Queen of the Toilet Bowl Page 2

  chapter four

  The day started with a thud. I heard it. Then I felt it.

  Pain ripped through my head like a hot iron. For an instant I felt dizzy, stunned.

  “Are you stupid or something?” a voice shot out. “Don’t you look where you’re going?”

  It was Karin, rubbing her head.

  I hadn‘t been paying attention. I was so absorbed in my thoughts about the tryouts that I hadn’t looked where I was going. And now we’d collided.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “My head is killing me. You probably gave me a concussion and all you can say is sorry. You’re just a ... a ...” Karin snarled. I almost apologized again, but I caught myself just in time.

  No, I wasn’t going to apologize again. I said I was sorry. I hadn’t killed her.

  “Do you believe her?” I heard Karin tell Darleen as I walked down the hall. “And she thinks she’s going to get a part in our school play. No one would cast a loser like her.”

  I didn’t turn. I walked on. No. Don’t let her bother you, I repeated over and over like a Buddhist mantra.

  “Hey Renata,” called Liz as I neared my history class. “Are you ready for the tryouts?”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready,” I said, “but I’m going to try.”

  “You’ll knock their socks off,” said Liz.

  “I hope so,” I said. For a minute I pictured a roomful of people with falling socks as I belted out my song. Then I pictured Karin’s socks flying right off her skinny legs and circling the earth.

  “Meet you after art,”called Liz as she ran to her math class and I walked into history. I sat down, prepared to hear Mr. Brewster talk about Revolution.

  Mr. Brewster loved revolution. It didn’t matter whose revolution. The American, the French, the Russian. Mr. Brewster rattled off revolutionary facts, especially the gory facts, like an almanac. He knew how many aristocrats died in the French Revolution. He knew how many people starved at Valley Forge with George Washington in the American Revolution. He knew all the theories of what might have happened to the Czar’s family during the Russian Revolution. And none of his theories were pretty.

  “Mankind needs revolution to cleanse itself of injustices,” he began as soon as class started, “but each revolution has a price, often paid by the innocent.”

  As he spoke, I pictured Karin rattling along in a cart on her way to the guillotine. I could almost hear the rumble of drums, the clip clop of the horse, the leers and cheers of the mob.

  “Come back! Come Back, Renata,” said Mr. Brewster. “I asked you to read the opening lines from Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities and you haven’t even opened your book.”

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered. I was apologizing again! This whole day was turning into one big fat apology.

  I opened the book and took a deep breath.

  “It was the best of times. It was the worst of time. It was ...”

  Dickens understood how I felt. It would be the best of times if I got a good part in the play and the worst of times if Karin got the lead and rubbed it in.

  “Well read,” said Mr. Brewster. “Those words express the complexity of the French Revolution. They touch on how complicated life can be when both good and bad forces compete.”

  I’d know soon enough if it was the best or worst of times. Would I get a part in the play, or would I freeze like an icicle at the tryouts? Only four more hours and I’d know.

  The time seemed to fly and drag at the same time and then, suddenly, there I was sitting beside Liz, waiting for my turn to audition.

  Sure enough Karin and her friends were sitting behind Liz and me. And sure enough they whispered and pointed at each person who tried out. I could hear their comments. “She hasn’t got a chance,” and “Did you see how fat her stomach is” and “Pimple Boy will never get a part with that face.”

  It was Karin’s turn. She shimmied on stage.

  “Break a leg!” shouted Darleen. Another crazy English expression I had never understood. Why was it good to break a leg?

  Karin smiled broadly at Ms. Watson, the drama teacher and her friends, and then she began to sing.

  She sang confidently. And she hadn’t been lying. She had a good voice, maybe not a great voice and not a voice with a lot of feeling but good enough for a part.

  When Karin finished singing, she turned and faced the audience as if waiting for applause. She got it. Her two friends clapped and clapped. Karin bowed as if she had just received a ten minute standing ovation from an audience of a thousand. Then she slowly walked off the stage.

  As she passed me, she glanced down. “Your turn,” she said.

  “Renata,” said Ms. Watson.

  I tried standing up but my legs wouldn’t move. They were shaky and weak. “Go on, Renata,” whispered Liz, giving me a nudge. “Knock their socks off!”

  I tried standing up again. This time I stood, but my legs felt as tired as if I’d run a marathon.

  I walked on stage. I tried not to look at Karin and her friends, but I couldn’t ignore their laughter.

  Don’t let them bother you, I told myself over and over in my new mantra.

  “Ready?” said Ms. Watson.

  “Ready,” I stammered.

  Ms. Watson began to play the piano.

  chapter five

  My voice croaked. I cleared my throat and tried again but out stumbled another croak. Laughter rippled from the audience. My face flushed. I wanted to sink though the floor.

  Ms. Watson handed me a glass of water.

  “Thanks,” I said, gulping it down.

  “Ready?” said Ms. Watson.

  “Ready,” I answered.

  Slow down. Slow down I told myself as she began to play. You’ll be okay. You will. You will ...

  I opened my mouth again and sang “Climb Every Mountain.” My voice exploded, crisp and strong, and I forgot about Karin. I forgot about her friends. I forgot about everything except the music and the words. And then it was over.

  I glanced at Ms. Watson. She was beaming. I beamed back. I floated off stage and dropped into the seat beside Liz.

  “You were amazing,” said Liz, squeezing my hand.

  “Really?” I said.

  “Look at Karin’s face and you’ll know you were amazing,” Liz whispered.

  I glanced at Karin. Her face was wrinkled into a scowl. I had never seen her that angry. She looked like she might burst into a thousand small pieces.

  Ten more singers tried out, some good, some mediocre and one so bad that I couldn’t believe she had the guts to get up and sing. But she was so good-natured and funny that despite her off-key, creaky voice, everyone laughed with her.

  “Do you know her well? I’ve only spoken to her a few times,” I told Liz.

  “Yeah,” said Liz, “She’s a goof but a good goof.”

  “I like her,” I said.

  So did Ms. Watson. “Cheryl, you may not be the best singer in the world, but you have enormous stage presence,” Ms. Watson commented when Cheryl finished. “We may find a spot for you in the show after all.”

  Then Ms. Watson turned to the rest of us. “I’ll post the parts on the bulletin board outside the office tomorrow morning. Thanks for trying out.”

  Ms. Watson gathered her music and left. Karin and her two friends followed her out.

  “See,” said Liz as we walked out. “Karin knows the score now. She’ll have to live with it. You’re bound to get a great part, maybe even the part of Maria. Think of it, Renata, you might get the lead!”

  I knew I had a crack at the part of Maria and I knew Karin was going to hate it.

  All evening at home, my stomach knotted so tightly I could hardly eat.

  “Can I have your rice?” asked Lucas.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’m not hungry.”

  “How about your apple pie?” asked Lucas.

  “Fine,” I said. “Take the whole thing.”

  “Renata, you have to eat something,” s
aid Mom.

  “I have no appetite,” I said. “Tomorrow they announce the people who have parts in The Sound of Music.”

  “I don’t know why you want to be in a dumb musical anyway,” said Lucas. “I hate movies where people sing. Now if you were doing a car chase that would be cool.”

  “Musicals can be very beautiful,” said Mom. “If Renata gets a part, it will be a great honor. I will be very proud.”

  I tossed and turned for hours that night. I kept checking the time. Twelve AM. One AM. I have to get some sleep I kept thinking, but the more I thought about sleep, the slower it came. Images of me as Maria in The Sound of Music danced through my head. Images of Karin laughing at me danced alongside them.

  I tried my new mantra a dozen times. Don’t let her bother you. Don’t let her bother you. And finally it must have worked because the next thing I knew it was morning.

  I caught the bus and ran the two blocks to school. I wanted to get to the bulletin board before a big crowd gathered. I wanted to see the posting before Karin and her friends arrived. But I was too late. Karin was in the front row.

  chapter six

  “Hurrah. I’m a nun!” shouted Cheryl.

  There were so many kids huddled around the bulletin board, I couldn’t see a thing.

  “Hey, you’re a nun too and you’re also the lead’s understudy,” Cheryl told Karin.

  “Great,” said Karin, sarcastically.

  Cheryl ignored the acid in Karin’s voice.

  “I always liked the nuns’ parts. It’s going to be so much fun acting in the play,” said Cheryl.

  “Maybe for you,” said Karin. “Ms. Watson is so ridiculous. I hear she often gives out good parts to people she feels sorry for. Who does she think she is, some kind of saint? It’s so stupid to ruin the play with mediocre talent.”

  I knew then, as if it had been announced over a loud speaker or lit up in blazing neon, that I had the part of Maria. I wanted to leap up and dance, but there was no room in the thick crowd to even wiggle.

  “Hey, Liz’s friend Renata is Maria,” said Cheryl. “That’s cool.”

  “Cool?” said Karin. “It’s pathetic.” Then Karin pushed her way out of the crowd and stomped off.

  “Did you hear that Renata?” said Liz, elbowing me excitedly. “You’re Maria! You got the part!”

  “Come on,” I said as kids drifted to class and the crowd thinned out. “I want to see this with my own eyes.”

  We still had to tiptoe to see over Pat Pomeroy and Lenore White’s heads, but at least I could read the first line and that’s where it was.

  Renata Nunes – Maria von Trapp

  “Yes!” I shouted, high-fiving Liz.

  “Hey congratulations,” said Lenore and Pat in front of me.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Mom, but I couldn’t call her at work. She was at Ms. Powell’s today. Ms. Powell didn’t like personal calls at her house, and Mom didn’t have a cell phone yet.

  The rest of the day was a dream. Kids who didn’t know I existed before said “Hi, Renata” and “Congratulations.” Ms. Watson stopped me in the hall and said, “I knew as soon as I heard you sing that you were perfect for Maria.”

  I wanted to hug her, but all I could sputter was, “Thank you. I’m really happy.”

  And I was happier than I’d been all year.

  At the end of the day I ran to my locker, eager to get home and tell Mom about the part. I was slipping on my jacket when I heard Karin.

  “My new watch is gone!” she screamed. “I took it off at lunch because the band was making my arm itchy. I left it on the shelf in my locker but I was in such a hurry, I must have left my locker unlocked. And now it’s gone. Someone took it. It cost a fortune. It’s a designer watch.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Darleen. “Who could have taken it?”

  “I bet I know who took it.”

  “Who?” asked Darleen.

  “That Renata something or other. You know the one whose mother is a cleaning lady. I saw her hovering around my locker at lunch. Of course, I didn’t think anything of it then but now. Now...”

  “You don’t think she really took it?” asked Darleen. “She’d be in such trouble and maybe get expelled. And she just got the part of Maria in the play.”

  “There was absolutely no one else around. She must have seen me take the watch off and put it on the shelf,” said Karin. “And she’s sneaky. You can see it in her eyes. She’s probably sold my watch already.”

  “She seems shy to me,” said Darleen.

  “Shy? You’ve got to be kidding,” said Karin. “If she’s so shy, she wouldn’t have tried out for the play and shown off like that in the auditorium. Just because she sings loud, doesn’t mean she sings well.”

  My heart pounded as Karin droned on. I couldn’t move. I hid behind my locker door and prayed they’d go away.

  I hadn’t been anywhere near Karin’s locker at lunch. I’d been in the library the whole time, but no one saw me. The helper never looked up from the computer, and Ms. Dunn wasn’t there until the last fifteen minutes.

  I had no alibi. It was Karin’s word against mine.

  chapter seven

  “Renata, I’m so proud,” said Mom.

  Her face was glowing. I hadn’t seen her so happy since the day she got the papers allowing us to stay in our new country.

  “I wish your grandparents were alive to see you. You know Grandma had a lovely voice like you.”

  Mom was always telling me stories of how Grandpa fell in love with Grandma when he heard her sing from the balcony of her apartment. She made it sound like a scene from Romeo and Juliet.

  Both my grandparents died three years ago. Mom never forgave herself for not being there, but they both had sudden heart attacks a week apart.

  “I will buy a special dress to go to the play,” said Mom, “and I will buy Lucas a new shirt and pants.”

  “I don’t want to dress up,” complained Lucas. “What’s wrong with my black pants?”

  “Just three holes and a ripped seam,” I said.

  “I like it that way. It’s cool,” said Lucas. Cool was Lucas’s favorite word.

  I didn’t tell Mom about Karin’s accusations. I had tried all evening to block Karin’s words out of my mind. I hoped they’d just blow away like a storm.

  “I’ll be late tonight. Rehearsals start today,” I told Mom the next morning.

  “Boa Sorte. Good luck,” she told me in Portuguese and English as she scurried around making beds and lunches. Then she was out the door with Lucas.

  I nibbled my Cornflakes and imagined myself on stage, my voice filling every corner of the auditorium. I imagined the audience hushed like in a cathedral, listening to me sing. I imagined Mom in the front row, beaming like she’d just won the lottery.

  I stood up to refill my bowl, when I noticed the clock. Nuts! I only had a few minutes to catch the bus. I was huffing like an old broken-down engine, when I slid into my seat in history. Mr. Brewster walked in a minute later.

  “Your assignment on the French Revolution is due next week,” he reminded us.

  Then he began to talk about Queen Marie Antoinette of France. He told us how privileged her life had been compared to the lives of peasants in France. He told us that she never said those famous words, “Let them eat cake,” when she was told that the peasants had no bread. He told us that she wasn’t evil but was caught up in rumors and the revolution that was sweeping across France. He asked us if we thought she behaved in an aristocratic manner because of the way she was brought up.

  Donald Defoe waved his hand in the air before Mr. Brewster was finished.

  “She wasn’t blind,” said Donald. “She lived in a palace, not on the moon. She had to know people were starving. Being brought up rich is no excuse.”

  “Maybe she just didn’t know what to do,” said Jennifer McRae. “Maybe she didn’t have enough power as queen. After all, in those days the King wa
s in charge.”

  “All good points to consider,” said Mr. Brewster. “When you go home, read about the diamond necklace affair, and then tomorrow we can talk about how rumors can flourish and destroy people’s lives. Even the lives of queens.”

  Mr. Brewster got us all buzzing about Marie Antoinette. I hadn’t thought much about her before. I knew that she was the queen who was beheaded during the French Revolution, but what kind of person was she? And what was this whole business about rumors?

  I was certainly getting to know a lot about that subject, although I hoped Karin’s rumor wouldn’t get me beheaded.

  “Renata Nunes. Please come to the office at lunch.” Ms. Bartlett’s crisp, officious voice blasted over the intercom.

  My heart almost stopped. What was that about? I’d never been called to the office before. Had something happened to Mom or Lucas? Or had Karin told the principal I stole her watch? If it was about Mom or Lucas, I probably would have been asked to go to the office immediately rather than at lunch. It had to be about Karin. Why did she have to make my life so miserable? She had a good life, a big house and friends. What did she need to hassle me for?

  There was still fifteen minutes left in class, so I said my don’t let her bother you mantra twice and tried to pay attention to the debate about Marie Antoinette. But this time nothing worked. I didn’t care about Marie Antoinette. I didn’t care about anything except what I was going to encounter in the office and what I would I say.

  All I had was the truth, but was the truth enough? Certainly not enough to prevent me from getting in trouble. Certainly not enough to stop the whole school from talking about me. Possibly not enough to let me keep what I now wanted most of all—to be Maria in the play.

  chapter eight

  “Renata,” said Mr. Bowman slowly, as if he was counting each word. “I called you into the office because of a complaint made by another student. Karin Walters’ watch is missing, and she claims you stole it. She says she saw you in the vicinity of her locker at the time she inadvertently left her locker open. As I said to Karin, that is circumstantial evidence at best, but I feel it’s my duty to speak to you about the matter.”