Everyone's a Critic (11 page)

“Hello there,” she said, all sparkly, flipping her hair from one shoulder to another.

Michael gave her a big smile. He looked so cute in jeans and a gray hoodie.

“Hi, Allie. You were so good in the play!” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

And then I saw it. My sister blushed. I felt sort of sick. “You'd better give me a good review,” she said, batting her eyes at him.

He just nodded.

“So, Michael, we'd better get started,” I said,
giving my sister the evil eye.

“What? Oh, yeah! Sure!” he said, looking embarrassed. He grabbed his backpack and followed me into the den.

The rest of the night went well. We watched the Friday night performance and the Saturday matinee. We clarified most of our notes. The scenery definitely fell both times in the first act. We made popcorn and Allie and Mom joined us for a bit, but then we couldn't discuss any of the play's problems in front of Allie. I just recorded them in my notes. Anyway, Allie was so enthralled by her own performance, she didn't seem to care that I was taking notes. I stole glances at Michael when Allie was singing her big number onstage. He was watching a little too closely, I thought. It got late quickly and we decided to watch the last show the next day.

“So now you forget all about me because you're busy with the paper . . . and Michael again?”
Hailey said while I was stuffing books in my locker with my foot the next morning.

“Never, my dear, dear Hailey—you are unforgettable!” I said. I took her by the hands, twirled, and dipped her. Then we both kind of klutzed out and landed in a heap on the floor, giggling.

“Want the truth?” I asked, promising myself I'd be really direct with Hailey. She got up and pulled me to my feet.

“Always, you know that,” she said, but she didn't look at me. Suddenly she was really busy with her locker.

I took a deep breath. “I didn't want to bug you with too much Michael stuff. I just know you might not want to hear about it every day. We've been pushing to get the play review done. That and Michael are all I'm kind of thinking about right now.” I watched her carefully to see if she was taking it okay.

She turned to me. “It's fine, I understand. And I always want to hear about Michael stuff. It's never boring to me,” she said, and she seemed to mean it.

I relaxed my shoulders and smiled. I knew that I could always count on Hailey.

“How about a girls' night this Friday after I turn in my pieces for the
Voice
? We could rent a movie, do our nails. You could sleep over?”

“Yay!” Hailey said, and clapped her hands. Then her faced scrunched up. “But I thought you were just writing the review. What's the other piece?”

I froze. I hadn't meant to say “pieces,” but I was thinking about the review and the Dear Know-It-All letter that was also looming. So dumb. “‘Pieces'? I meant ‘piece.' This review has suddenly become such a bear, it seems like more than one!” I said, trying to sound believable.

“All that time with Michael is just messing with your head,” she said.

That night I went to Michael's to watch the last show. I realized when I got there that I was just wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and nothing fancy. It's funny—when I spend a lot of time with Michael, I don't think about what I'm wearing and what I look like when I'm eating pizza or popcorn anymore. We just hang out and have a good time, like two
regular people. I wonder if that's how it is when you have a boyfriend. Maybe a little of both? I can't wait for this review to be done, but in some ways I don't want it to be. Then we'll have to go back to bumping into each other in the cafeteria—literally, if Hailey has anything to do with it.

On Thursday afternoon we met in Trigger's office to finally lay it all out. We combined our notes, did a draft, and then I typed it up. We started off in a positive light and wrote about the long history of stellar performances by the drama club. We talked about all the strong singing and dancing, especially Allison Martone's excellent portrayal of Anita; the complicated staging; and the ambitious lighting and scenery. Then we got down to business and mentioned the “inconsistent performance” by Julia Gowen and some of the other key players. We also got into details about the lighting mishaps and the scenery disasters. We couldn't help but mention the huge crash that
was a cause of distraction and concern on Friday night. We ended by saying that even with all the mishaps, “the run was still a showcase of theatrical talent that our town has become accustomed to, but the drama club might be served better by a simpler choice of play.” I felt like our review was honest, accurate, and well supported. That's all a critic could do, right?

“And scene,” I announced as I typed the last word. We stood up and gave each other a double high five, which became a quick hug. I couldn't believe I was hugging Michael Lawrence. I breathed in the Tide and then snapped back to the real world. Michael must have felt the same way, because suddenly we pulled away from each other.

“Okay, so I've got to run. Practice in fifteen minutes!” he said, his face a bit red as he grabbed his things and packed up.

“Yeah, me too,” I said, even though I wasn't in any rush at all.

“But wait,” Michael said, sitting down, running his fingers through his hair. He looked troubled.

“What is it?” I said, scared of what he was about
to say. Maybe it was about how unprofessional it was for us to hug.

“Are we being too harsh? It's not a favorable review. I mean, what about your sister? Won't she be upset?”

“My sister?” I said, my mouth dropping open. “First of all, we totally complimented her performance. Second of all, who cares about Allie? She didn't direct the play. We justified all our criticisms. We are reporters, after all, and it's up to us to be professional, unbiased, and not influenced by”—I was becoming slightly hysterical now, waving my hands around—“by people's sisters!” I knew it. He just wanted to be close to me because he had a crush on Allie!

“Okay, okay. Calm down,” he said, looking down at the table. “I guess you're right. And it's your sister, not mine.”

“That's right, she's
my
sister,” I said, not really sure of what, exactly, I meant.

After we posted the piece online in deathly quiet, we rushed out of the office and went our separate ways.

On Friday night, while Hailey and I were doing facial masks, we went over everything in full detail. Hailey lay on my bed, her face covered in green paste. I was on the floor, also looking like I'd gotten carried away with toothpaste.

Hailey said, “He doesn't have a crush on Allie any more than any seventh grader would on a pretty high school girl. I mean, he's human.”

“So you're on his side?” I said, getting slightly peeved.

“Duh, of course not. I'm just giving you some perspective and being honest. What about the ice cream and the hug and making popcorn and all that's happened between you guys the last couple of weeks? But then again, maybe you're right—I mean, how could he have a crush on you when you look like that?” she said, giggling.

We both went to the mirror and looked at our strange alien faces and laughed. When we laughed, the dried masks cracked all over, making us look even stranger and causing more fits of laughter. This was exactly what I needed, just a silly night
with my bestie.
Medical Research Shows Sleepovers with Best Friends a Cure-All
.

“No more boy talk tonight,” I said when we recovered. Hailey was probably right, anyway. “Deal?”

“Deal,” she said.

Since I'd been so wrapped up with the review, which had taken longer to write than some of our other pieces, I told Mr. Trigg I was just going to answer a letter I had gotten a while ago for the column. A guy—I think it was a guy—wrote in about wanting to spend more time with his busy dad, but didn't know how to ask. I basically told him he just needed to be honest and direct and tell his dad how he felt, because maybe his dad didn't even know. I didn't really this know from experience, since my dad died when I was really little and I don't remember him much, but my mom is always busy, since she's sort of the mom and the dad of our family. Sometimes I have to ask for special time with her, and she always thanks me for telling her how I feel.

Chapter 12

The next few days at school went by pretty quietly. I felt much better since having some nice quality time with Hailey to ground me. I hadn't spoken to or seen Michael, but that was okay. Maybe we had spent too much time together. I wasn't even mad anymore about Allie. I just wanted to forget the whole thing.

Later in the afternoon, I went to my locker to get stuff for my last class. A seventh grader I barely knew, Todd Gibbons, who worked backstage for the play, came walking straight up to me.

“You shouldn't criticize something you know nothing about,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I said, unsure of what he was talking about.

“The review. I mean, who do you guys think you are? We worked hard on that show,” he said, and walked away, shaking his head.

I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. No one had ever reacted like this to one of my articles for the paper. Maybe Todd Gibbons was just extra-sensitive or having a bad day. I grabbed my backpack and headed toward class. As I walked down the hall, at least three people glared at me. I hurried to class and slipped into my seat in the middle of the classroom.

During class, a note was flung onto my desk. I didn't see where it came from. I looked around, but no one was looking at me. Then I saw Katie Minor, a drama club member who was one of the dancers in the play, turn toward me and then quickly look away. I opened up the note with shaky hands.

It said,

Your review was totally biased and completely unfair. The drama club is pretty upset. Way to go.

–Katie

I sat there, gawking at the note. Biased? How was I biased? It would have been biased if we had given it a perfect review because we didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Somehow, being “biased” in Katie's mind was honesty to me and Michael. I thought about Too Honest's question, and it was becoming all too apparent to me that people don't want to hear the truth even when they ask for it, and they certainly don't want to hear it when they don't ask, if it's not positive.