The Hanging Hill

6

It was pitch-dark by the time they stuffed the last suitcase into the back of the Saab convertible.

“You know,” said Judy, gesturing toward her backpack loaded down with a laptop, overflowing folders, assorted notebooks, and several heavily penciled manuscripts, “if I get busy, if Mr. Grimes wants more rewrites …”

“There are two kids my age in the show,” said Zack, finishing the sentence for her. “So Zipper and I can hang out with them whenever they’re not rehearsing. Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“For what?”

“Making this a little easier for me. I think I’m scared. I’ve never put my words in front of a live audience before. I just wrote books. Wasn’t sitting there watching when people actually read ’em.”

“Don’t worry,” said Zack, realizing he had been so right not to give Judy anything more to brood about today. “It’ll be great.”

“You’re right. I’ll be swell! I’ll be great! Gonna have the whole world on my plate.”

“Hunh?” said Zack.

“Sorry. It’s a song. From Gypsy.”

“What’s Gypsy?”

“A Broadway musical.”

“And it’s about gypsies?”

“No. Not really. Even though, sometimes, they call dancers in Broadway shows gypsies because they move around so much, from show to show.”

“Unh-hunh,” said Zack. Sometimes the whole Broadway thing was too complicated. He’d stick to memorizing the stuff from Age of Empires III.

“Yep,” said Judy, settling in behind the steering wheel, still sounding nervous. “There’s no business like show business like no business I know.”

“Really?” said Zack. “What about making widgets?”

“Nope.”

“Refrigerator repair?”

“Hardly.”

“Monkey business?”

“Close.” Judy laughed and cranked the ignition. “You’ll see. Next stop—the Hanging Hill Playhouse, Chatham, Connecticut.”

Zack gave the hotel one last look.

Buh-bye, Mad Dog. See ya! Wouldn’t want to be ya.

As soon as they pulled out of the hotel parking lot, Zack heard a strange sizzling sound.

He turned around. Saw a fountain of electrical fireworks shooting out the top of the Marriott sign.

“Wow,” said Judy, glancing up at the rearview mirror. “A lightbulb must’ve blown out. A big one!”

“Yeah,” said Zack.

Either that, or Old Sparky wanted to say “buh-bye,” too.