Rule of Three (5 page)

Alex kept stealing sideways glances at me. She looked nervous, like I was a shaken-up bottle of pop about to explode. But as soon as our eyes met, she quickly looked out the window.

Good thing Joey was smushed in between Alex and me. For once, I wasn’t in the middle. But I was in the middle of a giant mess.

Why did Alex have to decide to be in the play, anyway? She didn’t even like musicals. Or singing in front of people. Why couldn’t she, just once, be the audience, not the actor?

Dad was listening to news on the radio. The annoying radio guy was droning on and on, buzzing like a Scourge of Mosquitoes.

“Dad! Could you turn that thing down?” I said, louder than I meant to. “Please,” I added, a little softer.

I felt like I was in a mixing bowl myself — all churned up. Why did Alex have to go out for the lead? How could I even be thinking of trying out for the same role as Alex? She was the oldest. The Pretty One. The Actress. The
Princess.
How could I compete with that? How could I compete with my own
sister
?

Anger sizzled inside me like hot oil in a pan, just thinking about it. Maybe I should just forget the whole thing. Drop it. Chalk it up to Stupid Idea Number 297.

But a little voice inside me wouldn’t quit. I love to sing, and finally the school was putting on a musical. Why shouldn’t I make my voice heard?

I was still seething when we pulled up outside the ugly brownish-beige box that is Mom’s building.

“I’ll tell Mom we’re here,” I said, fleeing the confines of the car.

“I’ll go with you,” Alex said, and flip-flopped after me without a coat, even though it was freezing out.

At the front desk, we signed in and grabbed badges that said
V
for Visitor. I headed down the hall, past offices and sound booths with glass windows; past bulletin boards with notices of the county cake-off tempting me; to the studio, where they taped the
Fondue Sue
show.

The door was closed, but we could see through the large glass window. It was mostly black, with tons of cords and wires and boxes with dials everywhere. The light was on in Mom’s kitchen set.

“They’re still in there,” said Alex.

“We can’t go in yet,” I replied flatly. “The red
ON AIR
light’s still lit.” I pointed to the light panel above the door.

Alex kept glancing at me as I thumbed through some magazine article about the plight of the polar bear, snapping the slick pages so hard I ripped one.

Glaciers could move, polar ice caps could melt, but there would be no moving my sister. No changing her mind.

“I don’t get you, Stevie,” said Alex. “Why are you so mad at me? You weren’t even the least bit happy for me when I decided to go out for the play —”

“Yeah, like you ever
weren’t
going out for the play,” I said in a snotty voice.

Alex looked hurt. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. All that stuff about
It’s a stupid musical
and
Ooh,
I can’t sing
!” I said sarcastically. “You knew all along you were going out for it. So don’t pretend like you didn’t.”

I knew I was being bratty, but I couldn’t help what I was feeling. Anger. Frustration. Resentment.

There are no rules for feelings.

“OK, first of all, stop yelling. They’ll hear you in there. Second of all, since when do you care if I do or don’t go out for a play? You hate acting. You’re the one person in our family who doesn’t give a flying burrito about any of this stuff.”

“Ha! You think you’re the only one . . . never mind.” I stared a hole through the polar bear in the magazine. One polar bear became two, four, six as my eyes blurred with hot tears. I tried my hardest not to think of things that would make me cry.

“Wait a minute,” Alex said, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Hold everything. You . . . you wanna . . .
you’re
going out for
my
play!”

That’s when I lost it. I flew into a rage. All I wanted to do was reach over and rip out a giant hunk of her dark, curly hair.

“Yes, OK? So you know my secret. I’m trying out for the play!” My voice rose. “That’s right. The same play. The lead. Same as you.” I had started out shrill, but now I was practically screaming. “Why do I always have to be the one who hates acting? I like plays as much as anybody! I was good that time I had to be Beauty for you. And you said you weren’t trying out —” My voice cracked, and I started to hiccup. “Why’d you have to go and ruin everything?”

“Me? Ruin everything? Look who’s talking!” I took a step back, but Alex just moved closer to get in my face. “How dare you! All this time I was talking about the play, and you go and stab me in the back. My own sister.”

The studio door flew open. “Girls!” Mom said sharply. “Alex. Stevie. What on earth —”

“Mom, sorry, I was trying to talk to Stevie and she just went off on me —”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Mom said angrily. “This is my place of work.” She lowered her voice. “I’m on thin ice around here as it is. You can’t just come in here and start screaming in the halls. I can hear you in the soundproof studio, for goodness’ sake.”

“Mom, I can explain,” I started.

“Where’s Dad?” she demanded.

“In the car with Joey.”

She pointed down the hall to the front door. “Outside. In the car. Both of you. This instant.”

BITTEN BY THE BUG

Starring Alex

Me
: Stevie is such a fink.

Sock Monkey
: You’re just upset because she’s going out for the play.

Me
: All of a sudden, just like that, out of the blue, she wants to act in plays. I don’t get her.

Sock Monkey
: Maybe she got bitten by the bug. Like you.

Me
: But acting is MY thing. You know she’s just doing this to spite me. I mean, if she’s going to do it, why go out for the lead?

Sock Monkey
: So you’re mad you might have to share the limelight?

Me
: Of course I’m mad. She’s my sister. I have enough competition with girls who aren’t in my own family.

Sock Monkey
: What’s so bad about Stevie sharing some of the spotlight?

Me
: Have you heard that girl sing? Her voice is ten times better than mine. She can sing do-re-mi and it makes you feel all gooey inside. Even if the song is some stupid oldie from the radio, to hear her sing it, it breaks your heart and makes you want to cry.

Sock Monkey
: Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?

Me
: Ha! I can hear her practicing scales and stuff when she goes down into the basement. She thinks nobody can hear, but her voice comes straight up through the heating vent.

Sock Monkey
: If you open the vent all the way, put your ear up against it, and listen really hard, you mean.

Me
: Well, yeah!

Sock Monkey
: So you’re afraid she’ll get the lead, because she’s so good at singing?

Me
: Duh! What have I been saying? Have you even been listening to a word I said?

Sock Monkey
: Sorry. Just asking. Well, she may be really good at singing, but you’re really good at acting, right? So, do your best. You have the acting thing down, now you just have to work on your singing. Practice a lot and stuff.

Me
: You’re right. I’ll just have to work really hard at it. Come to think of it, I did see a sign up at school about a voice coach. Maybe I could get him to help me, give me some tips.

Sock Monkey
: That’s a great idea! But even if you work really hard and do a good job, would it be so bad if Stevie got the lead?

Me
: Yes!

Sock Monkey
: Because she’s your little sister and she beat you at something? Because it means you don’t win? Or because you think you won’t be special anymore?

Me
:
(Quiet.)
No comment.

Sock Monkey
: Remember: you’ll always be you. Nobody can take that away.

Me
: How’d you get so smart?

Sock Monkey
: Hanging around you, I guess.

Me
: You must be a firstborn in your sock monkey family.

Sock Monkey
: I guess that’s it!

The next day, Alex and I stayed mad at
each other. It was all I could think about the whole day at school. By the time I got home, I was bouncing off the walls. I had to do something. Anything to quiet the emotions ping-ponging inside me. Run around the block? Maybe. Yell at Alex some more? What good would that do?

There was only one thing I could think of doing. One thing that always calmed me down. Not because it took my mind off things, but because I could put all my feelings into it.

Cupcakes.

I like making cupcakes way more than eating them. I love dreaming up new ones — not just the ingredients and recipes, but names for them that match the way I’m feeling in the moment. I even like measuring stuff — it gives an order to things that feel jumbled in my head. Beating the eggs and mixing the batter is the best part — a great outlet for when I am mad at Alex.

I thumbed through the chocolate-fingerprinted dessert cookbook. Aha! Flour, sugar, butter, cocoa, milk, vanilla, eggs. The perfect recipe for a perfect batch of I-Hate-My-Sister cupcakes. Devil’s food cupcakes with dark chocolate buttercream frosting. A classic.

I measured everything but the eggs into a bowl and started mixing. I beat and beat the buttery mixture by hand, stirring and whipping the fluffy batter into a frenzy. Who needed an electric mixer when my own arm was a buzz saw of swirling and whirling motion?

Just as I was finishing up beating my cake batter into a tornado, the phone rang. It was Olivia. I stretched the not-cordless phone on the kitchen wall over to the counter so I could fold in the eggs. Next I started scooping batter into muffin tins.

“So, you’re really and truly going out for it, huh?” Olivia asked. “Princess Winnifred
,
I mean.”

“Why shouldn’t I? Give me one good reason —”

“Alex.”

“I know, but, it just bugs me, I guess. I mean, all this time, I’ve been too afraid to get up onstage, then I finally do it as a favor to Alex and everything, and now it’s like she’s mad that I might like acting.”

“What a Fink Face.”

“When I wasn’t into acting, all she did was bug me about how great it is to be in plays and how I didn’t understand anything and how I was like a traitor to my own family because they’re all into acting.”

“I guess she’s just worried,” said Olivia.

“But why?”

“You know. She wants to be the only one good at it. And now you come along . . .”

“I guess. But who says I’m even any good? Maybe I stink.”

“You didn’t stink in
Beauty
.”

“Yeah, but that was only one scene.”

“You’re great at singing. Maybe she’s just scared that you’ll steal the one thing she’s good at, you know, like the thing that’s hers.”

“But I’ve spent my whole life always doing the opposite of Alex on purpose. I mean, where’s the rule that says I’m not allowed to like acting? Maybe I only said all that stuff about hating it because it was always Alex’s thing, and I wanted to find my own thing. Be my own person. I don’t see why just once I can’t forget about Alex and do something I’d really like to do.”

“See? You said it yourself. It’s like you broke a rule. A Reel rule.”

“A real rule? As opposed to a fake rule?”

“No, a
Reel
rule. As in a Reel family rule.”

Alex was the Actor in our family. Joey was the Reader, and Writer. And I was . . . what? The Singer? The Good Cook? End of story?

More to the point, I was the Peacemaker. My role had always been to keep the peace, and suddenly I was doing just the opposite — stirring things up.

Like some freak of nature, I had upset the balance.