Almost Starring Skinnybones by Barbara Park

threw it back over the door.
    “There! Okay?”
    Albert threw it back.
    “Geez, Albert!” I shouted again. “Why are you making this so hard for me? I’m not going to mess it up, okay? Just do the stupid play! You’re a good Scrooge, Albert! Don’t you know that?”
    I took off the rest of the costume and shoved it under the door.
    Frantically I put on my Tiny Tim outfit and left.

    The play started fifteen minutes late.
    It went well.
    Albert Ruppert was the star.

  
10
  
    I was just
about to leave the auditorium when I heard him call.
    “Alexander! Wait!”
    Mr. Tilton came hurrying up behind me. His face looked real intense. Like there was something important on his mind.
    As soon as I turned around, he began shaking my hand.
    “Thank you, Alexander,” he said solemnly.
    “You’re welcome, Mr. Tilton,” I replied, trying not to look confused.
    He put his hands on my shoulders and stared at me a second. Then he gave me a hardy bear hug—like we were two Alaskan fur traders who hadn’t seen each other for a long time. What the heck was going on here?
    “That was a wonderful thing you did for Albert tonight,” he said at last.
    Oh. So
that
was it.
    “You could have starred in that play yourself, Alexander,” he continued earnestly. “You know it. And I know it.”
    I nodded in agreement. “I know it.”
    “You didn’t, though, did you?”
    I shook my head no.
    “And do you know why you didn’t, Alexander?”
    This one was trickier. To be honest, I still wasn’t completely sure.
    “Because you’re an unsung quiet hero, that’s why.”
    Quickly I gave another nod. “Right.”
    “I don’t know how you did it. But somehow you were able to get Albert to play the part himself,” he went on. “And in my book that makes you one of a handful of sensitive souls who go behind the scenes and quietly save the day.”
    I smiled. All of a sudden I felt a little bit like the Lone Ranger.
    Mr. Tilton smiled too. “My hat’s off to you, Alexander,” he said. Then he bowed. “The quiet hero. The very best kind.”
    “Er, thanks. My hat’s off to you, too, Mr. T.”

    I’ve never been a hero before. Especially not a quiet one. Up until now I’ve never been a quiet anything.
    I can tell you one thing though. Being a quiet hero is a lot harder than it sounds. I mean, it’s bad enough that you have to go behind the scenes and quietly save the day. But the worse part comes when you have to stand around and grit your teeth while someone else gets all the glory. I’m serious. The Lone Ranger is probably down to his gums by now.
    I didn’t mind giving Albert the glory the night of the play so much. I probably wouldn’t have remembered all the lines anyway. And besides, part of me was sort of proud of myself.
    But by the next week, Albert Ruppert had really started getting on my nerves. He just wouldn’t let it die, you know? He kept strutting around the cafeteria and squeezing me out of my place at the lunch table again. On Monday and Tuesday I sat with my tray sideways while he plopped himself down wherever he wanted.
    “Hey, Ruppert! Over here!” someone would yell as soon as Albert walked into the lunchroom. “Hey, Scrooge, we’ve got a place for you!”
    Then everybody would slide down and I’d get shoved into the wall.
    “Move over, Frankovitch! Move down!”
    After that, I had to listen as kids congratulated him and asked him ridiculous questions like was he going to be an actor when he grew up, and would he still remember them when he got to be a movie star?
    But even that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the smug look on his face. Like he was King Albert. King of the whole school.
    I gritted my teeth about a thousand times.
A quiet hero, a quiet hero
, I’d think to myself. Sometimes I’d start humming the Lone Ranger theme song.

    Thursday was the day I finally cracked.
    The lunch table was almost filled when I got there. It took me forever to squeeze in and make a little