Puppet Pandemonium (10 page)

I was thinking the same thing.

F
ranklin Elementary and Buffalo Gulch drew straws to decide who would perform their play first on Saturday night. Franklin won the draw. We were ready. The costumes had been made, the scenery was in place, and we'd learned our lines. Bubba had agreed to be stage manager and, to my surprise, had engineered a fantastic set. He'd chosen his own workers, and they had nailed, painted, sanded, and built the best backdrops I'd ever seen. Everyone in our class told him over and over how great everything looked.

Mr. Sims was as proud as a peacock about all our
hard work. I think he was so caught up in the spirit of the festival that he wanted to win the trophy as badly as our class did. He jumped around like a flea, asking each one of us a million times, “Is everything proceeding according to our plans? Do you need anything? How's it going?”

Gram had come to most of our rehearsals. She'd never interfered in what I was doing or the directions I gave the kids. She let me make my own decisions and my own mistakes. When something really turned out good, I'd look in the back of the auditorium and she'd give me a thumbs-up. When something went wrong— and it did a couple of times—she just smiled and let me and Waldo work it out. I had used Waldo to do all the directing. The kids listened to him and did everything he said. They didn't even bother talking to me.

Friday morning, Murray and I ran across the street to pick up Hannah on the way to school. Mrs. Wilson came to the screen door with a sad look on her face. Hannah stood behind her.

“What's wrong?” I said, trying to peek inside.

Hannah stepped out from behind her mom. She was covered in red polka dots. They matched her hair.

Murray gasped.

“Stand back. I've got chicken pox,” she said. “I can't be in the play”

I was horrified. If anyone deserved to be in the play,
it was Hannah. She had worked harder than any of us to make things go well. Her speech about the American flag was the best. It was going to be the showstopper. Tears ran down her cheeks. I hadn't known she even knew how to cry. “My life is ruined forever.”

“Now, Hannah,” Mrs. Wilson said. “Your life is not ruined forever. Maybe Baker can get someone to do your part for you.”

I shook my head. “No one could learn all her lines by tomorrow.”

“There's one person who could do it,” Hannah said with a sniffle. “You.”

“Me?” I slapped my hand on my chest.

“Yes, you! You could do it, Baker. You know my lines already.”

“I can't be Betsy Ross!”

“Why not?” she said. “You'll fit into the costume and wig. You know my lines. What else do you need to be Betsy Ross?”

Before I could answer, Murray jumped in. “Just think about it. We
need
Betsy Ross in the play. We've
got
to have her. You can do it, Baker.”

Mrs. Wilson opened the door. “I think it just might work,” she said, holding Hannah's costume up to my chest. “I'll have to take up the hem since Hannah's taller than you, but it will work just fine.”

“Are you joking?” I said, looking at Hannah. “I'm not wearing a dress in a school play. I'm sorry you're
sick, but I can't be Betsy Ross. I'd be the laughingstock of Franklin, not to mention Buffalo Gulch.” I stormed off and walked to school alone. I couldn't believe they'd asked me to be Betsy Ross.

I didn't know what I was going to do about Hannah, but I knew one thing for sure. I wasn't about to be Betsy Ross.

I felt the excitement in our class when I got to school. Everyone was pumped up. They were upset that Hannah couldn't be in the play, but they didn't want to catch the chicken pox either.

“Don't worry,” I told Mr. Sims. “I'll figure something out.”

“If you need me to step in, I can,” Mr. Sims told me.

But I didn't want him to. I was the director. This was my problem to solve.

When Murray got to class, I couldn't look him in the eye.

“I understand,” he told me. “I couldn't do it either.” I knew he was upset for Hannah. The only thing I could think of was letting one of the girls read Hannah's part. Maybe Ansley could do it. I decided I'd ask her first.

“It's too much to learn by tomorrow night,” she told me. “I'm sorry.” And every other girl turned me down too.

The play was Saturday night. I had to think of a solution quick!

I
put Waldo in his suitcase the next afternoon and Mom, Dad, Gram and I headed out to the car.

Then I stopped. I couldn't just go. I couldn't let everybody down.

“Wait,” I said. “I forgot something.” I ran across the street as fast as I could. There, hanging from the doorknob, was the Betsy Ross costume and a bag with a wig and flag inside it.

Hannah knocked on the living room window from inside the house. She wore the biggest chicken-poxy smile I'd ever seen. She didn't look at all surprised to see me.

“Don't forget to wave the flag,” she called. “And curtsy when you're through.” Then she blew me a quick kiss. Yikes. I couldn't believe it. I looked around to see if anyone had seen. Gram was in the car, grinning. Did that count as my first kiss?

I should have realized that Hannah had known all along I'd fill in as Betsy Ross. The play was the most important thing to her, and getting to help with it had become important to me, too. Motioning to my family to wait another second, I grabbed our spare key, unlocked my front door, ran inside, and found my cowboy boots. If I was going to please Hannah, I was going to please my dad. When I jumped into the car, Gram gave me a hug.

When we arrived at the festival grounds, I ran to the makeshift backstage area and changed into the costume and cowboy boots. I still didn't feel steady walking. I buttoned my Yankees jersey over the dress, and pulled the wig over my hair, adding a baseball cap as the finishing touch. When I looked into Mr. Sims's handheld mirror, even I didn't recognize myself. I looked at Waldo.

“Can you believe I'm doing this?” I asked him.

“Sure,” he said. “Any dummy would do it for a friend.” He spun his head around and blinked his eyes.

Twenty minutes until showtime. I hobbled out into the wings. People were rushing around, putting
last-minute touches on their costumes and practicing their lines. At first no one recognized me. Then they all cheered.

This was going to be the weirdest character anyone had ever seen. Here I was in a dress and a Yankees uniform, wearing boots and holding a dummy. For once I was glad my friends in Seattle weren't with me. Even if we didn't win the trophy this would be one play that the Franklin citizens would never forget.

People began filing in, taking their seats in the folding chairs. Once everyone was seated by the fourth-grade ushers, I stood behind the curtain and began with the narration that Hannah had worked so hard on. It was about the heroes who had made a difference in the lives of the American people.

Then the curtains went up. My classmates, in costume, stood still as statues. Robbie, Tom, and Sarah Jane were the visitors in the museum. As they roamed around the pretend museum, they would stop and push a button and the wax figures would come to life and say their speech. Every one of them did an awesome job.

When Murray, in his astronaut's suit, began his monologue, Bubba's crew carried out a huge rocket ship that Murray and his dad had built. It had hundreds of blinking Christmas lights inside it. It was fabulous. Then Bubba's crew pulled it across the stage like it was taking flight. The auditorium erupted into cheers.

My stomach did double flips before I walked out on the stage. I could hear a few people laughing as I sat down with Waldo on my lap. But once I started to say my lines, the audience was quiet.

First, I did my piece on Babe Ruth. I talked about the incredible record of the Babe's hitting sixty home runs in 1927 and being one of the most famous baseball players of all time.

I had a few minutes before Hannah's Betsy Ross speech, so I ran into the wings and shed my Yankees uniform and hat. Reluctantly, I added the puffy cap on top of my wig. I knew Hannah would want me to wear the whole costume.

I raced back onstage to give my talk about being proud to be the person whom everyone had given credit for making the American flag. When I waved the flag, the audience clapped and cheered.

For the rest of the play, I remained onstage as Betsy Ross. The audience laughed at Waldo's jokes. I couldn't keep him quiet. At the end of the play I stood up and tried to curtsy. But it looked like a weird dance move, and people started chuckling again.

Boots and dresses were just not my style.

A
fter our play ended, there was a short intermission, and then it was time for Buffalo Gulch. Their play was about the Boston Tea Party. Their class had built three ships that they brought onstage. When the kids walked across the stage, the ships moved with them. The ships—the
Dartmouth
, the
Eleanor
, and the
Beaver
— looked like they were bobbing in the ocean. The kids had put butcher paper across the footlights and painted it blue. There were even kids lying on the floor who popped up as fish. It was really cool.

On the left and right were stacked crates with
EAST
INDIA COMPANY
stenciled on the sides. Cotton balls were pinned on curtains to make it look like it was snowing that December night in Boston when the colonists dressed up like Native Americans and crawled on board the ships. Then the Buffalo Gulch fifth graders pretended to dump 342 crates of tea into Boston Harbor. Tea bags fell everywhere.

Two boys played Samuel Adams and John Hancock. They spoke about taxation without representation. There were lots of kids dressed up in the costumes of the American colonies. They said the Boston Tea Party showed how far Americans were willing to go for their freedom. The audience clapped big-time for them. On their programs they had taped tea bags. It was a cool gimmick.

“See,” I heard Bubba tell Mr. Sims, “tape is a real important part of our lives.”

When it was time for the awards, my class grabbed seats up front by the stage. When they handed out Mom's blue ribbon for her Buttercream Bavarian Wonder, I thought she was going to cry. I yelled loudly for her and so did Murray. Several people I had met won ribbons for quilting and for canning. Lots of people from Buffalo Gulch won ribbons too. Mr. Sneed won one for his peach jam. The Buffalo Gulch folks cheered him on.

One of the judges, Mr. Blake, came to the mike.
“Now, all the way from New York City, please welcome Ms. Matilda May Whittington!” The crowd stood and cheered.

Ms. Whittington took the mike. “I have never seen a better festival,” she said, smiling at the audience. “The children have certainly upheld the tradition started one hundred years ago by my grandfather and Mr. Horace Jackson. I'm glad to see that the spirit of competition is still alive and well in Texas.” People applauded. “The judges had a difficult time deciding the winners this year. But they have come to a decision. Please hold your applause until all the winners have been announced.

“For Best Actor first place goes to Brad Case of Buffalo Gulch, who played John Hancock. Best Actress: Ansley Smith of Franklin, who played Rosa Parks. Best Script: Franklin, for the talking wax museum. Best Costumes: Buffalo Gulch. Best Scenery: a tie between both towns. Best Director: Waldo Peppernickle of Franklin. And the winner of the Best Play award is Franklin, for their originality and willingness to take a risk and—”