The Sea-Quel by Mo O’Hara Page A

drawings and…”
    But Pradeep hardly looked up. “I can’t today. We’ve got an extra rehearsal for the leads. I don’t really have time for that kind of thing anymore.” He grabbed his stuff and headed out with the rest of the main cast kids.
    I slung the backpack with Frankie in it over my shoulder and shuffled toward the doors. “Come on, Frankie, let’s go,” I said. “At least you’ve got time for that kind of thing .” As I trudged down the front steps of school, Mark swooshed past me on his skateboard, his white Evil Scientist lab coat flapping behind him. I jumped back just in time to avoid being run over.
    â€œHa, loser,” Mark mumbled as he skidded to a stop. “Talking to yourself! Pathetic.”
    Frankie thrashed hard in the backpack, trying to fling himself at Mark. “Wait! Were you talking to the moron fish in your backpack? That’s even worse! So, so sad.”
    â€œLeave us alone, Mark!” I yelled. I unzipped Frankie from the backpack and he glared at Mark.
    â€œLooks like your moron friend Pradeep has got a life and dumped you.” Mark smirked. “Who can blame him? I mean, everyone has a bigger part in that play than you. They even asked a couple of the eighth graders to do the lights and stuff. Didn’t trust you morons not to mess it up for Mrs. Flushcowski’s special guest.”
    â€œWhat special guest?” I asked, trying to stop Frankie from hurling himself at Mark.
    â€œI guess they didn’t think you were important enough to tell.” Mark jumped back on his skateboard and sped off down the road.
    I looked at Frankie. “Mark’s not right, you know,” I said, this time looking around to see if anyone could see me talking to my backpack. “Pradeep hasn’t stopped being my friend. You’ll see. It’ll be better tomorrow.”
    But the next day, and every day after that, it got worse. Pradeep had dance practice, then fight practice, then song practice … or maybe “make your best friend feel like a total waste of space” practice? OK, so that last one wasn’t real, but Pradeep wouldn’t have needed any help doing that anyway. He was getting it just fine.
    There was always some kind of practice or rehearsal with just the main cast kids. Especially with the girl playing Maid Marian, Katie Plefka. She was always hanging on to Pradeep like a picture hangs on a wall or like a monkey hangs on a tree or like an annoying girl hangs on your best friend.
    The following Monday, having not seen Pradeep all weekend, I went over to him as he was getting his coat. Frankie had come along with me in my backpack for moral support. I thought maybe I could get him to zombify Katie into not being so clingy with Pradeep, or maybe even zombify Pradeep to go back to being normal, but Frankie wasn’t in a zombifying mood.
    â€œHey, Pradeep, are you coming over tonight for MONDAY ZOMBIE GAMES MADNESS ?” I did it in the movie-announcer voice that Pradeep and I always use when we say “Monday Zombie Games Madness.” It just doesn’t sound right if you say it in a normal voice.
    Katie Plefka started giggling. “What is that?”
    â€œPradeep and I do it every Monday night.” I smiled at Pradeep. “It’s zombie computer games and it’s … MADNESS !” I said madness again in the announcer voice, expecting Pradeep to join in like he always did. But he didn’t. He just looked at me funny, then turned to Katie and said, “It’s not like it’s every Monday night or anything.” He picked up his coat from the chair.
    â€œYeah, it is,” I said.
    â€œNo, it’s not, Tom. Anyway, I’m heading back with some of the other actors later. We’re gonna run through the big end scene again.” (He had started saying actors in the same way Mrs. Flushcowski did.)
    â€œBut … you can’t miss