Maeve on the Red Carpet (3 page)

“Actually, I was raised right above a very famous theater. Hello? Does the Movie House ring a bell? And I happen to have fabulous manners, thank
you
. I mean, I’ll need them for the Oscars some day.”

“Oh, is that a fact?” Mom hurried us along to the table. “Well then, when you’re at the Oscars I suggest you chew with your mouth closed. And will you say hi to George Clooney for me?”

I giggled. “Okay.” George Clooney was my mom’s favorite actor.

As much as I loved the scallion pancakes and everything, the part of Chinese takeout I
really
looked forward to was dessert. It was the most exciting, because dessert meant fortune cookies, and fortune cookies meant reading FORTUNES. I saved my favorite fortune ever in my jewelry box. I
had
to. It said, “
You are destined to see your name in lights
.” Then—you won’t believe this—the next day I got the lead role in the school play! Totally weird, right?

I grabbed a cookie and squeezed my eyes shut. “Dear goddess of fabulousness, please let my fortune be fabulous,” I whispered to myself. Maybe it would have to do with romance … or something about becoming a huge movie star. Either one was fine by me. I cracked the cookie in two and pulled out the strip of paper inside.

“AHEM,” I coughed. I loved reading out loud and performing, but I had to make sure I got all the words right first. I have this thing called dyslexia—it’s a learning disability—oops, I mean learning challenge—and can be a little annoying. Even though I know I’m pretty smart, reading, writing, and spelling can be hard for me. It especially doesn’t help that Sam is a like a mini-genius in school. I concentrated very hard on the fortune, hoping that I’d get the words perfect on the first try.

I took a deep breath. “
New and exciting things will be happening in your future
.” I groaned. “Oh
no
. That could mean anything. I wanted to hear
real news
, like: ‘You are most definitely going to be a major star.’”

“Now, Maeve, new and exciting things … that’s a fun one!” Mom was trying to be supportive, but I still felt tragically disappointed.

“Mom, puhleeease. What do I have to look forward to—a long school vacation stuck at home doing
nothing
. I have one word for you: BORING.” I was still feeling sorry for myself because I was the only one of the BSG
not
doing something fun over winter break. In two weeks, all my friends would be off on their special vacations. Avery was going snowboarding in Colorado, Katani was staying with her cousin in New York City and taking fashion design classes, Charlotte was going on a trip to Montreal with her dad, and Isabel was visiting her father in Detroit. I would officially be the only BSG left here in boring, old Boston. Not exactly the life of a future movie star.

Even my little brother had cool plans … at least, cool for
him
. Grandpa was taking Sam on a tour of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, where this big Civil War battle was fought. Sam was beyond excited. All week he’d been running around the house yelling, “Four score and seven years ago … CHARGE!” Whatever
that
was supposed to mean.

My fortune probably
should’ve
said “Danger, Maeve Kaplan-Taylor! Outlook B-O-R-I-N-G,
boring
!” Why,
oh why
, was life so unfair?

I turned to Sam. “What does
your
fortune say?”

Sam rubbed his tummy. “Don’t know. I think I ate the paper.” I made a face at him. “Just kidding!” He grinned. Sam opened his mouth—full of half-eaten cookie. Ugh. Boys were soooo rude. “My fortune said I will be famous
beyond my wildest dreams. Score!” Sam pumped his fist in the air and ran out of the room.

“
Soooo
unfair,” I moaned, burying my head on the kitchen table.

Just then, a gust of wind blasted into the kitchen. Who was standing like an icicle in the doorway but … Dad, with a huge grin on his face.

“Ross!” Mom leapt up from the table immediately. “What are you doing here?” She twirled her new short, blond hair. My parents separated a few months ago and they still acted kind of funny when they were around each other. Right now, Mom was trying to look annoyed that Dad had dropped in unexpectedly but I could tell she secretly was happy about it. She was using her
fake
-angry voice—the same one she used on me when I sang show tunes too loudly in my room.

“Carol, I have the most exciting news.” My dad threw his arms in the air. “You’re going to have to sit down. You too, Maeve.”

I laughed. “But I’m already sitting!” Dad could be way over-dramatic about good news … just like me.

“Okay. I have two words for you,” Dad paused for dramatic effect. “
Film camp
.”

“Film camp?” Mom and I repeated at the same time.

Dad nodded, looking even more goofy and excited. “A film camp! At the Movie House!”

“Oh!” I cried and sprang out of my chair to give Dad a hug. “It’s brilliant!” I didn’t know what film camp meant exactly, but I knew it had to do with making movies. And
if it had to do with making movies, I would definitely
love it
.

But Mom didn’t look as excited. “Ross …” She shook her head and said in a quiet voice, “We can’t afford—I mean, you can’t afford—I mean …
film camp
?”

“Carol, you are absolutely right.” Dad smiled. “
We
can’t afford to run a film camp. But the New York Film Academy can!”

“A film camp! At the Movie House! It’s brilliant!”

For a second my heart nearly stopped in my chest. What was going on? Why was Dad still smiling?

“A film camp! At the Movie House! It’s brilliant!”

Then his smile got
even wider
. “And … there’s more. Carol, have you ever heard of Walter Von Krupcake? As in Krupcake’s Pies and Cakes Incorporated? As in … the Krupcake King himself?”

“Wait a minute, Ross.
You know
the Krupcake King?” Mom gasped.

“Mom!
Everybody
knows the Krupcake King!” I exclaimed. “He’s on TV, like, all the time.” I cleared my throat, pretended to put on a giant whipped cream crown—like the Krupcake King wore in his commercials —and recited in a proper voice, “It’s the krup that makes a cake for a king.”

Dad grinned and his eyes widened. “Exactly! Wow, Maeve, very good.”

“Thanks.” I shrugged. I had to admit, I was pretty famous for my impressions.

Dad went on, “Carol, I don’t just
know
the Krupcake King … you’re looking at his new business partner! The New York Film Academy wanted to run a film camp here in Boston, but they needed a top-notch facility. Walter Von Krupcake—who has Hollywood connections and still lives in Boston—has offered to make the Movie House a little … you know …”

“Cooler?” Sam piped.

Dad patted Sam on the head. “Thanks for that, son. The theater just needs a little sprucing up to accommodate a real film camp. And Mr. Von Krupcake is going to make the facility more accessible for people with disabilities … something I’ve been saving to do for the Movie House for a while now.”

Mom looked suspicious. She was always very careful not to get her hopes up. She liked to get all the facts straight first. “Spruce up the Movie House? In two weeks? Ross, don’t you think that’s a little … unrealistic?”

Dad shrugged. “That’s what I thought too. But Walter Von Krupcake assured me that it could be done. He’s bringing in his crew tomorrow to get started.” Dad’s eyes were wide. “You know, sometimes you just get lucky.”

“But that’s … that’s …
huge
…” I could see Mom’s mouth start to turn into a smile, then stop. “Wait. How are you going to get the equipment, Ross?”

“All provided courtesy of the New York Film Academy.” Dad grinned.

“And who’s going to sign up for this film camp on such short notice?”

“Ah-ha, Carol, I’m glad you asked. Mr. Von Krupcake says he already has a list of kids from all over Massachusetts. Apparently our wonderful city of Brookline has been crying out for a film camp for a long time!” Dad’s voice was full of excitement.

Sam and I giggled. My drama genes definitely came from my dad.

“Ross, that’s just wonderful!” Mom said, sounding a little surprised to hear the words coming out of her mouth.

“It’s absolutely
fantabulous
!” I agreed. “Wait, this
does
mean I get to go to film camp … right?”

Dad glanced at Mom. “Well, I don’t know … you already have so much on your plate, Maeve. Carol, what do you think?”

Before Mom had a chance to answer, the words started spilling out of my mouth. “Dad, are you kidding me? Movies are my life—my DREAM! And now there’s going to be a film camp downstairs in our very own Movie House and you’re—”

“Relax, Maeve, I
was
kidding. Of course you can go.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey, no kidding about movies, remember?”

Dad laughed. “I’m sorry. How could I forget?”

I gave Mom and Dad a hug. “Listen, Dad, do you think I can be the star of the film? No, don’t tell me. I know I have to audition like everybody else. But maybe if you could put in a good word for me …”

Dad made a stressed-out face.

“Completely kidding! Oops!” I covered my mouth, realizing that I just broke my own rule.

“Well, kidding aside, the Film Academy is going to be in charge of casting decisions,” Dad said. “Which is a good thing.” He looked at Mom. “Turns out, the Krupcake King has a princess.”

“Ross …” Mom began.

“Hey! I know who you mean!” I exclaimed. “That’s that little blond girl who plays Princess Maddiecake in the commercial with the Krupcake King! She’s sooooo cute. At the end of the commercial she always says, ‘Remember Maddiecakes are chock full of Vitamin L … for Love!’ Oh, I
adore
her!”

“Well that Pastry Princess is coming to camp. She’s your age, Maeve, and apparently she wants to break into the world of film now.”

“Ross, I hope this doesn’t mean what I think it does …” Mom warned. “No special treatment …”

I looked back and forth between Mom and Dad.

Dad laughed, getting rid of any nervousness I was starting to feel. “No, Carol. I told you … the New York Film Academy is completely in charge of the camp, and they’re probably going to have an
ensemble
cast.” I knew what ensemble was—a group of stars instead of one big lead. Dad continued, “Maeve, you’re a very talented actress. I’m sure you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m sure too.” I laughed. It was very important to have confidence if you were going to be an actress.
Dream big
was what I always reminded myself.

“We’re going to have a lot of work to do these next few weeks, kiddo,” Dad told me. I kinda sorta had a feeling I was going to be his number-one helper. “I hope you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty,” he added.

I looked at my hands and faked a terrified face. Last night I painted my nails and they looked truly smashing. It was called “Sparkly Seashell Pink.” (I know—redheads are supposed to avoid pink like the plague, but I was born loving pink. I mean, it’s just what happened to me.) Plus, I had just bought some new pink bracelets from Think Pink—my main pink shopping headquarters—last weekend. I bit my lip and glanced at Dad. “Do I
have to
get my hands dirty?”

Dad and Mom looked at each other and at the same time answered, “YES.”

“Look at it this way,” Mom said. “Maybe your fortune
cookie was right … there are new and exciting things happening in your future.”

“Starting with cleaning the Movie House bright and early tomorrow,” Dad chimed in. “The camp will be bringing in their equipment and I’d like the place to look spic and span.”

I smiled. There was simply no use pretending. I knew I wouldn’t mind the cleaning one bit if it meant FILM CAMP! Besides, with Sam off visiting Grandpa, I didn’t have to worry about any little brother annoyingness getting between me and the stage! Plus, the thought of having the camp at our very own Movie House, was, well … “UNBELIEVABLE!” I shouted out loud.

Dad winked at Mom. “I told you so.”

Mom shook her head but even she couldn’t keep a wide grin off her face.

“Hey, Carol …” Dad said, giving Mom a funny look. “Did you do something to your hair?”