Queen of the Toilet Bowl Read Free Page A

and rubbed it in.
    â€œWell read,” said Mr. Brewster. “Those words express the complexity of the French Revolution. They touch on how complicated life can be when both good and bad forces compete.”
    I’d know soon enough if it was the best or worst of times. Would I get a part in the play, or would I freeze like an icicle at the tryouts? Only four more hours and I’d know.
    The time seemed to fly and drag at the same time and then, suddenly, there I was sitting beside Liz, waiting for my turn to audition.
    Sure enough Karin and her friends were sitting behind Liz and me. And sure enough they whispered and pointed at each person who tried out. I could hear their comments. “She hasn’t got a chance,” and “Did you see how fat her stomach is” and “Pimple Boy will never get a part with that face.”
    It was Karin’s turn. She shimmied on stage.
    â€œBreak a leg!” shouted Darleen.Another crazy English expression I had never understood. Why was it good to break a leg?
    Karin smiled broadly at Ms. Watson, the drama teacher and her friends, and then she began to sing.
    She sang confidently. And she hadn’t been lying. She had a good voice, maybe not a great voice and not a voice with a lot of feeling but good enough for a part.
    When Karin finished singing, she turned and faced the audience as if waiting for applause. She got it. Her two friends clapped and clapped. Karin bowed as if she had just received a ten minute standing ovation from an audience of a thousand. Then she slowly walked off the stage.
    As she passed me, she glanced down. “Your turn,” she said.
    â€œRenata,” said Ms. Watson.
    I tried standing up but my legs wouldn’t move. They were shaky and weak. “Go on, Renata,” whispered Liz, giving me a nudge. “Knock their socks off!”
    I tried standing up again. This time I stood, but my legs felt as tired as if I’d run a marathon.
    I walked on stage. I tried not to look at Karin and her friends, but I couldn’t ignore their laughter.
    Don’t let them bother you,
I told myself over and over in my new mantra.
    â€œReady?” said Ms. Watson.
    â€œReady,” I stammered.
    Ms. Watson began to play the piano.

chapter five
    My voice croaked. I cleared my throat and tried again but out stumbled another croak. Laughter rippled from the audience. My face flushed. I wanted to sink though the floor.
    Ms. Watson handed me a glass of water.
    â€œThanks,” I said, gulping it down.
    â€œReady?” said Ms. Watson.
    â€œReady,” I answered.
    Slow down. Slow down I told myself as she began to play. You’ll be okay. You will. You will ...
    I opened my mouth again and sang “Climb Every Mountain.” My voice exploded, crisp and strong, and I forgot about Karin. I forgot about her friends. I forgot about everything except the music and the words. And then it was over.
    I glanced at Ms. Watson. She was beaming. I beamed back. I floated off stage and dropped into the seat beside Liz.
    â€œYou were amazing,” said Liz, squeezing my hand.
    â€œReally?” I said.
    â€œLook at Karin’s face and you’ll know you were amazing,” Liz whispered.
    I glanced at Karin. Her face was wrinkled into a scowl. I had never seen her that angry. She looked like she might burst into a thousand small pieces.
    Ten more singers tried out, some good, some mediocre and one so bad that I couldn’t believe she had the gutsto get up and sing. But she was so good-natured and funny that despite her off-key, creaky voice, everyone laughed with her.
    â€œDo you know her well? I’ve only spoken to her a few times,” I told Liz.
    â€œYeah,” said Liz, “She’s a goof but a good goof.”
    â€œI like her,” I said.
    So did Ms. Watson. “Cheryl, you may not be the best singer in the world, but you have enormous stage presence,” Ms. Watson commented when