the slip.”

“The slip is right,” said B. “He’s going to put that oil on the floor to sabotage Dawn — she could really hurt herself if she dances on it!”

George frowned. “We’ve got to stop him.”

The current act was only performing in the area in front of the curtain, so they could cross the stage without being seen. But after two steps, they both fell right onto their backs. Jason had already smeared oil all over the back part of the stage — the part where Dawn did her big running jump.

George picked himself up. “Dawn is next,” he said. “We’ve got to stop her from performing!”

With effort, B got to her feet and slid back the way they had come, into the wings. They had to find Dawn!

B peeked through a gap in the curtains. A girl was making her trained Jack Russell terrier dance on his hind legs while balancing a dog biscuit on his nose. Beyond the girl and her dog was the judges’ table, and in the front row of the audience sat the other contestants. There, closest to B, sat Jason Jameson, grinning broadly as if he was the only one who knew a huge joke. He chewed loudly on a thick wad of gum.

“We’ll never find her in time,” B worried aloud.

“I’ll go get a mop and a bucket,” George said, “and I’ll …”

“There’s no time for that,” B said. “Even if you could mop it, it’d still be wet. No, George.
You
can’t clean this floor. But I can. Stand guard so nobody sees me. C-L-E-A-N!”

B concentrated on the floor, on a safe, sturdy floor that would let Dawn do all her jumping moves flawlessly. Magical bubbles and suds appeared and vanished over the entire surface of the spill. There was a whiff of French fries in the air for just a second, and then the whole mess disappeared, as if it had never been there.

“Wow,” George said. “No matter how often you do that, I still can’t get used to it.”

B barely heard him. “This isn’t over yet,” she whispered. “Who knows what else he might try? I’ve got to warn Dawn to be careful, and to keep an eye out for Jason. Where would she be?”

“The acts get to warm up beforehand, and hang out afterward, in the band room,” George whispered. “Let’s go.”

They hurried across the hall to the band room. Kids of all ages were there, dressed in costumes and
makeup. At first B couldn’t see past a half dozen mimes, but then she saw Dawn, chatting with Jenny Springbranch. What would
she
be doing here? Something connected to Jason, no question. A troupe of acrobatic cheerleaders made a human tower right in front of B, nearly poking a hole in the band room ceiling, and B lost sight of Dawn once more.

“Dawn Cicely,” Nancy the director called, poking her head in the door. “One-minute warning!”

B made her way toward Dawn. When her sister saw B, her mouth dropped open in shock. “What are you doing here?” she hissed. “You’re supposed to be at the … somewhere else!”

“Wait, Dawn, listen,” B said. “Jason Jameson is trying to sabotage you!”

Dawn frowned at her, almost like she didn’t believe what B said. “I’ve got to go,” she said, and ran out of the room. B just had time to race after her before the music began.

Dawn danced perfectly. Despite everything, B was proud. She couldn’t say which she enjoyed
more — watching Dawn dance, or watching the angry look on Jason’s face when the judges gave her a standing ovation. Dawn took her final bow and rejoined B offstage, out of breath.

A set of triplets went on and did a skit; then Clifton Davro took the microphone. “All you contestants should be proud of yourselves tonight. You’ve all got tremendous talent to have made it this far. We can’t quite decide who to take on to the TV show, so we want to see five acts one last time. They are: Katie Bell, Calum Gardner, Deirdre Fink, Jason Jameson, and Dawn Cicely. Only one act can make it to the national TV show and show us that
You’ve Got It!
”