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Twitter popularity, no one wanted to sign up for the Random Farms Kids’ Theater?
    What if I failed?

    I slid into my place at the breakfast table and looked at my sister.
    â€œSo?” I asked. I was so anxious, I nearly knocked over my juice glass. “Any interest?”
    Her answer was a huge smile. “Well, we aren’t exactly trending worldwide, but there’s definitely a buzz. Kids are retweeting and favorite-ing like crazy, and my phone’s been lighting up like a fireworks display with people asking for more information, like when and where the theater’s going to be.”
    â€œHopefully, by this afternoon we’ll have answers for them.”
    Mom was sitting at the table, drinking her second cup of coffee and reading the New York Times . Dad was loading the dishwasher.
    â€œSusan and I won’t be coming straight home from school today,” I informed my parents. “We’ll be stopping by the Ciancios’ house. I need to ask Dr. Ciancio a very important question.”
    Mom put her newspaper down and gave me a serious look. “Anya, what’s wrong? Aren’t you feeling well?”
    â€œOh, I’m fine, Mom. It’s not a medical question. It’s a Neighborhood Association question.”
    â€œSince when are you interested in Neighborhood Association matters?” asked Dad.
    â€œSince we can’t have the theater in the house,” I said. Then, in case that sounded snarky, I quickly added, “And since I remembered the clubhouse was vacant and actually has a stage.”
    â€œWell, now.” Mom grinned. “Somebody’s thinking like a producer, I see.”
    â€œWe’re going to trade landscaping services for permission to use the clubhouse,” I explained.
    â€œIt’s a win-win situation for everyone,” said Susan.
    â€œWhat makes you think the good doctor is going to be home on a weekday?” asked Dad.
    â€œHis office closes at noon on Fridays,” said Susan. “He has a standing tennis match with the editor of the local newspaper, Ms. Bradley, at one thirty, which, according to Mrs. Quandt, he can only get away with because he’s the best gastroenterologist in Chappaqua, so not offering Friday afternoon appointments really doesn’t hurt his practice at all. Also, he and Ms. Bradley are now officially dating, which Mrs. Quandt thinks is a positive development, especially since his divorce from Mrs. Ciancio was so messy.”
    â€œWow,” I said, sipping my orange juice. “You really are in the loop!”
    â€œHmmm.” Dad jiggled a drinking glass into the dishwasher’s top rack. “Well, Anya, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. Frank Ciancio is kind of a stickler for rules. I’m sure he’ll have all kinds of concerns about insurance and liability.”
    â€œMr. Healy told me the association has been paying for insurance on the clubhouse for the last six years,” I reported. “He said it would make sense for someone in the neighborhood to get some use out of it, especially since it wouldn’t cost Cranky Frankie one extra penny to let us have it.”
    â€œAnya!” my mother scolded. “That’s very disrespectful.”
    â€œAnya wasn’t the one who called Dr. Ciancio ‘Cranky Frankie,’ Mom,” Susan pointed out in my defense. “Mr. Healy was.”
    Dad closed the dishwasher and hit the rinse-and-hold button. “I like how Healy thinks,” he murmured.
    Mom sighed and picked up her newspaper again. “Go to school, girls,” she said. “And please, when you talk to Dr. Ciancio, remember to be polite.”
    I’ll be polite, all right , I thought, plucking my schoolbag from the back of my chair. I’m even prepared to beg if have to.
    I only hoped I wouldn’t have to.

    It was like every other last day of school of my life except for two things: one, for the first time ever, I found myself