The School for the Insanely Gifted Read Free

“The show’s about to start! Anyone with tickets, time to take your seat!”
    Harkin looked toward the doors. “I guess that means us. Though a musical about a bunch of dogs is not the Thunk’s idea of fun.”
    Daphna’s eyes strayed to a poster outside the front entrance. There were pictures of the cast, each of them dressed as a giant dog.
    â€œWhat does Cynthia play again?” Harkin went on. “A German shepherd?”
    â€œNah,” Daphna said. “I think a golden retriever.”
    The two friends joined the crowd pushing for the entrance. Just as they were handing their tickets to one of the ushers, the sound of a siren filled the street. Four police officers on motorcycles cleared the path for a blue stretch limo.
    â€œWhoa,” Daphna said. “I wonder who this is?”
    Harkin shrugged. “Maybe the pope?”
    Daphna didn’t know about the pope, but she knew that Broadway openings were often a good place for celebrity sightings. When the limo pulled to a halt, one of the police officers opened the door. As the crowd pushed closer, Daphna stood on tippy-toes to see. A rail-thin woman dressed in an elegant red gown stepped out of the limo, followed by a man in a lime green suit who was as round as his wife was thin.
    â€œIt’s the mayor!” someone cried.
    Indeed it was—Samson Fiorello, the man who had put five more teachers into every public school, replanted Central Park’s Great Lawn with palm trees, and built subway cars with coffee bars—one of New York City’s most popular leaders in years.
    As the crowd cheered, the mayor waved happily, then waddled after his wife toward the entrance.
    â€œLooks like this is the place to be,” Daphna said.
    Harkin nodded. “Come on. Let’s grab our seats.”

Chapter 3
An Antelope and a Flex-Bed
    A few hours later, Daphna sat in between Cynthia and Harkin in the front seat of the boy’s Thunkmobile. The opening of The Dancing Doberman had been a triumph. The crowd laughed in all the right places and cheered wildly at the final curtain. Better still, the mayor and his wife gave Cynthia a standing ovation at the end of her first-act solo, “For a Dollar, I’ll Holler for a Collar.”
    â€œYou were great,” Daphna told Cynthia. “Really and truly.”
    Harkin grinned ruefully. “Best musical about dogs I’ve ever seen.”
    â€œDon’t listen to him,” Daphna said. “You stole the show.”
    Daphna watched her friend accept the compliment with a satisfied smile. Even out of makeup she looked radiant. As Daphna’s mother had always said, “That girl looks glamorous even hanging upside down from a jungle gym.” Daphna had to admit it. With long blond hair, poise beyond her years, and a singing voice that the New York Times had called “miraculous,” Cynthia Trustwell had been a striking presence from the day the two friends had met at the Blatt School playground on the first day of kindergarten. Now, just a month past twelve, Cynthia had the bearing and grace of a true star. Even so, offstage she preferred ripped jeans and oversize cardigan sweaters to fancy dresses. Instead of contact lenses, she wore pink-rimmed glasses.
    â€œWhatever,” Cynthia said. She unwrapped a stick of bubble gum and popped it into her mouth. “Harkin’s right. It’s just a dumb show about a bunch of dumb dogs. Right now, I’m totally focused on my one-woman musical version of Macbeth —you know, by Shakespeare? I just wrote an awesome opening number, ‘Three Witches in a Pot.’ I’d do anything to get it on Broadway. But who’s got five million bucks to put on a show?”
    â€œBut your songs have got to be better than the junk in The Dancing Doberman ,” Harkin said.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Cynthia said. “They are.”
    Daphna smiled. Like many students at the Blatt School,