The LoGlas Theater: Growing Up Aimi, #3

By Bill Belew and Mia Belew

An eighth grader dares to direct the school play. Can she handle her cast of peers?

 

Aimi Wilby loves theater and writing. With the spring play coming up, the budding author is thrilled to be assigned as an assistant director. Diligent Aimi can't believe it when her teacher abruptly quits, and she is chosen to write and direct the entire production.

 

Aimi refuses to be deterred even when she loses her mentor, her cast members fight, the school administrators prove apathetic, and parents are constantly overbearing. However, what the intrepid teenager fears most is that she will disappoint everyone, especially when a well-meaning counselor insists on the late addition of another cast member with a dark and wholly unfamiliar past.

 

Aimi has one last idea. But will it be enough?

 

The LoGlas Theater is the true-to-life third book in the Growing Up Aimi middle grade fiction series. If you like honest characters, beautiful twists, and Christian themes, then you'll love father-daughter writing duo Bill & Mia Belew's wonderful tale.

 

Grab The LoGlas Theater and join in the adventure today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: GrowingUpAimi
• Release date: Apr 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393596677

Book preview

Bill & Mia Belew

The LoGlas Theater

A Middle Grade Christian Adventure for Kids Ages 9-14

Copyright © 2022 by Bill & Mia Belew

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Bill & Mia Belew asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

First edition

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Contents

1. 1 - Old Romanian Word for Dragon

2. 2 - They Have a Kid Doing What?

3. 3 - There’s No Word for Smile

4. 4 - Script Call

5. 5 - No Birthday Parties

6. 6 - New Twist on Old Classic

7. 7 - 3 Wishes

8. 8 - Renaissance Man

9. 9 - Hard is Easy is Hard

10. 10 - Parents Are the Worst

11. 11 - A Kiss on the Neck from a Prince

12. 12 - Counting on My Fingers

13. 13 - Showed Us Their Teeth

14. 14 - Flabberwhelmed

15. 15 - Which is Witch?

16. 16 - Credit Where Due

17. 17 - Nobody Clapped Their Hands

18. 18 - But Can She Sing?

19. 19 - Absentminded Producer

20. 20 - Going Blind

21. 21 -She Called Me Apple Dumpling

22. 22 - Callbacks

23. 23 - Ladies First

24. 24 - Next, the Gentlemen

25. 25 - Didn’t See It Coming

26. 26 - Best is Sure to Come

27. 27 - I Have to Quit

28. 28 - Fight!

29. 29 - Hick or Hack?

Before You Go

1

1 - Old Romanian Word for Dragon

It’s not always best to start at the beginning. That would mean I would describe crying and diapers and such. Compared to my teachers and parents, my beginning is not so long ago.

Let me go back to about three years ago.

In Eastern Europe, you will find a commune situated deep in the countryside at a pass between two mountain ranges - the Eastern Carpathians and the Transylvanian Alps. The commune consists of six villages with a total population equal to that of all of the students of The Heliuna Academy and their parents combined. More people will attend our production of The Rose and the Thorn than living in these villages and the surrounding area.

Village with a Peculiar Flavor and Unique Smell

One village has its peculiar flavor and unique smell. In the center of that village is a small church-like structure that is not a place for Christian worship. Four unequally spaced roads - um, paths - extend from the center. In one quadrant, there is a building with a blood-red steeple that may hold as many as 40 people if they were all standing and rubbing up against one another. There are no benches and no sign of a cross. On the inside walls are iconic pictures that bear no resemblance to irrelevant saints.

On the walls were roughly drawn pictures of men with white beards grown down to their waist. Only one woman, however. What you could see of her hair looked much like that of a beard from one of the old men, except her hair pointed up and out instead of down. She wore a cone-shaped hat with the point of the cone leaning to her left and towards the front. She held an object in her right hand that resembled a spear, but instead of a point, there was a metallic circular ring on the end. The ring on her, uh, I’ll call it a spear, had four spokes in the same shape as the paths that came to and from the center of the town.

Attached to the walls of the steepled building are strange objects: athame - a double-edged dagger with a black handle; a boline - a white-handled ritual knife for cutting herbs and carving inscriptions; a scourge - a multi-thong whip for self-mortification; and jewelry depicting pentacles - a symbol of the element of earth. In one corner stands a besom, a traditional broom made of twigs tied around a stick. In another corner is a spear similar to what the old woman held. In a third corner is a stang - a stake. And in the center is a table with a paten - a gold plate, a chalice, and a censer. They all look worn and recently used.

From the center of the village and within a 30-minute to one-hour brisk walk are 18 tiny huts with roofs made of red twigs and walls made of hardened dirt. In these huts live family units.

His Name Comes from Drac, Meaning Dragon

Eight to ten hours away, double that when travelers are carrying children or walking with little ones, the residents will arrive at a castle. This castle is home to a well-known character of history; some say fictional while others say actual. The character was named after an old Romanian word for dragon - ‘drac.’ We call him Dracula.

Our vampire friend’s home is the Bran Castle and is located in the Brasov County of Romania, four hours north by car from Bucharest. The commune I have been describing is located in Moieciu. The village’s name is Drumul Carului, and this village is a witches’ coven.

One of the family units claims the count as an ancestor - a great, great, great, great uncle, or maybe even a grandparent. It depends on who is telling the story.

The members of this house don’t walk around in Gothic-like clothes. They wear homemade breeches and smocks.

If I were to say the residents of Drumul Carului are ugly, it would not be quite clear to the reader. No doubt their mommies thought they were cute when they were born! That is if they had mommies at all. And from their point of view, they may think I am ugly. Who knows? Whereas many people think that being slender or muscular or shapely is desirable, the residents of Drumul Carului strived to be anything but. They ate, and ate, and ate, and ate. They didn’t eat to live; they lived to eat. In the center of their huts was a cauldron that was always boiling. The pot was never empty. Always. There was always some morsel that was only a spoon and a bowl away. Reptiles and insects were the preferred sources of protein: toads, snakes, lizards, spiders, centipedes, and worms.

How we have become grossly beautiful! they often discussed on their way to evening gatherings to howl at the full moon that visited them a lucky 13 times a year. They loved to roll up their sleeves and pull up their pants legs to show off warts and lesions that had developed on what used to be smooth skin. Abscesses were reasons to brag. When belly flab peeked out from beneath their cingulums, they cackled with delight. All the residents of DC lived in a state where what most would say is ugly, they thought was beauty, and what others thought to be repulsive, they found to be attractive. All of the residents felt this way. That is, all except for one. Lottie.

The Old Man Sat on a Bench

Lottie didn’t know there was another world besides the one she was growing up in until one day an old man, nothing like the older people in her coven, wandered into the center of their village. Near a small fountain, this old man sat on a bench for a rest just outside the steepled town center. Lottie innocently walked up to him, and he greeted her with a smile. Lottie had never seen a smile before. But she liked the strange expression she saw on the old man’s face, though she didn’t know why.

He showed Lottie an image of a little girl on an object Lottie also had never seen. The image was on the screen of his cell phone. Lottie had never seen a cell phone before either, nor a picture of another person. She had never even seen herself. It was all new to her. And also strangely appealing!

The man spoke to her, This is my little girl. She’s probably about your age. But Lottie didn’t understand. She made a raspy gurgling noise at the man. He just smiled in return. He swiped at the screen and showed Lottie a few more pictures as she stared intently, etching the images in her young mind’s eye so she would never forget. Turns out that Lottie had a knack for remembering things. After that encounter, the old man stood up slowly. The crackling his knees made sounded similar to the cackles Lottie made. Then he went on his way.

That man was my dad. He had shown Lottie my picture.

Lottie. Lottie just wrapped up the last scene in the last showing of a musical I had written with her in mind. Our stories are not dissimilar. Yet they are very different. It wasn’t easy at all for her to get from that village located in the arch of those mountains to the stage. And the final bow here at the curtain call is certainly not her final act.

There are at least two ways to get things done. The western way. And for Lottie, there was the witch way.

———

Discussion Questions:

Where is the most peculiar place you have ever visited? Why was it peculiar?

How did you get your name? What does it mean?

What incident in your life has had a profound impact?

2

2 - They Have a Kid Doing What?

Before I go deeper into Lottie’s life — and trust me, you’re going to want to travel with me to get a richer, and, dare I say, ‘thicker’, understanding of just how far she ventured to get from her hometown, a village unchanged for nearly 400 years, to Silicon Valley, where I live, a place that literally feels like it is changing by the minute. There are so many new ideas for changing the world that people leave idea puddles on the floor at the local coffee shops.

Idea Puddles

World’s largest hotel chain that has no rooms? Invented in my neighborhood.

World’s largest taxi cab company that has no cars? Invented in my neighborhood.

World’s largest clothes closet, but with NO clothes? Yup. Invented down the street from me.

World’s largest library and no books? You got it. Just up the street.

There is a company nearby that wants to connect every single person in the world. And surprise! They are doing it.

Not the same as the village where Lottie came from, eh?

Starting in Transylvania

Along the way, let me tell you about the musical we are staging this year at our school, The Heliuna Academy, and how it came to be that we are putting on this particular musical. If you get confused in this story - Is she telling us about Lottie’s life, or the life of the musical? - don’t worry. I get confused, too. The answer is both. Lottie’s life and the life of our latest musical are inextricably intertwined.

I hope you are not in a hurry. It’s going to take me a while to give you some background. By that, I mean it will take me quite a few words to lay out all the pieces of how the musical, this musical, came to be. You may want to know something about the characters, how they were chosen, I think … and how and why they were assigned the parts they were.

Of all the places I could have started this tale, why start in Transylvania, for instance? And why was Lottie chosen for such a key role? And, again, why me? How did a kid come to be the director of our school musical? Really? Am I the best the school could come up with for such an important production? Were there no veteran teachers that could step in? Perhaps our English teacher, Mrs. Huslyn. She minored in theater. Or our Bible teacher. He starred in a couple of plays when in high school. Or maybe Miss Hibon. I have heard that she moonlights at a couple of local community theaters. Why me?

What to Do for an Encore

Ask yourself this question: ‘What do you do for an encore right after surviving a traumatic near-death experience?’ Our school, The Heliuna Academy, was moments away from being no more. I mean gone. Kaput. Wave a magic wand and the school is gone and a factory has appeared.

Now we are a privately owned school. Our old science teacher, Mr. Pestihut, is now in charge. He’s the boss. The chief banana. The head honcho. Don’t worry. He’s not some kind of evil lord who is going to make our lives miserable and we have to fight him off! I hope. He’s a pretty good guy all around. But he doesn’t teach science anymore.

What we have come to learn is that Mr. Pestihut is the nephew of Mrs. Shortbeach, the chairwoman of our theater department. Who would have thought? Mrs. Shortbeach’s husband’s sister married a Pestihut. Their son, Jackson, is our Mr. Pestihut.

When Mr. Pestihut took over as our school’s owner, he decided one of the first things he wanted to do was to spruce up our arts department. The Heliuna Academy is pretty well known for its musicals and plays and orchestras and choirs and drill teams and such. I guess he reckoned he would make it possible for our shows to be even better. Makes sense to me, I guess. Practically speaking, we get to build better props, stitch together cooler costumes, have more elaborate lighting and higher quality sound equipment. More theater toys to play with! Mr. P is investing in making our theater 4-D, too. The audience doesn’t just watch the performance. Their seats move; they feel the dampness in the air and experience the smells. Pretty cool if you ask me.

The Rose and the Thorn

Our first production in the new Heliuna Academy is The Rose and the Thorn. Mrs. Shortbeach is our director. I am the co-director. Frankly speaking, I think it’s too difficult a job for someone like me. My friends, however, tell me differently. You’re a natural. Being bossy is something you are good at, they say. I am not sure if they mean that to be a compliment. It didn’t take long till I was so busy that I had no time to care what they think, though caring what they think became an integral part of the job.

I thought the priority would be to do a casting call,