much trouble to take them off after rehearsal…although it had occurred to me if I was going to be playing Princess Penelope that night, I’d have to take them off, anyway. Unless I decided Princess Penelope was the type of character who would wear high-tops. You never knew. As I portrayed her, she might be. “I guess we’ll see how it goes.”
When we got into Room 209 after lunch break, the mood of the class was somber. You could tell everyone had noticed Sophie hadn’t come back from lunch.
“Well, class,” Mrs. Hunter said, coming to the front of the room. “It appears that Sophie Abramowitz won’t be able to perform tonight as Princess Penelope, and we’re going to need to replace her part. Is there anyone here who thinks she knows her lines well enough to—”
Even before the words were all the way out of Mrs. Hunter’s mouth, Cheyenne’s hand shot up into the air. Not to let her have the advantage, I put my hand in the air, too. Mrs. Hunter looked at both of us.
“Cheyenne and Allie, you both think you know all of Princess Penelope’s lines?”
Cheyenne put her hand down and turned in her chair to look at me. I would not be exaggerating if I said she was giving me the stare of death.
“I know Princess Penelope’s part cold, Mrs. Hunter,” Cheyenne said. “And furthermore, Dominique knows my part, the part of the compact fluorescent bulb fairy queen, cold, and can easily step into my place. Her part, as you know, has few spoken lines, and the lines she does have can easily be given to Marianne. Whereas I don’t imagine anyone here knows all of Allie’s lines.” Cheyenne’s tone implied that no one would want to bother memorizing the evil queen’s lines.
And basically, she was right.
I glanced desperately at Mrs. Hunter. Surely she would say, “Actually, Cheyenne, I know Allie’s part, and I’ll be happy to play the evil queen so that Allie can play Princess Penelope, because she is such a better and more talented actress than you, and we all want her and not you to play the part of the princess. So just pipe down.”
Only Mrs. Hunter didn’t say that. She looked over at me and asked, “Well, Allie? Is there anyone you can think of who would be willing to take the part of the evil queen?”
In the last row, where I sat, both Stuart Maxwell and Rosemary swiveled in their chairs to face me, their faces masks of astonished betrayal.
“You can’t quit playing the evil queen to play the stupid princess,” Rosemary hissed down the row at me. “That part is so dumb! You’re so funny as the evil queen!”
“Yeah,” Stuart whispered. “And besides, princesses stink!”
And Patrick, down at the very end of our row, leaned forward to whisper, “Who’ll help me with my lines if you’re not around as the queen? Huh? Who?”
Beside me, Joey made growling noises, a clear indication he was just upset in general.
Blinking, I put my hand down. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Cheyenne was right. The evil queen did have a lot of lines…and of course, there wasn’t anyone who knew them all and could—or wanted to—take over my part. It didn’t look like Mrs. Hunter wanted to.
And so it seemed as if I was stuck playing Queen Melissa the Maleficent, whether I wanted to or not. Story of my life.
“That’s okay,” I said to Mrs. Hunter, even as I saw all my Hollywood dreams slipping down the drain. “Cheyenne can have the part. I’ll just go on playing Queen Mel—I mean, the evil queen.”
“Well,” Mrs. Hunter said, “that’s settled, then. Why don’t we turn our attention to social studies.”
So. It was over. I was just going to be plain old Allie Finkle—not Allie Finkle, Superstar, or Allie Finkle, Best Actress in a Starring Glamorous Role—forever. Would no one ever recognize that there was princess potential in me? Or was I going to be stuck being the evil queen—what Uncle Jay called a character role—for all time?
And okay, it was nice that I was able
When we got into Room 209 after lunch break, the mood of the class was somber. You could tell everyone had noticed Sophie hadn’t come back from lunch.
“Well, class,” Mrs. Hunter said, coming to the front of the room. “It appears that Sophie Abramowitz won’t be able to perform tonight as Princess Penelope, and we’re going to need to replace her part. Is there anyone here who thinks she knows her lines well enough to—”
Even before the words were all the way out of Mrs. Hunter’s mouth, Cheyenne’s hand shot up into the air. Not to let her have the advantage, I put my hand in the air, too. Mrs. Hunter looked at both of us.
“Cheyenne and Allie, you both think you know all of Princess Penelope’s lines?”
Cheyenne put her hand down and turned in her chair to look at me. I would not be exaggerating if I said she was giving me the stare of death.
“I know Princess Penelope’s part cold, Mrs. Hunter,” Cheyenne said. “And furthermore, Dominique knows my part, the part of the compact fluorescent bulb fairy queen, cold, and can easily step into my place. Her part, as you know, has few spoken lines, and the lines she does have can easily be given to Marianne. Whereas I don’t imagine anyone here knows all of Allie’s lines.” Cheyenne’s tone implied that no one would want to bother memorizing the evil queen’s lines.
And basically, she was right.
I glanced desperately at Mrs. Hunter. Surely she would say, “Actually, Cheyenne, I know Allie’s part, and I’ll be happy to play the evil queen so that Allie can play Princess Penelope, because she is such a better and more talented actress than you, and we all want her and not you to play the part of the princess. So just pipe down.”
Only Mrs. Hunter didn’t say that. She looked over at me and asked, “Well, Allie? Is there anyone you can think of who would be willing to take the part of the evil queen?”
In the last row, where I sat, both Stuart Maxwell and Rosemary swiveled in their chairs to face me, their faces masks of astonished betrayal.
“You can’t quit playing the evil queen to play the stupid princess,” Rosemary hissed down the row at me. “That part is so dumb! You’re so funny as the evil queen!”
“Yeah,” Stuart whispered. “And besides, princesses stink!”
And Patrick, down at the very end of our row, leaned forward to whisper, “Who’ll help me with my lines if you’re not around as the queen? Huh? Who?”
Beside me, Joey made growling noises, a clear indication he was just upset in general.
Blinking, I put my hand down. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Cheyenne was right. The evil queen did have a lot of lines…and of course, there wasn’t anyone who knew them all and could—or wanted to—take over my part. It didn’t look like Mrs. Hunter wanted to.
And so it seemed as if I was stuck playing Queen Melissa the Maleficent, whether I wanted to or not. Story of my life.
“That’s okay,” I said to Mrs. Hunter, even as I saw all my Hollywood dreams slipping down the drain. “Cheyenne can have the part. I’ll just go on playing Queen Mel—I mean, the evil queen.”
“Well,” Mrs. Hunter said, “that’s settled, then. Why don’t we turn our attention to social studies.”
So. It was over. I was just going to be plain old Allie Finkle—not Allie Finkle, Superstar, or Allie Finkle, Best Actress in a Starring Glamorous Role—forever. Would no one ever recognize that there was princess potential in me? Or was I going to be stuck being the evil queen—what Uncle Jay called a character role—for all time?
And okay, it was nice that I was able
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