Read Online Almost Starring Skinnybones by Barbara Park - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Park
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like a carpenter! This wasn’t a real job. Why couldn’t some other little, weak, pale, skinny kid see it through to the end?
By Monday afternoon at three o’clock I’d hardly settled down at all. I showed up at rehearsal, but only because I had to. I guess you could say I had an attitude problem. And believe me, watching Albert and Annabelle strut around like superstars didn’t help it one bit. In English class Albert told Mrs. Ballentine she could call him Ebenezer.
Mr. Tilton spent the first half-hour getting everyone organized. He handed out rehearsal schedules and explained them very carefully.
“People, do you all understand how this is going to work?” he called from the stage. “While one group is practicing scenes on stage, other groups will be going over their lines in different areas of the auditorium. Each day we will alternate so everyone gets plenty of stage time.”
From two rows back I heard Annabelle giggle with anticipation. I turned around and stuck my finger down my throat like she was making me sick. What made me even sicker was that she and I were in all the same scenes.
Mr. Tilton walked around the auditorium and got each group started. Ours was first.
“Let’s begin rehearsing the scene where the entire Cratchit family sits down to Christmas dinner,” he suggested. “This is a very tender scene where Tiny Tim says grace. Work on it a while, and I’ll be back to see how it’s going.”
I waited until I was sure he was gone. Then I opened my script, gritted my teeth, and solemnly began to read.
“Thank you, Lord, for giving us this fine goose for our Christmas feast. Please bless us all—even Mr. Scrooge.”
“Why, thank you, Tiny Tim,” said Annabelle as Mrs. Cratchit. “That was quite a lovely thought.”
I looked up. That’s when it hit me. An idea sogreat I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it before.
I smiled. “You’re welcome, Mumsy,” I said simply.
Annabelle jumped up out of her seat and whapped me in the head with her script. “It doesn’t say that!” she growled. “I’m not Mumsy. Tiny Tim never called his mother Mumsy.”
“I’m ad-libbing, Mumsy,” I explained calmly. “Please pass the goose.”
“Mr. Tilton!” screamed Annabelle. “Tell Alex that we’re not allowed to ad-lib! Tell him to just read his lines like they’re written!”
Mr. Tilton was busy with the people on stage. He waved his arms and told Annabelle to quiet down.
I just grinned. This was working out better than I could have imagined.
After that, I started ad-libbing more and more each day. Never in front of Mr. Tilton, of course. Only in our little groups. But it was especially fun to do it when Albert Ruppert was practicing with us. The kid was really beginning to get on my nerves. He acted like he was running the whole show.
“Okay, gang. Listen up,” he said one day as he sat down to read lines with us. “In this scene I’m knocking on the door with my arms full of presents. Turn to page eighty, and let’s take it from the top.”
I rolled my eyes. Take it from the top. That’s thekind of stuff he’d say. Like he was conducting an orchestra or something.
“Knock, knock, knock,” said Albert.
Skylar Fox, who played Bob Cratchit, pretended to open the door. “Please do come in, Mr. Scrooge. What a surprise this is!”
“Surprise, yes, I’m full of surprises,” said Albert, pretending to set the packages down on the seat as he looked around. “Why, look here, Cratchit! These must be your fine children!”
“Yes, sir, they are. Let me introduce you, Mr. Scrooge. This is Tiny Tim, my youngest.”
Albert held out his hand to shake. “And how are you this glorious Christmas Day, my boy?”
I took out a Kleenex and honked into it. Then I wadded it up and put it in his hand. “Could you throw this away please?”
Albert blew up. “Tiny Tim doesn’t say that!” he yelled.
I shrugged my shoulders. “What’s he supposed to do? Throw it on the
By Monday afternoon at three o’clock I’d hardly settled down at all. I showed up at rehearsal, but only because I had to. I guess you could say I had an attitude problem. And believe me, watching Albert and Annabelle strut around like superstars didn’t help it one bit. In English class Albert told Mrs. Ballentine she could call him Ebenezer.
Mr. Tilton spent the first half-hour getting everyone organized. He handed out rehearsal schedules and explained them very carefully.
“People, do you all understand how this is going to work?” he called from the stage. “While one group is practicing scenes on stage, other groups will be going over their lines in different areas of the auditorium. Each day we will alternate so everyone gets plenty of stage time.”
From two rows back I heard Annabelle giggle with anticipation. I turned around and stuck my finger down my throat like she was making me sick. What made me even sicker was that she and I were in all the same scenes.
Mr. Tilton walked around the auditorium and got each group started. Ours was first.
“Let’s begin rehearsing the scene where the entire Cratchit family sits down to Christmas dinner,” he suggested. “This is a very tender scene where Tiny Tim says grace. Work on it a while, and I’ll be back to see how it’s going.”
I waited until I was sure he was gone. Then I opened my script, gritted my teeth, and solemnly began to read.
“Thank you, Lord, for giving us this fine goose for our Christmas feast. Please bless us all—even Mr. Scrooge.”
“Why, thank you, Tiny Tim,” said Annabelle as Mrs. Cratchit. “That was quite a lovely thought.”
I looked up. That’s when it hit me. An idea sogreat I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it before.
I smiled. “You’re welcome, Mumsy,” I said simply.
Annabelle jumped up out of her seat and whapped me in the head with her script. “It doesn’t say that!” she growled. “I’m not Mumsy. Tiny Tim never called his mother Mumsy.”
“I’m ad-libbing, Mumsy,” I explained calmly. “Please pass the goose.”
“Mr. Tilton!” screamed Annabelle. “Tell Alex that we’re not allowed to ad-lib! Tell him to just read his lines like they’re written!”
Mr. Tilton was busy with the people on stage. He waved his arms and told Annabelle to quiet down.
I just grinned. This was working out better than I could have imagined.
After that, I started ad-libbing more and more each day. Never in front of Mr. Tilton, of course. Only in our little groups. But it was especially fun to do it when Albert Ruppert was practicing with us. The kid was really beginning to get on my nerves. He acted like he was running the whole show.
“Okay, gang. Listen up,” he said one day as he sat down to read lines with us. “In this scene I’m knocking on the door with my arms full of presents. Turn to page eighty, and let’s take it from the top.”
I rolled my eyes. Take it from the top. That’s thekind of stuff he’d say. Like he was conducting an orchestra or something.
“Knock, knock, knock,” said Albert.
Skylar Fox, who played Bob Cratchit, pretended to open the door. “Please do come in, Mr. Scrooge. What a surprise this is!”
“Surprise, yes, I’m full of surprises,” said Albert, pretending to set the packages down on the seat as he looked around. “Why, look here, Cratchit! These must be your fine children!”
“Yes, sir, they are. Let me introduce you, Mr. Scrooge. This is Tiny Tim, my youngest.”
Albert held out his hand to shake. “And how are you this glorious Christmas Day, my boy?”
I took out a Kleenex and honked into it. Then I wadded it up and put it in his hand. “Could you throw this away please?”
Albert blew up. “Tiny Tim doesn’t say that!” he yelled.
I shrugged my shoulders. “What’s he supposed to do? Throw it on the
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