I STARED AT myself in the mirror: blue tights, yellow vest, an aquamarine fish tail trailing behind me, and large googly eyes sitting atop my head. I raised my eyebrows quizzically at my mom.
“Really, Mom?” I said. “Is this what they wanted?”
“I’m sure I followed the pattern exactly,” Mom said. “The costume designer was very specific.”
“But I thought it would be a little more . . . fish-like.”
“Maybe the makeup will add something,” Mom said hopefully.
I sighed and looked back at the mirror. Somehow Mom had convinced me to do a play this summer. So here I was about to play the Fish Footman in the local community theater production of Alice in Wonderland. I can’t say it’s been the time of my life.
“Well, there’s no turning back now,” she said. “Tomorrow’s your opening night.” She turned away and started fussing with her sewing machine.
“What if I . . .” I hesitated. “What if I forget my lines?”
“Oh Riley, is that what you’re afraid of?” Mom asked, kneeling
