The Sea-Quel by Mo O’Hara

two looks are pretty close.
    Then Pradeep opened his mouth and started saying a poem.
    Â 
    â€œI think that I shall never see,
    A poem lovely as a tree,
    A tree that looks at God all day,
    And lifts its leafy arms to pray.…”
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    And he went on.
    By the time he finished, I was standing there with my mouth gaping open, Frankie was looking out from his bag with his mouth gaping open and Mrs. Flushcowski was actually crying. She dug in her handbag for tissues and dabbed at her face. Then she ran onstage and hugged Pradeep.
    I bet that was not the reaction he was going for with that poem.
    â€œI had to memorize it last year when I played the ginkgo. It just stuck in my head,” he mumbled from somewhere underneath Mrs. Flushcowski.
    Mrs. Flushcowski pulled back and stood in front of Pradeep. “You moved me, darling ,” she said.
    â€œI’m sorry,” said Pradeep. “You didn’t have to get up.”
    â€œNo, you have moved me”—she pointed to her heart—“in here.” Then she hugged him again.
    When she had pulled herself together, after she had used up about a pack of tissues re-dabbing her eyes, she said, “Thank you. I’ll post the cast list later today.” And she winked at Pradeep. Then she looked at me and said, “ ACTING ,” in that same weird way again, and shook her head. Frankie thrashed in his bag so hard that it made the backpack fall off the seat. Somehow I didn’t think my fish was loving Mrs. Flushcowski right now. I jumped down into the front row and grabbed the bag, zipping it up in one swoop. “OK, right, ACTING , sure thing,” I mumbled as we rushed out of the room.
    *   *   *
    That afternoon when Pradeep and I went to check the cast list, we saw:

    I didn’t even know there was a baker in Robin Hood . I’ve read the book and seen at least two movie versions and a cartoon of it, and none of those had a baker. I turned around to say that to Pradeep, but he was surrounded by other kids from the cast, getting high fives from the Merry Men. I went to do our special celebration high five with Pradeep anyway, because at least he got a good part, but he didn’t even turn around (which made me look like I was fist-bumping with some invisible kid).
    Of course I didn’t realize it then, but that is exactly when it happened. At 3.03 p.m. on Tuesday afternoon, Pradeep started to change.

CHAPTER 3
    NO SMALL PARTS, ONLY SMALL GOLDFISH
    I followed Pradeep and the rest of the cast to the first rehearsal and we all lined up and got our scripts. Frankie was still in my backpack. He’d been pretty good today, apart from that hypno-incident with Kevin this morning. I just had to get through the hour of rehearsal without Frankie zombifying anyone and we’d be fine.
    Pradeep sat on a chair with the other “main cast” kids, and I sat on the floor with the rest of the “supporting cast.” You know, Rich Travelers One, Two, and Three. Guards One, Two, and Three. Ladies-in-Waiting One, Two, and Three, and Merry Men One, Two, and Three. I was the only supporting-cast person without a number.
    But they still all had more lines than me.
    I had one line: “Robin, there is no bread.”

    Pradeep had pages of stuff to learn. Loads of lines, a song with Maid Marian, and a big escape number with the Merry Men. And he had loads of fight scenes. The baker didn’t even get to throw bread rolls at anyone. Pradeep got to fire arrows and fight with sticks and pretend to swing across the stage (which he couldn’t do for real in the play for insurance reasons after the school’s Peter Pan ended up in the hospital one year with a flying-related injury).
    I went up to Pradeep at the end of rehearsal.
    â€œHey, Pradeep, do you want to come back to my place and start to build the ‘Supremely Secret Message Chute’ between our bedrooms? I’ve got the notebook with the