Maggie Malone and the Mostly Magical Boots (8 page)

I try to take my mind off the Jonie Lake disaster by thinking about food. I am so hungry I could eat a hot dog, which may not sound like much, but I haven't eaten a hot dog in four years. That was when I nearly choked to death on one at the Sacred Heart Harvest Carnival. Tiffany Treadmore said that's what I got for trying to eat on the Whirly Bird, but I think she was just mad because some of my ketchup flew onto her Rocking Rolls T-shirt when that Bird started Whirling.

Knock, knock
.

“Come on in,” I call.

“You ready for dinner?” Vi asks, peeking her head back in.

“Is water wet?” I ask.

Violet laughs. “I'm glad to see you're feeling better and that you didn't let that Jonie Lake thing get you too down. We need you to be on your game tonight and not be worrying about
that
crusty old toad.”

Vi's right, there's nothing I can do. I'm not wasting another ounce of brain space on dinosaur-face. Right now, I'm thinking about dinner—as in real, solid food that I get to
eat.
Pretty please with pineapple on top, let it be something good.

I follow Vi out to the living room of the bus to find a silver domed plate waiting for me. I slide into my spot at the table and lift the lid.
Yes!
I'm staring at a plateful of spaghetti with meatballs the size of my head. I dig right in because you never know how long you've got to chow down around here.

“As soon as you're finished eating, we'll get you in for your final hair and makeup touch-ups and then we'll do this deal,” Vi says. “You've got about twenty minutes or so.”

And then she leaves.

Have you ever eaten a whole meal at a table all by yourself? It's weird, let me tell you. At home, dinner is loud and fun and even when Mickey is getting yelled at for making farting sounds with his armpit or trying to slide bites of food to our dog Willy, everyone's usually laughing and happy. But I have nobody to talk to, not even Vi, who is probably off doing something Very Important for me. Is this what my life is going to be like when I'm back home, as me, at Stinkerton? I don't want to be the Girl Who Eats Alone forever. I shudder and try to shove that thought out of my brain.

When every last morsel of food is gone, I wipe my mouth and lean back. As much as I want to lick the plate, I don't. Even without my mom here to tell me not to, I know that would be really bad manners. I wonder if she'd be proud of me. The sun's starting to go down, and back at home, that's when I usually do my homework while my mom starts dinner. She doesn't need to help me much with it anymore, but I still do it in the kitchen because I like having some company. I'm really starting to miss her. I wonder if Becca misses
her
mom all the time…or if she's just used to it by now.

Vi rushes back onto the bus. “Okay, superstar. Security says seats are already starting to fill so we need to get moving. We don't want a repeat of what happened in London last year, do we?”

I have no idea what happened in London last year, but Vi's raised eyebrow is enough to tell me it was not fun. I shake my head no.

After
another
round of hair and makeup, Vi scoots me over to wardrobe for my first costume. I go straight into the dressing room since I know what to do this time
.
I'm blabbering to Toni from behind the curtain about how gorgeous the tiny sequins are on my perfectly fitted, silver slip dress when I notice a rumbling above my head, like the whole arena is moaning or something.

“Umm, Toni?” I ask through the curtain. “What's that sound? Do they have messed-up plumbing in this place or something? It sounds like the roof's about to cave in.”

“Ah,
cheri
, that is the sound of your adoring fans anxiously awaiting your arrival, of course!” Toni says. “They seem extra excited tonight, yes?”

I get a lump in my throat as fear shoots through my body like a lightning bolt. I'd sort of forgotten about the whole
twenty
thousand
people
I'd be singing in front of. I feel a little dizzy as I emerge from the dressing room.

“
Magnifique!
” Toni says, throwing her arms in the air like a gymnast who just nailed a perfect landing. I give her a huge hug because, well, I really need a hug.

Vi steps in. “The warm-up band is clearing the last of their gear now,” she tells me. “You're on in five. All set? You look great!”

I sort of nod.
You
didn't like being invisible? Not a problem, Malone.

“Miss Starr is walking,” Vi announces into her walkie-talkie and starts moving for the door. I wonder if it would look suspicious if I asked her to come back and help me unglue my feet from the floor.

“You coming?” Vi asks, turning around. “You look a little pale,” she says, handing me water with a straw. “Hydrate! And here's your set list. I know you like to hold it in your hand before you go on.”

I take a look and I know all of the songs. Every one, completely by heart, which is a relief, but how will I
sound
? I mean, Rory didn't exactly give me time to get my groove on during the sound check.
Just
pretend
you're alone, in the shower, singing your heart out like you always do.

Vi gives my arm a nice tug, and I manage to unstick my feet. She's leading me through the hallway maze when some headphone guy pops out of a door and gets me mike'd up while we're walking. It's still not a super-fun experience, but I'm not about to complain. At least it's not Gory Rory.

The nervousness that started in my toes has spread all over my body, and I can feel my ears getting hot. That's not good. The last time that happened was when I was in the second grade Christmas pageant. I had a pretty minor role—I was the innkeeper, for Pete's sake—and all I had to say was, “I am sorry. There is no room for you in the inn.” But by the time Joseph and the Virgin Mary (who was riding on Willis Freedman's back since he was the donkey) made it next to me at center stage, all I could hear was the blood pumping inside my thick skull.

“Uhh…uhh…” I said and looked at Mrs. Finklestein, who looked at me like,
Say
it! Say it!
But I couldn't. I was frozen like a stone troll in
The
Hobbit
. With my mouth hanging open. The only reason I know that I looked like a baby bird waiting for his mom to feed him a worm is because every student was given a DVD copy of the play as a keepsake. And for months, every time Willis Freedman saw me in the hall, he'd drop his jaw and laugh.
Jerk.

So right about now, I'm wondering
why, of all the lives on the planet that I could have chosen to step into, why, oh why, did I choose one where I would most definitely have to perform in front of people?
And not in front of the whole school, but in front of the equivalent of the whole county. The closer I get to backstage, the louder the blood pumps in my ears. How am I going to do this? I decide I need a mini genie conference, so I have no choice. I give the desperate peepee plea.

“Vi,” I say, trying not to let my voice quiver. “I know this is a terrible time, but I've got to hit the bathroom before I go on.”

“
WHAT?
” she answers, shuffling papers and grabbing her walkie-talkie. “Well, better now than in the middle of the show.
BUT
HURRY
.”

I skedaddle into a big, empty backstage bathroom, into a stall and whip my pocket mirror out of the little tote I'm carrying that will be taken back to wardrobe as soon as I hit the stage. I told Toni it was my good luck charm and that I felt like my great, great,
great
granny Malone was somehow with me onstage if I could keep it with me until I go on. I think she got a tear in her eye. She also promised to take it back to the bus for me. She's so taken with the whole tale I've spun, I just know she's gonna ask to hear more from the real Becca Starr. Oh well. Can't be helped. I open the compact, but only see my own reflection in the glass.

“Frank! Frank!” I say in a whisper that quickly turns to a yell. “Where in the world are you? I'm dying here!”

Finally, Frank shows up, and I hear Hawaiian music in the background.

“What's up, Magpie?” Frank says, sipping something from a coconut. He's clearly someplace tropical. “You having fun?”

“Um, no! No, I'm not!” I say, a little irritated because he's just so relaxed. “Where the heck are you, anyway?”

“Macau,” Frank says. “Do you know where that is, Maggie Malone?”

“Uh, no, and I'm not in the mood for a geography quiz, Frank. I'm scared stiff! I'm losing my marbles here, and was supposed to be onstage five minutes ago!”

“Uh huh,” Frank says, taking a long pull on his coconut drink.

“I think I'm ready to go back home now,” I finally say. “Wait, I don't think I'm ready, I
know
I'm ready. I did this, okay? I got to live Becca's life and it was great and all of that—well, mostly great, anyway. But all good things have to end, so let's get me back to 337 Willow Avenue. Please and thank you.” I squeeze my eyes shut because I figure Frank might not want me to see what happens when he beams me back home.

“I can't do that, kid,” Frank explains. “And anyway, you're just now getting to the best part. You see, each life you step into will involve a certain task, a challenge, if you will. And I hope you will. Because if you stare that challenge right in the eyeballs, you've got it licked for life. Not many people get that opportunity, you know.”

“Ugh!” I say, irritated. “
Really
?”

“Yes, really, Maggie Malone. Now get out there and look your fear in the face. And remember, it's as if this life was always yours. Now go live it!” Frank says and leans back onto a lounge chair, tipping his cowboy hat over his face.

I
guess
we're all done here.

“Becca?” I hear Vi's voice say. “WHAT is going on? WHO were you just talking to?”

I hadn't heard her come in.
YIKES. Think fast, Malone!

“Um…” I say, sliding the compact back into the tote and opening the stall door. “Yeah. I figured I'd run through a few of my positive affirmations while I peed. Deekap ChoCho told me I should do that before I perform. Well, he didn't say that part about peeing
while
I say my affirmations, but…”

Vi takes me gently by the arm and guides me out of the bathroom, saying, “
You
, my dear, are a piece of work today.”

My little talk with Frank didn't do much to calm my nerves. It feels like every cell in my body is on high alert when Vi helps me up onto a small, square platform under the stage.

“All right, Bec. Give 'em a good show. And remember: have fun!” Vi says, adjusting a few stray curls and stepping back off the platform. She flashes me a big grin and the “b” sign. I give her a shaky smile and a thumbs-up in return.

Have
fun? That's a tall order. I'm just looking to survive.

My knees are wobbling uncontrollably as I hear a loud boom like fireworks, and then the platform starts rising.
Get
a
grip, Malone. Ready or not, here you go!

I rise up to stage level in a sea of fog. As it clears, I realize I am standing face-to-face with a bajillion girls who look
just
like
me.
And man, are they going CRAZY. I'm talking full-on, hog wild, cuckoo-ca-choo crazy, worse than the time my four-year-old cousin Cameron ate that jumbo Fun Dip, three sticks and all. They're screaming, jumping, and crying (why are they crying?!) and I haven't even opened my mouth yet. Becca Starr gets all of this just for showing up? Crazy!

Their high-pitched wailing pierces my ears. At least I can hear something over the blood pounding in there. I hear “‘Dance Like You Mean It' in 3, 2, 1!” inside my earpiece. I step off the platform as the guitar player gives me a nod, like
start
singing.
I can feel my lower jaw starting to go slack. My chin hits the mike with a loud thud. The band looks at each other, confused, and starts to repeat the intro.
Get
it
together, Maggie. You're not in the second grade anymore. Look your fear in the face!
I look up and realize that because of the blinding stage lights, I can only see the first three rows of fans. They seem to really dig whatever I do, so I decide to
just
focus on them.

“Are you guys ready to dance?” I ask the first three rows, but the whole dome erupts in a booming “
YEAH!
” I really should've expected that kind of volume, but I've never had 20,000 people answer a question before, so I jump about three feet in the air. The band plays louder, and I know it's time to do this thing. The first bit of the song is kind of a rap. Stella and I used to sing it every day when we rode our bikes to school together. Anyway, I know it by heart so I go for it.

“
So
you
THINK
you
can
dance, you can really, really dance
?” I start rapping and dancing with the backup dancers like I've done this routine, like a million times, because the truth is, Stella and I
have
performed it in my bedroom at least a million times. Maybe more.

The song goes pretty well, but there isn't really much singing involved. The next song is still a pump-you-up, get-those-wigs-a-wagging kind of song—“Party Like a Rock Star.” I have to say, it's not my favorite, but I know it because they play it on 95.9 The Whiz all the stinking time. That one's super loud with a ripping guitar, so you can barely even hear me singing. As I wrap it up, I see Toni at side stage waving at me like
come
on, let's go!
I run off the stage, and the backup dancers take center stage to entertain the crowd while I…yeah, I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing back here.

I follow Toni down six metal stairs and when I get to the bottom, at least four sets of hands start ripping my clothes off, yelling at me—and each other. They pull my slip dress right up and over my head so I'm like,
hello
, practically NAKED in the middle of all these people, but no one seems to care. Did I mention I'm a teensie bit modest?

“Arm, Becca!
ARM!
” a frantic-looking lady towering over me shouts for me to slide into a long-sleeved lace top, which is kind of hard, considering my arms are drenched with sweat from the lights and the dancing.

“Oh, sorry!” I say, starting to comprehend what we're doing here.

Then another woman at my feet yells, “Left foot—NOW!”

These people are animals. It's freaking me out how they're pulling and pushing me—I think one of them scratched me on the back. I haven't had so many people screaming at me since the sack race on field day last year when I fell down and couldn't get back on my feet until after Annie Spelzer had crossed the finish line. Being yelled at didn't help then, and it's not helping today.

“Becca! Please focus! You act like you've never done this before!” the giant woman says, whipping me around, putting a belt on my waist.

“Easy there, tiger!” I say, grabbing the ends of the belt and buckling it myself. Vi appears out of nowhere, grabs my arm, and hustles me back up the stairs. Holy smokes.
How
many
more
costume
changes
do
I
have
to
endure
?

The next song is a ballad, “I Still Believe.” That means it's just me and my guitar player at the front of the stage. No fun backup dancers to distract from my less than perfect dance moves. No backup singers to fill in if I croak out the wrong note. I know five people just dressed me, so why do I feel completely naked?

I focus on my first three rows of expectant fans looking up at me as I approach the stool at the front of the stage. The guitar player runs through the beginning bit. I take a deep breath and start to sing
. BUT NO ONE CAN HEAR ME.
I look around. My curly-haired twins look confused.
I'm confused.
I smile a half smile and spot mean Rory on the side stage with his face as red as a ripe tomato, so furious he looks like he's going to explode. Technical difficulties. The cheers in the audience turn to a low hum, and I make a vow right on the spot that if this microphone starts working, I will never hide my gum wrappers between the couch cushions or call my brother Icky Mickey ever again. I tap on the mike and a loud
boom, boom, boom
fills the arena. And then everything goes quiet.

I look over at Rory and he's waving his big arm, like
AGAIN!

“Let's try that again,” I say quietly, almost to myself. But they hear me this time, and the arena explodes once again with screaming, jumping, cheering fans.

The band kicks up and I start to sing, “
Way
back
when, before I knew, some fairy tales just don't come true…
”

And here's the freakiest part: I sound exactly like her. Becca Starr's velvety voice booms out of my lungs like it's always been there, waiting to be heard. My heart feels like it's going to explode with happiness. I am a real-life rock star and my fans love me. I close my eyes and belt out the words, and I'm pretty sure every person in the arena is singing along with me. Me!
Remember
this
moment
forever
, I beg my brain, pretty sure that won't be a problem.