I felt the color drop out of my face and I could see Budgie swallow from where I was sitting in the third row. Some of the kids onstage started to whisper to each other and giggle. Budgie licked his lips nervously.
“How did you—?”
Then his eyes fell on me and suddenly he didn’t seem so nervous anymore. I’ll say one thing about Budgie —for an idiot he could be awfully smart sometimes. This was big. And I didn’t think he would care that I didn’t really do it or that I had tried to fix it. Even though it was his parents who’d named him Marion, the way
He sat onstage and stared at me like I was the only one in the room. His face had gone red and if he were a cartoon there would be smoke shooting from his ears. I sank down into my seat. How was I supposed to know Mr. Putnam knew of the only other guy in the world named Marion? It wasn’t fair that my day was being ruined by somebody I’d never heard of.
For the rest of the afternoon I kept expecting Budgie to do something for revenge but he didn’t. Mr. Putnam had him looking through the script and copying stuff onto a big piece of paper with a Magic Marker. I felt bad. I’d already heard a few whispered Marions, a couple of Mary Annes and even one Marilyn. I could have made a big scene and told everyone to cut it out but I was afraid that might make things worse. After rehearsal Budgie grabbed all his stuff and left quickly. Phoebe must have been right there waiting for him because by the time I’d gotten out to the turnaround in front he was gone.
I HAD TROUBLE SLEEPING again that night. I still felt bad that Budgie had been embarrassed and that the next few weeks probably weren’t going to go so great for him. I was pretty sure that by now the entire town knew what had happened and everybody, maybe even the grown-ups, were going to start calling him Marion.
Mom said if I felt bad, then I should say I was sorry and then it would be up to Budgie to forgive my mistake. I told her I didn’t think he would. I told her that now he probably thought I was a bigger archenemy than before. She hadn’t really known what to say about that, so I lay in bed for a long time wondering what was going to happen tomorrow—how Budgie would get his revenge and how many times he would get it.
But Budgie didn’t do anything. Not in the morning at the bus stop. Not during recess or lunch or rehearsal or anything. I couldn’t figure it out. I mean, I’m sure he hadn’t forgotten about it and even if he had, people were sure doing their best to remind him. They called him Marion on the bus. They called him Marion at recess and lunch. It seemed like me and the teachers were the only ones calling him Budgie. Even Barely O’Donahue was getting in on it until he came back from recess with a fat lip.
Me and Budgie didn’t walk to rehearsal together. We didn’t sit together onstage while Mr. Putnam gave notes and made announcements. All day I’d been hoping for a chance to apologize to Budgie but there wasn’t a time when he didn’t seem like a jack-in-the-box half a crank from popping open.
It was the final dress rehearsal and everyone was in costume. Marley’s ghost got to wear chains while I had buckles made of silver foil taped to my shoes. Chains were way cooler than fake buckles. Plus I was wearing knickers. Nobody said anything though. They were too busy making fun of Scrooge’s nightshirt and cap.
Today’s run-through was the last one in an empty auditorium. Tomorrow there would be people in the seats. Mom was going to be there. I wondered if she’d be in the front row. I wondered if I’d be able to see her. Mr. Putnam said he didn’t want us looking for our parents and friends while we were onstage but I figured I could get away with one or two little peeks if I was sneaky enough.
Final dress rehearsal also meant full performance conditions with lights and props and no talking backstage or in the wings. It meant if you weren’t in the scene or about to be in a scene you had to wait in the classroom across the hall until one of the backstage helpers came to get you.
I didn’t think I’d need the backstage helpers, though. I knew exactly when I needed to be onstage. Also, Mom had switched her shift with someone at the hospital so she could be here so there was no way I’d miss my entrance.
“You’re still coming to the play, right?”
“Of course I’m still coming,” Mom said.
It was dinnertime. People had been stopping by the house since Saturday with food, and the fridge was full of stuff I’d never even heard of. Mom was heating a bowl full of something in the microwave.
“What’s that stuff? It looks like brains.”
“That’s because it
“No way, really?”
“Not really,” she said. “It’s beef Stroganoff.”
The microwave started beeping. Mom opened it and took out a Tupperware container full of noodles and brown stuff. Steam rose from it and I got the feeling it was trying to escape what was inside.
“What’s that?”
“Y’know Hamburger Helper?” Mom asked.
“Yeah.”
“Beef Stroganoff is Hamburger Helper’s rich uncle.”
I thought about that for a minute and decided I’d try it. After all, I liked Hamburger Helper and even though I wasn’t rich I definitely liked the idea of it. And as far as I could tell from TV, money made everything better. I ate a plate of the beef Stroganoff. It tasted all right but I still didn’t ask for seconds. I wanted to make sure to leave room for dessert because someone had dropped off a chocolate cake.
After dinner I went to my room and sat at my desk and did my homework. Then I packed up my book bag and got ready for bed. I washed my face. I brushed my teeth. I rinsed with that fluoride stuff that was supposed to taste like grapes but wouldn’t no matter how many they drew on the bottle.
Then I got in bed and pulled the covers up and looked up at the space where the Apache helicopter had been. After a little while, I got out of bed and went to look for my mom. I heard the shower going in the bathroom so I stood in the hallway and waited for her to be done. The shower turned off a few minutes later. A minute after that the door opened and she came out.
“Where’s my helicopter?”
“Jesus, Derek! Don’t do that!” she said. “You scared me half to death!”
She had her bathrobe on and her hair was wrapped in a towel. I could smell her soap.
“Why did you take my helicopter down?”
“I need a minute here, Derek. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“What did you do with it? Did you throw it away?”
“It’s in the attic.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t think you’d want to be reminded of—of what happened to your father.”
“But it’s mine! You can’t just go into my room and take stuff!”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Derek, and I’m sorry. That was wrong of me.”
“Go get it!”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “It won’t give you bad dreams?”
“Why would it do that?” I said. “I’m not scared of Dad.”
“Sad dreams, then. I think it would give me sad dreams.”
“I’m not you.”
Mom looked hurt all of a sudden. Her face scrunched up as if she might cry and she pulled her bathrobe tight like she hoped it was armor or something, like my words would bounce off but they didn’t. They stuck in her like arrows.
“Let me just—give me a minute to change.”
Mom went into her bedroom and closed the door. I stayed in the hallway. I felt bad that I’d hurt Mom’s feelings but I also felt kinda powerful. Maybe that’s why Budgie did what he did and said the things he said— because he liked how it made him feel. I wanted to feel powerful, too, but not this way. I didn’t want to be like Budgie. I could hear my mom crying in her room and I even took a step toward her room before turning around and going back to mine.
