Give My Regrets to Broadway
A Chet Gecko Mystery
(A Sneak Preview of Book Nine)
Chapter One – Strike up the Bland
It was the first rehearsal for our play, and I wished I was at the dentist. Or staked to an anthill with red fire ants crawling up my nose. Or even on the losing end of a parent-teacher conference.
Anywhere but the auditorium.
Still, there I was — last one into the building where the entire fourth grade waited. Given the choice, I’d rather pull the whiskers off a werewolf than perform in a dorky play like “Omlet: Prince of Denver.” But who had a choice?
The auditorium buzzed like a nest of baby rattlesnakes on Christmas morning. My teacher, Mr. Ratnose, huddled onstage with the other teachers. My fellow students fidgeted on the rows of wooden benches, jabbering amongst themselves.
Something was up.
I scanned the crowd. My partner and friend, Natalie Attired, had saved me a spot in the second-to-last row. Good ol’ Natalie.
With a little luck, I could slip into place before Mr. Ratnose noticed my tardiness. Bending low, I hurried toward my seat. Just a few more steps…
I didn’t see the foot in my path, but I sure felt it.
Ba-dump!“Whoa!” I stumbled and staggered like a Rottweiler on Rollerblades.
Ka-flump! I sprawled in the aisle, flat on my face.
The room fell silent. Were they worried?
“Haw-haw-haw!” burst from a hundred throats.
Nope, just catching their breath.
I got up and brushed myself off, scowling at the guilty foot’s owner — a chubby chipmunk. He smiled back as sweetly as a big brother with a carload of water balloons.
And then, my bad luck multiplied.
Mr. Ratnose stepped to the edge of the stage. "Chet Gecko," he said, "even though you're tardy, I'm giving you an honor that many students dream of."
"You're letting me out of this dumb play?" I asked.
The kids giggled again. Mr. Ratnose glared at them, pricklier than a hedgehog's hug.
"Wrong," he huffed. "Our lead actor, Scott Freeh, has disappeared."
