“I forgot.” In fact, Opal hadn’t read that part. Or any part. She’d just signed the document her mother put in front of her.
Once inside the auditorium, they sat in two plush theater seats. A decent number of seventh and eighth graders were there. Opal was surprised to see high schoolers, too—she’d assumed older kids would be able to get out of this.
Opal waved to Azra Alikhan from geography, who definitely had a chance to win. Azra could play piano and had cool glasses. Opal couldn’t compete with that. She was just hoping not to come in last.Is there a last? Jeez, I hope not.
“Hello, Walshes! What a nice surprise. May we sit by you?”
Opal looked up to see Mrs. Nantes standing at the end of their aisle.
And Logan. What on earth?
“Of course!” Kathryn and Opal scooted over to makeroom. “It’s good to see you, Lori. Opal thanks you for the lovely treat yesterday, don’t you, honey?”
Opal nodded dutifully. “Thanks, Mrs. Nantes.”
Logan’s mom smiled. “It was nothing. I’m glad you kids had fun.”
Lori Nantes made amazing caramel-stuffed chocolate-chip cookies. It was those cookies that had trapped Opal with Logan in Orca Park the day before. He’d shown up on her porch with a plastic-wrapped plate and orders from his mother to share. Opal’s mom had practically shoved her out the door.
Logan sat down beside Opal, staring straight ahead.
“Hi, Logan.”
“Hey.”
Opal fell silent, amazed he was there. She couldn’t believe his mother was making him do this.
“Logan,” her mother said. “I didn’t know you were entering the pageant.”
“It was his idea.” Mrs. Nantes sounded vaguely shocked. “He filled out the application and everything.”
Logan’s ears burned red. He still wasn’t looking at Opal.
“That’s … wow.” Opal fought down a grin. “What’s your talent?”
“I’m going to dribble a basketball while I’m standing on my head.”
“I’m not sure that’s what the committee had in mind, butit’s … something.” Mrs. Nantes’ eyes widened in delight. “And I hear Opal is doing a dance!”
“A what?” Opal’s mother twisted to look at her.
“She’s been practicing all week.” Logan didn’t even try to hide his grin. “It’s about being a radish. Anemergingradish, right, Opal?”
Opal swallowed. “Yeah. About that.”
“You’re going to dance?” Kathryn Walsh sounded flummoxed. “I thought you were reciting one of Shakespeare’s soliloquies.”
Another part of the application Opal hadn’t examined. Still, anything was better than dancing in front of the whole school.
Principal Kisner walked onstage and tapped the microphone. “Welcome to rehearsal,” she intoned. “I’d like to introduce our radish festival chairman, Mr. Albert Murphy.”
What?The grump who lived next to Nico? Why washein charge?
“Sorry, Mom,” Opal whispered. “I forgot. I’ll do the Shakespeare thing instead.”
“No, no.” A light had kindled in her mother’s eyes. “A dance will bebeautiful. I always knew you loved dancing.”
Crap. Crappity crap crap.
