Stars and Sparks on Stage Page 2

  “I taught her everything she knows!” Ziggy said jokingly. Rico punched Ziggy on his arm.

  Several more students sang songs, some in groups, some individually. A boy named Brian told jokes. He had everybody cracking up, even Mr. Cavendish and Miss Blakely. Another kid, Simon, astonished the audience by his skill at juggling—six rubber balls at one time. Several groups presented acts that included rap songs. Samantha, who sat next to Ziggy in math class, turned out to be an amazing magician.

  Finally Mr. Cavendish called the Black Dinosaurs to the stage. “Let’s do it!” Jerome said as the four boys ran to the front of the auditorium. “Old Smoky?” he asked, making sure they all agreed. Everybody nodded. They lined up on the stage, grinning with expectation.

  “Uh, this isn’t the song we’re gonna sing at the show. Mr. Cavendish knows what it is, but we want it to be a surprise, so we’re going to do our tryouts with this one called ‘On Top of Old Smoky,’” Ziggy explained. “It’s our own version—kinda silly—but it’s full of sparks!” The four boys giggled a little, partly from nervousness, but also from the words they knew they were about to sing.

  “We’re also gonna have background music, but for today, Miss Blakely is going to play for us,” Rico added. He nodded to the teacher, who started playing.

  The four friends, trying hard to cover their smiles, began singing, their voices a little shaky, but on key.

  “ON TOP OF OLD SMOKY

  ALL COVERED WITH DIRT,

  I LOST MY NEW BOOK BAG,

  MY SOCKS, AND MY SHIRT.

  I LOST MY UMBRELLA.

  I LOST MY PET FROG.

  MY FOOD IN MY LUNCH BOX

  GOT ATE BY A DOG.

  I LOST MY LEFT SNEAKER,

  MY HAT AND MY COMB.

  I LOST MY NEW TOOTHBRUSH.

  I LOST MY WAY HOME.”

  All the kids in the audience began to laugh as the boys continued their song.

  “ON TOP OF OLD SMOKY

  ALL COVERED WITH ROCKS,

  I LOST MY BEST BLUE JEANS,

  MY COAT, AND MY SOCKS.

  I LOST MY RED SNEAKERS,

  AND MY UNDERPANTS,

  AND ALL OF MY CANDY,

  GOT EATEN BY ANTS.

  IF YOU CLIMB A MOUNTAIN

  ALL COVERED WITH DIRT,

  HOLD ON TO YOUR BOOK BAG,

  AND HANG ON TO YOUR SHIRT.”

  Everyone in the audience, including all the students, the parents who had come to pick up their children, and both the teachers were still laughing as they clapped and cheered enthusiastically for Ziggy and his friends as they took their bows and jumped off the stage.

  “Use the steps, children,” Mr. Cavendish reminded them, but by then the boys were already running up the aisle of the auditorium as everyone was still applauding. “All right, we still have a couple more people to try out. Let’s settle down, folks,” Mr. Cavendish warned.

  “We rocked!” Rashawn whispered to the others as they sat down. The other three boys couldn’t stop grinning. “We’re in for sure, mon,” Ziggy replied.

  The last two groups to try out were dancers who jumped and twirled and spun across the stage to pounding drum music. One group did a jazz dance, while the other danced to African music. They were both fantastic, and once again the audience exploded in cheers of appreciation.

  Finally, after everyone had had the opportunity to try out, Mr. Cavendish stood and spoke to the children. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I’ll post the list of participants in the talent show. I’m very proud of all of you. We’re going to have a wonderful show this year. Thank you, and you are dismissed. If anyone does not have a ride home, let me know. I’ll be by the front door to make sure you’re all out safely.”

  As everyone gathered up belongings and headed to the door, Ziggy glanced back. He grinned and waved good-bye to the stage, whispering, “We’ll be back soon!”

  AFTER THE TRYOUTS, ZIGGY, RICO, RASHAWN , AND Jerome were just about the last to get ready to leave the school building. Since he knew the boys lived close enough to the school to walk home, Mr. Cavendish had asked them to stay and help him clear the auditorium and take materials back to his classroom.

  “I love being in school when there’s no one else here!” Ziggy said as he ran down the polished floors of the main hallway. His voice and the flapping of his tennis shoes echoed against the lockers and walls. “This is awesome, mon!”

  “Yeah, school should be like this all the time,” Rashawn said, agreeing with him. “Just the four of us all day long!” He jumped and leaped, trying to reach the ceiling.

  “No teachers?” Rico asked.

  “No girls?” Jerome mentioned, as he raced Ziggy down the hall.

  “Just us, mon!” Ziggy said, laughing as he reached the far wall seconds before Jerome. “What do you think, Mr. C.?”

  Mr. Cavendish had just come out of his classroom. “I think a school is just perfect when there are no students at all!” he said with a laugh. “Look how much work I could get done without kids in my room after school practicing a trombone!” He grinned at Ziggy.

  “Ah, you know you love us, Mr. C.,” Rashawn said. “Even when Ziggy was trying to learn the trombone!”

  “You’re right, fellas. You know where my heart is. But Ziggy and that trombone almost made me want to teach math instead of music!” All of them laughed.

  “I think I’ll try drums next,” Ziggy said with a grin. “Lots of big noise!”

  “Wait until I get earmuffs first!” Mr. Cavendish said, as he put his hands to his ears. Checking his watch, he said, “Thanks for your help, guys, but it’s getting late. You better get on home now. Anybody want to use my phone to call your mom before you leave?”

  Rico said, “Yeah, my mom knew we’d be late, but I’ll call her and tell her we’re on our way.” He disappeared into the band room with the teacher. Jerome, Ziggy, and Rashawn sat on the floor outside the room and waited.

  “A school smells different when it’s empty,” Rashawn said quietly.

  “Yeah, like floor wax and stuff, mon,” Ziggy said, agreeing.

  “It feels like it’s waiting,” Jerome added, “for kids to show up and mess up stuff again.”

  Just then the silence was broken by a loud rattle and clatter, followed by a muffled scream. It seemed to come from a hall around the corner.

  “What was that, mon?” Ziggy asked, jumping to his feet.

  “I don’t know. Maybe the custodian dropped something,” Jerome replied.

  “So why would he scream? Besides, that didn’t sound like a man’s voice,” Rashawn added.

  “Let’s go check it out. Maybe somebody needs help, mon!” The three boys ran around the corner, only to find a stack of almost twenty chairs knocked over and strewn about the hall, and a girl about their age sitting in the middle of it all. She was holding her head in her hands.

  “Are you okay?” Jerome asked as they ran over to the girl.

  “I didn’t mean to knock down the chairs,” she said as she looked up. It looked as if she had been crying.

  “Are you hurt?” Rashawn asked her gently. For once, Ziggy had nothing to say.

  “One of the chairs bumped my head,” she replied, rubbing her head carefully.

  “Do you go to school here?” Rashawn asked. “I haven’t seen you around.”

  The girl didn’t answer. Even though the weather was quite warm, she was dressed in a dark blue woolen jumper, a dirty white long-sleeved turtleneck shirt, and boots—the kind a person would wear in the snow. The jumper looked old and well worn.

  “I’m gonna go get Mr. C., mon,” Ziggy said. He disappeared around the corner.

  “What’s your name?” Jerome asked the girl.

  “Tulip,” she replied with a small smile. “Like the flower.” Her curly hair, most of which was hidden under a baseball cap, was almost the same color as her face—a dusty, tawny brown. Tulip seemed to be almost as thin as the stalk of a real tulip.

  “That’s a pretty name. W
ho’s your homeroom teacher?”

  Before she could answer, Mr. Cavendish, Ziggy, and Rico hurried around the corner. Tulip looked frightened and tried to stand up, but she promptly sat down again, holding her head. She started to cry once more.

  Mr. Cavendish started to kneel down next to the girl; then, breathing hard, he gave up trying to kneel and simply sat on the floor. “Are you injured?” he asked, touching the girl gently on her arm.

  Tulip felt her head, which was bleeding a little, and nodded yes. “Maybe just a teeny bit,” she said, “but I’ll be okay.”

  “Rico, go back to the phone in my classroom and call 911,” Mr. Cavendish ordered. “Tell them we have an injured student here with a possible head injury. Hurry! Ziggy, go with him.”

  The girl looked alarmed. “You don’t have to do that! Really, I’m fine.”

  Mr. Cavendish ignored her.

  Rico looked thrilled to have the awesome responsibility of actually dialing those three important numbers. “He told me to dial, Ziggy! I’m the one who gets to talk to the cops!”

  “Yeah, mon, but if you faint I’ll be your backup!” The two boys hurried away.

  Rashawn and Jerome looked jealous of Ziggy and Rico, but neither of them wanted to leave the injured mystery girl. The very large teacher and the very thin girl sitting in the middle of the almost deserted hallway made an unforgettable picture.

  “I don’t remember you at the tryouts,” Mr. Cavendish said softly. “As a matter of fact, I know most of the students in this school, and I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

  “I watched the tryouts,” the girl said, wiping her eyes. “It was fun. I wish I could go to a cool school like this.”

  “What’s your name, child?” Mr. Cavendish asked.

  “Tulip Thompson.”

  “Where do you go to school?”

  “Uh, I don’t go to school. I mean, I used to go to school when my mom and I were in New Orleans, but . . .” She paused. “It’s a long story.”

  “Where’s your mother now?” Mr. Cavendish asked. “We need to call her right away.”

  “She doesn’t have a phone,” Tulip replied, looking down at the floor.

  “Where do you live?” Mr. Cavendish asked then.

  “Nowhere,” the girl whispered. “I don’t live anywhere at all.” Jerome and Rashawn looked at each other, astonishment on their faces, but they said nothing.

  The sirens could be heard in the distance then, and Ziggy and Rico, full of the responsibility and excitement of being the ones who had called the ambulance, ran back to where the others sat. “Go to the front door, then direct them to where we are,” Mr. Cavendish said.

  Ziggy and Rico darted off to the front of the school, racing to be first to the door. “This is so exciting, mon!” they heard Ziggy say as he ran.

  Rico and Ziggy returned shortly with two uniformed members of the fire department—one man and one woman. They carried medical bags and equipment and walked with an air of authority. The woman knelt down next to Tulip, who looked a little overwhelmed at all the attention.

  As the medics examined the girl and asked her questions, Ziggy and his friends stood close to Mr. Cavendish, watching the proceedings intently.

  “Shouldn’t you boys be going home now?” the teacher suggested.

  “No way, mon!” Ziggy said. “Nothing this exciting has ever happened at school!”

  “I called my mom back and told her we’d be late,” Rico said. “She said she’d let Rashawn and Jerome and Ziggy’s folks know, so we’re cool.”

  “Do you think they’ll take her to the hospital?” Jerome asked.

  “I don’t think she’s hurt very badly—it’s just a bump on the head,” Mr. Cavendish said. “But I had to make sure. What concerns me is the location of her mother.”

  “Tulip! Tulip! Where’s my daughter? Is she all right? Tulip?” A tired-looking woman ran into the building, her face full of alarm. “What happened? Why is the ambulance here?”

  “This is getting better and better, mon,” Ziggy whispered to the other boys, who nodded in agreement.

  “Are you Mrs. Thompson?” the medic asked.

  “Yes, I am. What happened? I left her for a few minutes while she watched the tryouts for the school talent show. I went to get some food,” she admitted. “I’ve been gone less than half an hour.”

  “It seems she knocked over some chairs and bumped her head a bit. All she needed was a Band-Aid. She’ll be fine, ma’am,” the medic replied. “I do need some basic information for our records, however. Your address, phone number, place of employment, etc. And it seems the child is not enrolled in school—can you explain that, ma’am?”

  Mrs. Thompson ran over to make sure Tulip was not hurt, gave her child a big hug, then took a breath. “We’re from New Orleans. For several years it’s just been me and Tulip,” she began, as she combed her fingers through her daughter’s tangled hair. “Our life was just fine. Tulip was in school, making good grades. I owned a little flower shop, which was in the front part of our house. We lived in back. Then Hurricane Katrina hit the city, and we lost everything. Our house was swept away.”

  Ziggy gasped. “Wow!” he whispered. “They were in a hurricane!”

  “We’ve been moving around the country ever since, staying in various shelters and government housing while I tried to find work. When I got laid off my last job, we ran out of money pretty quickly, and we got evicted. We’ve been living in the car for a month or so. I know she needs to be in school, but I’ve just been overwhelmed.” Mrs. Thompson hung her head.

  For a moment everyone was silent. Then Jerome surprised himself by speaking up. “Come to my house for dinner. My grandmother always cooks too much food. I have two little sisters who would love to have a girl in the house, and my Granny would be angry if you don’t come. I live just a block away.”

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in three weeks,” Mrs. Thompson said, “but I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

  “Mom, please?” Tulip said quietly. “I’m really hungry.”

  “Here’s the address of a homeless shelter, ma’am,” the medic said. They can give you a place to sleep tonight.” He handed her a card.

  “Thank you. We slept there the first night we arrived here,” Mrs. Thompson said. “It wasn’t the best place for my Tulip.”

  Jerome said, “I’m going to call Granny real quick and tell her you’re coming.” He darted down the hall and around the corner before Mrs. Thompson could protest.

  When he left, Rashawn said, “Why don’t you come to my house instead? I have a dog that Tulip can play with. His name is Afrika.”

  Then Rico joined in. “No, come to my house! It’s just me and my mom there and you could join us in a meal of my mother’s favorite boring food. I guess I shouldn’t say that since I’m trying to convince you to come, but my mom can cook a meal from the four basic food groups, and everything on the plate will be beige!” He laughed at the thought. “Her cooking tastes good, though,” he added with a grin.

  Finally Ziggy said, “Forget all of them! Come to the home of Ziggy, where my mum will fix you Jamaican jerk chicken and her famous Jamaican pepper shrimp! And all the foods on our plates are a different color!”

  “That’s because Ziggy eats grape jelly on his tomatoes and puts green peas in his lemonade!” Rashawn said, teasing him.

  Tulip looked confused and a little overwhelmed at all the attention the boys were paying her.

  Jerome rushed back and told them, “Granny said ‘please come’!” She’s already putting the plates on the table.”

  Mr. Cavendish told Tulip’s mother, “I’ve eaten at Jerome’s house many times when his grandmother has picnics in her yard after our summer band concerts.” He patted his very round stomach. “She’s a wonderful woman and an even better cook. Her offer to come to her house is quite genuine.”

  Mrs. Thompson looked at Mr. Cavendish and the medics. “I apologize for any trouble we
’ve caused. I promise to get Tulip enrolled in school right away—hopefully at this school. Thank you so much for all your kindnesses.”

  The medics left with instructions about caring for Tulip’s bandage. Mr. Cavendish said finally, “Well, this has certainly been an unusual end to a very long Thursday.” To the boys he said, “Gentlemen, I will see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, mon! You promised you’d have the list of who is in the talent show posted first thing Friday morning!” Ziggy reminded him.

  “I remember.” To Mrs. Thompson and Tulip he said, “I hope the next time we meet it will be under more pleasant circumstances.” He made a tiny little bow to the two of them.

  Tulip and her mother headed out to their car with Jerome, while the other three boys walked home, chattering with excitement. They had much to talk about.

  AT SCHOOL THE NEXT MORNING ALL THE BUZZ WAS about the talent show tryouts and the mysterious new girl. Text messages and IMs and cell calls had spun like cotton candy among the kids at school all evening. Everybody had a different opinion about her, and nobody seemed to know the whole truth.

  “I heard she’s been hiding and sleeping in the basement of the school for a year—with fourteen cats.”

  “That’s silly. Somebody told me she was from New Orleans and she almost drowned when Hurricane Katrina hit her house.”

  “No, I heard she ran away from a secret spy organization in Washington, D.C.”

  “For real? Then maybe that’s why she was listening to our talent show tryouts.”

  “Somebody said they’re homeless.”

  “I don’t get it. Why can’t her mom just get a job and find an apartment?”

  “My uncle said people who are homeless just don’t try hard enough.”

  “That’s not nice. I feel sorry for them.”

  “Didn’t somebody say she was Jerome’s cousin from Kansas?”

  “No, I think she might be one of Ziggy’s relatives from Jamaica.”

  The three boys who knew the truth—Ziggy, Rico, and Rashawn—said nothing as the other kids gossiped and guessed about the new girl. Jerome had not yet arrived at school.