Dad shook his head. "Your Mr. Bryant told me that in case we were in witness protection, our cover had been blown. I told him we aren't, but of course he doesn't know what to believe. How in the world do you get into these messes?"

"I don't know," I protested. "I don't do anything!"

22. Good Comic Material

On Friday morning, soon after the beginning of second period, the PA system crackled. The teacher stopped talking and waited.

"Marcie Donner, please report to the Principal's Office. Marcie Donner, to the Principal's Office immediately."

"Miss Donner?" the teacher prompted. I gathered my things and left the room.

My parents were waiting in the outer office, and Mom was chatting with Denise. They broke off when I entered the room.

"Ready?" my father asked, and he took my backpack.

"I can carry that," I said, taking it back.

"Sorry," he said. "It's a reflex."

Their rental car was parked next to the school. I don't know what kind of car it was, but it was black and very cool. There were a lot of kids staring from the second-floor windows. Dad opened the back door for Mom, and the front door for me.

Once we were inside, before he started the car, he took off his sunglasses and turned to me. "Have you been telling people that you're on the witness protection program?"

"Witness protection? No," I replied in surprise. "I didn't even know what that was until yest– oh!" The scene suddenly flashed before my eyes, and I told him about Ms. Tandy's joke. "That boy passing by overheard."

"And he started a rumor," my father concluded. He shook his head. "Your Mr. Bryant told me that in case we were in witness protection, our cover had been blown. I told him we aren't, but of course he doesn't know what to believe. How in the world do you get into these messes?"

"I don't know," I protested. "I don't do anything!"

My father laughed. It was the first time he'd laughed since he arrived, and it made me feel a lot better.

"We happened to meet your gym teacher, Grace Price," my mother said. "She's very nice, and thinks quite highly of you. She's sorry you won't be here next year to play on her field hockey team."

"Yeah," I said. "I like her."

"We're going to meet your other teachers at lunch time," my father said. "An impromptu parent-teacher conference, since we live so far away. All of your teachers. I got the feeling that they're curious to meet us. Very curious." He gave me a searching look, then smiled. "Don't worry," he said. "It's just normal stuff — for a change!"

"At least I hope so," my mother added.

"Hey, am I going to get out of school every Friday for this?" I asked.

"No," my dad replied. "It will be an after-school thing — we'll fix the day."

I groaned.

Dad explained, "We need to jumpstart this. That's why the appointment is now. And this is the deal — don't forget that."

We spent over an hour at Mr. Marks' office. He is my "counselor" — he's a psychologist, and so far I like him. Half the time was spent doing paperwork. My father had to sign all sorts of permissions and releases, and fill out insurance forms. My mother worked on my health history and some other documents. In the meantime, I had a long questionnaire to do.

Then the four of us sat down and at first, my father took over. He explained the situation until he was sure Mr. Marks understood his point of view and what he wanted. Mr. Marks wore these huge eyeglasses that made his face look small, and he was pretty thin, so he looked kind of wimpy, but after listening to my dad for a while, Mr. Marks took the wheel.

He explained that although there were parental rights and controls, my parents had to understand that I (me!) had to have a "reasonable expectation of privacy," or it would "compromise the therapeutic relationship." My father protested, but Mr. Marks insisted that the things he was talking about were a matter of law, not personal preference.

Then, when he was done explaining, he gave me a huge wink without my father seeing, and asked — in a very stagey, goofy voice that made him sound like a complete idiot — "I just have one question, ah–" he looked at his clipboard, as if reading from there "– 'Mark'. Why would such a pretty girl pretend to be a boy?"

I could see my father's blood pressure rise up into his head. If he had a hat, I think it would have flown off. "Dad! Dad!" I exclaimed, and put my hand on his arm. "He's just joking! It's just a joke!"

My mother laughed, and my father harrumphed a bit, but in the end he smiled too. He shook Mr. Marks' hand, and after some parting remarks, we left.

I realized as we drove back to school that Mr. Marks, by standing up to my dad, had won my father's respect and confidence. He made my mother feel that he cared and would protect me, and made me feel like he was on my side, even if my dad (or my dad's insurance) was paying the bill. So it was a success all around.

"Is that your father?" Carla asked at lunch time. "He looks like one of the Men In Black."

"Uh, I guess he does," I said. He is pretty tall and imposing.

"Your mother's cute, but you don't really look like her," Eden said.

"Mmm," I said. I was only half-listening.

"I wasn't saying you're not cute, you vain hussy," Eden retorted, giggling.

"I don't know which is worse," I complained, "to sit with my back to them and miss what's happening, or look at them and see what's happening."

"Face it," Carla said. "Having your parents at school is pure humiliation. You gotta pray that they don't come over and talk to you."

"Oh!" Eden added, "And hugs and kisses, in front of everybody!"

"You gotta pre-empt that stuff," Carla agreed. "And hope they have the sense not to call you any cutesie nicknames."

"In a loud voice," Eden added.

I realized I was wringing my hands, so I said, "Thanks, you guys are great."

There was an eruption of adult laughter. It came, as I feared, from the table where my parents and teachers were sitting. My mother caught my eye and smiled. My cheeks burned red. What in the world could they be saying? Ms. Tandy was talking, and the laughs just kept on coming. My father wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

"I'm glad I'm such good comic material," I muttered.

At last, the teachers took their leave, and my parents came over to talk to me. I introduced Carla and Eden, then said, "Sounds like you had a good time over there."

My father smiled and said, "You really hit the ground running."

My mother said, "We heard a lot of good things about you."

My father said, "And some that's hard to believe."

Eden giggled, and my parents smiled. I wanted to melt into the floor.

"Your aunt told me that you're going clothes shopping with Alice tomorrow," my mother said. "Do you mind if I come with you instead?"

I groaned quietly. "Can we talk about this at home?"

"Are you coming straight home from school?" Mom asked.

"No," Eden replied, before I could speak. "We have to work on our dance routine at my house."

"Oh, really?" my mother said, interested. "You didn't tell us about that. Can I come see?"

"Not tonight," Eden put in — again, before I could say anything! — "It's just a quick run-through. If you want to come tomorrow, it would be better. More like audition quality."

"It's for Bye, Bye, Birdie," I explained.

"How about this?" Eden said. "Marcie, you come at 7:30. We can work for an hour and a half, and your mother can come at 9. We show her the routine, and you guys can go shopping!"

"That sounds fine," my mother said.

I gaped silently at Eden. Seven-thirty in the morning!? AND inviting my mom!?

I looked at the clock. There were still ten minutes left to lunch. I felt like the whole cafeteria was watching. How do I cut this short? I wondered, and turned to my dad. "Dad, are you sure the car is parked in a good spot? I heard they hand out parking tickets like, uh — like, uh–" I couldn't think what to compare it to. Water?

My father frowned, but then his eyes lit up. "Oh, I see!" He put his hand on top of my head and messed up my hair. "Linda, we're embarrassing her!"

"We are?" my mother said. Carla was grinning like a fiend. Mom said, "Well, we'd better go then! But first, I need a great big hug from my little girl!" At that, she grabbed me from behind, and put her cheek against mine.

"Mom... Mom — MOM!"

She let go, smiling, and said, "Art, don't you want to give your daughter a hug?"

"No," he said, "I think we've done enough damage. Bye, hon."

"First let me fix your hair for you," my mother said. "Do you have a brush handy, Marcie?"

Before Mom could make good on her threat, my father took her arm, and they went off, much to my relief.

Eden's eyes were like saucers. Carla's grin threatened to split her face in two. "Hey," she said, "I got a great idea! You ought to invite Jerry to your audition tomorrow, so he can meet your mother." She laughed at her own joke, but I felt the blood drain from my face. That would be all I'd need!

"Wow, Marcie," Eden said. "You're really good at changing colors. You turned all these different reds, and now you're white. It's amazing!"

"It's a gift," I told her, imitating Mr. Monk. "It's a blessing... and a curse."

© 2007 by Kaleigh Way