Lolo's Light

Chapter 1

Summer was like a blueberry pie cut up into all-good pieces. Riding bikes to the pool with Sam and Dante and Eliza. Kicking around with the dogs. Eating dinner at the picnic table in the backyard, all yummy and warm and light until bedtime, which was whenever you wanted it to be.

And there were the missing pieces of pie, too, the homework and alarm clocks and sack lunches. The missing pieces that nobody missed.

It was an easy time, and Millie was happy. But if she were pressed to do that thing teachers make you do on the first day of school—Tell us what you did over summer vacation, Millie—Comedy Camp would win, hands down. She loved her improv partner Hanna. She loved games like Dubbers and Who’s There. She loved the idea that she might lure Dad to town for the final Punch Line Production. And she loved, almost more than anything, her enhanced ability to drive her sister Tess bananas.

Tess was what Nicola—one of the Comedy Camp counselors—called a Spontaneous Sidekick. There’s nothing like playing off a Spontaneous Sidekick, Nicola would say, and then she’d rub her hands together and cackle. Millie wasn’t a cackler, but she had to agree. It was kind of thrilling to always have an act going, and Tess was … well … the perfect target.

She’d arrive like clockwork at the bathroom door if Millie had been in there for more than twenty-seven seconds. C’mon. Let me in. It’s my turn. Pound pound pound.

So Millie would respond, in her best newscaster-narration voice, The voter stood inside the booth, her hands shaking, desperate to make the right choice, while the unruly citizens right outside grew louder and louder.…

Tess would shoot eye darts through the door and say, Mil-lie! Which meant stop, obviously. But Millie just couldn’t.

Should she cast her vote for the bath or for the shower? Both would serve the common good.

Tess would yell for backup—Mom!—while Millie tried to come up with the next best line, and it really did feel like they were in a performance, building off each other and getting funnier and funnier, whether Tess wanted to be—or knew it—or not.

Awash in indecision … the tension builds.

No. What about something about a winner bubbling up?

Or, The waiting crowd broke down the door with rubber duckies.

Usually by the time Millie hit on just the right follow-up zinger, Tess would give up. But Millie wouldn’t. As the sister stuck smack in the middle of a very busy family, this was her chance to have a say in things, and she intended to make the most of it.

Like when Tess was talking on the phone and making a sandwich and rearranging her playlists all at the same time. (Every moment was an opportunity. That wasn’t something Nicola had said at camp, but it sure could’ve been.)

Yeah, totally, said Tess, cheese in her mouth. Mmm-hmm, for sure. Pause for more cheese. For real.

Millie reached into space and picked up an imaginary phone of her own, which resulted in more eye darts and Tess swatting at her with the cheese.

Millie carried on, chewing pretend pretzels, whispering into her imaginary phone. Mmm-hmm, yes. Yes to the yes. And …

Tess slammed the mayonnaise down on the counter and went for help. MOM!

Sorry, said Millie. I couldn’t help it. I can’t resist a callback. Technically, that was not a callback—a callback was just a comedy term, one that sounded pretty witty when you were holding a pretend phone. But Millie couldn’t help it—that part was true. She just loved this stuff. And Tess made the whole thing a thousand percent more tempting by being predictable in every way.

Millie heard her mom in the other room, trying to talk her sister down. Which was also predictable.

Tess, baby, she just wants attention. Can you give her a little attention? Honestly, you’re the older sister. Can’t you act like it? Meg Donally was the chief negotiator of the household, but she brought more or less energy to the job depending on whether she’d just finished a long shift at the hospital. This was a less-energy moment, Millie could tell by the edge in her voice.

Um, I can hear you guys talking, called Millie. And, it’s not true! I don’t want attention. I just want to give the gift of laughter!

Well, give it to Lucy, Tess called back, whereupon Lucy appeared at Millie’s side as if she’d been summoned by magic.

Lucy wasn’t quite as satisfying an audience or sidekick as Tess was. For one thing, she didn’t always get the jokes, and for another, she laughed—like, almost too easily—before the jokes were even over, whether she got them or not. If Millie didn’t have to work for it, what was the point?

Maybe she did just want attention after all.

Hey, Luce. Should we make a snack and go walk the dogs? Tess left the sandwich stuff out for us.

Yes, please, said Lucy, already reaching into the bread bag.

So. Things could be worse. Millie took her time spreading the mayonnaise, stacking the turkey and cheese extra thick, and cutting the sandwich in two. She and her little sister each grabbed a half, called the dogs, and headed out.

Millie walked Boo and Leddy, and Lucy took Hazel, but she was on her scooter with a sandwich in her hand, and Hazel kept zigzagging her all over the place, so Millie finally said, Here, let me take Hazel, Lucy. You’re gonna crack your head open or something. They went along like that, stopping constantly so the dogs could sniff trash cans and hydrangeas and somebody’s coffee mug balanced on the curb.

Meanwhile, Lucy tried out some of her own jokes on Millie. Why did the teddy bear say, ‘No, thank you’? She waited for approximately one second before saying, Millie—answer me. Answer the joke.

I’m thinking, said Millie, and she was, sort of, but mostly she was letting the sun hit the top of her head and dribble down around her like a cracked egg, hot and bright. It felt good. It felt like the kind of goodness that might last and last, and somehow Millie knew, even then, to appreciate that.

Because it was stuffed! said Lucy, which Millie had to admit was pretty good coming from a comedian who was still in elementary school. She laughed and finished her sandwich and the sun kept dribbling down.

When you live on the North Shore of Chicago, and July turns to August, people start to panic. Quick, wash the dog and the car. Quick, run through the sprinkler. Quick, chalk art, kick the can, s’mores! Fall is coming and then winter and the days are going to get wet and dark and cold sooner than anyone really wants them to.

As Millie and Lucy worked their way around the block with their jokes and their dogs, they were part of this seasonal panic parade. Everywhere they looked there were popsicles and lawn mowers, pogo sticks and roller blades. The Gordons were cleaning out their garage. The Bandolins’ dog had gotten loose and Toby Bandolin was chasing after her, yelling, Grab her, you guys. Grab her! And Mr. Acosta was bouncing around their front yard with little Lolo in a baby sling. He waved to the girls and put his finger up to his mouth in the universal sign for shhhh.

He’s trying to get Lolo to sleep, Millie said, glad that she knew so much about babies even though it was Tess who was Lolo’s official babysitter.

"Shhhh," said Millie, holding her own finger up to her mouth and waving back at Mr. Acosta with her other hand, the one full of dog leashes.

"Shhhh," said Lucy, pushing her scooter more gently, not wanting to disturb the cutest baby in the history of the world.

Let’s take the long way around, Luce. C’mon, said Millie, with just a little shove to keep Lucy rolling, and they did, and it was egg-warm and perfect. By the time they got home, rosy-cheeked and satisfied, there was no need for cracking jokes or shooting eye darts or special attention from anyone at all.

Chapter 2

It turned out Dad couldn’t come to the Punch Line Production. There were a lot of different reasons (which is another name for excuses) including a big thing at work, and Silver needing him for something-something, and also, if he came to Millie’s show this week, he’d have to come back out next week, for Tess’s piano recital. That’s what he said—he’d have to come back out. Millie didn’t see what was the matter with that. He was their dad. She and Tess and Lucy went to his apartment in the city all the time, no matter what, even if they had reasons to stay home that were at least as good as his.

Sam was over at Millie’s house when her dad bailed. He knew how it was because her dad (or at least her dad version 2.0) bailed a lot.

I can come in his place, Sam said. It’ll be awesome.

In his place? You’re a kid.

Sam shrugged without taking his eyes off the cards in his hand. So?

Sam was Millie’s best and oldest friend and he always offered to do whatever needed doing, no matter what. He’d do chores with her, or build rock dams in the creek with her, or help her train the dogs, even though they were, according to Mom, utterly untrainable beasts. (Deep down, Mom loved the utterly untrainable beasts. Millie knew it.) Anyway, she appreciated that Sam offered, but she didn’t want him actually coming to her show. For one thing, it was kind of for families. That’s what the invitation said. And for another thing, there were so many rules about what you could and couldn’t say that it might not end up being quite as hilarious as advertised. When they went through the run of show, Millie leaned over to Hanna and said, Sounds like we can include everything except bodies, bad words, and anything else remotely humorous.

Wah-wah, said Hanna.

Sorry, whispered Nicola, like it was out of her hands, which apparently it was.

Do you by chance have all the spades? Millie asked Sam.

Wouldn’t you like to know. Are you changing the subject? What’s the deal—am I not the target audience for the show or something?

I mean, not exactly, Sam, because here’s the thing. I think of you as someone who likes … actually funny things. Am I right?

And … that’s the game, said Sam, spreading out a devastating hand of cards on the table between them.

Oh, OK. Thanks. Just when I was thinking you had a top-notch sense of humor, you do something that is not funny in the least.

Ha. OK, I’m outta here, Mills. I was supposed to be home a while ago. Later, Leddy. Goofy canine ear tussle, fist bump, fist bump, nod. Bye, Ms. Donally! Sam called into the kitchen on his way out the door.

Bye, Sam, called Mom.

Bye, Sam, said Millie.

And never mind, Dad, she said to nobody in particular. The show must go on.

And it did.

First, they did small-troupe improv. Millie’s was set in space and ended up being about how she was born to be a star but then all the real, actual stars started butting in and stealing the show. Oh, my! The glare! Millie said, when Brandy came flouncing through.

"Yes, that’s because I’m a queen."

Queen. Queen. That’s obviously a hint.

Yaas, queen! Yaas! said Milo. (A lot of laughter over that.)

Cassiopeia! said Millie, and she threw in a curtsy. There were more laughs then, and a couple of people even clapped. Millie swallowed a bit too loudly. Well, you may be royalty but I earned my own way here, a lowly commoner who pulled myself up by my bootstraps.

"Bootstraps? Ha! Check out my belt!" That was Hanna, strutting around the stage like she was royalty, too.

Oh, brother. Lemme guess. Orion? Millie was super glad she’d recognized the reference to Orion’s belt. Hanna smiled at her. They were on fire, and the crowd was into it!

After each small troupe (including the one where this guy Rudy talked in the voice of a hamster for three solid minutes without messing up once), the whole group played a few of the improv games that they always played, but this time with suggestions from the audience. Nicola was the emcee and she’d call out to the crowd, Who can give me a job?

Dentist, someone yelled.

Taxi driver.

Dog groomer.

OK, great, said Nicola. Dog groomer. And a place? She pointed right at Lucy then, who had her hand held high. Yes, young comic? Whaddya got for us?

Um, I was thinking, like …

Millie wanted to die for a minute as her sister hesitated, but then Lucy said, The aquarium? and Millie thought, Yes, good job, Lucy! A dog groomer at the aquarium? That’s pretty funny. (And it turned out that it was.)

Finally, after a big, fast, grand finale of Zip Zap Zop, it was all over. Millie met her mom and sisters in the lobby.

That was really good, sweets, said Mom, wrapping her up in the kind of hug that was maybe too big for a twelve-year-old but Millie didn’t mind. You were a superstar. The real deal! Oh, my stomach hurts from laughing!

Seriously! said Tess. And the girl? Hanna? The one you think is so good? I mean, OK, she is … but not as good as you, Mills.

Tess pulled her sweatshirt over her head then, before Millie could catch her eye to make sure she wasn’t just messing with her.

I mean …, Tess said, as her head popped through, and she shook her hair out over her shoulders. I mean … But it was too late. She’d already said it. Tess thought Millie was good, and Millie would remember that.

Can we get ice cream? asked Lucy. "We usually get, like,