worrying. It’ll be FUN . The one that now created little fiery sparks on my knee. My knee? Why did Duncan have such an effect on my odd body parts? And why was I thinking about Duncan when there was dead air everywhere?
Across the glass, Clementine rolled her hand in a circle, as if she was motioning me across a school crosswalk. She looked so calm.
Why was dragon Clementine being so calm?
Because I was freaking out.
Panic bubbled in my chest. If I opened my mouth, I’d make frothy, dying sounds. Or puke. Or start babbling about tingly knees and earlobes and thumbs.
If you get overwhelmed , Clem had said, pretend you’re talking to a friend .
What friends? I was no longer connected to Brie and Merce. The drama club despised me. The entire school was whispering about me again.
No, not everyone.
I stared at Duncan. Garbage Games. Paper airplanes. Even Clementine didn’t look so dragonish. I cleared my throat. “Uh, this is uh, 88.8 The Edge.” I licked my trembling lips. “Uh . . . welcome to the realm. Uh . . . this is Queen Chloe, and I’m glad you tuned in.”
Duncan nodded. Clementine nodded. Haley, Taysom, Frick and Frack, and even Mr. Martinez, who sat in the corner grading papers, nodded, nudging me on.
With the first words out, the rest came easier. “Uh . . . we’re starting something new here at The Edge, a call-in show starring me, Queen Chloe, and of course you in our first-ever live talk show. Tonight we’re going to kick off things and talk about pet peeves. You can learn a good deal about people if you know what pushes their buttons. As for your queen, something that makes me want to stomp my royal feet is TMI.
“That’s right, minions, too much information. These days people talk, talk, talk, which is a good thing for our show, and your queen, she loves to talk. But I want you to think about those times where you’re minding your own business and . . .”
I pointed to Duncan. He cued stinger number one.
Wham! The banging-hammer sound effect poured out seamlessly.
“You get hammered with TMI,” I continued. “Over winter break I was at the grocery store minding my own business when a woman in the produce department started comparing the oranges to certain body parts she’d had implanted. At first I thought she was talking to me. Exactly how do you respond to this type of comment? But then I realized she was using a Bluetooth. I mean, really, did I want to hear this? Should I be hearing this?”
Duncan’s shoulders jiggled, a wonderful, silly movement that stole my breath. But I managed to keep chatting another ten minutes until Clementine gave me a break signal. “Okay, minions, after the break, I’m opening the phone lines and it’s your turn. Let me know about your TMI troubles or tell me a pet peeve of your own.” I gave our call letters and the station’s phone number.
Duncan dialed up a PSA and school announcements. The On Air light went dark. Over the speaker came a dragonlike growl. Across the glass in the production room Clementine gripped the sides of her head as if her hair were on fire.
“What?” I asked. I’d been shaky at first, but I’d pulled it together. Kind of.
“You called our listeners minions,” Clementine said with a hiss.
“I’m playing up the whole queen thing.”
Clementine’s head hit her desk.
“What’s wrong with ‘minions’?” I asked her crinkly hair.
“You’re insulting our audience.”
“No, I’m establishing a rapport with them. I’m using fresh, original, memorable language that our growing, faithful audience will associate with my show.” In the talk shows I’d studied I noticed most of the successful hosts had certain phrases and gimmicks unique to them.
Clementine dragged her body upright. “Calling someone a minion is not going to endear them to us. They aren’t going to listen to radio programming that insults them.”
“Wanna bet?” Duncan pointed to the phone bank. Three lines blinked
Across the glass, Clementine rolled her hand in a circle, as if she was motioning me across a school crosswalk. She looked so calm.
Why was dragon Clementine being so calm?
Because I was freaking out.
Panic bubbled in my chest. If I opened my mouth, I’d make frothy, dying sounds. Or puke. Or start babbling about tingly knees and earlobes and thumbs.
If you get overwhelmed , Clem had said, pretend you’re talking to a friend .
What friends? I was no longer connected to Brie and Merce. The drama club despised me. The entire school was whispering about me again.
No, not everyone.
I stared at Duncan. Garbage Games. Paper airplanes. Even Clementine didn’t look so dragonish. I cleared my throat. “Uh, this is uh, 88.8 The Edge.” I licked my trembling lips. “Uh . . . welcome to the realm. Uh . . . this is Queen Chloe, and I’m glad you tuned in.”
Duncan nodded. Clementine nodded. Haley, Taysom, Frick and Frack, and even Mr. Martinez, who sat in the corner grading papers, nodded, nudging me on.
With the first words out, the rest came easier. “Uh . . . we’re starting something new here at The Edge, a call-in show starring me, Queen Chloe, and of course you in our first-ever live talk show. Tonight we’re going to kick off things and talk about pet peeves. You can learn a good deal about people if you know what pushes their buttons. As for your queen, something that makes me want to stomp my royal feet is TMI.
“That’s right, minions, too much information. These days people talk, talk, talk, which is a good thing for our show, and your queen, she loves to talk. But I want you to think about those times where you’re minding your own business and . . .”
I pointed to Duncan. He cued stinger number one.
Wham! The banging-hammer sound effect poured out seamlessly.
“You get hammered with TMI,” I continued. “Over winter break I was at the grocery store minding my own business when a woman in the produce department started comparing the oranges to certain body parts she’d had implanted. At first I thought she was talking to me. Exactly how do you respond to this type of comment? But then I realized she was using a Bluetooth. I mean, really, did I want to hear this? Should I be hearing this?”
Duncan’s shoulders jiggled, a wonderful, silly movement that stole my breath. But I managed to keep chatting another ten minutes until Clementine gave me a break signal. “Okay, minions, after the break, I’m opening the phone lines and it’s your turn. Let me know about your TMI troubles or tell me a pet peeve of your own.” I gave our call letters and the station’s phone number.
Duncan dialed up a PSA and school announcements. The On Air light went dark. Over the speaker came a dragonlike growl. Across the glass in the production room Clementine gripped the sides of her head as if her hair were on fire.
“What?” I asked. I’d been shaky at first, but I’d pulled it together. Kind of.
“You called our listeners minions,” Clementine said with a hiss.
“I’m playing up the whole queen thing.”
Clementine’s head hit her desk.
“What’s wrong with ‘minions’?” I asked her crinkly hair.
“You’re insulting our audience.”
“No, I’m establishing a rapport with them. I’m using fresh, original, memorable language that our growing, faithful audience will associate with my show.” In the talk shows I’d studied I noticed most of the successful hosts had certain phrases and gimmicks unique to them.
Clementine dragged her body upright. “Calling someone a minion is not going to endear them to us. They aren’t going to listen to radio programming that insults them.”
“Wanna bet?” Duncan pointed to the phone bank. Three lines blinked
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