The Talent Show Read Free Page A

me.”
    â€œNobody’s laughing at you, Dave,” somebody called from the audience.
    Mary Marotta, the PTA mom who was making sandwiches in her kitchen when the tornado hit, stepped up to the microphone.
    â€œIf folks like you move out, we lose our tax base,” she said to Honest Dave. “Fewer businesses means we have fewer places to shop. People move away. Then the schools start shutting down because there aren’t enough kids. Then families don’t move here because the schools aren’t good. And then we become a ghost town. Don’t leave, Dave.”
    â€œThat’s right,” somebody hollered.
    The crowd was mainly adults, but some kids came with their parents: Paul Crichton, Julia Maguire, Richard Ackoon, Elke Villa, and Don Potash, to name a few. Mostly, they sat quietly andlistened. None of them knew anything about tax bases, insurance, or any of that financial mumbo jumbo. They just knew their parents were hurting.
    Don fantasized for a moment about getting up at the microphone and lightening the mood by telling a few Seinfeld jokes he had memorized. But he was shy about talking in front of people, and he was afraid it might be too soon after the tornado for humor. From studying comedy, he had learned that it took years before people could handle jokes about national tragedies, like assassinations and September 11.
    The next person in line at the mic was a short man who had come with just one simple question he wanted to ask.
    â€œI want to know what are we supposed to do
now
?”
    He was looking in the direction of Mayor Rettino. He wasn’t the only one.
    Lucille Rettino avoided making eye contact with the man. She fidgeted in her seat, wondering why the worst tornado in Cape Bluff history had to happen on
her
watch. She was at the end of her first term as mayor, and she was the first female mayor in the town.
    Born and raised in Cape Bluff, she knew everybody, and everybody liked her. Most people didn’t even know if she was a Republican or a Democrat. It didn’t matter. Mayor Rettino cared about everybody and seemed to be just about everywhere, cutting ribbons to open a new store, giving out trophies at the Little League banquet, and always stopping to say hello to people on the street. She was instantly recognizable because of her silver hair and red clothes. Always red. She thought that would make people remember her, and it did.
    But on this night, Mayor Rettino didn’t want people to look at her. She was out of ideas anyway. How do you get people to cheer up when they know there will always be another tornado, another recession, another company that decides to move its factory to China?
    Paul Crichton, the young guitarist who had been playing “Stairway to Heaven” in his basement when the tornado hit, stood up. He was a good-looking, confident boy and, unlike most kids, he had no problem with standing up to speak in front of a bunch of grown-ups. Paul made his way down to the front of the auditorium and gotin line. After a few more grown-ups had their say, it was his turn.
    â€œMy name is Paul,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m a fifth grader at Cape Bluff Elementary School. We’re studying American history right now, and if I learned one thing, it’s that when we get knocked down, we get up again. Chicago was burned down by a fire in 1871. San Francisco was destroyed by an earthquake in 1906. Both towns were rebuilt and they became great American cities. Shouldn’t it be the same here? We’ll rebuild. That’s what we do. Neighbors help neighbors. We all hang together, or we all hang separately. That’s what Benjamin Franklin said. That’s the American way, right?”
    â€œYou tell ’em, Paul!” somebody shouted from the back.
    There was polite applause and a few “yeah”s as Paul went back to his seat. But there was no great enthusiasm. It wasn’t like in the movies, when