Maeve on the Red Carpet (6 page)

“And does
she
know who
he
is?”

“Nope! She thinks he’s just a mysterious stranger, but
really he’s a kung fu fighting reporter who was sent on a secret mission to protect her! I think it’ll be terribly romantic, don’t you?”

“Yeah I guess. I’m just still confused about why they’re kung fu fighting in Boston.”

“Because kung fu is like totally Artemia Aaron’s thing. And it’s exciting! AND this is a
Boston
Holiday!”

“So does the princess know kung fu too?”

I paused. “Hmm … I still need to figure that part out.”

“Knock knock,” Mom interrupted, tapping on my already open door.

“Ooh, Iz, I gotta go. Miss you … have fun!” I closed my cell phone, careful not to smudge my wet nails. “Enter!” I said to Mom, in my royal-est and proper-est voice.

“Maeve, what on Earth are you wearing?”

“Excuse me. Don’t you mean, Your Royal Highness Princess Sophia?” I joked. I was trying to get into character—that is, the character I made up. That character was Princess Sophia of Tazmundo. I was totally decked out in a long lavender nightgown with my pink tiara still in my hair. I’d been wearing it all night except for when I sat with Matt and did my absolutely annoying pre-algebra equations. I couldn’t have Matt thinking I was babyish.

Mom folded her arms and shook her head. “You need your rest, young lady. Tomorrow’s a big day!”

“I know. I know. Film camp in the morning. Destiny awaits!” I stared at my
Kung Fu Crazy
poster and felt
shivers down my spine. “Hiiiiii-YAA!” I cried and did a sharp, serious kung fu kick.

“Now, wait a minute. Are you a princess or a kung fu fighter?” Mom asked.

“I’m both!” I replied. “Check it out.” I spun around in a double kick and with all my might did a kung fu chop (or maybe it was a karate chop—I still wasn’t sure) right in the middle of my dresser. As soon as my pinky hit the wood, I knew that I’d made a gigantic mistake. “OUCH!” I cried. (“Note to self: The desk is definitely stronger than my hand.”)

“Okay, kung fu princess. Enough. You don’t want start film camp in a cast.”

I sucked on my sore pinky and nodded. Sometimes I got sort of carried away with my ideas. I ran over and gave Mom a light kiss the cheek. “Night, Mom.”

“Goodnight, sweetie,” Mom said. “Lights out in ten minutes, okay?”

I nodded but didn’t say anything because my fingers hurt so much. Mom was right—it was really important to be as rested as possible for the first day of film camp. And I had to do my whole beauty regime
before
I could get my beauty sleep.

I grabbed a hair elastic and piled my curls on top of my head. My hair was so thick and crazy that it practically stood straight up. Actually, it was toppling a little.
The Leaning Tower of Hair
, I thought with a giggle. Talk about sight-seeing in Boston! “
And here she is now … Boston’s own Maeve Kaplan-Taylor … and her Leaning Tower
of Hair. Let’s have a big round of applause
.” Just as I bent to do my bow, Sam ran by my door, stuck his tongue out, and blew a huge raspberry. If I wasn’t so tired I would have chased him down and sprayed him with perfume. He totally hated the smell of Pink Hearts, my favorite new spray.

But I had to put my hair in a silly ’do so I wouldn’t get any goop on it. Well, not goop, really, but my sea algae mud mask. It sure felt like goop though! I took a huge scoop and smeared it aaaaall over my cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. It looked soooo gross but it smelled absolutely divine! By the time I was done, the only spots that weren’t slimy and green were my eyes and lips. Now my reflection was seriously ridiculous. I mean, I looked like a creature from a Dr. Seuss book.

First thing I did was put the music on. I had to get my favorite jam pumping ASAP—“Girl Authority Theme” by Girl Authority. Girl Authority was a group of girls my age from the Boston area, and they totally rocked out.
Talk about living the dream
, I sighed. I got up from my dresser and did a few yoga stretches to warm up. Then I started to practice my kung fu moves. After my little pinky accident, I definitely had some work to do.

My room was the perfect place for movie planning and really practicing anything. (As a true performer, practicing was very important to me.) Everything around me was pink, pink, pink, from my fluffy comforter to my feathery lamp. It is a known fact that pink is the color of inspiration. The first time Avery saw my room, she said it looked
like a bottle of Pepto Bismol exploded over everything. But Katani said that even though it was waaaay too pink for her taste, at least it all matched. I didn’t care what my friends thought. I
knew
my room was spectacular.

My walls were covered with movie posters—fabulous posters from the greatest movie classics ever. And the best part was they were free! Dad gave me tons of them from the Movie House. I had so many posters that I liked to switch them around depending on my mood. But
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
always stayed right above my bed. I didn’t have the heart to ever take that one down. Audrey Hepburn would always be at the top of my all-time favorite actresses list.

I stood in the center of my pink rug, took a deep yoga breath, and pronounced out loud, “
You
… are a princess.” I stared at myself in my full-length mirror and had to try hard not to laugh. “A dazzlingly beautiful, kung fu fighting princess! Hiiiiii-YAAA!” I leaped up and did a double kick with both my hands slicing the air. I was starting to get way pumped up! “You cannot be defeated. No one is more powerful than the dazzlingly beautiful, kung fu fighting princess. Hiiiiii-YAAA!”

My heart was really pounding now. This was all part of my beauty regime. I loved dancing and moving around because it helped me burn off nervous energy. And dancing made me soooo happy. I mean, who wouldn’t be happy singing and dancing?

“Hey, Nik and Sam,” I called out to my guinea pigs. “Check out these moves! Hiiii-YAAA!” I did a quick
spin-kick. I liked to change their names around a lot, depending on my favorite couple of the moment. Of course, Nik and Sam were actually two twin sister country western stars, and my guinea pigs were a boy and a girl, but I didn’t think the little guys would mind.

Suddenly I heard a creaking noise … and it wasn’t coming from the guinea pigs’ cage! I turned around and nearly fainted when I saw a little black circle sticking through the crack of my door. It was a camera. And the person holding it was …
no way
!

“SAAAAAAM!” I hollered at the top of my lungs. “That thing better not be on!”

“Of course it’s on! This stuff is funny.” He barged into the room, pointing the camcorder right at me. “Welcome to the bedroom of the green slime monster,” he spoke in a cartoon voice.

“Stop it! Get OUT!” I shrieked. “Seriously! Moooooom! Sam’s teasing me. That thing better be turned off!” I screamed as I lurched toward him.

“The monster is very mean!” yelled Sam as he leapt backward toward the door.

I heard the sound of angry footsteps outside and in a few seconds Mom appeared in the door. When I saw her I instantly burst out laughing. Mom’s face was covered with green slime too! Sam spun around and pointed the camera at her.

“Wow! The big bad mommy monster’s here too!”

Mom didn’t seem too happy about being taped either. “Turn it off, Sam. That’s supposed to be for film camp.”

I nodded. “Yeah! You’re not supposed to play with that.” If Sam broke one of those cameras we’d be in serious trouble.

“I have
permission
,” Sam said in a braggy voice. “Dad wants me to tape the whooooole film camp. It’s my job, remember?
I’m
the filmotographer.”

“Mom!” I gasped.

“Honey, if your dad gave him the camera there really isn’t anything I can do. But Sam, you have to respect your sister’s privacy.”

“That’s right. Dad wants me to documentize
everything
.” Sam held the camera close to my face, and I suspected he was zooming in on the green goopiness.

I reached my hand out to block the lens, just like I’d seen real celebs do when they were caught with no makeup coming out of the gym or something. “Errrr! I can’t believe this! I’m not even famous yet and
already
I have to deal with paparazzi!”

Sam giggled. “The monster’s getting angry. Maybe it’s feeding time!” Sam spun around, going back and forth between Mom and me. If this was his idea of filming, his audience was going to be very dizzy!

“Sam, turn it off,” Mom ordered. “I’d rather not make my film debut looking like Frankenstein’s bride.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. You guys
both
look like Frankenstein’s bride,” Sam reminded her.

Sam kicked the air in one of his tae kwon do moves, so obviously making fun of me. Just because he had lessons once a week, he thought he was some kind of expert.

“Wait ’til I learn some serious kung fu moves from Artemia,” I began. “Then you’ll really—”

“—have something good to tape,” Mom finished for me. Then she literally lifted Sam (which must have been kind of hard because he was going through a major growth spurt lately), plopped him down in the middle of the hallway, and firmly closed the door behind her.

“Hey!” I heard Sam object. “I’m working here!”

I took a makeup remover towel thingy and wiped the goop off my face. Now I knew how stars felt when their photos ended up on the cover of those tabloid magazines—caught! One thing was for sure—if I wanted to do well at film camp I was going to have to put in an A++ effort the whole time. Especially with Sam snooping around.
Well, if there’s one girl who can do it, it has to be yours truly
! I thought with a smile. And plus, when everyone heard about my oh-so-incredible
Boston Holiday
idea, there’d be no question about who was the star of the show.

Maeve, I’m leaving!” Mom hollered from the bottom of the stairs.

I burst out of the bathroom and started feeling a panicky tightness in my throat. “But, Mom, I’m not even
close
to ready!” I protested.

It was actually true. I had a hot curling iron in one hand and my toothbrush in the other. One half of my hair was twisted into banana-curl perfection and the other half looked like I’d just been through some kind of electric shock. There was no way I’d be ready to make a star-quality entrance at film camp … not
yet
.

“Pleeeease can I just have ten more minutes?” I begged. “I’ll be your servant for life,” I added, even though I knew that promise was never going to happen. Even if Mom
wanted
to hire me, I’d be the messiest servant ever.

“Maeve, I don’t have ten more minutes to wait. I’ve got my Monday meeting this morning.”

“The train is leaving! All aboard!” Sam announced from the hallway.
Err
. It was so unfair sometimes how boys could just throw on jeans and a shirt and be all set to go. Girls just didn’t have it that easy. And for girls with super curly hair … well …
forget it
!

The plan for the first morning was for Mom to walk us downstairs to camp on her way to work so we could be in front of the Movie House with the rest of the campers. Since camp started at 9 a.m., and Mom had to be at work at 8:30 a.m., I’d end up being way early. That should have been the first clue that this plan was just plain-old not going to work. After all, I was Maeve Kaplan-Taylor … how was I supposed to show up at film camp bright and early when it was practically a part of my DNA to be fashionably late?

I grabbed my puff of frizz and gave Mom a look of total desperation. “This might just be the single most important day of my life,” I informed her. “Please can I have just a teeny-weeny bit longer?”

Mom sighed. “All right, fine. I’ll call your father and see if he wants to walk you in.”

“Yessssss!” I breathed. I knew Dad would pull through. He was always a late-bird like me.

“Sam, would you like to wait here with your sister?” Mom asked.

I held my breath. After Sam’s paparazzi attack the night before, I certainly did NOT want my little brother
snooping around the bathroom with my hair in major rescue-911 mode.

“No way!” Sam exclaimed. “What if something exciting happens at the Movie House and I miss it … waiting for Mrs. Frankenstein?” I wanted to chase him, but I was on frizz patrol. (His monster routine was getting really annoying.) “I’d be the worst filmotographer in the world!”

I was going to point out that he was the
only
filmotographer in the world, but I bit my lip and decided not to say anything. Mom had an expression for that—“don’t instigate.” That meant—in Mom talk—don’t give Sam any reason to start teasing me. For now, I was safe, and I wasn’t going to push it!

“All right, your dad is on his way,” Mom called, snapping her cell phone closed.

“Eek!” I squealed. “Now I really need to get going!”

I heard Sam mutter something but Mom quieted him down with an “Enough.”

“Good luck today, sweetheart!” Mom called.

I felt lucky. “Thanks, Mom.” The stage was where I felt confident. My hairball—on the other hand—well, that needed all the luck it could get. Thankfully if there was one thing I could count on Dad for it was running late. By the time he finally rang the doorbell I not only had my hair in tip-top form, but I even had time to put on a little blush and lip gloss, giving my face a healthy glow for the big morning.

“Okay, Dad, be honest … what do you think?” I
walked slowly down the stairs. I had selected my outfit the night before and I was going for “smashing” … the way Artemia looked in the Movie House the other day. I was wearing a new, crisp white blouse with a black velvet blazer. My pants were soft pink corduroy, perfectly matching my pink headband. I hoped my look said “star” and “serious ack-
tour
.”

Dad stood in the hallway with a little white bag in one hand and a steaming hot cup of coffee in the other. “You look sharp, Maeve,” he said, slurping the coffee.

“Sharp? Or glamorous?”

“Glamorous,” Dad gulped.