Page 36 of The Executioners Three
Freddie gasped. “A phone? I get aphone?” She grabbed for the box.
And her mom yanked it back.
“First you have to promise to do the pageant.”
Freddie hesitated, arms extended. “Why do you need me so badly?” Her eyes thinned. “I’ve been begging you for a phone for a year.”
Now it was her mom’s turn to hesitate. Then she sighed, shoulders deflating. “We still have no volunteers for the actual pageant, Fred, and when I went around this week to make sure the flyers were where I’d put them”—she motioned toward a tiny board of local bulletins and business cards near the soda machines—“I found them all missing. So then I put out more, but look! They’re gone again.”
Freddie’s brows pinched tight. Thatwasweird. Had Steve not fulfilled his sneaky Bermian insider duties and spread the word? “But that doesn’t mean no onewillvolunteer, Ma. People always enjoy being in the show. People that aren’t me, anyways.”
“Freddie.” Mom placed the Nokia box back onto the table. “Do you want the phone or not? This is a one-time offer.”
Freddie’s eyes held Mom’s for three seconds, gauging if the threat was real. Would Mom really take the phone back if Freddie refused?
Mom made a slow blink that said,Don’t you test me, kid.
“Alrighty, then.” Freddie accepted the box. “You have a deal, Patricia Gellar. One performance in exchange for one phone.”
“Great.” Mom deflated in her seat. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, Frederica.”
By the time Steve made it back to the table, Freddie had fully unwrapped the Nokia and turned it on. “What are you going to name it?” he asked as he set down a fresh tray of biscuits and orange juice. “Dana Scully? Buffy?”
“Sabrina.”
“Oh, that’s a good one.” Mom chomped into her biscuit with T-Rex ferocity. “Now can I get a fank-you, pwease?”
“Only if you give me one first.” Freddie grinned. Then she turned to the phone, opened up Snake, and embraced the future of video games.
Four hours later, after inputting Divya’s number with great ceremony into Sabrina and then, with great whining, helping her mom mend costumes, Freddie found herself at City-on-the-Berme for the first rehearsal of the Lumberjack Pageant.
The Village looked just as it had when she’d been here yesterday to help with stage assembly—except now the schoolhouse benches had been moved before the stage as well.
The sets were also fully assembled, complete with four fake pine trees, a painted lumberjack hut, and a crooked pole right in the middle that would get “chopped down” as part of the performance.
“Oh dear,” Mom murmured as they walked into the square to find it completely empty. “This is worse than I feared.”
“We’re ten minutes early,” Freddie offered. “People will come.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Mom didn’t sound too hopeful. And even the trees surrounding the Village looked worried. Last night’s wind had torn down a lot of leaves, leaving patches of the forest barren.
“At least I have you,” Mom said meekly. “I suppose we can always make it a one-woman show.”
“Frederica Gellar.” Freddie splayed her fingers like a marquis sign. “In three acts. See her as a lumberjack with anoutrageousFrench accent!LA BÛCHERONNE!”
This earned her a grin as she followed Mom toward the stage.
Wind rattled through the old buildings, pulling hay loose from the bales and clattering tools in the blacksmith’s hut. All that was missing were some tumbleweeds to really top off that “ghost town” vibe.
Freddie also noticed the fairy lights had fallen off the schoolhouse bell.Again. What the actual heck? At this point, she was genuinely starting to think someone might be pranking her.
Before she could stomp off to fix them (again), a low voice called: “Patty! Freddie!”
Freddie and Mom whirled about to find Mr. Binder power-walking their way. He wore an orange puffer jacket and pleated khakis. His pale brown skin, flushed red with cold, was the only hint of warmth around.
Once at the stage, he pulled Freddie into a side-hug and gave Mom a peck on the cheek. “Greg printed the scripts for us.”
Mr. Binder pulled away and motioned for Freddie and Mom to follow him toward the steps. “He wasn’t going to perform in the pageant this year, but…” Mr. Binder opened his arms to the benches. “This does not bode well for us. We may need him. I don’t suppose you have any friends you could call, Freddie?”
