The Sea-Quel by Mo O’Hara Page B

Monday Zombie Games Madness,” I said, not bothering with the movie-announcer voice this time. “You didn’t even miss it when you had chicken pox and you had to play by walkie-talkie from your room.”
    Katie giggled again.
    â€œWell, I’m missing it today,” Pradeep said, shoving his arm into his coat sleeve.
    â€œJust so you can rehearse for a stupid play!” I shouted.
    Other kids were watching us now and Frankie started thrashing around in my backpack too. I don’t think he liked us shouting at each other.
    â€œIt’s not stupid. You’re stupid!” Pradeep yelled back.
    â€œYou’re super-stupid!” I shouted back.
    â€œAnd you’re stupid to the power of stupid zillion!” Pradeep shouted again. That was the first thing he’d said to me in days that sounded like the real Pradeep. My friend Pradeep, not the “Oh, I’m so important, I’m Robin Hood, I’m an ACTOR ” Pradeep that I was fighting with.
    On my walk home, I thought of twenty funny put-downs that I could have come back with.
    All I’d thought to say at the time was, “Fine, I’ll have MONDAY ZOMBIE GAMES MADNESS on my own.” And I did the movie-announcer voice again too, just to bug him. “It’ll be way better anyway.”
    But it wasn’t.
    *   *   *
    After that I ended up bringing Frankie to all the rehearsals with me. He was good company. I think even the numbered-part kids thought that it was below them to hang out with me, and Pradeep hadn’t talked to me since the day we had the fight. I taught Frankie some of the games that Pradeep and I used to play when we got bored. He couldn’t do Rock, Paper, Scissors, but he could do Splat, Splosh, Grrr, which are the three sounds that Frankie can make. A Splat beats a Splosh, but gets trumped by a Grrr. Grrr wins against Splat but loses to Splosh, and a Splosh gets trounced by Splat but smacks down a Grrr. He got pretty good at it too, but then again, we had a lot of time to practice.

    When I had to be onstage, he just swam around in his bag, hidden inside my backpack. He thrashed about a bit when Mrs. Flushcowski spoke, especially if she was shouting at someone. But when Katie Plefka sang her Maid Marian solo, he looked as if he was actually dancing with joy in the water. Most of the time she was really giggly and kinda annoying, but when she sang, I had to admit, it was OK. It really seemed to chill Frankie out, and he is very critical when it comes to singing. She did sing “Greensleeves” though, so I guess that is a zombie goldfish–friendly song (being about green sleeves and all).
    The only chance I had to talk to Pradeep was when Mrs. Flushcowski made me help him learn his lines.
    â€œTom, darling ,” she said, “can you take a moment and run lines with Pradeep? He has ever so many to get under his belt before tomorrow.”
    I mumbled under my breath, “He’s not even wearing a belt!”
    â€œWhat, darling ?” she asked.

    â€œNothing,” I moaned. I walked over to Mrs. Flushcowski, carrying Frankie in the backpack.
    I guess I hadn’t zipped it all the way up because she said, “ Darling , why do you have a goldfish in a plastic bag in rehearsal?”
    Pradeep grabbed the backpack. “He’s mine, Mrs. Flushcowski. He’s kind of a good-luck charm for the show.”
    She smiled at Pradeep. “You know, I heard that Laurence Olivier was very taken with goldfish as well.”
    I stomped over to a couple of chairs with Pradeep. As soon as we sat down, I grabbed the backpack back off him. “You might have everyone else in this school on your side, but you don’t have Frankie!” I said. Frankie’s eyes darted back and forth between Pradeep and me. I couldn’t look at him so I zipped up the bag.
    â€œLet’s just get on with this,” Pradeep said, looking at his script. It was