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is!”
    I take the paper from India and run to the phone. “Let me hear!” Angie insists, as I dial the number and wait.
    “It’s just ringing!” I hiss back. A recorded message comes on, and I tilt the phone receiver so Angie can hear it too:
    “We care about Houston. Do you? If you want to help out Houston’s homeless, then make a date with stardom. Unknown groups can audition for the Karma’s Children benefit concert on November 23rd, at The Crabcake Lounge, Kemah’s Boardwalk in Galveston Bay. If you’re a singing group in the Houston area, this may be your chance to shine. Auditions will be held on November 21st from 10 A.M. to 4 P.M. Come help Houston’s hottest stars sing for their supper. Call 800-000-GET-HOME to order your tickets now!”
    Angie and I look at each other. “We have to swallow our pride and go to that audition,” I confess excitedly.
    Ma just looks at me, and smiles. “I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses, Nettie One.”
    “Yes, ma’am, I am too!” I tell her. Then I turn to India and give her a big hug. “I guess if it wasn’t for your divette detective skills, we wouldn’t be going to any audition!” I tell her.
    “You know, they only want groups from here,” Angie points out.
    “Yes—and?” I ask.
    “What about the
rest
of the Cheetah Girls?”
    “Oh,” I say, finally realizing what she means. I was so busy thinking about Angie and me performing that I forgot about them. “That’s right—they’re from New York City. So what are we gonna do?”
    Big Momma has brought out the rest of the food, and overhears the end of our deep discussion. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
    We explain the predicament to her while shoveling food into our mouths.
    “I think y’all should go—one monkey don’t stop no show,” Big Momma says, giving us her familiar line of advice.
    “All right,” I respond, looking at Angie, who nods her head like she agrees.
    “Momma, where is Skeeter?” Ma asks Big Momma again. She’s been quiet all this time, and I guess she’s been worrying about her brother.
    I chuckle to myself. He’s probably down at Slick Willie’s in Bayou Place, playing pool as usual. That’s one of the reasons he and Aunt Neffie used to fight—’cuz he wasn’t home half the time.
    “Never mind about Skeeter, Junifred.” Big Momma only calls Ma by her real name when she is irritated. I wonder why that should be….
    I dig into my macaroni and cheese, and a thought hits me like a can of lard upside my head:
How can we go on an audition without the Cheetah Girls
?
    I look over at Angie. Like always, she knows just what I’m thinking. Big Momma is right. One monkey don’t stop no show. We’ll just go on the audition and see what happens. Judging by what Egyptian said, probably everybody and their mother will be there. We’ll be lucky if we even
get
to audition.
    We go out in the garden to play. Outside, Egyptian rushes up to me and blurts out what’s been on her mind the whole time. “Daddy hasn’t been home for three whole days!” she says.
    “Is that right?” I gasp, alarmed.
    India runs outside when she hears us out there. “We don’t know where he is. He hasn’t called or anything. Big Momma is worried sick—and so are we!” India looks exasperated, which seems to make her wandering eye wander even farther.
    I check through the window. Ma and Big Momma are still chattering away in the living room.
    “You don’t know where Uncle Skeeter is?” Angie asks.
    Egyptian firmly shakes her head “no.”
    India’s eyes light up, and she says, “He has a girlfriend downtown. I heard him talking on the phone with her.”
    “How do you know he was talking to his girlfriend?” Egyptian asks, like she doesn’t believe her sister.
    “’Cuz he was giggling a lot,” India says, like she knows what she’s talking about.
    Angie and I just smile at her. I think my cousin India really does have the makings of a “divette detective,” but now is