The Show Must Go On
    
They crowded around the cast list, elbowing each other. I didn’t have to put up with any of that nonsense. Standing alone by the crew list, it seemed to me like no one wanted to be part of the crew. But there it was hanging on the wall and there it was--my name, Julia Smith, next to Head Scenery Director. I had been trying for Assistant Scenery Director, but this was better than I had hoped; after all it’s not every day an eleven-year-old gets cast as head scenery director for her school’s production of Peter Pan.
    
After the first crew meeting, I sat in my room reading until my older brother, Danny, left the house. Then I slipped into his room and grabbed his TV remote. But before turning the TV on, I realized that Danny’s script for the play was open on his desk. (He was in the play, too, as Mr. Darling.) I couldn’t help but take a peek at the script and once I started, I couldn’t stop.
    
Danny came in after I’d read the entire script three times and knew all the lines. “Hey, Julia,” he said, then he looked at me. He took a deep breath and asked, “What are you doing?”
    
“Reading,” I replied calmly. “You’re not going to tell, are you?”
    
Danny hesitated before replying, “No. I suppose not.” But then he said, “If you help me learn my lines, that is.”
    
“Okay,” I had to say.

    
It was opening night, and I was with the other crew members, ready for action, when all of a sudden I heard the director talking as if he was in distress. “Oh dear, our Wendy is sick. We can’t have Peter Pan without Wendy!”
    
Suddenly Danny, or should I say Mr. Darling, was by his side saying, “Don’t worry. I have the perfect Wendy, my sister. She’s memorized the entire play!”
    
“Oh, really? Let’s try her!”
    
I just stood there and said, “Okay!” After all, what else could I say? The show must go on!