The Sisters Club (7 page)

Alex flung open the door. She glared at us
with mice eyes, all puffy like she had been crying. She started swearing at us in Shakespeare. “You gore-bellied, hasty-witted harpies!” she yelled.

“Don’t you mean hasty-
zitted
harpies?” I said, cracking up even more.

“How long have you been out there? You guys heard every word I said, didn’t you?”

“Scott Towel has zits!” said Joey. She lost it, giggling like it was the funniest thing ever.

Joey’s giggling egged me on. “Oh, Sock Monkey. I adore you. I love you,” I said, imitating Alex. “You’re just an old sock, but you look just like my boyfriend, Scott Towel! Kiss, kiss, kiss.”

“
Howell!
It’s Scott
Howell
! If you’re going to eavesdrop, get it right.” Alex narrowed her mean eyes at us. “I wish I never had a sister. That goes for BOTH of you.”

For once, we knew to keep quiet.

“And don’t think I forgot you stole my sweater, Stevie. My lucky sweater! Where is it? I mean it. You better give it back this minute. And Joey, don’t think I forgot you. You’re a dankish elf-skinned clodpole! No better than Stevie. If Mom was here, I’d —”

“I am not an elf or whatever!” said Joey.

“I hope you both turn to stone. Just like Beauty’s evil sisters in the fairy tale. I’d like you much better as statues — that’s for sure!”

Joey looked at me like she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Out, vile jelly!” Alex shouted. “A pox of wrinkles on thee!”

She slammed the door in our faces without waiting to get her sweater back.
Thonk!
The door slamming knocked a picture off the wall in the hallway. A picture of Alex when she was a mushroom in
Mushroom in the Rain,
her kindergarten play. I wonder if she heard the thud from inside her room.

“You’re still a mushroom!” I shouted, only because it sounded good. Silence. Was she still listening?

“Nothing short of a miracle will turn a wicked and envious heart!” she shouted through the door, quoting her beloved Beauty.

“You’re the big meanie,” Joey said. “Puke-face dung heap,” she yelled, trying to swear in Shakespeare.

“Rrrrr! Sisters make me crazy,” yelled Alex.

“Ditto!” I yelled back.

“Double ditto!” yelled Joey, even though she doesn’t know what it means.

We both sat on Joey’s bed (after moving about a hundred stuffed animals), staring at the mess that used to be Alex’s sweater.

“Stevie?” Joey asked.

“Not now, Duck. I have to think.”

“About what?”

“What to do about Alex, the sweater — everything.”

“She was calling us evil Jell-O and stuff!”

“That was just Shakespeare. She always spits out Shakespeare when she’s mad.”

“She doesn’t even know you wrecked the sweater yet. She just thinks you stole it.”

“Don’t tell, Duck! She’s going to kill me when she finds out,” I said. “Or at the very least, turn me into a zitty-faced stinkard!”

“She’ll see.” Joey pointed to the mess of yarn on my bed that used to be Alex’s sweater. “It looks like a bird’s nest. What happened?”

“I told you. The tag was itching me. So I cut it off. I do it all the time on my own stuff. All I did was pull this one thread, and next thing I knew the whole thing came undone,” I said.

“Maybe we could sew it,” Joey suggested. “Mom could help us.”

“How? She’s not even here.”

“Maybe we could make it into something else.”

“What? Like a Sweater Monkey?”

“Like a scarf, or a pillow for her room.”

“Hey, that’s a great idea, Duck. I think I can make a pillow with the star on the front. At least she’d have
something.
”

All afternoon, I tried to make a sweater pillow for Alex. It looked more like a bed for Sock Monkey. It didn’t help that Joey kept bugging me. “Duck,” I asked her, “don’t you have some pretend homework to do?”

Finally, when I finished my not-a-pillow creation, I held it up for Joey to see. “I don’t know, Joey,” I said. “Maybe I should just never tell Alex —”

“Never tell Alex what?” said Sock Monkey (a.k.a. Alex) from the doorway. I hid the sweater thingy under my pillow.

“Nothing,” I said as Alex came into the room.

“I’m not blind, you know. Something happened to my sweater. You lost it, didn’t you? Or you left it at school and somebody stole it? Which is it?”

“I made you something,” I said, sounding lame. I took it out from under my pillow.

“A pot holder?” said Alex. “You made me a
pot holder
?” She said “pot holder” like it was a bad word or something.

“I was trying to make a pillow, but . . .”

“This is all that’s left of the sweater? My lucky sweater? I had to audition for
Beauty
without it, and now I probably didn’t get the part, all because of you.” Alex ran down the hall to her room, clutching Sock Monkey. She slammed the door again.

“Do you think I should go talk to her?” I asked Joey.

“Nope,” Joey said.

I tiptoed down the hall anyway. I knocked on Alex’s door. Lately I’ve been talking more to doors than to my sister.

“I know you’re upset,” I said to the door. No answer.

“Alex, c’mon, don’t be mad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your sweater. All I did was cut out the tag. Honest. And it all came apart. What can I do?”

The door cracked open in the middle of my speech. Sock Monkey poked his button eyes through the crack and said, “You owe Alex one sweater. You better go buy her a new one. And she is not kidding. She means it.” All I could see of Alex were her teeth smiling sweetly through the door crack, like she was acting for a toothpaste commercial or something.

“You’ve got to be joking,” I told her. “I don’t have any money. That sweater cost like thirty dollars. Where am I going to get thirty dollars?”

“You figure it out,” Sock Monkey squeaked. The door closed, not with a slam this time but more like a quiet click. It felt creepy — worse than a slam. Two seconds later the door opened, and she hung a thingy on the doorknob that said
SISTER-FREE ZONE
.

The door clicked shut again.

“Wait!” I said to the door. Only a slab of dark wood separated us, but it felt like the Great Wall of China. I put my ear to the door, trying to listen to see if she was still standing there, if I heard breathing.

All I heard was the door.

“You do NOT look better than me in that sweater!” said Alex the Door.

MEET SCOTT TOWEL

Starring Alex

TIME:
AFTER SCHOOL

SETTING:
STANDING IN FRONT OF THE DRAMA CLUB BULLETIN BOARD

CHARACTERS:
ME (ALEX) AND HIM(!)

Him:
So, think you’ll get the part of Beauty?

Me:
(It’s him. Beast! Scott Howell!)
Oh, hi!
(What a lame-o.)

Him:
Hi. Alex, right?

Me again:
(Don’t say zit, don’t say zit . . .)
I’m Alex. Reel.
(He knows your name, stupidhead!)

Him:
I know. We read together at the audition, remember?

Me:
Oh, yeah. Sure. You’re Scott Towel, right?
(Wrong! I want to die ten thousand deaths right on this spot . . .)

Him:
Actually, Scott Howell. With an H.

Me:
(Blubber, blubber . . . Say something. Anything!)
Hamlet, put a knife through me now.

Him:
Don’t worry. I get that a lot.

Me:
(Choking.)
Excuse me?

Him:
The paper towel thing.

Me:
(First the zit, now this. He’ll never speak to me again.)
I’m sorry. It’s just, see, my sisters — never mind. So, have you acted a lot?
(Better. Much better.)

Him:
Ever since I was a pumpkin in my second-grade Thanksgiving play.
(Laughter here.)

Me:
Don’t feel too bad. I was a mushroom in kindergarten! No joke.

Him:
So, you’re really into acting, huh? I hear your mom and dad act at the Raven and everything. Pretty cool.

Me:
Acting is the greatest. It’s like, I don’t know, a chance to forget everything. Be somebody else.
(Help! Do I sound stupid or intelligent?)

Him:
So, what’s wrong with being you, Alex Reel?

Me:
No, it’s not that. . . . I just meant . . . Never mind.

Him:
Is it like one minute you’re you, this seventh-grader with homework and parents and a little sister who bugs you —

Me:
Two
little sisters!

Him:
(Laughing.)
— and the next minute, you’re saying stuff that was just words on a page a second ago, but suddenly you believe it?

Me:
Exactly. Wow! That’s exactly it. The director calls “Curtain!” and there’s a spot of light for you to stand in, and it’s like you pick your character up off the floor and suddenly you’re Anne Frank or Dorothy or . . .

Him:
A mushroom?

Me:
Yeah, I guess.
(Laughing.)

Him:
Well, I guess we won’t know who got the parts till tomorrow, huh?

Me:
You have to get Beast. You were so believable!

Him:
Thanks, I think. It’s a good thing to be good at being a big, ugly, hairy monster, right?

Me:
Absolutely.

Him:
Good luck.

Me:
You too.

Him:
See you tomorrow?

Alex came home on cloud nine with flowers
in her hair. No lie. She wore a braided crown of flowers (weeds, actually) around her head
in public
on the bus home and at the library and at the grocery store.

If you haven’t guessed already, Alex got the part of Beauty — even without her lucky sweater.

I was dying to point this out, but then again I was afraid to bring it up. I thought, I hoped, she’d actually forgotten about the whole Sweater Incident for now, because she was so obsessed with:

A. Beauty (and the Beast)

B. Beauty (as in looks)

C. Paper Towel Man

D. Learning her lines (I’m supposed to help. Ha!)

E. Paper Towel Man (Did I say that already?)

Paper Towel Man got the part of Beast. Surprise, surprise.

He just called Alex
on the phone.
Joey answered and announced, “It’s a boy!” for the whole world to hear, like a baby had just been born or something.

Alex didn’t even get mad. (If I did that, she’d kill me!) She showed Joey and me his school picture. This Scott Towel was about as big as a pinhead, so what was I supposed to say?