Beverly Quarter Chapter 20

Nov 26, 2024

Before I get into this week’s chapter, a request: I’m client hunting. If you or someone you know needs a first-class storyteller, please reach out. I’ve got decades of experience in writing and editing, and I’m looking for roles doing either one of those, or podcasting or consulting. I’m open to full time or fractional work. Thanks!

On Tuesdays, I’m using this newsletter to publish a book called Beverly Quarter: Invisible Frenemy. It’s got nothing to do with the rest of the content of this newsletter. I mean, for real: It doesn’t even contain the word burpee. But I think you’ll like it.

I wrote it to make my kids laugh, their friends laugh, and their parents laugh. I’m guessing most of you have kids, or know kids, or were kids, so you’re my target audience. I explain the book’s backstory here.

Give this chapter a read. If you like it, read it to your kids, their friends, their friends’ parents, random strangers on the street, etc.

I’ll keep publishing the newsletter as usual on Thursdays. This will just be bonus content. Links to previous chapters are below.

Chapter 20

Sally’s tiger dance team was the fourth out of 15. She watched the first three teams and felt better about it. All the other girls kept running and jumping and waving their arms until they got across the stage. The first team was elephants, the second hyenas and the third lions … at least according to the program. Sally thought elephants, hyenas and lions were dancing exactly like tigers.

“Do you remember your lines?” Beverly Quarter asked.

“I think so,” Sally said. “Are you sure I have to do this?”

“I’m positive. You’ll do awesome. How else would you become a movie star? Now go say hi to all the Mackenzies.”

As Sally did that, Beverly Quarter walked down the hallway past the bathrooms to the exit. Sally decided she better go potty before her performance. As she was leaving the restroom, she heard Beverly Quarter talking to someone outside.

“I think we have it all set up,” Beverly Quarter said. “Just be sure to stop the music. Do you know how to work the spotlight? Good. Once this is over, you better release my dad like you promised. And after tonight, I never want to see you again.”

Sally was going to peek outside to see who Beverly Quarter was talking to. But right then, Laurie Knight came running up. “SALLY! I’ve been looking all over for you! A tiger isn’t a tiger without its tail! It’s almost show time. Come on!”

Sally followed Laurie Knight to the side of the stage. “You’re going to do great,” Laurie Knight said to all of the girls. “Just remember, there’s no such thing as wrong out on that dance floor tonight. If you feel it, you must do it, and if you do it, it’s right. And each and every one of you is the best tiger I’ve ever seen.”

Sally looked over at Beverly Quarter. They shared a knowing smile.

Finally it was the tigers’ turn. All of the Mackenzies ran across the stage and pretended to be tigers—eyes, claws, legs, etc. Sally, who as the tail was last in line, stopped in the middle of the stage. As she did, the music stopped.

An anxious hush fell over the crowd. Only the few parents who had watched rehearsals knew this wasn’t part of the show … then again, the difference between running around and dancing was already blurred, so it’s safe to say nobody really knew whether Sally just standing there was part of the show. After all, tails don’t always wag. Sometimes they just hang there.

Sally’s mom sat up on the edge of her seat. Her dad pulled his face away from his cell phone to make sure what he was seeing through the viewfinder was actually happening.

Someone turned on a spotlight and focused it on Sally. Her dad briefly considered strangling whoever did that. Sally’s mom grabbed Sally’s dad’s hand and squeezed until she heard popping noises. Sally stepped into the light. Careful observers could see every stripe and every piece of glitter on her costume. Her voice cracked ever so slightly at first but then it became deep and resonant, or at least as deep and resonant as a little girl can sound.

Sally lifted her right hand to her forehead.

“All the world is indeed a stage. And we are merely players. Performers and portrayers. And TIGERS! Hear me ROAR!”

She quieted down now, her voice just loud enough to carry. “I am the tail that wags the tiger. Forsooth, what light from yonder window asks, to chase or not to chase,” she said. Muffled laughter ran like a wave from the front of the audience to the back. It hit the back wall and rebounded toward the front. With every word that came out of Sally’s mouth, the laughter grew louder.

“That is the question. By the time we figure out an answer,” she paused here and dramatically swung her shoulders so she was completely facing the audience. “I’ll be on the beach, earning 20 percent. Then I will consider myself the luckiest tiger, on the face of the earth!”

She then executed four cartwheels—the best four in a row she had ever done, nay, the only four in a row she had ever done—and ended up off stage. If there were 100 people in the audience, 98 of them sprang to their feet in exuberant applause.

Sally’s mom and dad stayed seated.