Mia the Melodramatic by Eileen Boggess Read Free Book Online Page B

gonna have a good time tonight. Let’s celebrate. It’s all right, baby. ”
    “Let’s hear you now!” I put my hand to my ear. “We’re gonna have a good time tonight. Let’s celebrate. It’s all right, baby!”
    I spun around to add a little spice to my routine and saw Zoë, Henry, and Eric staring at me with the most unusual expressions on their faces. Thinking I needed to wrap it up, I pumped my fist one last time to end the song. “Wah-hoo!”
    I motioned for the kids to settle back down. “Now, I want you all to sit back and get ready to watch The Land of the Elves !”
    The audience applauded and I ran backstage beaming. I wasn’t half-bad at this clown thing.
    Zoë grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “What is wrong with you?”
    I looked at Eric and Henry for support, but they were too busy convulsing in laughter.
    “What did I do?”
    “Playhouse Pal doesn’t sing Kool and the Gang,” Zoë replied. “She sings songs like ‘Do Your Ears Hang Low?,’ ‘The Hokey Pokey,’ and ‘John Jacob Jingle Heimer Schmidt!’”
    “Well, how was I supposed to know that?” I sputtered. “Henry just told me to sing a song to get the kids moving. I thought I did a pretty good job.”
    “Man, I needed that,” Henry said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I haven’t laughed so hard since I saw Eric wearing tights in Robin Hood last year.”
    “Hey!” Eric said, pushing him. “What do you mean? I looked good in those tights!”
    “You looked like the Jolly Green Giant,” Henry said, bursting out in laughter again.
    Zoë shook her head in disgust and started walking back to the other side of the Play Wagon.
    “What should I sing next?” I called.
    “How about something from Flashdance ?” Eric said. “That was big in the ’80s.” He sang in a falsetto voice, “What a feeling ...”
    “No, make it something from Madonna,” Henry said, dancing suggestively. “Like a virgin, touched for the very first time ...”
    Zoë rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

Chapter
Eight
    A t the end of the day, I wearily pedaled my bike into the garage and trudged into the house. Who would have guessed that acting happy all day could be so exhausting? And that wasn’t even the half of it. In addition to my clown duties, I found out I was also responsible for helping to set up the show wagon, unload the set, prepare the stage, and make sure all the props were in the right place. And then I had to do it all over again for the next round of shows. After the fifth park, I was ready to keel over. I definitely wasn’t built for a life of hard labor.
    Too tired to make it to my room, I stumbled into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to Chris.
    “You stink,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “And what’s that white stuff on your chin? Are you foaming at the mouth?”
    “It’s Noxzema.” I wiped off the cold cream I must have missed earlier. “I used it to get the clown makeup off my face.”
    A wide grin spread across Chris’s face. “You were Playhouse Pal today?”
    “Go ahead and make all the jokes you want, because I’m too tired to fight back,” I said, leaning my head against the couch cushion and closing my eyes.
    “Let me get this straight—you were a clown? Like, you got all dressed up in a clown suit, painted your face, and sang songs in front of an audience?”
    I kept my eyes closed. “You got it.”
    “How’d you manage that? Mom’s got plants more exciting than you.”
    “Is that the best you can do?”
    “Hold on! I’m just warming up. I got it.” Chris snapped his fingers and said, “You couldn’t be a clown because you’re so boring, even your dreams have Muzak.”
    I yawned loudly.
    “How about this?” Chris said, furrowing his eyebrows together. “Your brain is two clowns short of a circus.”
    “Keep going,” I said. “Get it out of your system.”
    “Jeez, if you’re not even going to try and fight back,” Chris said as he stood up,