Comedy Girl by Ellen Schreiber Read Free Book Online Page A

the girls’ bathroom after the show. I had hoped to wait until the whole school left, and then slip out unnoticed.
    â€œDo you always use the girls’ bathroom?” I asked, peeking out from the stall.
    â€œIt’s a great place to meet chicks,” he replied.
    â€œI bombed!” I said, stepping out.
    â€œYou rocked,” he lied, patting me on the arm.
    â€œYou must be having a flashback,” I argued. “Maybe if the rest of the audience had been having hallucinations too, I would have gotten a standing ovation.”
    My brother laughed.
    â€œNow why couldn’t you have done that when I was up there?” I asked him.
    Sid hugged me. Cigarette smoke and incense imbedded in his clothes made my eyes tear.
    â€œDon’t be upset,” he comforted me, wiping my leaking eye with his sleeve.
    Sid put his arm around me. In his big brother way, heproudly escorted me to the car as tears continued to well up in my eyes. I didn’t have the heart to tell Sid it was just that I needed a gas mask to be around him.
    Sergeant and Dad tried to reassure me on the long ride home, while I slumped silently in the backseat. Aunt Sylvia thoughtfully added, “You looked so pretty onstage. So grown-up. You were much better than that girl who recited Shakespeare to the poster. She turned white as a ghost when it fell over on her.”
    â€œThat’s my best friend you’re talking about!” I burst out. And then I remembered who had gotten me into this mess. I hadn’t stayed to watch Jazzy’s performance, or talked to her after the show. After my fiasco I had locked myself in a bathroom stall until Talent Night was over.
    At home I immediately threw my stuffed animals into my closet, the Goody hairbrush into the garbage can, and the laugh track under the bed. I ripped Jelly Bean’s poster from my wall.
    Exhausted, I stared into my dreadful mirror like a wicked witch wondering who was the least funny of all. It was just a stupid dream. The only headlining I was capable of performing was at a carnival freak show. “Ladies and gentleman, you have just witnessed the Bearded Girl, the Mermaid Girl, and now we have for you live, straight from Amber Hills, the Loser Girl!”
    I unscrewed the mirror from the door and put it in the closet with the rest of my dreams.
    Â 
    I didn’t return to school the next day. Before Talent Night I’d had perfect attendance. Sergeant was beside herself, threatening to call Jazzy’s therapist. Dad insisted on driving me to school, but first he had to get me out of bed. I told Sarge I wanted to be homeschooled. I would be sure to get high marks in Laundry 2 and American Vacuuming.
    No longer dreaming about comic stardom, I fantasized about being an astronaut and living among aliens who’d never heard of Trixie Shapiro or Talent Night.
    I was watching Sunset Boulevard one afternoon when the doorbell rang. I wasn’t accepting calls or visits from Jazzy. But a man peered back at me from the other side of the peephole.
    â€œMr. Janson! What are you doing here?”
    â€œExtreme actions call for extreme measures,” he said.
    â€œI was just watching Sunset Boulevard for the ninth time,” I said, pausing the movie.
    â€œGloria Swanson gives the performance of a lifetime.”
    â€œYeah, she really has it, doesn’t she? Some are meant to perform, and some are meant to watch. Want a HoHo?”
    â€œYou must be really sick.”
    â€œYeah. Monday I had the flu, Tuesday a stomachache, Wednesday a headache, Thursday a virus, and today the flu again. I don’t blame you for failing me. I’m looking into transferring anyway. I’ve decided to go to technical school. I’ve given the matter a lot of thought and I realize high school is passé. All you get out of it is a periodic table and a prom. What can you do with that when you’re thirty? I’m looking toward the