The Hanging Hill

59

Before, anyone, else arrived, while his mom was upstairs slathering on her last layer of face paint, Derek Stone had rehearsal room A all to himself.

He pulled out the secret script the director had just given him.

He stared at the paper.

Uh-oh.

The words were gobbledygook. Thank goodness for Mr. Grimes’s phonetic translations!

“O, magnus Molochus.”

What could it mean?

“Nos duo vitam nostram damus ut vos omnes qui hue arcessiti estis vivatis.”

Okay. Something about noses and dames, which was what they used to call girls in black-and-white movies.

The door swung open. Tomasino Carrozza came bounding into the room.

Derek hid the secret script in his pants.

He’d have to work on this later. No more monster truck. No more Burnout Dominator on his PlayStation Portable. No more goofing off with Meghan and Zack down in the basement.

Derek Stone had work to do!

Reginald Grimes thought he was a great actor.

He had lots and lots and lots of work to do.