"BSC087 - Claudia Kishi, Live From WSTO! - Martin, Ann M" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

"A toast to Claudia, the first media celebrity in the family!" she announced.
"Hear, hear!" Dad said.
Janine was the first to clink glasses with me. She was wearing this huge grin.
I almost cried.
Between dinner and bedtime, every single BSC member called. Dawn gave me a list of songs to play (ecology-oriented, of course). Kristy told me her brother, Charlie, had agreed
to drive me to the radio station the next day. Then she asked about seven hundred questions about the show. Shannon, Jessi, Mal, and Mary Anne each had questions of their own. 1 must have said "I don't know" a hundred times.
This distressed me. Was I supposed to know? Was Mr. Bullock really expecting me to come to the meeting with suggestions? Of course he was! I had written in my essay that I had good ideas flying around my brain. I had exaggerated. A lot.
Now what? Should I bring tapes to the interview? A list of talk-show-type topics? A list of people to interview? Or was this supposed to be a call-in show?
What had I gotten myself into?
That night I had nightmares. The entire world was listening to WSTO. Kids riding bikes and wearing headphones. Shoppers in malls. A capacity crowd in a sports arena with enormous speakers on stage, wailing: "And now, WSTO presents what you've all been waiting for Ч Claudia Kishi!"
And then, dead silence.
By morning I must have sweated off ten pounds.
I sleepwalked through school the next day. After last period, I walked to the front door,
clutching my directions to the station.
Kristy was waiting for me there. Mary Anne and Dawn joined us soon after.
"Your barrette is crooked/' Dawn said, reaching toward my hair.
"This is exciting," Mary Anne said, squeezing my hand.
"I'll go in with you if you want," Kristy volunteered.
"Uh, I don't think so, Kristy," I said.
"Hold still!" Dawn warned.
"Guys, it's not that big a deal!" I insisted.
HONK! HONK!
Saved by the Junk Bucket.
That's the name of Charlie Thomas's car, for exactly the kinds of reasons you'd expect. It is air-conditioned by two holes in the floor. You have to open the right front window with a monkey wrench. The rear floor is carpeted with crushed soda cans.
Kristy opened the back door, picked up an old T-shirt from the floor, and wiped off the seat. "Enter," she said.
"Good luck!" Mary Anne and Dawn shouted.
I climbed in back and Kristy got in front. "Thanks," I called out the window.
"I'll take good care of her," Kristy assured them. Then she yelled to a group of kids
standing in front of the car: "Clear, please! Radio star coming through."
Bang! Clank! Rrrrroar! The Junk Bucket's noise was enough to scatter everybody.
We were off.
"Where to?" Charlie asked.
I read him the directions, and he clanked away from the school. His radio was turned up so loud, I expected the police to pull us over. The station? WSTO, of course.
"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog," sang the voice of Elvis Presley.
"Don't they play any good stuff?" Charlie asked.
"They will on Claud's show," Kristy replied confidently. "Right, Claud?"
"I guess," I said.
"Not to mention the guest appearances," Kristy barged on. "You will have kid guest appearances, right?"
"Well, I don't know."
"Or, like, a comedy hour," Charlie chimed in. "I memorized this Robin Williams routine and Ч "
"Hour?" Kristy shot back. "Don't be a hog, Charlie."
I sighed. Already this show was overwhelming me.
The radio station was on the outskirts of
Stoneybrook, in a low, tan brick building near the highway. Two tall towers stood next to it, with blinking lights on top. The Junk Bucket chugged noisily into the parking lot.
While Charlie waited in the car, Kristy walked inside with me to a small reception area. A young man sat at a desk, wearing a telephone headset and sipping coffee. His desk was piled with memos. On the walls around him hung photographs and plaques.
"Claudia?" he said, looking up.
"Yes," Kristy answered.
"Hi. My name's Max. I spoke to you on the phone Ч "
"I'm Kristy Thomas," Kristy said with a big grin, reaching out to shake the guy's hand.
He gave her a puzzled look. "You're the assistant?" he asked.