The Forget-Me-Not Summer (5 page)

“I
have an agent!” Marigold said when she burst into Zinnie's room the next night in her perfectly-too-big sweatshirt, a huge grin on her face. This was a major mood swing from yesterday and this morning, when Marigold had been slamming doors, pouting, and even threatening to go on a hunger strike if their parents didn't change their minds about Massachusetts. Her attitude had not gone over well. Mom and Dad said they wouldn't respond to such behavior, and if Marigold wanted to talk about it, she would have to do so in a calm, responsible manner. Now Marigold danced across Zinnie's carpet and squealed. “Jill Dreyfus just called, and she wants to represent me. Can you believe it?”

“That's awesome!” Zinnie said, afraid to remind her that this wonderful news didn't change the other news
about their going away for three weeks in July, but she didn't want to ruin the moment. Zinnie loved it when Marigold was this happy. Instead of being like a puzzle Zinnie had to figure out, she was like a piñata raining candy.

“I'm so psyched!” Marigold said, jumping up and down. “This is the best news of my life.”

“You're going to be famous!” Zinnie said, jumping with her sister. They hopped onto Zinnie's bed and jumped until they both collapsed, breathless and giggling. “You're going to be in movies!”

“I hope so!” Marigold said. She rolled onto her stomach and drummed the mattress with her fingers, suddenly serious. “The one I really want to be in more than anything is
Night Sprites
, and Jill said there's only one more day of casting for some of the secondary roles, and it's on July seventh. Mr. Rathbone travels all the time, and that's the only day he'll be here in Los Angeles. Jill thinks she can get me an appointment. So there's no way in the world that I'm going to Massachusetts now. You and I need to come up with a plan.” She sat up. “We need to change their minds, we need to do it fast, and we need to do it in a calm and responsible way.”

Zinnie sprang to her feet, swept up in this call to action. “I know. We could run away. Like vagabonds. Maybe we could sneak into the
Seasons
house and sleep in the bedrooms and then leave in the morning before anyone discovers us!”

“People live there,” Marigold said. “They only use the outside of the house for filming; the rest is done on the studio lot. Besides, that's not calm and responsible.”

“Oh, right,” Zinnie said. She sat in her desk chair. “Just kidding.”

“There are other options. There have to be. Let's make a list.”

“Okay,” Zinnie said. She sat there awkwardly for a minute before she realized that Marigold was waiting for her to write stuff down. “Oh,” she said, tapping her laptop awake. Last year in school she had learned how to use a slide show presentation program, and she'd gotten pretty good at it. Mr. Herrera, her fifth-grade teacher, told her he thought she had a real talent for presentations. She opened a new project and wrote on the first slide: “July Options for Silver Sisters.”

“We could get Grammy to stay with us,” Marigold said. “It would be easy and convenient.”

“Easy and convenient,” Zinnie repeated as she typed, then added the sparkle dust effect, so that the words would appear as if sprinkled there by a very accurate fairy. “Also, we would be spending quality time with Grammy, which is good because she's so old.”

“Yeah, that's good,” Marigold said. “Write that. Now for option two.” Marigold began as Zinnie dutifully opened a fresh slide, her fingers poised above the keyboard in anticipation of Marigold's next idea.
“Um, let's see here, we could stay with friends. Right? I mean, why not?”

“Got it,” Zinnie said, switching fonts to “jaunty Milan,” her favorite. “Because . . . ,” Zinnie prompted, anxious to add bullet points that could speed in like rockets.

“Because it would be fun for us and . . . it would save them the cost of the plane tickets! Yeah, write that. Save money.”

“Okay,” Zinnie said after she'd typed “save money” and added rockets with flaming tails. “We need another. Mr. Herrera says three is the magic number.”

“Hmm,” Marigold said, taking a seat on Zinnie's bed.

Lily wandered in, carrying Benny, whose nose had all but disappeared. She believed rubbing his nose brought good luck, though no one was sure how she'd decided this. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Well,” Marigold said, and lifted Lily onto her lap, “we're thinking of ways we can stay here for the three weeks Mom and Dad will be gone, instead of going to Pruet.”

“Maybe Berta's mommy can come stay with us,” Lily said. “And Berta will be in charge of all of us.”

“Hey,” Zinnie said as she searched images on her computer to find a good backdrop for the final slide, “that's actually a great idea.”

“It is?” Lily asked, smiling.

“Yes, it is,” Marigold said, and kissed her head, taking a good long whiff of her golden, fruity-scented curls while she was at it. “Because it's realistic.”

Zinnie typed it in, then consulted her sisters on the final image. “What do you guys think? Chairs on a beach or a tropical waterfall?”

“Can I make something on the computer now?” Lily asked.

“This is my computer,” Zinnie said, deciding on the waterfall and clicking it into place. “You can use Mom's.”

“But Mom's computer doesn't have this game,” Lily said. She reached over and touched the keyboard, accidentally erasing the last slide.

“Lily, stop,” Zinnie said. She sighed and clicked Undo until the waterfall reappeared.

“Not fair.” Lily pouted. “I want a turn.”

“Don't yell at her, Zinnie,” Marigold said, and scooped Lily up.

“You would kill me if I touched your computer, Marigold,” Zinnie said. “But if Lily does something annoying, you don't care. No one ever gets mad at Lily.”

“Because Lily's so cute and little,” Marigold said.

“I'm not little,” Lily said. “I'm big.”

“Hurry up, Zinnie,” Marigold said. “I want to get Mom while she's in the bathtub.”

“Good point,” Zinnie said, saving her work and
unplugging her laptop. The best time to ask Mom for something was at the end of the day when she was in her nightly bath. She was so relaxed that she was much more likely to say yes. Marigold led the charge as the three sisters made their way down the hallway into their parents' room and knocked on the bathroom door.

“I
t's us,” Marigold said.

“All of you?” Mom asked from inside.

“Yes,” Lily answered.

“Well, come on in,” Mom said. “I guess it's a party.”

“We have something to show you,” Marigold said.

Zinnie followed her into the bathroom with the computer under her arm.

“I had ideas too,” Lily added, taking a seat on the bath mat.

“I can't wait to see it,” Mom said. She was covered up to her neck in a fluffy blanket of bubbles.

“We came up with this presentation to show you in a
calm and responsible
way that we have realistic options for staying in L.A.”

Zinnie placed the computer on the sink and pulled up the title slide. In a last-minute decision, she cued
up the classical music that Mr. Herrera played during independent study time. The first dramatic notes always made Zinnie feel serious and important. She turned up the volume, pressed Play, and a resounding
duh duh duh duh
filled the room. Mom sat up a little in surprise. Marigold jumped. Lily covered her ears. It was louder than Zinnie had intended, not having taken into account the small space and the tile floor. She lowered the volume as the music continued into a gentler-but-no-less-important-sounding melody.

“You definitely have my attention now,” Mom said with a smile.

“Here are three good options for July that allow us to stay in L.A.,” Marigold said. Zinnie opened the next slide. “First, Grammy can come stay with us. It will be easy and convenient. We hardly ever see Grammy, and it's important to spend time with her now that she's so old.”

Zinnie watched the corners of Mom's mouth turn up, and she was pretty sure that was because of the sparkle effect. She opened the next slide.

“A second idea is that we could stay with friends,” Marigold said. “You always say how valuable true friendship is. This time will give us a chance to really get to know our friends in a way that we can't just by going to school with them.”

Mom pressed her lips together and nodded. Zinnie wondered if she was trying not to laugh.

“Also”—Marigold continued—“this will save you money on plane tickets. As the old saying goes, a penny saved is a penny earned. And finally”—Zinnie opened the slide for option three—“Berta and her mother could both stay here. We all love Berta, and she loves us, and we can all take turns taking care of her sick mother. The end!” Marigold took a bow.

Zinnie ended the slide show with the picture of the waterfall and raised the volume for a moment to finish with a bang.

“Brava, girls,” Mom said. She clapped, and bubbles slid down her wrists. “The opening was my favorite part. No—maybe the rockets. Actually, I like the waterfall.”

“See,” Marigold said, “we don't have to go. We have three good options.”

“Well, Grammy is too old to be looking after three girls by herself. So that's out. And I'm not having you stay with friends for three weeks. It's too much to ask.”

“Why?” Marigold said.

“Who would you stay with?” Mom asked.

“Pilar. Anyone. I bet I could stay with Clint.” Clint Lee was the very handsome star of
Seasons
. He always said hi to Marigold on set and sometimes even joked around with her.

“Clint Lee? Oh, no,” Mom said.

“Not to be his girlfriend or anything,” Marigold said, feeling her cheeks color.

“Oh, well, that's good,” Mom said, and laughed.

“What about the third option then?” Marigold said, quickly changing the subject. “With Berta.”

“My idea,” Lily said.

“It makes sense, Mom,” Zinnie added.

“Her mother isn't able to leave Mexico. She's very sick,” Mom said. “Besides, you guys are going to love Aunt Sunny. She taught science to kids for twenty years. She knows everything about everything.”

“How old is she?” Zinnie asked.

“What color is her hair?” Lily wanted to know.

“Does she know I'm allergic to strawberries?” Zinnie asked.

But Marigold raised a hand to silence them. “Mom, I need to talk to you alone.”

M
om left a trail of damp footprints on the carpet as she headed toward her closet and changed into her pajamas.

“Mom, how could you do this to me? Do you even know what a big deal getting an agent is? Do you care?” Marigold asked, following her.

“She'll still be your agent in August. You'll only be gone for three weeks,” Mom said, smoothing some lotion on her face. “And of course I care. I care about
you
.”

“But they're auditioning for
Night Sprites
on July seventh. Remember? It's just one day, and Jill told me she might be able to get me an audition.”

“Those books are not exactly literature,” Mom said, taking a seat on her bed.

“They're literature to me,” Marigold said, and sat next to her mother. “Mom, have you ever wanted something
so badly that it was all you could think about?”

“Yes,” she said. “When I was your age, I wanted a perm.”

“Really?” Marigold asked. Mom's straight, shiny blond hair was her crowning glory. People sometimes stopped her on the street to tell her what beautiful hair she had. Marigold couldn't imagine her wanting to change it in any way.

“Oh, yes, all the girls in my class were getting them, but Grammy said no way. She said the other girls looked like they'd stuck their finger in a socket, and why would I do that to myself?” Marigold laughed. Mom continued. “I begged, I pleaded, I cried, but Grammy wouldn't budge until finally I threatened to let Joanie MacDonald, my best friend's older sister, give me one herself. She was in beauty school and needed someone to experiment on.”

“Did Grammy finally let you do it?” Marigold leaned in a little closer. This was getting good.

“Nope. Instead, she took me to her hairdresser, who set my hair in rollers and made me sit under one of those big dryers to show me what I would look like if I went through with it.”

“How did it look?” Marigold asked.

“It was awful,” Mom said, laughing as she remembered. “I washed it out as soon as I got home, and I was so glad my mother had saved me from months of terrible, embarrassing hair.”

“I guess that this audition is like my perm,” Marigold said, trying to refocus the conversation. “Only imagine if that perm was the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“Look,” Mom said, “the truth is, your dad and I don't want you to get too swept up in this whole acting thing. We know how excited you are that you have an agent, and we want to support your dreams, but we have a job as your parents to do what we think is best for you. We think it's more important that you have this experience with your great-aunt and your sisters. You only get to be a kid once.”

“But I want to be like Amanda Mills.”

“No, you don't,” Mom said. “Do you have any idea how messed up her life is? Poor girl didn't even know her mom until she was nine years old, And remember how late her mom was picking her up from Jill's office? I think Amanda is probably very troubled.”

Dad wandered into the room, carrying a scribbled-on script. “I can practically feel the drama from downstairs,” he said, kicking off his shoes and sitting on the sofa opposite the bed. He dropped the script on the floor and folded his hands behind his head. “So is this a tragedy or a comedy?”

Mom tilted her head, considering. “I think a dramedy,” she said.

“What?” Marigold said, hunching over and pressing her fists to her tired eyes. “It's not funny. It's not
funny at all. Daddy,” she pleaded, “please don't make me go away. Please let me stay. I have an agent and a chance to audition for my dream movie. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. “

“You have a lot of lifetime ahead of you, kiddo,” Dad said.

“The answer is no, Marigold,” Mom added. “Let it go.”