Jacky Ha-Ha Page 10

  But the winds whipping off the ocean are much colder in the middle of October than they were on the last day of summer. I’m shivering, searching for the moon or a shooting star or a glimpse of my future, but the sky is full of nothing but dark, heavy-bottomed clouds.

  I guess it’s an omen, telling me I won’t get a second chance to promise heaven that I’m going to try harder to be a better person.

  Because all of a sudden, there are lights all over the place.

  A five-billion-watt spotlight is shining up at me. I’m half blinded, but I can see all sorts of swirling red flashers down below.

  Somebody called the cops.

  And the fire department. I see their truck. The one with the expandable ladder on top.

  Not knowing what to do, I wave. “Hi, guys. Guess what? I can see my house from here.”

  “Stay where you are!” says a very serious voice through a megaphone. “Do not move!”

  Pretty soon, everybody who lives anywhere near the boardwalk is coming out of their homes in their slippers, bathrobes, and parkas-over-pajamas to stare up at the Jacky Ha-Ha Show, now playing for one night only, on top of the Ferris wheel in Seaside Heights, New Jersey.

  I think about doing a quick improv. Something about the world’s largest hamster wheel. But I see my sisters.

  Riley and Hannah are sobbing hysterically.

  “Don’t jump, Jacky!” cries Hannah. “You have too much to live for. There’s fudge in the fridge!”

  Jump? How crazy do they think I am?

  Okay. I see their point. What would I think if one of my sisters, say Emma, climbed up to the top of the Parachute Drop or something?

  Speaking of Emma, I can see her down below, too. Emma is not crying. Emma is scowling.

  And, finally, here comes Dad.

  With Jenny Cornwall, of course. He’s shaking his head. So is she. It’s nice how they do everything together now.

  “Stay where you are, Jacky!” my dad hollers.

  “Stay there!” shouts the prettiest girl on the beach.

  “Don’t climb down,” says the police officer with the megaphone.

  That is so dumb. I could climb down in my sleep.

  But when I budge, they all start shouting, “Don’t!”

  “We told you to stay still!” screams Dad.

  “So stay still,” adds Jenny. Great, not only did she steal Dad, now she’s repeating everything he says. That’s not annoying at all.

  So I don’t move a muscle and wait for the fire truck to slowly (very slowly) send up its ladder. When I go to climb down it, I hear another chorus of “Don’t!”

  I have to wait for a firefighter to come up and get me like I’m some kind of kitty cat stuck in a tree.

  “Take my hand,” the firefighter says when he reaches the top rung.

  I do as I’m told.

  I feel like such a baby.

  But I feel even worse when we make it down the ladder to the ground.

  Because that’s where my dad is waiting.

  CHAPTER 46

  How could you do something so dangerous?” my father asks.

  Everybody in the crowd wants to hear my response.

  “It’s actually p-p-pretty easy,” I say.

  I don’t think I was really supposed to answer him. I think it was one of those rhetorical-type questions. Because now my dad lectures me something fierce.

  “Of all the dumb things you have ever done, young lady, this is the dumbest, the most irresponsible, the most dangerous…”

  I get many more mosts. When Dad needs to catch his breath, Jenny Cornwall jumps in.

  “You’re lucky I’m not a cop anymore,” she says. “Otherwise, I’d be arresting you. Trespassing, reckless endangerment, disorderly conduct…”

  While she lectures me, I see the local cops scratching their heads, wondering if they should arrest me for all that stuff, too. One of the police officers goes up to my dad and says, “You want we should run her over to the hospital for a psychiatric evaluation, Mac?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he says. “I’ll give her one of those at home.”

  He doesn’t need to, because when we walk into the bungalow, all my sisters tell me how crazy I am. Except Emma. She just crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head. I am such a major disappointment.

  But the lectures don’t end there.

  Mom calls. That’s right—all the way from Saudi Arabia. I hope AT&T gives the marines a discount on their long-distance charges, because this has to be the longest-distance phone call ever made to our house.

  “How could you do something so irresponsible?” Mom asks. “You’re smarter than that, Jacky. Much smarter.”

  I don’t give her the kind of wisecracking answer I gave Dad. I just tell her I’m sorry.

  I’m biting my tongue.

  Because there’s something else Mom should worry about back here at home. A pretty girl in a bathing suit named Jenny Cornwall. The former police officer who should be charged with reckless endangerment of an entire family, home-wrecking, and first-degree husband poaching.

  When my long-distance lecture is over, Mom tells me to give the phone back to my father.

  “Go to your room, young lady,” Dad says as he practically rips the receiver out of my hand.

  “This is all your fault,” I say to him, narrowing my eyes something fierce.

  “Go. To. Your. Room.”

  I run off to bed, certain that Mom and Dad are plotting my punishment. I won’t be surprised if I’m shipped to some kind of military academy. One where they don’t have a Ferris wheel or even a water tower for me to climb.

  My whole world feels… I don’t know how to describe it.

  Upside down?

  Like it’s crashing to earth?

  Like walls are closing in on me and crushing me?

  Like all of the above?

  I cry myself to sleep again. And this time, my big sister isn’t there to cry with me.

  CHAPTER 47

  The next morning, while Riley and I are packing our lunches in the kitchen, Dad comes in to lay down the law.

  “You are grounded, Jacqueline,” he says. “For the rest of the school year. You will go to school in the morning and come straight home in the afternoon. You will not attend play practice.”

  “B-b-but…” I try to say.

  Dad ignores me. “I repeat: You will not go to play practice. I will call your teacher, Ms. O’Mara, and tell her she needs to replace you in the show.”

  “It opens next w-w-weekend,” I mutter.

  “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you climbed the Ferris wheel. And I don’t want you participating in this speech contest, either.”

  “That was Mrs. Turner’s idea,” says Riley, my trusty sidekick.

  “Fine. I’ll talk to her, too. I have friends at the American Legion. I don’t want you publicly embarrassing this family again.”

  He means my stutter. I know it.

  “Now go to school. Both of you.”

  Riley and I slump out the front door.

  “I’m so sorry,” says Riley when we’re two blocks away from home.

  “It’s okay,” I say quickly, because I see a New Jersey Transit bus lumbering down the main road. “Can you lend me some money?”

  “What for?”

  “I need to go see Sydney.”

  “In Princeton?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what about school? And Dad?”

  I try to act like a tough guy. “What’s he gonna do? Double-ground me? Hurry. This is the last bus to Newark.…”

  Riley, my biggest fan, finally gives me all her cash. Fortunately, I have some of my Atlantic City boardwalk money left, too. So I run like a madwoman for the bus. It’s heading to Penn Station in Newark, where I can catch a train to Princeton. If I don’t have enough for a ticket, maybe I can perform a few improvs at the Newark train station.

  That’s right. I’m skipping school again. I just ca
n’t face seeing all my friends and Ms. O’Mara. I’ve totally let them down. My stunt on the Ferris wheel means they’re stuck without a Snoopy—with very little time to find a replacement.

  It takes more than four hours to travel by bus and rail from Seaside Heights to Princeton. After watching evergreen trees roll by on the Garden State Parkway for maybe thirty minutes, I decide to practice my speech. The one Dad doesn’t want me to make, which makes me want to make it even more.

  I’ll show him, says the gutsy little voice in my head.

  By the way, the gutsy voice has completely shoved the evil little devil off my shoulder. There will be no more pranks. Not until after I win the speech tournament and show my father what I can do.

  When I reach Princeton and find my sister in her dorm room, I finally hear some good news: Sydney’s doing really well.

  Jacky Ha-Ha, on the other hand, is not.

  CHAPTER 48

  I unload everything on my big sister.

  I tell her about my stupid stunt on top of the Ferris wheel.

  How Mom called just to yell at me, long distance.

  How Dad says I can’t be in Charlie Brown or make the speech that I didn’t want to make but now want to… almost as much as I now want to still play Snoopy.

  I even tell Sydney my suspicions about Dad and Jenny C.

  And Sydney listens. She listens really well. Over dinner (more pizza) and late into the evening. I just keep unloading everything I’ve kept bottled up inside for way too long. I’m like a hot two-liter bottle of soda somebody shook up before they unscrewed the cap. I keep gushing and spewing for hours.

  Now that was a good shrink session.

  I end up spending the night with Sydney in her dorm.

  “You should ask Dad what’s going on,” she suggests. “It’s probably something extremely boring.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Early in the morning, one of her good friends (a guy named Jim) gives me a ride home to Seaside Heights. When we pull into our driveway, Dad is on the front porch. Fuming.

  “Okay,” says Nice Guy Jim when he sees my seething dad. “Gotta go. Chem class.” Guess he doesn’t realize it’s a Saturday. He squeals wheels out of the driveway.

  I walk over to the porch. Dad scowls at me.

  “At least your older sister had the decency to call and tell me where you were,” he says.

  I drop my eyes. “I n-n-needed somebody t-t-to t-t-talk to.”

  He shakes his head. “Poor judgment, Jacky.”

  And, finally, I’ve had enough. I basically explode.

  “Poor judgment? What about you and Jenny C-C-Cornwall, the p-p-prettiest girl on the beach? How’s that for poor judgment? Running around with h-h-her while Mom’s off in Saudi Arabia? What I d-d-did on the Ferris wheel might’ve been d-d-dumb, but it wasn’t h-h-horrible. What you’re doing to Mom is worse than h-h-horrible. It’s d-d-despicable.”

  “You have to trust that I know what’s best for this family,” Dad says through clenched teeth. “There’s a lot you don’t know—”

  “Because you’re n-n-never around to t-tell us!”

  He ignores me and goes on. “—and I don’t want to talk about it right now. I don’t have to explain myself to you, Jacky, but you’re wrong about Jenny. End of conversation.”

  Just hearing him say “Jenny” makes my blood boil. “N-n-no, it’s not! I’ve s-s-s-seen you with her at night and I know you’re not l-l-l-lifeguarding!”

  His jaw joint starts popping in and out under his cheeks. “Get your butt inside, now” is all he can say.

  So it must be true. He really is dating Jenny Cornwall while Mom is off serving her country.

  I bite my lower lip as I run inside and slam the door. But it doesn’t help.

  I cry my eyes out for most of the weekend.

  CHAPTER 49

  On Monday, I slog my way through my classes.

  I spend the whole day trapped inside a depressingly numb fog that’s thicker than clam chowder. After the final bell, I’m trudging toward the exit so I can drag myself home, when I see my sister Riley blocking the door.

  She’s not alone.

  Ms. O’Mara is blocking it with her.

  “And where do you think you’re going, young lady?” says Ms. O’Mara, propping her hands on her hips.

  “Home,” I say glumly. “My dad won’t let me be in the show anymore. It’s why I missed rehearsal Friday.…”

  “So I heard. Your sister told me about your father’s new edict. I also had the pleasure of speaking with him on the phone earlier today.”

  “Dad called Mrs. Turner, too,” reports Riley. “Said you couldn’t do the play or the speech contest.”

  “However,” says Ms. O’Mara, “I told your father that what he proposed was unacceptable.”

  I shake my head to make sure I heard that correctly. “You t-t-told my dad no?”

  “Of course I did. Let’s not forget our original agreement, Jacky. You were trading play practices for detentions. By my count, you still have nine left to serve.”

  “Ten,” says Riley. “I’ve kind of been keeping track.”

  “As any good sister would,” says Ms. O’Mara. “You should go home now, Riley. Tell your father that Jacky is with me. Serving her detentions.”

  “Okay,” says Riley. “See you at home, Jacky.”

  “Ask Emma to save me a slice for dinner, okay?”

  Somehow, I know Dad will be “working late” again so it’ll be another plain cheese pizza night at the Hart house.

  Riley heads out the door.

  “So, Jacky, where do you want to serve your time?” asks Ms. O’Mara when Riley’s gone.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Detention hall or onstage?”

  “I have a choice?”

  “Of course you do. That’s the neat thing about life. You always have a choice. What you do, who you become, all of it is, ultimately, up to you, Jacky—not your father, not your mother, not me.”

  “But if I choose to stay in the play, what’ll I tell my dad?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” says Ms. O’Mara. “But we’ll think of something. We’ll improvise.”

  “For now,” says Ms. O’Mara, “so you’re not lying to your father, we’ll just tell the rest of the cast that they’re officially serving detentions, too. One for every rehearsal.”

  “Can they save them up and cash them in?” I ask. “I mean, if they ever get into trouble. Not that any of them ever will.”

  “You’re right,” says Ms. O’Mara. “In fact, I don’t think a single member of the all-star cast of You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown will ever do anything even remotely ridiculous enough to earn another detention. They probably won’t climb any more Ferris wheels, either. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re right. I think they’re all done making stupid choices. Some even made solemn vows about it that they’re going to start keeping.”

  “What about the oratorical contest, Jacky? In or out?”

  “My dad doesn’t want me doing it.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Well, a couple of days ago, all I wanted to do was ditch the speech.”

  “I’m more interested in today, Jacky.”

  “I want to do it. Almost as much as I want to play Snoopy.”

  “Good. You should. People need to hear what you have to say.”

  “B-b-but what about my stutter? I think half the reason D-D-Dad wants me out of the c-c-competition is because I’d embarrass him in f-f-front of his f-f-friends.”

  “You and I just need to do a little extra work,” says Ms. O’Mara. “We can tinker with your ‘fight or flight’ reaction. Practice your pacing. You have study hall fourth period, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. That’s my free period, too. Here’s a pass. Come see me tomorrow. We only have three days.”

  “Three days? For what?”

  “Before the contest at the American Leg
ion lodge, you have to give your speech here. Well, not here in the hallway… here at school. Probably the auditorium. Maybe the gym. The auditorium can’t hold the whole school.”

  “I h-h-have to g-g-give my sp-sp-speech to the wh-wh-whole school?” Even my stutter is stuttering now.

  “Of course you do; they all need to hear it. Now come on, we’re late for rehearsal—I mean detention.”

  CHAPTER 50

  That night, on our last dog walk of the day, I give Sandfleas my prepared speech for the oratorical contest.

  I think she likes it. She’s wagging her tail a lot. So it’s either my speech, or this stretch of the sidewalk smells like pork chops.

  When the walk is done and Sandfleas has had her treats, I prepare to read my speech out loud for my sisters. I’m terrified, of course, but I only have a few more days to polish and memorize my talk.

  Everybody gathers in the living room.

  First, I warm my audience up with a joke. “You know, when Mrs. T-T-Turner invited me to p-p-participate in this sp-sp-speech contest, I wanted to tell her that asking me to sp-sp-speak is like watching a dog walk on its hind legs. Even if it’s not d-d-done well, you’re amazed it can be done at all.”

  They laugh. They even think my stutter is just my setup for the joke. Just like I hoped they would.

  “B-b-but what I want to talk about is so important, I c-c-can’t let anything keep me silent.…”

  It’s amazing how fast a three-to-five-minute speech can fly by. I have to make certain every single word packs a wallop and, at the same time, is easier for me to say out loud than wallop.

  “That is so good!” gushes Hannah.

  “I wish one of my boyfriends would talk like that about me,” says Sophia.

  “I’d give it a nine,” says Emma. “For a ten, you need to stand up straighter.”

  “I loved it,” says Riley.

  “Me too,” says Victoria. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” That, of course, is the highest compliment a Hart girl can receive from Sister Know-It-All.