Mia the Melodramatic (3 page)

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Authors: Eileen Boggess

BOOK: Mia the Melodramatic
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Eric leaned back on the table and stretched his long, toned legs out in front of him. “So, has Mom introduced you to the rest of the stage crew yet?”

“Not yet,” Nancy said. “I was hoping you’d be able to finish giving Mia the tour. Jan’s gone for the morning, three parents just informed me their kids are going to be on vacation when their plays are scheduled, the truck we use to pull the Play Wagon is leaking oil, the Board of Trustees is concerned about our finances, and I’m totally swamped.” She threw her hands up into the air. “But what
else is new?”

“I’ll show Mia around,” Eric said, looking at me, “if that’s all right with you.”

I nodded and Nancy said, “Cool. I’ll check on you guys later. Make sure you have all the props for next week’s plays ready, Eric, and then check to see how Zoë is doing on costumes, and Henry on sets and sound.”

Eric gave his mom a mock salute. After she left, he said, “So, how’s your family? I haven’t seen any of you guys for a long time.”

“Well, my mom still teaches freshman English at St. Hilary’s High School, my dad still works for the Corps of Engineers, and Chris is still an idiot.”

Eric laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me.” He swung his legs off the desk. “Well, I’d better show you around so you can meet Zoë and Henry and I can get back to work. Mom can be a real slave driver sometimes.”

We went up the stairs and into a room jam-packed with racks and racks of costumes from every time period and play imaginable.

“Zoë!” Eric yelled. “You here?”

“I’m over here, behind the mermaids.”

Eric and I followed the voice until we came upon a girl, sitting in the corner, hunched over a huge mermaid fin. Her complexion was ghostly white—as if she hadn’t been in the sun for a year—and it made a stark contrast with her black shorts, black tee-shirt, and dyed midnight-black hair. I quickly counted fifteen piercings on her face: six in each ear, one in her nose, one on her left eyebrow, and a hoop attached to her upper lip.

She ran her black-painted fingernails through her hair. “Who’s the stiff?”

Eric leaned closer to me and said in a loud whisper, “Zoë’s my cousin. She pretends she’s tough, but forgets I used to know her when she was in love with Elmo.”

Zoë gave him a rude gesture and then went back to stitching up
the fin. “So, what’s Miss Priss doing here?”

“This is Mia Fullerton,” Eric replied. “She’s joining us on the stage crew this summer.”

“Oh, great, just what we need around here—another goody two-shoes.” Zoë sized me up. “Please tell me you’re auditioning for a play and don’t normally dress like that.”

I looked down at my pink tee-shirt and jean shorts. “Um, these are my clothes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t brag about it, unless you’re trying to get a job as a model for Dorks ’R Us.”

“Play nice, Zoë,” said Eric, intervening. “Mom wants me to remind you to get the costumes ready for next week’s shows.”

“Yeah, I’m working on it.” Zoë looked at me. “So, you know how to hem a costume?”

I shook my head, too afraid to say anything more. Who knew what kind of weapon this girl was carrying?

“Make props?”

I looked down at my white Keds.

“Build a set?”

I bit my lip.

“Sing? Dance? Act?”

When I raised my eyes to the ceiling, Zoë sighed. “Jeez, Eric, what did Nancy hire her for?”

I cleared my throat. “Uh, I don’t think I’ll have to do any of that stuff. I was hired just to help watch kids backstage.”

“Is that what Nancy told you?” Zoë gave a throaty laugh. “A sucker’s born every minute.”

Eric put his arm around me and all thoughts of what’s his name—oh yeah, Tim—momentarily fled my brain. “Like you knew how to sew, make props, or build a set before you joined the stage crew last year,” he said to Zoë. “Besides, I’ve known Mia since we were little and she’s really smart. She’ll catch on quickly.”

“Oh yeah? If you’ve known her so long, how come I’ve never seen
her around Harrison High School?” Zoë bit off the thread with her teeth and stared at me. “What are you, a freshman?”

I tried to reply in a steely voice, but instead my words came out as a squeak. “I’m going to be a sophomore next year at St. Hilary’s.”

Zoë rolled her eyes. “Jesus, she’s a Catholic.”

“Actually, Jesus already knows that,” I replied, momentarily forgetting that this girl could easily beat me into a communion wafer.

“Score one for the priss,” Zoë said with a laugh that quickly turned into a series of hacking coughs. She sounded like my great-aunt Velda, who used to smoke two packs a day before she had to be hooked to an oxygen tank.

While Zoë caught her breath, Eric said, “I’m going to finish showing Mia around. Want to come with us?”

“Nah.” Zoë took some deep breaths and refocused on the glittery-green costume lying in her lap. “But when you finish with her Highness, make sure she gets her butt back in here so she can help me with these costumes.”

Oh great. I was going to be stuck with the diva of the dark side all afternoon.

As we walked down the stairs, Eric said, “Zoë’s really not so bad once you get to know her. Her bark is worse than her bite.”

I nodded my head as if I believed him, but secretly I thought if Zoë ever bit me, I’d definitely get myself checked for rabies.

We left the props and costume cottage and entered the more modern white brick building next door, and it was like somebody had flipped on a light switch. While the other cottages were dark and damp, and contained the lingering odors of the past 150 years, this building was bright and cheerful, and smelled like fresh paint.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Eric asked, showing me around a theater with an actual stage and stadium seating.

I wandered over to the framed photos of past performances lining the walls of the lobby. “Are these all the plays Little Tyke’s has done?”

“These are the main stage plays just from the past few years, but there are pictures in the other cottages that go back thirty years—to when Little Tyke’s started.” He pointed to the photo of a kid dressed as a donkey. “Recognize anyone?”

I peered closer at the cast of the
Bremen Town Musicians.
“Is that you?”

“Yeah, that was the first play I was in. But I swear my parts got better.” He pointed to the frame next to it. “There I am as Arthur in
Arthur and the Magic Sword.”
He led me further down the wall. “And there I am as the prince in
Sleeping Beauty.
There’s Zoë as Princess Aurora. My mom made sure we only had to kiss on the cheek. Otherwise, that would have put a whole new spin on the phrase ‘kissing cousins.’”

I looked at the picture of Zoë dressed as a princess in a pink, fluffy dress and long blonde hair. “Are you sure that’s the same girl I just met?”

“These were taken before she went Goth.” Eric pointed at another picture of Zoë—this time she was dressed as Little Orphan Annie. “Zoë’s really talented. She blows everybody away when she sings. She’s way better than me and she’s never had a single voice lesson.”

I tried to hide my surprise. “You take voice lessons?”

He shrugged. “I’ll be a junior next year, and my drama teacher at Harrison says if I want to get a theater scholarship at a good college, I need to be able to sing, dance, and act.”

“I guess I didn’t know you were that into acting.”

“Kind of weird, huh?” Eric said. “It all started when my mom forced me to be in a play at Little Tyke’s so I could conquer my shyness. We made an agreement that I would have to stick with it for just one year. But after one play, I couldn’t believe how much I loved being on stage. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and it really helped my self-esteem,” Eric said, smiling. “Well, it didn’t hurt to grow a foot and a half in one year, either.”

“But aren’t you scared when all those people are looking at you?” I asked, remembering how queasy I felt last year when I had to give
a speech in front of my class to become president of the student council.

“Nah, when I get nervous, I just use the old idea of picturing the audience in their underwear,” Eric said. “I’m really good at that.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly very conscious of the rip in my cotton briefs.

Eric opened the door leading to the backstage and a wiry guy with short brown hair and thick black glasses looked up from the sound system he was fiddling with. “Thank God you’re here! I’m dying for my caffeine fix.”

Eric winced.

“Don’t tell me you forgot my coffee?” the guy said.

“Uh, I forgot your coffee.”

“How could you forget? I asked you only a half hour ago.” He held his hands out for me to see. “Look at me. I have the shakes. If I don’t get some caffeine soon, my head is going to explode.”

“All right, Henry, I’ll go get you a cup of coffee. But first let me introduce you to Mia. She’s going to be working with us this summer.” Eric turned to me. “Henry is a junior with me at Harrison High. We’ve been friends for years.”

Henry sized me up. “Tall vanilla frappucino.”

“Um, excuse me?”

“I said you look like a tall vanilla frappuccino.” Henry crossed his arms over his slender chest. “You see, I have an amazing talent for guessing how people take their coffee. I don’t miss very often. So, am I right?”

“Uh, I don’t drink coffee,” I stammered, not wanting to tell him my parents won’t let me have any caffeine because they think it will stunt my growth. Personally, I think a little stunting might be a good thing. If I keep growing as I have been, I could be close to seven-feet by the time I’m twenty.

“You don’t drink coffee?” Henry shook his head and sighed. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Henry has a little addiction to caffeine,” Eric said. “We’re planning
an intervention soon.”

“Very funny, iced caramel mocha.” Henry put the headphones on his ears. “Now, don’t come back until you’ve brought me my espresso macchiato.”

Henry turned the music on and Eric motioned for me to follow him through the backstage curtains. We walked to the center of the stage.

“Isn’t it awesome?” Eric took a deep, cleansing breath. “There’s nowhere better than center stage.”

I shook my head. “I can’t imagine anywhere worse.”

“I bet you’d love acting if you ever tried it.”

I shuddered at the thought. “There is no way anyone will ever get me to be in a play.”

“That’s what I used to say.”

“Trust me.” I walked to the edge of the stage and looked out into the rows of empty seats. “It’s scary enough for me up here now. I’d get sick if the room was full of people watching me.”

“You’d be surprised at what you can do, Mia,” Eric replied.

“Hey, Eric,” Zoë said, appearing from the lobby, “if you’re done making inspirational speeches to Preppy here, I still need her help stitching up those mermaid fins.”

I looked to Eric to rescue me. I did not want to go with Vampira. Who knew what she would do to me once she got me to her lair?

Unaware of my unspoken plea for help, Eric said, “Sure, she’s all yours, Zoë.”

I sighed with defeat and trudged down the stage stairs feeling like I was being led to the gallows.

“But before you go, Mia” Eric said, “I wanted to ask you something.”

I stopped, grateful for the reprieve. “Sure, go ahead,” I said, hoping whatever he asked would be very complicated so I could spend the next few hours answering it.

“Do you want to get some dinner tonight?”

“Me?” I was totally stunned. This was the last thing I was expecting.
I mean, Eric had only spent fifteen minutes with me and he was already asking me out? Wow, my animal magnetism must have tripled in the past few months. I’d never had a guy fall for me so fast.

Eric shrugged. “It’s all right if you have other plans.”

“No,” I said, looking at Zoë out of the corner of my eye and lowering my voice. “It’s just... I’m dating someone.”

Eric laughed. “Did you think I was asking you out on a date?”

“Um, no, well,” I stuttered, wishing with all my might there was a trapdoor I could fall through.

“Oh, man, I guess I didn’t quite phrase that right,” Eric said, his face turning even redder than mine. “I meant to say that Henry, Zoë, and I were planning on going out for some pizza tonight at Nick’s, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with us.”

I was such an idiot. Why would an upperclassman who resembled Adonis be interested in someone like me?

“Not that I wouldn’t ask you out,” Eric continued feebly.

I held up my hand to stop him. I’d already been humiliated enough. I didn’t need to embarrass myself anymore by listening to all the reasons why he didn’t want to date me. “What time should I be there?”

“I can pick you up. Let’s say around 6:30,” Eric said, obviously relieved the awkward misunderstanding was over. He headed for the backstage door. “But for now, I’d better get Henry some coffee before he has another one of his caffeine withdrawal ‘incidents.’”

As he walked out the door, a huge grin spread across Zoë’s face. She cracked her gum and said, “That was priceless. You actually thought my cousin was asking you out. Man, I haven’t seen anything that funny on stage in a long time. Maybe Eric was right—that you should be in the theater. You could take your whole wide-eyed routine on the road and make millions.”

I headed for the lobby door. It was going to be a long, long summer.

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