Anna"Ugh--what died?" I asked, wrinkling my nose in disgust. I scooted my chair a couple of inches away from my best friend, Salvador del Valle.
"Actually, I think it's still breathing," Salvador responded as he poked at the food on his plate.
"I wouldn't touch it," Elizabeth Wakefield said from across the table.
The three of us were having lunch together in the cafeteria on Monday afternoon. Elizabeth had brown-bagged it, and I had decided to play it safe and get one of the SVJH cafeteria's peanut-butter sandwiches. But for some crazy reason Salvador had ordered the special--chicken chow mein.
"Well, here goes," Salvador said cautiously, scooping up a forkful of chicken and slimy-looking vegetables. Elizabeth and I both pretended to hold our breath as he slowly closed his mouth around the fork. Instantly his whole face clenched into an expression of total horror.
"That good?" I teased.
Salvador grabbed a napkin and spat out the chow mein. He quickly pushed his plate away from him.
"Imagine," Salvador said, still grimacing, "licking the gunk-encrusted tire of a garbage truck just back from a run to the dump--"
"Okay, okay," Elizabeth cut him off. "We get the picture. It tastes gross. Really,
really gross."
I rolled my eyes. Salvador can be pretty annoying sometimes, but I like him anyway. We've been friends forever, so I guess he kind of grew on me over the years. Like fungus.
"That was a great expression you had, though," I said. "I could try to use it in drama club, like if I ever have to pretend that I'm a prisoner of war forced to eat slop."
Elizabeth glanced over at me. "How's that going?" she asked, pushing a few strands of long blond hair out of her face. "Drama club, I mean," she added.
"It's really great," I replied.
I'd always figured that I'd be a terrible actress since I'm pretty shy. I could have pictured Elizabeth in drama club. Every once in a while she and her twin sister, Jessica, switch places. Even though they look exactly alike, they have completely different personalities--so if Elizabeth can convince someone that she's Jessica, she must be able to act. And Salvador's always performing in front of everyone even if he's not really
acting.But the last person I thought would ever join drama club was me--until Mrs. Marill, the school psychologist, suggested it. Actually,
suggested isn't really the right word. She and the rest of the SVJH faculty were worried that I wasn't "grieving properly" or whatever for my brother, Tim. He died over a year ago in a car accident, and I miss him all the time. Mrs. Marill thought that drama club would help me "release all the emotions that were built up inside me." Basically I either had to join the drama club or keep going to regular "sessions" with Mrs. Marill, instead of just seeing her for progress checks every few weeks. She's this really old woman who peers at me like she's trying to read my mind. Yuck. It was an easy choice.
The weird part, though, is that now I'm kind of glad the whole thing happened--because drama club is amazing.
"Are you still doing those weird be-an-animal games?" Salvador asked, narrowing his dark brown eyes as he reached over to grab a handful of my potato chips.
I sighed. Ever since I joined drama club, Salvador hasn't stopped picking on me.
"Ignore him," Elizabeth said. "I bet you're really good, Anna. I love the way you imitate teachers." She started to giggle. "Like when you pretend to be Miss Scarlett."
"Yeah, do it, Anna," Salvador urged, grinning.
I cleared my throat and tightened my mouth, like I had just eaten paste and my lips were starting to stick together. Then I narrowed my eyes and threw my shoulders back the way Miss Scarlet, our gym teacher, always does.
"Remember, class, wet bathing suits are a breeding ground for a host of nasty bacteria, not to mention body odors--," I began in a high-pitched voice.
Before I could finish, Salvador and Elizabeth both burst out laughing.
"See?" Elizabeth said. "You're awesome!"
I shook my head. "You guys are my friends. It's different acting in front of a bunch of people who aren't in drama club." I paused, biting my lip. "Our parents'-night skits are coming up in a couple of weeks, and I'm so nervous." My palms started to sweat just thinking about it. "I mean, the last time I was onstage for a real audience, I played a glazed carrot in our second-grade Thanksgiving pageant."
"I remember that," Salvador said. "You were the most believable glazed carrot there," he added in a mock-serious tone.
I threw a potato chip at him, but he just dodged it and laughed.
Typical Salvador, I thought. One of my favorite things about Salvador is the way he can make a joke out of anything. But drama club was actually important to me.
I just hoped he'd figure that out soon.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
