“Amber Appleton,” Prince Tony says from his office doorway. “How the heck are you?”
“Cool,” I say, “but I need to book the auditorium for a variety show. It’s got to be a Friday night, because that’s when the most people will come out. I need to raise money to pay for my dog’s operation.”
“What are you talking about, Amber?”
“Can I talk to you in your office?” Franks says.
“I’m not sure I—” Prince Tony says, but Franks forces him into the office and then closes the door before I can sneak in.
I’m sorta mad at Franks for excluding me while making the Prince Tony pitch, so I decide to make my own announcement before homeroom even starts.
I walk over to the microphone Franks uses to make the morning announcements and ask Mrs. Baxter how to make myself heard all over the school.
“You just push the red button, but I don’t think you should be—”
I push the red button and say, “Attention fellow Childress High School classmates. This is Amber Appleton. The girl whose mother was murdered. I don’t want to talk to you about that, so please do not bring it up, okay? I would like to invite you to participate in The Save Bobby Big Boy Variety Show, which will raise money for my dog’s operation, which he had last night. He might have cancer. I have to pay two or three grand for that, and I’m broke. So please help me do this by signing up to be in the variety show, or by buying a ticket—those will go on sale soon after I iron the details out with Prince Tony. Cool? Thanks. Peace out. Amber Appleton.”
When I finish my announcement, Prince Tony and Franks are smiling at me from Prince Tony’s office.
“Are you cool with my making an announcement?” I ask.
“I think this variety show is a great idea. I’m one hundred percent behind it,” PT says, and then takes me into his office so we can discuss dates, while Franks does the morning announcements. PT shows me all of the available dates for the auditorium, I pick a Friday night three and a half weeks from today, and he tells me that Mrs. Baxter will handle all ticket sales, but that we should feel free to collect donations and sell program advertisements around town; PT says that all of the advertisement checks should be made out to the high school. “You can get Mr. Valerie to do the programs. He does all of the theater programs. I’ll talk to him about it today. It’s good to have you back in the building, Amber. It’s so good to see you.”
“Cool to all of that,” I say, and then go to my first period class.
No one—not even teachers—asks me about my mom all day, but craploads of people—many of whom I’ve never even met—want to be in BBB’s variety show. At first I write down the names and ideas in a notebook, but after I fill seven pages, I realize that we will need to have an elimination audition, or something, and I’m sorta amazed at how well my plan is working.
During lunch Ricky and I blow off socialization time in the lunchroom and go to The Franks Lair, where kids aren’t playing video games but are actually brainstorming marketing techniques for The Save Bobby Big Boy Variety Show.
When Franks sees me, he says, “Amber, will you take a walk with me?”
“Sure. Why?” I ask.
The Five are looking at me really funny.
“Come on,” Franks says, and then leads me outside of the building, where it is pretty springlike and sunny.
“The guys want to surprise you with the acts,” Franks says. “They want to put together the variety show for you, and then let you emcee the event.”
“What? Why?” I ask.
“They think it would be fun.”
“So they don’t want me to be involved at all?”
“We want you to drum up support and enthusiasm. We want you to emcee and to be the star, but we want the acts to be a surprise.”
“I don’t understand why they would want that,” I say.
“Because they want you to be surprised.”
“How will I emcee if I don’t know what acts are involved?”
“We’ll make you note cards.”
“So I have to trust you?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Franks says. “Trust your friends too.”
“Do you think we can raise enough money to pay for BBB’s operation?”
“I do,” he says, and then smiles confidently. “We will. I promise.”
Franks is a man of his word, so I start to feel better—relieved, excited. “Okay,” I say. “Just leave one slot open, because I got an act lined up already. As soon as I confirm the act, I’ll put you in contact with the right people.”
“Cool,” Franks says.
I go back into the lunchroom and buy some food with Donna’s twenty.
A billion people ask me to sit with them, which is weird, so I go outside, eat alone, and start to worry about how BBB is doing.
After I finish my turkey hoagie, I go to the pay phone by the gym, drop in some change, and dial Weissmuller Pets of Childress.
“Hello, Weissmuller Pets. How may I help you?”
“May I speak with Dr. Weissmuller please?” I ask.
“He’s with a patient, can I take a message?”