Then Rosie threw her arms around Stacey, practically tackling her. " 'Daddy!' " she shrieked. " 'Oh, Daddy! Oh, I love you so! I love you! Am I home? Am I really, really home?' "

"Um ..." Stacey wrestled out of Rosie's grip. But when she bent to pick up the script, she stepped on it. She heard a huge rrrrrip as it tore in half. Stacey picked up the pieces and frantically looked for her line.

Rosie stood by the piano, ad-libbing "Oh, Daddys" and crying dramatically.

"Uh ..." Stacey said. "Uh ..."

Ms. Yu finally spoke up. "I think that covers the dramatic ground nicely," she said. "Don't you, Dan?"

"Yes, very nice," Uncle Dandy said, smiling at Rosie. "Very emotional. Thank you so much for sharing your talent, Mary Rose. You'll be on my show, all right. When I figure out in what capacity, I'll call Ms. Yu right away."

He stood up, shook Rosie's hand, and left with Ms. Yu. Neither of them even looked at Stacey.

When Stacey turned around, she saw Ros-ie's eyes filled with tears. Stacey wasn't sure if she was acting or if they were for real.

Rosie went straight to a tissue box and blew her nose. Then she said calmly, as if nothing had happened, "I've got something to do in my room. Call me when my mother comes."

Stacey didn't have the strength to answer. She felt about two inches tall.

Chapter 7.

F ive-eighteen.

I looked at the clock out of the corner of my eye. It was Monday evening, four days after Stacey's fateful evening with Rosie. I was hard at work on my painting, Milk Duds, Spilled.

Yes, painting. Over the weekend I'd started turning my sketches into the real thing. On Sunday I finished Twinkle Unwrapped, and it had turned out really well. The colors were rich, and made you hungry just looking at the painting.

Milk Duds was harder to do. At the moment, the Duds resembled metal balls, and I was determined to fix them.

At five-twenty, I realized I needed a lot more time. I'd have to wait till after the meeting to finish. Meanwhile, my room was a war zone, and I had to clean up in a hurry.