Rule of Three (11 page)

“You can say that again,” Alex mumbled, squinting at me.

“And the latest is,” Mom continued, “the Bus-Riding Gourmet.”

“He cooks on a bus?” Joey asked.

“If you can believe it, it’s a guy out of Portland who rides around on a free bus, stopping at restaurants along the city bus line to interview chefs and cook with them.”

“All you need is a bus,” I joked.

“The
Fondue Sue
–mobile,” said Joey.

“Mom,” I said, “maybe if you thought up a way-good original idea, the station wouldn’t be able to say no, and they’d have to let you do some more shows.”

“You need a slogan,” said Dad. “You know, a trademark, like Joey’s guy. ‘Bam!’ or ‘It’s a good thing.’ Something catchy.”

“Aren’t those just gimmicks?” Mom asked.

“I got it!” I said, suspending a forkful of noodles in midair. “You could do weird family meals like Dad’s peanut-butter noodles.”

“Gross,” said Alex. Everybody stared at her again. “No, I mean, yours aren’t gross or anything, Dad, but they might be to other people outside this family, I mean.”

“I’m afraid Alex may be right,” said Dad.

“How about cupcakes?” said Joey. “Stevie could hook you up with like a million recipes.”

“Thanks, honey, but the country’s so health-conscious these days. I’m afraid they’d have to make them with spinach, or carrots, or beets.”

“Spinach cupcakes! Bluck!” said Joey.

“When Olivia went to New York, they ate at this really fancy restaurant where the grilled cheese cost like fifty dollars. Maybe you could do something with fancy grilled cheese?”

“Great idea, but I’m afraid the Bus-Riding Gourmet already beat me to the grilled cheese idea. That’s his first show.”

“Maybe if you came up with a new name for your show,” I suggested. “Admit it, Mom,
Fondue Sue
is lame.”

“I got it!” Joey squeaked. “The Ultimate Extreme Food Makeover Show!”

We brainstormed more ideas for Mom, and soon the conversation turned to Dad and the magic flying carpet he was building for
Aladdin.
Joey nearly stood up on her chair, offering ideas of how he could get the magic carpet to fly without anybody seeing wires or anything.

“I think I’m going to take a field trip over to the Cascades Playhouse. They’re doing
Sheherazade,
and I figure there’s got to be a flying carpet in the story of
A Thousand and One Nights.
Maybe one of you kids would like to come along.”

“Me!” Joey piped up before anyone else had a chance.

I half expected Alex to chime in, making her case for being the Actor and how she should get to go. But she didn’t say anything. Not a word.

Which said an awful lot.

After dinner and homework, I stretched out
on my bed, arms behind my head, humming happily to myself, rehearsing songs from the play in my mind, something I’d been doing a lot ever since I’d decided to try out. I kept going over the audition in my head, smiling and trying not to bite my nails.

Joey looked over at me. “You hum as much as Mr. Brooke when he started to fall in love with Meg.”

“A person can hum and not be in love, Joey.” Suddenly, I felt something. A lump. A bump. A hump, under my back.

I reached my hand down under the mattress and felt around. A rock. A LEGO. A pinecone? I yanked on one of Joey’s stuffed animals, pulling it out by the ear.

“Hey, Joey? Why is there a mountain of stuff under my bed?”

“Huh? What mountain? Where? I didn’t put a mountain under your mattress. It wasn’t me. Honest.”

“Jo-ey?”

“OK. I give up. I might have put a couple of things under there.”

“A couple of things?” I hopped off my bed and lifted up the mattress, pointing. Marbles and magazines. Rocks and sock balls and stuffed animals. “You call this a couple of things? There’s like a whole museum under there.”

Joey giggled. “You crumb bum — you weren’t supposed to find any of that stuff before you went to sleep tonight.”

“No kidding.” I pulled out two Scottie-dog magnets, a bag of squished potato chips, and a big, fat dictionary.

“Don’t take it out. Leave it.”

“I’m not sleeping on a junk heap. What’s going on?”

“OK, aren’t you dying to know who’s going to get the part of princess? You or Alex?”

“Yes. But what’s all this junk got to do with it?” I asked, tossing a pinecone, two sock balls, and a stuffed animal at Joey.

“It’s a test. A princess test. To see who’s the princess. The one who can’t get a good night’s sleep is the real princess. That’s who’s going to get the part.”

“Joey, you’re wack, you know that?” I stretched back out on my bed. This time it was smooth, not bumpy. No more pinecones.

“If it makes you feel any better, I did it to Alex, too.”

“Only a little better,” I said, taking aim at Joey with the stuffed chipmunk.

THE WEIRD SISTERS

Starring Alex

(But not as a Weird Sister)

Me
:
(Yawn. Stretch. Wakes to smell of pancakes on Saturday morning and comes downstairs.)
Mmm! Pancakes!

Stevie
: Oh, so you’re speaking to me for a change. Or do you just love me for my pancakes?

Me
: Pancakes.

Joey
: How did you sleep, Alex?

Me
: Huh? Oh, great. Wonderful. Terrific. Like a princess!
(Stevie coughs, and Joey spits a blueberry across the room.)

Me
: What? What’s wrong with that?

Stevie
: (
Can hardly keep from laughing.)
Nothing.

Joey
:
(Laughing.)
Nothing.

Me
:
(Taking a pancake and drizzling it with syrup.)
Well, I don’t see what’s so hilarious about getting a decent night’s sleep.

Joey
: It’s just that . . . we thought you might . . .
(Gets mad look from Stevie.)
Never mind!
(Cracks up some more.)
It’s not like you had rocks under your mattress. Or marbles or pinecones or anything that would make it lumpy so you can’t sleep.

Stevie
: Joey!

Me
: No peas under my mattress.
(Joey sprays the counter with spit from laughing again.)
But Stevie, you look like you had some under yours.

Stevie
: Not me. I took them all out.

Joey
:
(Mouths, “Shut up!” to Stevie and runs upstairs.)

Stevie
: Doesn’t matter. I still couldn’t sleep at all last night. I kept tossing and turning and waking up with dreams. I can’t quit thinking about the play.

Joey
:
(Runs back into room, making funny faces at Stevie. Holds out hand and makes tiny circle with finger and thumb.)

Me
: You guys sure are the Weird Sisters this morning. But who am I to guess at the strange minds of my little sisters?

Joey
: The Weird Sisters. That’s a good one.

Stevie
: No, it’s not, Joey. The Weird Sisters are the ugly hag witches from Macbeth.

Joey
: Look out. She’s going all Shakespeare on us again.

Me
:
(Grinning, pleased with myself.) “
We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

Stevie
: You’re sure in a good mood this morning.

Me
: And why shouldn’t I be? Look out thy window, little sisters, and behold a world so lovely it bringeth a tear to mine eye.

Stevie
: It bringeth a gag to mine throat when you start making up Shakespeare.

Joey
: What’s so great about today? Besides Stevie’s pancakes, I mean. How come you’re not all stressed about who’s getting the part?

Me
:
(I glance at Stevie. Stevie steals a look at me, then pretends to be concerned with pancake batter.)
I just have a good feeling, that’s all.
(Trying to sound casual.)
Plus, today’s my first voice lesson.

Stevie
:
(Drops mixing spoon, which splatters to floor in a goosh of pancake batter.)
What?
(Pronounces the “t” like she’s spitting.)

Me
: You don’t have to spit. I just wanted to work on my singing technique.

Stevie
: Technique? How come you need a technique? Can’t you just open your mouth and sing like the rest of the people on the planet?

Me
: I need to be ready for
when
I get the part.
(Throws back head in glam pose, shaking hair.)

Joey
: Not again, you guys.
(Holds hands over ears.)
Don’t forget about Beth. Chapter forty.
Little Women
. You promised.

Me
: We didn’t promise.

Stevie
: Give me back my pancake.

Me
:
(Stops mid-bite.)
Are you crazy? I already ate half of it. What is
wrong
with you?
(Stevie takes half
pancake, and Alex grabs it back.)

Dad
:
(Enters room.)
Girls! What’s going on here?

Joey
: Tug-of-war. Over a half-eaten pancake.

Dad
: Alex. Stevie. That’s enough. You know Mom and I don’t like you wasting good food.

Stevie
: Dad, you told her she could take voice lessons? But I have to beg, borrow, and steal just to enter the cake-off?

Joey
: You
stole
?

Dad
:
(Hands out as if to say “Slow down.”)
It’s not voice
lessons.
It’s one lesson. And the first one’s free. Alex found a flyer at school for the Voicemeister and —

Stevie
: And she gets voice lessons before she even gets the part? Why does everybody just assume Alex is going to get the part? I mean, what about — I thought I was the singer in this family.

Me
: Maybe you should take some acting lessons, little sister.

Stevie
: Yeah, and maybe you should take some
sister
lessons.

Dad
: Girls. I said, that’s enough. You know we talked about this.
(Looking at kitchen clock.)
Alex, we leave in ten minutes, and you’re still in your pajamas.

Me
: Yikes!
(Grabs rest of fought-over pancake, flees upstairs.)