Queen of the Toilet Bowl Page 4

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “So has Karin said anything to you since the watch thing?” asked Liz.

  “Not for a week. She’s been weirdly quiet,” I said.

  “Maybe she’s over her jealousy,” said Liz. “Maybe she’s accepted the fact that she’s not Maria and you are.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “She did give me half a smile on Friday when I passed her in the hall. True, it was like a queen smiling at her lowly subject, but it was better than her usual sneer.”

  “Yes. A half-smile from Karin is like a year’s worth of smiles from anyone else,” said Liz. “Maybe playing a nun has improved her personality.”

  “Fat chance,” I said, laughing at another one of those goofy English expressions. “What does ‘fat chance’ mean anyway?”

  “I have no idea,” said Liz. “All I know is, we’d better start rehearsing. I think I have Karin’s lines down pat now. Although I really don’t want to say them or sing.”

  “Down pat? Who is Pat?” I asked.

  “Renata,” said Liz, poking me in the side. “Come on. We could spend all day talking about crazy English expressions. We’d better rehearse or we’ll be...”

  “Dead ducks?” I said.

  “Absolutely. Totally. Completely dead ducks.”

  Liz and I rehearsed for the next two hours. We also ate biscoito de nata.

  “I love these cookies,” said Liz. “What’s in them, anyway?”

  “Oh the usual flour, sugar, eggs, milk.”

  “My mom never bakes anything,” said Liz. “She doesn’t want to mess up her oven. She thinks grease and stains are a sin.”

  “Your mom’s nice,” I said.

  “Yeah. She’s okay despite her neatness obsession. So’s yours,” said Liz, her mouth full of biscoito. “And pretty too.”

  My mom pretty? I’d never thought of her in that way. She was just my mom. “Does your mom diet?” asked Liz. “My mom’s a diet nut. She’s always worried she’s gained two pounds. We own every diet book ever written, and my mom’s tried every one of them. You don’t know how horrible it was living with the egg and grapefruit diet. I will never eat another egg or grapefruit again. But the worst diet had to be the hot pepper diet. I think the idea was to burn your tongue so you’d never eat again.”

  “But your mom’s not fat,” I said.

  “Tell that to her. She wants to be size two. Who wants a size two mother?”

  “Come on. Let’s rehearse,” I said laughing.

  We read through the script once more.

  “We should practice the songs,” Liz suggested.

  “Okay,” I said and I began to sing. As I did, Mom came in and listened. After my second song, Lucas banged on my door. “Pipe down,” he shouted. “I can’t hear the TV with all that racket.”

  “It’s singing. Not racket,” said Liz.

  “And it’s beautiful,” said Mom in Portuguese.

  “Who cares?” said Lucas.

  “I care,” said Mom. “And I don’t want to hear another word from you.” Mom shot him an annoyed look. Then she turned to us. “Would you and Liz like some hot chocolate?” Mom asked me.

  “Absolutely,” said Liz, after I translated.

  “Hey, can I have some too?” said Lucas, opening the door.

  “Only if I hear no more complaints,” said Mom.

  “No more,” said Lucas, “but I wish Renata would learn rap instead of that dumb girlie music.”

  And with that, Lucas popped back into the living room.

  “The hot chocolate should keep him quiet for a while,” Mom reassured me.

  “For awhile? Maybe for five minutes, if we’re lucky,” I said.

  chapter thirteen

  Three weeks of nothing from Karin. Even I was beginning to believe she’d decided to stop hassling me. It wasn’t that she was friendly. She ignored me, but at least she didn’t accuse me of anything. And if she was bad-mouthing me, at least it was behind my back and no one told me about it. As a matter of fact, a lot of kids who never talked to me before were saying hi.

  Rehearsals continued after school every day. Randall was kicked out for being late again and Adam took his place. Rita broke her leg and was replaced by Mandy because she had a dancing part. Karin knew her lines perfectly and Liz flirted like crazy with Doug while she painted a mountain.

  “In one week, we’re on,” said Ms. Watson on Friday. “Most of you have your lines down fairly well, but by Monday, I want them perfect. Costumes will be ready Wednesday, and Thursday is our dress rehearsal. Have a good weekend.”

  “Do you want to get together again on the weekend?” I asked Liz.

  “Sure. Saturday? Your place?’

  “You know my brother Lucas will be there,” I said.

  “I don’t mind him. He’s actually kind of cute in an annoying little brother way,” said Liz. “He’s no worse than my pesky brother.”

  “My brother cute? Yeah right,” I said, laughing.

  “Well maybe he’s not cute but he doesn’t bother me,” said Liz. “Do you think your mother might be baking those amazing cookies again?”

  “Liz,” I said. “Are you telling me you like me for my mother’s cookies?”

  “Yep,” said Liz, waving goodbye. “See you Saturday.”

  I smiled all the way home. It was great having Liz for a friend. It was great being Maria in the play. I never realized how good it would feel to be on stage. I loved singing in front of people. I loved being someone else for a while.

  “What are you smiling about?” asked Lucas when I opened the door.

  “Nothing,” I said, “Where’s Mom?”

  “At that Ms. Powell’s place. She needed Mom to work extra hours. She’s having some kind of fancy party tomorrow night and wants Mom to help clean and get everything ready. Boy, is Ms. Powell bossy. I had to call to ask Mom about a school trip and Ms. Powell screamed at me like I’d broken into her house.”

  Mom came home at ten. Her eyes were puffy and she hobbled to the couch.

  “I am so tired,” she said. “I am almost too tired to eat, but I am hungry. Renata, could you make me a sandwich?’

  “Cheese and tomato, okay?” I asked.

  “Perfect,” said Mom, stretching her feet out on the couch. “I don’t know if I can work for Ms. Powell anymore. She wants too much from me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I scrubbed her place until it shone, but she still wanted more. She sees dust where it doesn’t exist.”

  “It must be some big party she’s having,” I said.

  “It’s a birthday party for her sister, a fancy sister who lives in a big house with her two daughters. I think one of Ms. Powell’s nieces goes to your school. Maybe you know her. Her name is Kara or Kari or ...”

  “Karin?” I asked.

  “Yes. That’s it. Ms. Powell says Karin is very talented. She sings like you. She even takes singing lessons from a famous teacher. I saw her for a minute when she brought over some decorations for the party. A nice-looking girl. Do you know her well?”

  “Not well, but I know her. She’s my understudy in the play.”

  “Ah,” said Mom. “That explains why she gave me such a strange look, like a doctor examining a patient.”

  “Was she rude to you?” I asked Mom, as I handed her the sandwich.

  “She was polite, but she had such cold eyes. Ah Renata, thank you, this is a good sandwich. Just what I need.”

  “Mom, Liz is coming on Saturday so we can practice together. Could you make biscoite de nata again? She loves it.”

  “I am happy to make it. After a warm bath and a good sleep, I will get up refreshed and bake. I like your friend Liz.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  chapter fourteen

  Liz came on Saturday and, except for Lucas bouncing his ball against the wall for ten minutes, everything went smoothly.

  Mom even made extra biscoite for Liz to take home.

  “Oh, Ms. Nunes,
” said Liz, giving Mom a hug. “You are the best. I’d ask you for your recipe, but my Mom never bakes.”

  “Maybe you can bake one day,” said Mom in English. I stared at her. It was the first time I’d heard my mom speak English to one of my friends. She was usually too embarrassed and worried she’d make a mistake.

  “Maybe I can,” said Liz. “Maybe you could teach me?”

  “Yes,” said Mom, beaming.

  Liz smiled. “My parents are coming to the play. Is your husband coming too?”

  “My husband was killed right after Lucas was born,” said Mom. “A car accident.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Liz. “I... I didn’t know. Renata never said. I’m really sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago,” said Mom. “I am okay.”

  “You’re more than okay, Ms. Nunes,” said Liz. “See you on Friday.”

  I wanted to hug Liz for liking my mother, but suddenly I felt as shy as if it was the first day of school. “See you on Monday,” I said instead.

  I did my homework on Sunday, watched a mystery on TV and went to bed. As I closed my eyes, I pictured myself standing on stage and singing. I pictured rows and rows of people listening and smiling and clapping. I pictured myself bowing and accepting a bouquet of roses.

  “Please. Please,” I said out loud. “Let it all work out. Let me remember my lines. Let me sing better than I’ve ever sung before.”

  The next thing I knew I was staring at my alarm in horror. It was morning and I hadn’t heard the alarm. I zoomed out of bed, tossed on some clothes, threw an apple and roll into a lunchbag and ripped out of the house. Mom and Lucas had already left.

  I raced for the bus. I took my seat and tried to relax, but my heart was still racing. Fifteen minutes later, we reached the school stop. I saw Liz walk into the building with Cheryl. She was too far away for me to call out to.

  I walked up the stairs and into the building. Three kids were walking behind me.

  They were whispering, but I could only catch a few words.

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  “Ohmygod! Is that what it said?”

  I wondered what they were whispering about. I walked down the hall. Two girls who had been saying hi recently didn’t say anything or even look at me. I suddenly felt invisible again.

  I knew something was going on but what?

  A crowd was milling around the lockers, talking and laughing, but as soon as I showed up the noise stopped dead.

  A few kids coughed. A few others snapped their lockers shut and left. One girl gave me a strange look as if I had horns growing out of my head.

  Something was definitely going on. Karin? Again? What new accusations had she made? What kind of trouble was I in now? The peace I had felt in the previous few weeks evaporated as if it had never existed. I had to find Liz. She would know what was happening.

  I raced to Liz’s class right before lunch. I couldn’t stand another minute of not knowing.

  “Liz,” I said when I saw her leaving class with Cheryl.

  “Renata,” the crack in her voice told me something awful had happened.

  “What’s up?” I asked. My voice was trembling.

  “You don’t have a computer do you?” asked Liz.

  “No? Why?”

  “Let’s go to the library. I think you should see this. It’s pretty ... pretty ... awful.”

  Liz’s class was two doors from the library. We hurried inside. Liz turned on the nearest computer and quickly pulled up an image.

  I stared at it. I thought I was going to throw up.

  “I don’t believe this,” I said.

  It was a picture of my mom with her head in a toilet bowl. Above the picture the words “Queen of the Toilet Bowl” were scrawled in bold black letters. Beside my mom’s picture was a smaller one of me that read, “Like mother, like daughter.”

  My head felt like someone had spun me around and around. And then the pieces fell into place.

  “Karin,” I said.

  “How did she get a picture of your mom?” asked Liz.

  “My mom works for her bossy aunt, Ms. Powell. Karin was at her aunt’s while my mom was there cleaning the house and, of course, the toilet too. Karin must have taken the picture and posted it.”

  “Wow,” said Liz. “I can’t believe she’d do that. I can’t believe anyone would do that. It’s one thing to be mean but this is beyond mean. What are we going to do?”

  “We?” I mumbled.

  “Of course, we, we’re friends. Karin isn’t going to get away with this.”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think. I know Karin wants me to fall apart and not play Maria. I know that’s what this is all about. But what can I do? She’ll deny all of this. Why does she have to be so mean? What did I do to her?”

  “I found something out on Sunday that might explain everything.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Cheryl heard that Karin’s dad ran off with their nanny from the Philippines about five years ago, and Karin has never forgiven her dad or her new stepmother.”

  “But I’m not from the Philippines,” I said.

  “Yes, but you are an immigrant. Just like the nanny. And Cheryl thinks Karin hates all immigrants. I mean it’s a rotten deal to have your dad dump your mom for someone else, but that’s no excuse to do this.”

  chapter fifteen

  I wanted to hide. Anywhere. Under a desk, in the bathroom, at home. How could I walk down the halls at school after this?

  I wanted to run, but I also wanted to scream at Karin. I wanted to tell her what I thought of her, make her feel what I was feeling.

  “I can’t go to class,” I told Liz.

  “You have to. You can’t let Karin win. She wants you to feel miserable.”

  “Oh Liz,” I said, swallowing hard, trying to stop the geyser of tears about to erupt from my eyes. “You’re right. I should go to class, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how I’ll get through today.”

  “You will,” said Liz and she gave me a quick hug. “Gotta run. Remember, go to class. Stand tall. See you at lunch.”

  Maybe knowing that I would see Liz at lunch gave me the strength to go to class. At least at lunch, I wouldn’t face everyone alone.

  My next two classes were a blur. I tried not to notice the looks kids were giving me. I tried to keep focused on just sitting there, walking to class, not running away.

  I made it to lunch.

  “I knew you’d be here. I knew you’d make it,” said Liz.

  “Now what?” I said.

  “The principal?” asked Liz.

  “Yeah. Right. He’s really going to believe me over Karin.”

  “But you know she was at Ms. Powell’s. Your mother saw her,” said Liz.

  “You think Ms. Powell is going to say that Karin was there? Even if she does, Karin can still deny she did anything,” I said.

  “You might be right,” said Liz. “But we can’t let Karin get away with this.”

  “Look,” I said, my head clearing for the first time that day. “Karin wants me to drop out of the show. I know that. If I don’t, no matter how embarrassing the pictures are, she won’t win. Right?”

  “Right,” said Liz. “So what you have to do is play it cool. Make believe you know nothing about the pictures.”

  “Or even ... even... tell people you know someone took a nasty picture of your mom. Tell everyone she’s a cleaning lady and someone made fun of her and is spreading it around the school.”

  “Yes!” said Liz, her face lighting up. “You don’t even have to accuse Karin. Make what she did the terrible thing. You didn’t do anything after all. Someone did something awful to you.”

  “But how do I do it?” I asked. “The principal is useless.”

  “But Ms. Watson is not. She plays things straight, and she knows what’s going on at school. Also she’s good friends with the vice principal.”

  “Let’s talk to her after rehearsal,” I
said.

  “You’re on.”

  Somehow I got through the rest of the day. Knowing I had a plan helped. Knowing Liz was on my side helped. And knowing I hadn’t done anything wrong helped even more.

  At rehearsal I saw Karin looking at me, nudging her friends and raising her eyebrows. I ignored her as if she was a flea.

  I sang. I spoke my lines. I got through the rehearsal. It took all my energy, but I got through it. And then Liz and I waited for everyone to leave so we could speak to Ms. Watson.

  She’d already heard about the pictures.

  “Renata, I have to tell you how shocked and disgusted I am that someone would try to hurt you so much,” she said. “Do you know who did this?”

  “I have an idea but no proof,” I said. “I can’t let that picture hurt my family or me. My mother is a good person. ”

  “She’s great,” said Liz. “Pretty and smart and she bakes amazing cookies.”

  Ms. Watson laughed. “I’m looking forward to meeting her. I think we should make sure she isn’t embarrassed at the show. Perhaps the staff should say something publicly about the picture. Would that make you feel more comfortable?”

  “I’d like to say something too,” I said.

  “On stage?” Ms. Watson asked.

  “Are you sure you want to?” asked Liz.

  “I’m sure,” I said.

  “I think it’s a terrific idea,” said Ms. Watson. “It will put this whole thing out in public. You don’t have to point a finger at anyone, just talk about what they did. Make the cruelty the shameful thing, not the picture. My guess is the perpetrator will not feel comfortable hearing you speak in public. And I bet you’ll get a lot more kids supporting you than you think. It’s not going to be easy, Renata. It’s harder than standing up and acting in a show.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll speak to the vice principal and we’ll see if we can call an assembly for tomorrow.”

  chapter sixteen

  “Renata Nunes, please come to the office,” said Ms. Bartlett during my first class the next morning.

  A few kids looked up and gave me a “Boy are you in trouble” look as I left class.

  I walked down the empty hall to the office. Was Ms. Watson able to arrange an assembly? Would the principal allow me to speak?