Read Online The Ghost in the Third Row by Bruce Coville - Free Book Online

song?”
    â€œI thought you did,” I answered.
    â€œWell, there you are. If I can write it, I can rewrite it. It’s not like it’s an old standard. Alan and I are still working on it.”
    â€œYou change stuff after it’s all written?” I asked.
    Paula burst out laughing. “If you want it to be any good you do,” she said. “Haven’t you ever heard of second drafts? Or fifteenth drafts? I get the feeling you’re worried that I’m going to ruin my song just so you can sing it.”
    I nodded my head.
    â€œWell, get rid of that idea right now,” said Paula firmly. “Songs are just like stories and poems. They aren’t written so much as rewritten.”
    That made about as much sense as saying “black is white,” and I said so. Actually, I didn’t put it quite that way. I think my exact word was “Huh?”
    â€œYou act like writing is something magical,” said Paula. “As if things always came out right the first time.”
    â€œDon’t they?”
    â€œMy poor little Nine,” said Paula. “I hope you’re planning to be something simple when you grow up. Like a tax lawyer. Every once in a while a song comes out right the first time. And those times are magical. But mostly it’s just hard work—writing it over and over until you get it as good as you can. Sometimes a song doesn’t work at all. Alan and I threw out more songs than we kept while we were writing the show.”
    I couldn’t believe such waste. “You guys are crazy!” I said.
    Did you ever wish you could take your tongue and tie it in a knot so it would stop getting you in trouble? As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I remembered what Eileen had just told us about Alan. Actually, I probably would have been all right even then if I could have just let things alone. But not me. No. What did I do? I clapped my hands over my mouth and looked horrified. “Like a complete idiot” was the way Chris described it later. She was right.
    Paula looked at me sharply. “I take it you’ve heard about Alan’s problem,” she said softly.
    I was so embarrassed I think my toes were blushing. I nodded my head, afraid that if I opened my mouth I might say something stupid again.
    Paula sighed. “Come with me. I want to have a talk with the two of you.”
    Half an hour later I knew more than I ever wanted to know about mental illness. I also knew a lot about Alan Bland and how brave he was. That was the main thing that came through in Paula’s talk with us. How much courage it had taken for Alan to put his life back together after things had gone haywire.
    By the time she was done, I was pretty much convinced that Alan Bland would not try to wreck his own show.
    Not only that, I could sing my song! It turned out that half the problem had been the song and half had been my nervousness, which was largely because of Melissa’s judging me.
    â€œNow, think for a minute,” said Paula. “If having Melissa watch you makes you so nervous you can’t sing, what do you think it does to Alan to know people are watching him for any little sign that he’s going to mess up his whole life?”
    I thought about it. I didn’t like it. “Should we say something to him?”
    â€œYeah. ‘Hi. How are you? I like the show. I don’t like the show.’ The same kind of stuff you’d say to anybody. Don’t treat him like he’s different or anything. Here, hit this note.”
    I did. It sounded wonderful, if I do say so myself.
    â€œPerfect. Now scram, you guys. I’ve got work to do.”
    Chris and I didn’t have to be told twice. We scooted out of Paula’s practice room and back down the stairs toward the lobby. We had a lot more investigating to do before the day was over!
    We had almost made it to the stairway when a brassy voice called out, “What are you