Maeve on the Red Carpet (9 page)

“I have a comment AND a question.”

Oh great
. I thought.

Artemia smiled. “Go ahead, Sam.”

Sam cleared his throat. “First of all, I wanted to say that I’m the designated filmotographer.”

I glanced nervously at Artemia, who was still smiling just as sweetly as ever. “That’s fantastic, Sam. We’re very pleased to have you. Now what’s your question?”

“My question is about the game. How are we supposed to know what kind of … of … scenario to act out?”

I banged my hand on my forehead, embarrassed that my own flesh and blood would ask such an obvious question.
It’s called
IMPROV,
Sam!
I wanted to yell.

“That’s a very good question. Sam, the purpose of the game is to get the creative juices flowing. You learn how to play around with the first thing that pops into your head. It’s a great way to brainstorm. Yes, Madeline?”

Madeline stood up and bravely walked into the center of the circle. “‘Freeze and Justify’ is one of the most basic improvisation games. Improvisation is a performance given without preparation,” she explained. “I play it all the time in acting class. Would you like me to volunteer to go first?” The Krupcake Princess sounded like she was twenty years old.

It seemed to me like she’d already volunteered by
walking herself into the middle of the circle, but Artemia nodded politely. “Thank you, Madeline. How very courageous of you.” My mouth felt dry. I felt like an amateur and not an actor.

“And I was thinking maybe Apollo would like to go first as well. I know
he
knows this game!” Madeline waved at Apollo, who was back shrinking into the folds of the curtains and pretending to fix a light. “Come on, Apollo. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

This was the one second when Artemia’s patient smile disappeared. “Oh, um, I don’t think … Apollo?”

Apollo didn’t answer but put the light down and shoved his hands in his pockets. He trudged, slouched over, to the middle of the circle staring at the floor the whole time. I mean, I knew that the wood floor was refinished a week ago, but it couldn’t have been
that
interesting to look at.

“Sure, whatever dude,” Apollo mumbled. Why wasn’t he psyched about being the first person to go? Wasn’t he a real actor?

“All right, fabulous. Apollo, I already have a brilliant idea. Just play along,” Madeline instructed.

Apollo threw his shoulders back and took a deep breath. He looked like he didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t blame him. I was beginning to think that Madeline Von Krupcake would do just about anything to capture everyone’s attention.

Madeline leaned over and whispered something into Apollo’s ear.

“Huh?” Apollo said in a regular volume voice.

“Please lie down and CLOSE YOUR EYES!” Madeline ordered. Then she smiled sweetly. I wished all the BSG were there because I could not figure out this girl.

Apollo laid flat on the stage with his eyes closed. Madeline bent over him and pretended to dab his face with a facecloth. “Johnny, Johnny, please wake up!” Madeline said in a thick Southern drawl. “Oh, Johnny, I can’t hold it in anymore. I know I’m just your nurse, and I know you’ve been in a coma for three months, but they’ve been the most magical months of my life. It’s this war, Johnny. This terrible war. Oh, Johnny, I know how crazy this must sound. I know you’ll never walk again. Why, you might not ever wake up from this coma. You don’t even know who I am. But I know that you are a good person even if you can’t wake up.” Madeline put the back of her hand against her forehead and pretended to look faint. “I just hope someday you’ll be able to see the face of the beautiful nurse who saved your life.”

Madeline collapsed on the stage in a fit of hysterical crying. It looked pretty real, too. She even sniffled and wiped her nose. Gee, she was good …
really
good.

Then I had an idea. “Freeze!” I shouted.

Madeline stopped fake crying and Apollo, well, he kept lying there in exactly the same position. I got up and tapped Apollo’s shoulder. “Hope you don’t mind if I take your place,” I told him.

“Be my guest!” He bolted upright and gratefully slipped out of the circle.

Madeline didn’t look quite as grateful that I’d interrupted her scene, but “freezing” was half the point of the game. The other half was “justifying” that your idea was creative. I hoped I’d be able to pull it off.

I scooted into Apollo’s exact lying-down position and took a deep breath. Then I began to crab-walk backward as Madeline stared. “Get down!” I cried, tugging the fur on her boots. “Stop drop and roll, remember?” I started coughing as loud as I could, and suddenly Madeline got it and started coughing too.

“There’s smoke everywhere!” she hacked. “I’m afraid! I think it’s coming from the kitchen. You weren’t baking again, were you?”

We were now both crawling around on the stage pretending to push clouds of smoke away and coughing our most blood-curdling coughs. I put my hand over my heart. “Oh, sister, I admit it! I was the one baking. I promise—I’ll never cook again!”

Now the whole circle of campers started laughing. I couldn’t believe it—the kids really thought we were funny. Madeline and I were a hit!

“Freeze!” another camper squeaked. Just my luck—the little squeak of course came from Sam, and of course he tapped Madeline’s shoulder and squirmed into her position—crawling on the wood next to me.

“Sam!” I hissed under my breath.

“You
have
to,” he whispered back, and I knew he was absolutely right. No matter what Sam’s made-up scene was, I had to play along. And knowing Sam, there was
pretty much only one scene that
he
liked to act out.

“Over there, Peter!” Sam pointed at an invisible spot toward the back of the stage. “I see Charlie at five o’clock.”

“Who’s Charlie?” I asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. “No, Maeve! Charlie’s supposed to be the enemy. You know, like when you’re playing Army?”

Now Artemia was the one to shout. “Freeze! Sam, once you start acting out a scene, you can’t break character. Maeve isn’t Maeve anymore … she’s Peter, okay?”

Sam nodded sheepishly.

“But Maeve and Maddie, I mean, Madeline, you two had it exactly right. Great job, girls. And Sam, wonderful try. You’ll get the hang of it in no time. Now we’ll take a quick break for water and snacks and meet back here in five.”

I smiled, so relieved that I’d been brave enough to say “Freeze” and jump right in like that. I felt someone tap my shoulder and I turned. It was Madeline.

“Nice job,” she said. “I wasn’t sure anyone here would be able to keep up.”

I couldn’t believe her confidence in herself. And in me.

“Thanks,” I told her. “You were really good too. I loved your ‘Johnny’ scene. It was so sad! How’d you come up with that? I mean, you didn’t even need Apollo’s help at all!”

“I know,” Madeline announced proudly. “I’ve taken lots of acting classes, so I’m kind of an expert. I’m Madeline
Von Krupcake, by the way.” (As if I didn’t already know.) “But you can call me Maddie.” She held out her hand very properly.

“Maeve Kaplan-Taylor,” I shook her hand firmly. “But you can call me Maeve.”

“Maeve, it’s very nice to meet you, darling. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

I nearly fainted! She was quoting
Casablanca
—one of my all-time favorite movies.

“I think you’re right.” I laughed.

“C’mon. Let’s go see if Artemia needs our help for the next activity. Maeve, we are so going to
rule
this camp.”

“I know! I already have a fabulous idea for the film!” I boasted.

“Maeve, you are too much!” Maddie strutted to the back of the stage where Artemia was standing. Fitzy yipped and took off behind her, and then I went behind Fitzy, feeling only a tiny bit silly that I was following a dog. Maddie tossed her shiny blond hair over her shoulder, and I did the same thing. Her hair swished from side-to-side, while all my curls did was bounce up and down. Still, I felt like all the campers were looking at me with total admiration. Like Maddie said, it was the start of a beautiful friendship. Wait until the BSG heard about this!

On Wednesday morning, I got up while it was still dark out. Maddie told me that if I ironed my hair, I could get it as silky and straight as hers. But since my hair is naturally curly, I was going to need a lot of time.

Maddie was right though. After thirty minutes and only a few teeny tiny “ouches” from the straightening iron, my hair looked like it was something out of a shampoo commercial. I ran my fingers through the long red strands (that’s one thing curly-haired people can
never
do) and it felt
glorious
. I looked like Ariel from
The Little Mermaid
. She was one of my favorite red-haired heroines.

Wednesday was Jeans Day—Maddie decided that on Tuesday. I slipped into my cutest pair with a black longsleeved shirt on top. Maddie said that if you wanted to be taken seriously in the theater, then black was the only way
to go. I glanced longingly at the pink shirts and dresses that seemed to be screaming my name from the closet.
Sorry, guys. Maybe another day
, I thought.

When I checked my reflection in my dresser, it was like a different person was staring back at me—someone with very serious clothes and long, long shiny hair. I looked like I could be about three years older. It was amazing what a little hair and costume work could do!

I was ready thirty minutes
ahead
of schedule. When I got downstairs, Mom was so startled she dropped her empty toast plate on the floor. “Whoa. Who are you, and what have you done with my daughter?”

I tossed my hair over my shoulder. “Please. This is theater, Mom. I’m like a caterpillar turning into a beautiful, acting butterfly.”

Mom ran her fingers through my hair and smiled lovingly. “Well I thought the old caterpillar was a beautiful actress just the way she was.”

“I think she looks pretty,” Sam piped in. I couldn’t believe my annoying little Army-obsessed brother would actually be able to come up with such a nice compliment. I ran over to give him a hug, but he pushed me away with a big “Yuck!”

“Aren’t you going to have some cereal?” Mom asked, still staring at my hair.

I shook my head. “No time. I have to go. I told Maddie I’d meet her at camp early today to practice our scene.”

“All right,” Mom agreed. “Let’s head downstairs to the Movie House together.”

Looking around, she asked “Where did Sam go?”

“He must have gone down already,” I answered as I primped my hair. I simply could not believe how fabulous it looked. Shampoo commercial here I come!

Typical early-bird Sam was waiting by the theater door, his camera ready. As soon as Mom got into her car and pulled away, I told Sam to go on inside and meet Dad. “Why? Where are you going?” Sam asked suspiciously.

I told him the truth. “I’ve got to run to Montoya’s super quick.”

Sam squinted and folded his arms decidedly. “Fine. On just one condition.”

I groaned. “Yes?”

“Can you bring me back a muffin too? Please? The kind with the cinnamon chips—it’s my favorite.”

“Fine,” I agreed.

Sam shook his finger. “And don’t forget, Mrs. Frankenbutterfly.” Sam turned on his heels and I zipped down to Montoya’s.

It was a very sunny warm day for February, so I wore my enormous white sunglasses right into the store. When I wore sunglasses inside, I felt like a real celebrity trying to stay away from all the pesky cameramen. Thankfully the pesky cameraman at my house (Sam) was going to camp with Dad that morning.

“Wow, Maeve, you look so … different,” said Nick Montoya when I got to the front of the line. “What’s up?” Nick was in Ms. Rodriguez’s class with me at Abigail Adams Junior High School. His family owned Montoya’s Bakery, and the
BSG loved meeting there for delicious drinks and pastries. Nick had dark hair and was cute enough to be a teen star. Too bad he wasn’t into acting. (True confession—I used to have a crush on Nick at the beginning of the year, but it didn’t work out—he just wasn’t a true romantic … like me.)

“Good morning, darling,” I greeted him with a little wave.

Nick looked behind him then his eyes widened. “Oh wait, are you talking to me?”

“Well of course I am, darling! Who else would I be talking to?”

Nick looked way confused. “I dunno. You usually don’t call me ‘darling’ so … I wasn’t sure.”

“Yes, I picked it up from Maddie. Isn’t it divine? Everybody feels special when they’re a ‘darling,’ don’t you think?”

“Sure, I guess. So what can I get you?”

“Two hot chocolates and two of your fabulous blueberry muffins, darling.”

Nick nodded, looking impressed. “Wow, Maeve. Hungry much?”

I tipped my head forward so my huge glasses slipped down my nose. “Please, darling. They’re not
just
for me. It just so happens that I’m getting breakfast for Madeline Von Krupcake … THE Krupcake Princess,” I said for emphasis. “She loves Montoya’s.”

“That’s funny,” Nick said as he placed two warm blueberry muffins in a white bag. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this Maddie person in Montoya’s.”

I nodded. “That’s because she’s never been in Montoya’s. Maddie has this weird condition where she
can’t
wait in lines.”

Nick raised his eyebrows. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. I saw her faint once when she had to wait in line for the bathroom. She’s very fragile.”

Nick put two cups and the white bag of muffins on the counter. “Well, it’s really nice of you to get her breakfast then.”

“That’s what friends are for,” I handed Nick five dollars. “Do you know what the kids at camp call us? M&M! Isn’t that fabulous?”

“Oh I get it. M&M because Maddie and Maeve.”

“And because we’re both sweet as M&Ms,” I added. “Now have a good day, darling. I must run. Film camp awaits, you know.” I pushed my bag over my shoulder and grabbed my stuff.

“Hey, Maeve,” Nick called behind me. “Have you talked to any of the, um, other BSG lately … isn’t, um, one of them going to someplace cool during vacation … like um, Montreal or something?”