Carmelita has her head on her desk. She lifts it up and sniffs. Her nose is red. “I’m okay,” she says. “I’m just resting up for the show. I have a solo.”
Miss Armstrong says, “Well, I hope you feel better, dear. Drink some juice before you perform, okay?”
Carmelita nods and puts her head back on her desk.
This is not a good sign. I make another note on my clipboard.
Finally, the last bell of the day rings. I’m the first one in Mr. Wood’s classroom. He’s got on a shiny black tuxedo with a rather large purple vest like the boys are wearing.
“Wow!” I tell him. “You look, uh, different.”
“Thanks, I think,” he replies.
“You look great. It’s just that I’m not used to seeing teachers so dressed up.”
He laughs. “Everything is ready, Sassy,” he says. “This show will be a success because of you. Thank you so much for all your hard work.”
“It really is fun being in charge,” I admit.
“I promise I won’t forget to bring you out onstage when we take our curtain calls,” Mr. Wood says. “I know that’s important to you.”
“Thanks,” I say as I hang up my new yellow dress.
Then I start lining up props onstage, checking off jobs on my clipboard, and making sure everything needed is in place.
The other kids begin to come in, noisier than usual because of the excitement.
“Ooh, snap, Mr. Wood!” Travis says. “Dynamite outfit!”
As the rest of the class troops in, they all give shout-outs to Mr. Wood. “We should get a picture of Mr. Wood in his tux!” Misty suggests.
“Great idea!” I say. I reach into my sack, pull out a disposable camera, and snap a couple of photos. I make another note to myself to take more pictures as we are getting ready.
Carmelita, however, is quieter than the rest of the class. Instead of chattering and giggling like she usually does, she sits quietly in a chair, blowing her nose.
“You feeling all right, Carmelita?” Mr. Wood asks.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Just resting my voice until tonight.”
Mr. Wood hands her a juice box. “Sip this,” he suggests.
She takes it, and I give her a few cough drops from my sack. I’m no doctor, but Carmelita looks sick to me. I hope she’ll feel better by seven.
Mr. Wood opens a cardboard box that had been sitting on the piano. “The programs are here!” he announces with excitement. He gives one to each person in the room.
“Cool cover!” Travis says.
“I like the pictures of the water, sky, and forests,” says Holly.
The words PRINTED ON RECYCLED PAPER appear in large letters on the back of the program, along with more photos of the earth.
Basima flips through the booklet. “You’ve got everybody’s picture in here! Awesome!”
“I look good,” Rusty says, flexing a muscle in his arm.
“I look better!” Travis boasts.
Holly and Iris roll their eyes at the boys.
I smile quietly when I see my picture. It takes up half a page in the program and I’m not wearing that dumb old blue-and-white uniform. I’m wearing a pretty flowered outfit — with sparkles. It’s my photo from picture day. Under the picture the caption says, “Sassy Simone Sanford — Super Stage Manager.”
Mr. Wood sees me looking at it and gives me a thumbs-up. I grin.
“I like this section you put in the back about how everybody can help to keep our world green,” Josephina comments.
“Me and Jasmine planted lip gloss boxes last night,” I tell everybody.
“Huh?” Travis looks at me like I’m nuts.
“We bought some lip gloss that came in a package that could be planted.”
“So what will sprout? Little tiny lip glosses?” Ricky cracks up at his own joke.
“No. Flowers. The package is full of wildflower seeds,” Jasmine explains.
“Cool.”
The program lists the order of the numbers in the show, the names of each of the singers and dancers, and the important “green” message in each song. Awesome.
“Okay, group. Put your programs in your backpacks for now. Let’s get into costume and makeup. We have a show to put on!” Mr. Wood calls out.
By the end of class, everyone is in costume. Except me. I’ve been too busy to get dressed. The glory of everyone in those purple dresses and vests takes my breath away.
“On the risers, everybody,” I call out. “Let me get some pictures while everyone is still fresh.” I snap a couple of group shots and then take photos of the kids in trios and duets.
Rusty, Travis, and Charles mug for the camera with their shades and boots.
Kevin, Abdul, and Ricky pose with their ice-cube balloons.
I take a picture of Holly in her purple dress, then she quickly changes into her green rain forest dance costume so I can snap her in that one also.
Josephina and Jasmine look awesome with the blue cloth that will flutter like the ocean.
“Hey, Sassy,” Jasmine says. “You need your picture taken, too! Go get dressed!”
I realize I’m the only one still in my uniform. “You’re right!” I say. “Come help me with my makeup!”
We rush out to the bathroom.
The yellow dress seems to float onto me. I check out the mirror and grin.
“I have a bunch of Sadora’s makeup,” I tell Jasmine as I pull my sister’s stuff out of my sack.
“She’ll have a fit!”
“She’s cool. She doesn’t mind.”
Jasmine expertly applies glittery eye makeup and shiny lipstick, then dusts my face with a light glowing powder.
I look in the mirror. “You rock, Jasmine,” I tell her.
“I know. Let’s do something with your hair now,” Jasmine suggests.
I take a brush and comb out of my sack and hand it to her. She brushes and spins my hair across her fingers like an expert. In just a few minutes, I glance up and I’m amazed. Almost like magic, my hair looks awesome.
“Just a bit of glitter spray now,” Jasmine says.
I pull it out of my bag, and she sprays just enough to make my hair glisten.
“Wow, Sassy. You look great,” Jasmine tells me as she steps back.
She looks terrific in that purple dress, but I gotta admit I look pretty good, too.
We give each other a high five and head back to Mr. Wood’s room.
The whole group applauds when they see me. I spin around in my dress and take a bow. It’s almost as good as wearing one of those purple dresses. Almost.
Mr. Wood takes my camera and snaps a bunch of photos of me, of me and Jasmine, and of me with the whole group. I toss the camera back into my sack along with the iPods and my headset. I’m ready.
It’s almost time for the bell.
“Let’s practice the first song before we head to the auditorium,” Mr. Wood suggests.
Everybody stomps onto the risers. It’s a lot noisier than usual because instead of sneakers, most of us are wearing hard-soled dress shoes.
I set the iPod into the player, and Mr. Wood raises his baton. The room is full of silence and expectation.
“Save our earth and let it breathe.
We all can help if we believe.
Save our oceans, save our whales.
Save the polar bears and snails.
Save our earth and let it breathe.
We all can help if we believe….”
It’s lovely.
Then, suddenly, we hear:
THUMPA-THUMPA-THUMPA-BAM!
THUMPA-THUMPA-THUMPA-BAM!
THUMPA-THUMPA-THUMPA-BAM!
“Noooo!” Mr. Wood screeches. “Not tonight!” But the noise continues.
THUMPA-THUMPA-THUMPA-BAM!
THUMPA-THUMPA-THUMPA-BAM!
THUMPA-THUMPA-THUMPA-BAM!
Mr. Wood in his purple-vested tuxedo heads to the door. But before he reaches it, Bike walks in.
“Looking spiffy,
Mr. Wood,” he comments.
“Forget spiffy!” Mr. Wood spits out. “Tonight is our show! We cannot have interruptions! You promised no more noise during the school day.”
“I know. I know. I just came in to tell you that the noise will only last a few minutes. We just have to tighten up one corner. Five minutes. I promise.”
THUMPA-THUMPA-THUMPA-BAM!
THUMPA-THUMPA-THUMPA-BAM!
THUMPA-THUMPA-THUMPA-BAM!
Mr. Wood looks angry.
Bike says, “I gotta admit, it’s an awful racket! But that should be it. I’m even coming to see the performance!” He pulls a wrinkled ticket from his pocket.
Silence returns. We all wait for another set of bumps and thumps. But all is quiet.
Mr. Wood takes a deep breath. He offers his hand to Bike. “Enjoy the show,” he says finally.
“I know I will.” Bike leaves the room.
The bell signals the end of the day.
Mr. Wood looks at us and breathes deeply once more. “Let’s head to the auditorium, group. Sassy, are you ready?”
My sack is slung across my chest. I pat it with confidence. “Ready!” I tell him.
Everybody is a little nervous as we run through the pieces without the lights. Misty and Iris drop the blue cloth that is supposed to look like shimmering water in Jasmine and Josephina’s duet.
One of the ice-cube helium balloons gets a hole in it and sags like a melted Popsicle.
Travis forgets the words to his solo in the “Purple Passion” song — again.
And Carmelita keeps sneezing and coughing. Her voice sounds scratchy as she sings her “Wonderful World” solo.
Mr. Wood gathers us all together behind the closed curtain. We sit on the risers in expectation. “We’re all a little on edge,” he says, “but a crazy final practice guarantees a great show.”
“Really?” Travis asks.
“Trust me,” Mr. Wood tells Travis. “And I trust all of you. When those lights come on, and the music comes up, you will rock!”
Carmelita coughs a little. Mr. Wood looks at her with concern. I give her another cough drop from my sack.
I peek from the side of the curtain into the auditorium.
“People are coming in!” I tell everybody. “Lots of people!”
That makes everyone run to the curtain to see.
“None of that!” Mr. Wood warns, making everyone come back from trying to see their own family. “The audience has their job and we have ours. Places, everyone!”
Everybody goes to their sides of the stage. The choir takes their places on the risers.
I get my headset adjusted and whisper to Bill and Tony, “We’re ready backstage.”
“We’re ready in the booth!” I hear Tony say.
The anticipation is thick. I check my clipboard once more and know we are ready to go.
Even though Mr. Wood said we shouldn’t do it, I peek out once more. I see Mom and Daddy, Grammy and Poppy, and Sadora and Sabin sitting in the third row. Great seats.
And I notice that Daddy has a small bouquet of yellow roses on his lap. That almost makes me cry.
I breathe a sigh of relief. At least Zero didn’t eat the tickets!
I peek once more and notice with surprise that Mrs. Rossini is sitting a couple of rows behind my family. I also see our principal, Mrs. Bell, Miss Armstrong, and several other teachers from our school. I even notice Bike standing in the back.
It’s showtime!
“Bring down the auditorium lights,” I whisper to Tony. The room gets dark. I can almost feel the expectation in the audience. I sure am feeling it backstage.
“Open the curtain,” I say to the curtain pullers. “Full stage lights with the sparkle filters,” I say to the control booth.
“You got it, Sassy!” Tony says.
The curtain opens and Mr. Wood strides onto the stage. The choir, shimmering in their purple, stand proudly on the risers behind him.
The audience applauds, and we haven’t even done anything yet.
“Welcome to our performance,” Mr. Wood says. “As you can see from the program, we call it Kids to the Rescue. We want to show, through music and dance and laughter, the importance of saving our planet. To show the power that each of us — especially each child — has to make a difference.”
Everyone claps again.
“Our first piece is called ‘Save Our Earth.’ Even though most of you will recognize the tune as ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’ the melody was actually written by Mozart in the early 1780s. Enjoy the show.”
The audience claps even more. Their hands will be tired by the time we get finished!
Mr. Wood raises his baton. The lights are perfect. The choir simply shines in all that purple sparkle.
The music begins. The choir hits the three-part harmony perfectly.
“Save our earth and let it breathe.
We all can help if we believe.
Save our oceans, save our whales.
Save the polar bears and snails.
Save our earth and let it breathe.
We all can help if we believe….”
They finish all three verses of the song with a flourish. The stage lights go down, and the audience cheers and screams with approval. And it’s just the first song.
Josephina and Jasmine are next.
“Blue stage lights,” I remind Tony.
Iris and Misty do not drop the shimmery blue cloth. It really does look like Jasmine and Josephina are singing and dancing in ocean waves. They take their bows and the audience thunders their applause once more.
“‘Carbon Footprint,’” I whisper into the headset. “Loud bass drums.”
“Gotcha,” Bill’s voice whispers back.
Rusty, Travis, and Charles make everybody crack up with their stomp. They take way too many bows, but the audience keeps clapping and clapping.
Holly’s dance solo is perfection. The stage is washed in green, and the song about the rain forest makes me want to rush to Brazil and save little green jungle frogs. She dances like a leaf in motion.
Lots more applause. Holly takes a graceful bow.
The rest of the show proceeds without a hitch. Misty, Basima, and Iris are hits with their lavender-and-purple bangles and purple extension cords.
And Kevin, Ricky, and Abdul do a great job with their song about the melting ice caps, even with one missing ice-cube balloon. Abdul goes down the steps at the side of the stage and hands out balloons to children in the audience. Really effective.
Mr. Wood’s song, “Let’s Go Green,” sung by the choir, makes everyone laugh again. There’s a verse about lightbulbs and a verse about plastic. The audience ends up clapping to the rhythm of the chorus:
“Green, green,
Dream green,
Do your part,
And let’s go green —
Or we’ll get mean!”
In “Purple Passion for Icy Blue Waters,” Travis remembers every single word perfectly, and he and Princess hit every note in their solos.
I am so proud.
It’s time for the finale. The entire choir is in place on the risers. Carmelita stands in front of the group, holding a microphone. I notice her hand is shaking.
I hope she can hold on just a little longer.
“Cue the music,” I whisper.
“Music ready,” Bill responds.
“Cue the video,” I say.
“Video ready,” Tony answers.
“Go!” I command.
Beautiful pictures of the rain forest and the desert and the oceans fill the screen behind the singers. Green fields and colorful rainbows and lovely sunsets. The choir begins to sing again.
They sound glorious. The song continues. The images highlight the words. It’s almost time for Carmelita’s solo.
But she’s not there.
The choir is still singing. Mr. Wood looks frantic as he directs them.
I hurriedly whisper into the mike, “Loop the music and the vid
eo. Play them again from the beginning! We’re missing a soloist!”
The music and images start once more, and Mr. Wood figures out what I’ve done. He nods in my direction with a look of thanks.
I don’t think the audience knows the difference. The piece is so pretty it’s worth doing twice.
Then I notice Carmelita behind me. “I can’t sing, Sassy,” she croaks. “I threw up. I’m sick. I can’t do it!”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her quickly. “Sit down over there and take a couple of deep breaths. I’ve got you covered.”
But I really don’t know what to do. And it’s almost time for her solo again!
Then I have an inspiration.
I reach down into my Sassy Sack. I pull out my piccolo and snap it together in a flash. I yank off my headset.
Then, boldly, I walk out onto the stage. I can hear little gasps of surprise from the kids onstage, but they keep on singing.
I walk to center stage, put my piccolo to my lips, and just where Carmelita is to sing, I play the tune. Perfectly.
Even I’m surprised at how good it sounds.
The piece ends, and the choir takes a bow. I’m so nervous that I just stand there.
Then I hear my family crying out from the audience, “Yay, Sassy! Take a bow, Sassy!”
So I do.
Mr. Wood looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. But he is grinning with approval. Then he joins the applause.
The audience claps, and we bow. Again and again.
Then I remember Carmelita. I run offstage, grab her from her chair, and give her the yellow roses that Sabin brought onstage for me. The audience cheers again.
We all make sure she takes her bow as well.
She hugs me and sneezes once more.
Finally, I raise my shiny silver piccolo up high and let it take the credit.
More claps and cheers.
I decide there’s nothing better than being onstage.
I can’t wait until the next show.
Turn off the lights when you leave a room.
Unplug appliances like DVD players and cell phone chargers when they are not in use.
Take showers instead of baths. It saves water.
Adjust your thermostat. Moving it down 2 degrees in winter and up 2 degrees in summer can save a lot of energy.
Use energy-efficient lightbulbs.