Gertie's Leap to Greatness (19 page)

But as Gertie was leaving, the restroom door swinging closed behind her, she heard a loud
honk
.

Maybe she had imagined the honk. Maybe it was nothing. She started to turn back to the staging area, where she would find Stebbins and tell her that Mary Sue wasn't there, and she, Gertie Reece Foy, would have to be their Evangelina.

But Gertie couldn't stand maybes. She turned around and pushed the door open. She stepped into the girls' room.

Jean was standing at one of the stalls, passing someone a handful of toilet paper. Gertie went further in and looked around Jean.

Mary Sue was sitting on a toilet, crying. And she wasn't crying her beautiful diamond tears. Gertie had
known
those diamond tears were fake. Mary Sue's face was red, and her eyes were almost swollen shut.

 

26

More Bath Tissue

It was by no means a zit of unusual size, but Mary Sue's tearstained face was still a spectacularly swollen mess.

“G-go away!” Mary Sue dabbed her eyes with a wad of toilet paper.

Jean shrugged one shoulder at Gertie, which had an exciting effect because she was wearing a sweatshirt covered in empty soda cans. They were taped on every inch of her shirt so that she looked like she was wearing homemade battle armor.

“What's wrong?” Gertie asked.

“Nothing's wrong!” Mary Sue scrubbed at her face.

Gertie looked over her shoulder at the bathroom door, which had just swung shut. She could still hear the rumble of the auditorium crowd. She turned back to Mary Sue. “Are you hurt or something?”

“What do you care?” Mary Sue sniffed. “You've tried to ruin things for me ever since I moved here. You've hated me from the very beginning. You probably hope I
die
.” She hiccupped.

Once upon a time—maybe two minutes ago—Gertie
had
thought that she wanted Mary Sue to cry her eyes out in a germy old bathroom stall. But now that she was here, watching Mary Sue twist bits of toilet paper, she didn't want this after all.

“I thought you'd be happy,” Gertie said. “I mean, Jessica Walsh is here, you know?”

Jean shook her head.

Mary Sue made a sound that was something between a sob and a scream, and Gertie stepped backward and fell into a sink. “Of course I know
she's
here. M-my father b-b-brought her here from Los Angeles.”

“He came all the way from California,” Gertie whispered because it seemed like such an unbelievable thing, that your father would get on an airplane and fly across the country, just to see Stebbins's mortifying nutrition play.

“Well, I don't know why he bothered.” Mary Sue sounded like she had a bad cold. “Jessica Walsh is better at being his daughter than I am. Did you know she came to my birthday party and signed autographs during the cake and gelato, and—and everyone was so busy
worshipping
her that all the gelato melted?”

“Umm,” said Jean.

Gertie didn't know what to say either. “That's bad, huh?”

Mary Sue ignored them. “And even if I make good g-g-grades it doesn't matter because
Jessica Walsh
makes good grades, and she doesn't even go to real school.” Mary Sue's fingers tore the toilet paper into confetti that littered the floor. “And if I'm good in the play, nobody's going to care because Jessica Walsh was an actress f-first, and”—Mary Sue wiped her nose with the back of her hand—“after the play she'll tell everyone what I did wrong, and she'll say that
she
could've done it better.”

Jessica Walsh sounded like someone who needed to have dirt rubbed in her face. Gertie looked at Jean, thinking it was Jean's turn to say something encouraging.

“It could be worse,” said Jean.

“What?” Mary Sue looked up.

“I mean,” said Jean, “this seems bad, but you know … it could get worse.”

Gertie knew she was trying, but Jean was no good at encouraging.

“It
is
worse,” Mary Sue said. “Can you get me more bath tissue?”

What kind of person said
bath tissue
? A Mary Sue Spivey kind of person, Gertie guessed.

Jean and her soda cans clanked into an empty stall and ripped off at least five feet of toilet paper.

“My mother says we're not going back to California.” Mary Sue wiped her face. “She says her work is
soooo
important here. She says we're going to live here, in this horrible town, if you can even call it a town. P-permanently.”

“Oh my Lord.”

“I know,” Mary Sue agreed. She looked at her feet. “I told her I'd go live with my father. But … but he said it was better that I stay here. Because they're—they're getting a divorce.” She hiccupped. “How can they do this to me?” she wailed.

Gertie didn't know what to say.

“Sooo…” Jean looked from Gertie to Mary Sue. “What are we doing now?”

“The show must go on. I guess you'll have to do it,” said Mary Sue, looking at Gertie. “That's p-perfect. I'll just sit on this toilet while you steal my part.”

“I wasn't going to
steal
your part!” Gertie exclaimed, her voice bouncing off the bathroom walls. “And
I
was Evangelina first!”

Mary Sue waved a hand. “Everyone likes you best. Everyone thinks you're so wonderful. Even though you're a horrible person, and you're ignorant about oil and the environment and—”

“I'm not a horrible person!” Gertie said. Mary Sue thought everyone liked
her
best? All this time, she had been trying to beat Mary Sue, and Mary Sue had been trying to beat her so that she could show up Jessica Walsh.

Honestly. Mary Sue should've just rubbed dirt in Jessica Walsh's face.

At that moment, Mary Sue's words finally sank in. “Wait, you want me to be Evangelina?” Gertie asked.

“Of course I don't
want
you to be Evangelina. But I can't do it, and no one else knows the lines.”

Gertie did still know the lines. Backwards, forwards, and sideways. She could do it. “The play must go on. Like you said.”

Mary Sue sniffed. Jean shrugged and clanked.

Gertie couldn't believe that everything was going to work out after all. This was why it paid to never give up. She should be getting herself ready for her moment when her mother would realize she was a star. Gertie imagined how Rachel would look, smiling up at Gertie from the audience. Her eyes would crinkle, and she would realize that Gertie had become the most amazing fifth grader in the world.

Mary Sue had just said that everyone loved Gertie best, that everyone thought she was wonderful. It wasn't true. People were fickle. But her mother would like Evangelina. Everyone liked Evangelina. That was the point of her.

Gertie knew that her father would say she shouldn't have to change so that someone would like her.

Gertie clutched her locket. But he was on the rig. She was the one who would have to make the decision, because he was far, far away. Distance was strange though. Mary Sue's father had flown across a whole country to be here. But Gertie had had to beg her mother just to drive across town. Maybe that was why Rachel Collins hadn't gone any further than Jones Street when she left the first time. Maybe three miles could be further than three thousand.

Gertie worked her thumbnail into the locket's groove and looked inside at the tiny picture of a baby in a woman's hands. She had worked harder than she'd ever worked before, and she'd wanted to make Rachel Collins know she was important, and now she was realizing that maybe Rachel Collins wasn't worth it.

“You can do it,” she said. She snapped the locket shut and let it go.

Mary Sue looked up.

Gertie took a deep breath. She knew that Rachel Collins would be proud of her if she were Evangelina. But Gertie wanted her mother to be proud of her just like she was. “You can do it,” she said. “You should be Evangelina. I mean, your daddy came to see you. And Jessica Walsh will be horrible if you don't do it.”

“She would,” said Mary Sue. “She really would. You have no idea how awful she is.”

“We could guess,” said Jean.

“Are you sure?” asked Mary Sue.

Gertie nodded, and Mary Sue's eyebrows rose in shock, like she'd never seen Gertie before. Even though she had a lot on her mind, when she saw Mary Sue's expression, a tiny part of Gertie couldn't help but feel like she was a sweet-angel-fairy-godmother person. She could almost feel herself twinkle.

Mary Sue stood up. She looked in the mirror, and her lip trembled. “I can't,” she whimpered. “I look hideous.”

“You don't look that bad,” said Jean. “I mean, it could be worse.”

“Here.” Gertie grabbed Mary Sue's bag off the floor and peered inside. Jean raised her eyebrows at the brushes and pots and tubes.

“We've got to make you look presentable.” Gertie grabbed a pouf. She swished it through some powder and slapped it on Mary Sue's damp face, which left chunks of powder that kind of looked like corn flakes.

Mary Sue coughed. “Stop! Stop it!”

Jean bent over at the hips, her soda-can sweatshirt getting in the way, and picked up Evangelina's dress.

“What are you doing? You'll wrinkle it!” Mary Sue snatched it from her.

Gertie grabbed a hairbrush. She was going to fix Mary Sue's hair all nice and maybe give it just one good yank. She was that kind of fairy-godmother person.

 

27

I'm Fatty and Delicious

The auditorium was dark. The air was humid with the breath of proud parents and grandparents and bored brothers and sisters and tired teachers and out-of-town relatives and old Uncle Martys. Gertie squeezed past knees and stumbled over shoes as she scurried along the third row.

The curtain rose and polite applause rippled through the crowd. Gertie shuffled past Aunt Rae. Audrey scooted sideways into one of the seats they'd been saving to make space. Gertie collapsed into the chair between them with a
thunk
.

“Shh,” someone shushed behind them.

“Is everything okay?” Aunt Rae whispered.

“Yes,” Gertie whispered back.

“Shh.”

Mary Sue walked onto the stage. Her face was flour white and crumbly from all the makeup, and her eyes were still puffy from crying. She looked around at the audience for a long time. Too long. Gertie began to think she had forgotten the lines. Then Mary Sue's eyes stopped on Jessica Walsh, and she stood straighter and lifted her chin.

“I'm Evangelina,” she announced in a loud, nasal voice, “and I have a sweet tooth.” She smiled and pointed at one of her teeth.

The whole room sighed. They began to enjoy the play, and soon half of Gertie's classmates skipped out in their candy and soda and junk food costumes. The Ham trailed onto the stage, arms hanging by his sides.

“I'm fatty and delicious,” Roy said in a flat voice, “but not very nutritious.”

*   *   *

When Evangelina sat up after her serious illness, rubbing her eyes, beaming at her new healthy friends, and thanking them for saving her and destroying all the unhealthy food, the audience cheered. Mr. Spivey actually stood up and applauded, which was nice. He had puny forearms, though. Not everyone's father could be big and strong, Gertie thought.

Aunt Rae reached out and grabbed her knee. Gertie looked at the wrinkled fingers and put her own hand over Aunt Rae's. On her other side, Audrey twisted in her seat to see what they were doing. Then she crawled over Gertie, her knees digging into Gertie's guts, her elbow swiping Gertie's nose.

“Oof,”
groaned Gertie.

Lying across Gertie's lap, Audrey put her hand on Aunt Rae's knee.

“Shh,” shushed the person behind them again.

“Like church mice,” Audrey hissed at Gertie.

Gertie watched Junior, heaving at the ropes to control the curtain, and Mary Sue, lifting her chin as she faced Jessica Walsh, and Roy, red-faced in his ham-hock costume, and Jean, serious in her clanky soda-can sweatshirt. The entire cast was marching onto the stage for a final bow.

The seat beside Audrey's was still empty. Gertie tried not to look at it. For the first time in her life, she had failed at her mission. She had done everything she could think of, and she hadn't given up, and she'd been nice to the seat-stealer … And she'd still failed.

Ms. Simms had made it seem like messing up was a piece of cake. But it wasn't. It was a stomachache. Gertie let out a long sigh. Maybe Ms. Simms had had more practice.

Everyone on stage bowed, and the audience began to get to their feet and clap. Aunt Rae stood, too.

Most kids in Gertie's situation wouldn't ever go on a mission again. Most kids would do what everyone told them and stop coming up with their own ideas. Most kids would cross their arms and refuse to clap for a stuffy-nosed Evangelina who said things like
bath tissue
.