Macdonald Hall #6: Lights, Camera, Disaster!

The Royal Sneeze

On Friday night, the lights shone in the makeup trailer long after Seth Dinkman had stopped the day's filming. A single cosmetics expert labored over a young client.

Finally the door opened, and the boy stepped out onto the dark campus, waving his thanks inside. But instead of heading to the heart of the village of trailers on the east lawn, he ventured off to the Macdonald Hall dormitories. He entered the third building and walked through the crowded hallway, receiving only a few curious glances. Approaching room 306, he reached out and knocked smartly.

"Yeah?" came Bruno's voice from within.

"Sir," replied the boy formally, with just a trace of an accent, "is this the address at which one must present oneself for participation in tonight's social activities?"

Bruno threw the door open and stared in shock. "Holy cow! Cutesy? No way!"

Boots appeared over his shoulder. Awed, he merely whispered, "Jordie?'

The figure in front of them looked almost nothing like Jordie Jones, the famous actor. His fair complexion had been darkened with makeup, and his blond hair was completely covered by an authentic silk turban. Although he wore his regular clothes, the look was completely different, because shadow had been applied to soften the chiselled features of his face. He looked plumper, rounder. But the piece de resistance was the eyes — Jordie's famous baby blues were now a dark, dark brown.

He bowed formally. "At your service."

"But your face!" Boots stammered. "Your eyes!"

"Contact lenses," the actor replied in his normal voice. "And the turban is left over from Redhead in Arabia. I figure we can tell the girls I'm the son of some sheik or prince or something."

"With that accent, they'll never know it's you," promised Bruno in awe. "Come on, it's time to go."

Most of the three-hundred-odd Macdonald Hall senior students were swarming on the front lawn, just beginning to trickle across the highway to Miss Scrimmage's. Not wanting to be among the first to arrive, Bruno, Boots, and Jordie hung back by the flagpole. There they met Wilbur, Larry, Sidney, Pete, and Mark. Elmer never went to school dances, as his throat always closed up in the presence of girls. Tonight he was focusing his telescope on a small pulsar in the constellation of Cygnus, and ignoring the whole thing.

Taking his place in the group was slight, skinny Calvin Fihzgart. This was Calvin's first school dance, and he had proclaimed himself the world's greatest ladies' man for the occasion.

"Those chicks had better watch out!'' he declared, spraying his body liberally with cologne. He already smelled like the wreckage of an exploded perfume factory. "There are going to be a lot of hearts broken tonight!"

Boots pointed at Calvin. "What's he doing here?"

Larry shrugged. "He just showed up and started babbling. I think he's nervous about his first dance."

"Nervous? Are you nuts?" roared Calvin. "I just hope I don't get any jealous boyfriends coming after me!"

Bruno clamped his hand over the lens of Mark's video camera. "Aw, come on! How does this fit into your dumb documentary?"

"It's very important," said Mark righteously. "This illustrates what movie stars go through not to be recognized."

"No, it doesn't," countered Boots. "It illustrates who snuck Jordie Jones into the dance, just like it illustrates who played poker with Jordie Jones, and who snuck out after lights-out with five boxes of explosives to booby-trap Jordie Jones. And if The Fish sees it, you can expand your masterpiece to include us carrying our luggage to the train station, because we'll all be expelled!"