However, as Megan sat by herself in the kitchen, tediously cutting out dozens of button-sized circles with her name and slogan printed on them, she could feel her enthusiasm waning. If there was a way to bow out of this thing gracefully, she would probably seriously consider it. But how could she put on the brakes without looking totally foolish to her friends and family? And what about all she’d invested already? She set another paper circle in the basket and sighed. No, she needed to see this through to completion. And perhaps when that moment came—when the crown was placed upon her head—she would be grateful for the sacrifices she had made in order to gain it.

  “The official campaign starts on Monday,” she told Belinda when she arrived in midafternoon. “There’s a lot to get done in a short amount of time.” This time Megan was careful not to complain about Belinda’s lateness, but she realized she could’ve gone to the soup kitchen after all. She wondered if she hadn’t really been using Belinda as an excuse, just because it had been so uncomfortable the last time. But these were thoughts she shoved down deep . . . along with all the other naysayers’ doubts.

  “Believe me, I know.” Belinda slumped down onto her bed with a sigh. “But first of all I need a little nap. Okay?”

  Megan blinked. “A nap?”

  “I had a late night last night. And college is hard, Megan. Weekends are my only chance to catch up on my beauty sleep.”

  “But what about—”

  “Trust me, I’ll be much more useful to you after I get some shut-eye.” Belinda held a forefinger to her lips. “Just twenty minutes or so.”

  Twenty minutes turned into two hours. However, Megan managed to stay busy by working with Arianna and Olivia. Still, making buttons and flyers and posters was feeling tedious, and by five o’clock, shortly before Belinda woke up, the girls were demanding pizza and videos again.

  “Get enough for me too,” Belinda called as Megan was leaving. “But we’d better not catch you sneaking any, Megan.”

  Well, Megan did sneak some as she drove home. She couldn’t help herself—she was starving. She tried to rearrange the pizza so it wouldn’t show, but Belinda wasn’t fooled.

  “Do you or do you not want to become prom queen?” she demanded as she took a large piece, wrapping the cheese around her finger.

  “I do. And I’ve been really good on the diet too.” Megan went to get a diet soda. “I just couldn’t bear smelling that pepperoni.”

  “Well, get down on the floor and do some push-ups and sit-ups. About fifty of each. That should help.”

  The last thing Megan wanted to do was push-ups and sit-ups, especially while everyone else was snarfing down pizza. But she could tell that Belinda wasn’t kidding, so she complied. Or at least pretended to.

  “Now it’s time to do some serious dress shopping,” Belinda announced as she tossed the empty pizza box into the fireplace. “Bring your laptop down here.”

  Before long, Belinda was perusing BlueFly, flipping through dress after dress until she found it. “This is the right one.” She clicked to enlarge the photo, and Megan stared at a long, shiny, raspberry-colored gown.

  “Is that satin?” Megan asked.

  “Yes.” Belinda pointed to the bodice. “See the way the fabric is draped to fold across the bustline like this? Very flattering.”

  “Ooh, that’s pretty,” Arianna cooed.

  “Really sophisticated,” Olivia confirmed.

  “But will it look good on me?” Megan demanded. “I tried on a whole bunch and they all looked lousy and—”

  “Trust me,” Belinda told her. “This design is foolproof. Anyone can wear it and look fantastic. Besides that, it’s a Nicole Miller—known for quality and style—and it’s a classic. And isn’t the color perfect?”

  “I guess.” Megan was trying to imagine how it would look on her. “After trying on some sleeveless dresses, I wasn’t too sure it was such a good—”

  “Of course you’re going sleeveless, Megan. Honestly, you didn’t think you were going to wear sleeves to prom?”

  Megan flexed a bicep. “It’s just that my arms are, well, a little chubby.”

  Arianna giggled.

  “Come on,” Olivia urged. “Let’s stay out of this.”

  Belinda reached over to feel Megan’s bicep. “Well, you just need to start doing some exercises. Then we’ll get you a good fake tan. That always makes you look slimmer. No problem.”

  Megan studied the dress more carefully. “It is pretty.” And it did look good on the model—but she was a model.

  “What size are you wearing?”

  “I’m not really sure,” Megan admitted. “When I tried on dresses, they all seemed to be different.”

  “Then we’ll do it the old-fashioned way.” Belinda went over to the junk drawer and removed a measuring tape.

  Megan cringed.

  “Come on over here.” Belinda remained in the kitchen. “Let’s get this over with. You want it to fit, don’t you?”

  Megan nodded. She tried not to listen as Belinda read out the measurements, making little snide comments as she wrote them down.

  “I’m going to lose more weight,” Megan assured her.

  “I hope so.”

  Before long, Megan handed Belinda her bank card, and the dress was ordered. “It’ll be here by Wednesday,” Belinda said as she returned the card.

  “What about shoes?”

  “You can either try to match the dress or go with black or a neutral. Maybe bronze. That might be nice.”

  “Should I order them online too?”

  Belinda frowned. “Not unless you’ve tried them on in a store first. Shoes are trickier than dresses.” Now she peered at her watch. “It’s almost time for Katie to get here. I need to clean up.”

  “You’re going back to campus?”

  “No. Katie and I are meeting some friends.”

  Belinda disappeared into her room, and before long she was picked up by Katie. Arianna and Olivia were immersed in their movie, Mom was working, and Megan found herself missing youth group. She considered going but knew she was so late that it’d practically be ending when she got there. Then she’d have to explain.

  On Monday, Megan got the distinct feeling that her friends were acting a little chilly toward her. However, she didn’t have much time to think about that since it was the official launch of her campaign. She had hoped to have more help from them in putting up posters and flyers and manning her campaign table in the cafeteria. Apparently they had better things to do.

  “How’s it going?” Chelsea asked as she stopped by the table at the end of the day.

  Megan gave her a shiny campaign smile. “Great.”

  “I’ve seen your chocolate bars around.”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Yes. They’re popular. I’m going to have to start rationing them or I’ll be out.”

  “Maybe save them for the end of the campaign.” Chelsea picked up a button and examined it. “Have you been able to put much time into the fundraiser?”

  “Time? What do you mean?”

  “I mean soliciting donations for the auction. I’m working on it, but we need more stuff, Megan.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Chelsea nodded, but she seemed troubled.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Well . . . I didn’t want to say anything . . . but Lishia and Janelle are getting a little put out. If you know what I mean.”

  “Put out? How so?”

  “They’re irritated that you didn’t help at the soup kitchen. And that you missed youth group. They feel like you’re letting them down.”

  “I’m letting them down?” Megan stood now. “What about them? They promised to help me with my campaign, and yet I was putting up signs by myself. And I’ve been handing out buttons by myself and—”

  “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” Chelsea held up her hands.

  “Sorry.” Megan glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m late for practice. We’re starting to work on Fiddler today.” She began gathering up her stuff, tucking it all into the big magenta bag that Belinda had suggested she use. “I’ve got to go.”

  Chelsea nodded. “Well, don’t forget about the fundraiser, okay? We really need to work together if it’s going to be a success.”

  “I know.” Megan smiled. “And it’s going to be a success. I just know it.”

  Then, as she hurried out of the cafeteria, she noticed Lishia and Janelle standing by the soda machine just watching her. The expressions on their faces did not seem very friendly. It was obvious they’d sent Chelsea to do their dirty work. In a way, she couldn’t blame them for being concerned. It didn’t look right for her to miss youth group or volunteering at the soup kitchen. It was just that she couldn’t help it. At least that’s what she was telling herself. Anyway, she would have to do damage control later. Right now, she needed to get to practice.

  Megan felt a flush of pride as she walked down the breezeway. Seeing her posters plastered all over the place was a thrill. And so far, she was the only candidate who had bothered to hang posters. But Belinda had said that was typical. “Some people tease the girl who’s first with her campaign,” Belinda had told her yesterday. “But trust me, it works. That’s what I did. That’s what the prom queens before me did. Start early and start strong. Keep it going all the way to the end.” She had grinned. “And then just let the good times roll.”

  As Megan hurried toward the auditorium, her stomach was rumbling. She was so hungry she felt tempted to sneak a chocolate bar. Really, what would it hurt? Just one little candy bar? Besides, she would need the energy to make it through rehearsal. But by the time she was in the auditorium, she’d managed to put away three bars. She dumped the evidence in the trash container by the door but frowned to see the “Make It Megan” wrappers crumpled so forlornly. She gave her mouth a swipe and hoped no traces of chocolate would betray her as she hurried down to the stage where others were gathered.

  “Golde!” Jack exclaimed. “You made it.”

  “Yes. Sorry I’m late.”

  “Congratulations on the prom queen nomination. That’s awesome.”

  “All right, everyone!” Mr. Valotti spoke loudly. “Let’s listen up. I’m glad you’re all here, and I hope everyone is pleased with their roles in this upcoming musical. Remember, there are no small roles, only small actors.” He began to drone on about how everyone was equally important and how he expected them to give 110 percent and how they needed to start rehearsals on time. The usual routine. Not much had changed since the last time Megan had been in a production.

  “With no further ado, let’s start rehearsing.” He clapped his hands. “Scripts in hand. People in their places. Let the fun begin.”

  But it wasn’t as much fun as Megan had hoped. Even with her script right in front of her, she found herself missing her cues and stumbling over her lines as well as her feet. It was as if her brain wasn’t functioning properly.

  “I’m sorry,” she told Mr. Valotti and Jack after she’d blown it for the umpteenth time. “I just feel a little off today.”

  Mr. Valotti shrugged. “Well, it’s the first day. That’s to be expected.” He grinned. “By the way, good luck on running for prom queen this year.” Then his smile seemed to fade a bit. “I just hope you won’t let that election take precedence over our production.”

  She firmly shook her head. “No, of course not.”

  “Because, while it’s a nice honor, it’s something that’s only for you, Megan. But this musical is for all of us.” He waved his arm toward the others as he increased the volume of his voice. “This is a group project where every member is vital to the success of the whole. I want you and everyone here to respect that.”

  She nodded somberly. “I understand.”

  “Just in case you get distracted with your prom queen election, I have decided to select an understudy for your part.” He pointed to Clarisa Wilton now. “Although Clarisa is playing Grandma Tzeitel, I want her to learn the part of Golde too. Is that acceptable to you, Clarisa?”

  She nodded eagerly. “No problem!”

  He smiled back at Megan, but his eyes were serious. “Just in case.”

  For some reason she felt that he’d just raised the stakes on her, or perhaps he’d thrown down the gauntlet. She wasn’t even sure which metaphor was correct. She did know Clarisa was talented and dedicated and might possibly do a better job as Golde. Megan also knew that she really wanted to be in this musical. But she would have to work hard to do so.

  11

  Look,” Chelsea told Megan on Tuesday afternoon. “I realize you’re overextended.”

  “Overextended?” Megan looked up from where she was stuffing her campaign goodies into the pink bag. “What do you mean?”

  “She means you’re in over your head,” Lishia said.

  “Huh?” Megan zipped the bag closed and stared at her friends.

  “You’ve got too much on your plate.” Janelle rolled her eyes.

  “So I’m completely taking over the fundraiser,” Chelsea explained. “You’ll still get credit for it, but I just don’t want to take the chance that it could fall apart before we pull it off. It’s too important to the soup kitchen. They’re counting on us.”

  “But what does that mean?” Megan frowned. “You’re kicking me out of the fundraiser?”

  “No, we’re cutting you some slack,” Janelle told her. “You’ve got your play practice and book club and who knows what else.”

  “Don’t worry, we still expect some help from you,” Lishia pointed out. “Just not as much.”

  “Like what? What can I do?” Megan asked eagerly.

  “If you can spare the time, you can work on the soup bowls,” Lishia told her. “That’s been getting a little overwhelming. The good news is, we’ve got lots of bowls made. We just need to get them glazed and fired. Want to help?”

  “Sure.” Megan nodded.

  “I’ll have some tasks for you on the night of the event,” Chelsea said. “For starters, it would be nice if you were the greeter. You can give people name tags.”

  “And you’re on cleanup crew,” Janelle said wryly.

  “Sure.” Megan glanced at the clock. “Whatever. But I gotta run or I’ll be late to practice.”

  “I’m off to work on soup bowls,” Lishia said.

  “I’ve got to make some phone calls for more donations,” Chelsea told them. “I’ve got a whole new list of possibilities.”

  “And I’ve got to edit my article for the newspaper,” Janelle said. “It’s all about the soup kitchen and the fundraiser.”

  “Thanks, you guys—for everything.” Megan smiled and waved. “You’re the best.”

  She felt guilty as she hurried toward the auditorium. Despite Chelsea’s gracious attitude, she could tell her friends were irked at her. And she supposed they had a right to be. Like Chelsea had said, though, this was an important event. It shouldn’t only be up to Megan to carry it out. After all, hadn’t it been her idea? That alone was worth something. Or had it been Chelsea’s idea? Suddenly Megan wasn’t so sure. But it was time to change gears. As she hungrily chomped on an apple that she’d remembered to pack, she tried to transform herself into Golde.

  Today she planned to stay focused as she said her lines with Tevye and put forth her best effort as they practiced the songs. She’d stayed up late last night watching Fiddler on the Roof, rewinding the old VHS tape again and again to go over her opening lines and the songs she had a part in. Now she felt confident and ready. She just hoped she could keep it up.

  “You’re doing great today,” Clarisa told Megan as they were taking a break. “Much better than yesterday.”

  “Thanks.” Megan peered curiously at her. “But would you be happier if I wasn’t?”

  Clarisa laughed. “Not at all. I had the lead in the fall play. It was time to let someone else have the limelight.”

  “Really?” Megan was surprised at her generosity.

  “Absolutely. Besides, you have a better singing voice than I do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And this is your last year of high school,” Clarisa pointed out. “I still have my senior year to look forward to. Maybe I’ll snag the lead in next year’s musical.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Megan nodded eagerly. She was so relieved to see that Clarisa wasn’t threatened by her and that she was so supportive.

  “I was surprised you were running for prom queen.” She frowned. “That doesn’t seem like you. What’s up with that?”

  Megan felt her cheeks flush slightly, as if she was embarrassed. Or maybe she was just tired from the scene they’d just finished going over. “I . . . uh . . . it’s kind of a long story.”

  “Oh?”

  “I thought it would be an interesting challenge.”

  Clarisa nodded with a skeptical expression. “I guess . . .”

  “My sister was prom queen during her senior year. I suppose I thought I should at least give it a shot.”

  Clarisa still seemed unconvinced.

  Now Megan stood taller, remembering Belinda’s lectures on posture. “It was time for me to believe in myself,” she declared. “To take on new things. Like the election and next week’s fundraiser and this musical. I even started a book club.”

  “That’s a lot to take on.”

  Megan felt a wave of uncertainty now. “I know. And I need to keep my grades up too.”

  “Well, good luck with all of that. You make my life sound downright boring.” Clarisa smiled broadly. “But that works for me.”

  “Golde,” Jack called from the stage. “You’re next.”

  Megan gave Clarisa a weak smile, then she hurried to center stage with script in hand, mentally preparing herself to deliver her next lines. Today she seemed to be more spot-on than Jack, but in the same way he’d been patient with her yesterday, she was patient with him now. Well, in a Golde sort of way.