Читать книгу Taking Off - Valerie Tripp - Страница 6

his was it! Maryellen was so excited that her heart felt fluttery. Today was the day of the first rehearsal of her show.

All the performers—the two Karens and Angela, plus Maryellen’s sisters Carolyn and Beverly—were sitting on the driveway facing the carport, just the way the audience would be for the real show. Maryellen’s two little brothers, Tom and Mikey, were sitting on the driveway, too, with Scooter between them. The boys had begged and begged to be in “Maryellen’s Dr. Salt show,” which Tom kept on saying no matter how many times she told him the name was Salk, not Salt. Finally, Mom said that she should let the boys be in the show and keep them out of Mom’s hair while she sewed. So Maryellen gave in. She wanted to encourage Mom to sew because the deadline for her bridesmaid dress was drawing nearer and nearer.

“Look, everybody!” Maryellen sang out. “I made posters to advertise our show.” She held up two of her posters. One showed the heads and shoulders of rows and rows of smiling children and the other showed a giant dime. On the posters, Maryellen had printed, “Stop polio! Get a shot!” Across the bottom, she’d written, “You can help. Come to a show at the Larkins’ house on Saturday, May 7, at 3 p.m. 10 cents admission to be donated to the March of Dimes.”

“Ooooh,” everyone murmured appreciatively.

“The posters are swell,” said Karen King.

“I made three of each kind,” said Maryellen proudly.

“Great!” said Carolyn. “We’ll put them up all around the neighborhood.”

“Ellie, you are such a good artist!” added Angela. “You’re as good as Grandma Moses.”

“Thank you,” said Maryellen, pleased to be compared to one of the most famous artists of 1955. “Now, pretend there are sheets hanging behind me like theater curtains, hiding the garage part of the carport so that it’s backstage.”

“Okay,” giggled the girls.

Maryellen went on, “I’ll read the script out loud, and you can each decide what part you want to play.”

“Hurray!” everyone cheered in happy anticipation.

Before Maryellen had read one word, Davy and Wayne appeared from next door. Davy was being pushed from behind by his mother, who had her hands on his shoulders to propel him forward. “Davy wants to be in your little show, Ellie, sweetie,” said Mrs. Fenstermacher. “Your mother told me about it when she called for some sewing advice, and I thought it was the cutest idea. Just darling. And I said, ‘Davy, you are going to be in Ellie’s adorable birthday-party polio show.’ He’s shy, but he really wants to. Don’t you, hon?”

“I guess so,” said Davy, with about as much enthusiasm as he’d have for eating a bowl of worms. Maryellen knew he never would have come over on his own.

“Uh, all right,” she said. She didn’t mind Davy being in the show. In fact, she was glad—except that Wayne would tag along as always.

Mrs. Fenstermacher went inside to give Mrs. Larkin her sewing scissors, and Wayne flung himself onto the driveway. He smirked up at Maryellen, making it clear that he was not going anywhere. As usual, Wayne was wearing his propeller beanie hat. And as usual, she wished the propeller would lift Wayne up like a helicopter and carry him far, far away.

Maryellen ignored Wayne and began to read the script she had written. “Fighting Polio. Act One. In Dr. Jonas Salk’s laboratory.”

Maryellen was so proud of her script that she could practically burst! Her show was a musical. She had written different words to tunes that everyone knew, inspired by the way Angela had changed the words to the Davy Crockett theme song. For example, to the tune of “There Was a Farmer Had a Dog, and Bingo Was His Name-o,” she had written:

There was a very bad disease

And polio was its name-o,

P-O-L-I-O, P-O-L-I-O, P-O-L-I-O

And polio was its name-o.

That song was in the first act, which was about polio and Dr. Salk discovering the vaccine. The second act was all about encouraging people to get a polio vaccine shot. To the tune of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm,” Maryellen had written:

Get a shot so you won’t catch

Poh-lee, oh-lee, oh!

In both acts, the narrator did all the talking while actors silently acted out what the narrator was saying. Maryellen was planning to be the narrator herself, of course, so that she could wear her bridesmaid dress.

As she read her script aloud, she couldn’t help noticing that everyone’s enthusiasm was fading. Before she had finished reading the first act, Karen King was playing jacks with Beverly, Carolyn and Angela were comparing toenail polish, Wayne was putting grass on Karen Stohlman’s hair, and Tom and Mikey looked dazed and glazed. It was impossible to tell how Davy felt because he was lying with his head on Scooter’s back, looking up at the clouds. But Maryellen plowed on, believing that every word she had written was essential. When she finally said, “The End,” everyone clapped halfheartedly. Only Wayne clapped hard.

“I’m clapping because I’m so relieved that it’s finally over!” Wayne said. “For cryin’ out loud! Listening to that show is about as much fun as getting a shot for poh-lee, oh-lee, oh.”

“No comments from the peanut gallery, Wayne,” said Carolyn. She turned to Maryellen and said kindly, “The show feels too long, but I think it’s just that the driveway is too hard to sit on. And scorching hot. People will need pillows or beach chairs or something.”

“Okay,” said Maryellen.

“Well, no offense, Ellie,” said Karen King, who was not afraid to be blunt, “but I think the play feels too long because it is too long. It needs to be shorter or funnier or something, or people won’t like it.”

“I guess I could make it a bit shorter,” said Maryellen, trying to be a good sport. No one seemed to appreciate how hard she had worked, writing the play all by herself, with no help from anybody. Gosh, sometimes she’d crept silently into the bathroom in the middle of the night, sat cross-legged on the floor, opened her notebook, and by the pale glow of the night-light, written and rewritten pages and pages. Now, reluctantly, she said, “I guess I could cut out some of the songs.”

“No, don’t cut the songs,” said Beverly. “They’re the only good parts.”

“But the music is sort of babyish,” said Carolyn, who’d recently gone crazy for rock ’n’ roll. “People like hit tunes like ‘Rock Around the Clock.’”

“Better music might help,” said Karen King, speaking to Carolyn as if Maryellen were invisible. “But the way the narrator drones on and on and on is boring.”

“Maybe the show just needs more variety,” said Angela.

“In fact, a variety show would be better all the way around, if you ask me,” said Wayne.

“No one did ask you,” said Maryellen crossly. “Mind your own beeswax.”

But while Maryellen was scolding Wayne, Karen Stohlman was saying enthusiastically, “Variety—that’s it! Let’s put on a variety show, like The Ed Sullivan Show on TV. We can each do different acts, like singing and dancing and juggling and magic tricks.”

“That would be more fun for the audience,” said Carolyn.

“And for us, too,” said Karen King, “because we’ll each get to do what we like to do and show off our talents, instead of just being silent dummies with nothing to say for ourselves.”

“Wait,” Maryellen said. She felt as if her show was galloping away from her, out of her control. “I—”

But Karen Stohlman rose to her toes and did a pirouette as she went on, “Beverly and I can do ballet.”

“I’ll play rock ’n’ roll on the piano!” offered Carolyn.

“Angela and I can dance and sing,” said Karen King. And to prove it, she and Angela started to jitterbug and sing,

We’re gonna rock around the clock tonight,

We’re gonna rock, rock, rock

Till broad daylight,

We’re gonna rock, we’re gonna rock

Around the clock tonight.

“You can do rope tricks,” Wayne suggested to Davy, “and lasso Scooter!”

Even Tom piped up, “Mikey and I can do a puppet show with our Howdy Doody puppets.”

“What’ll I do?” asked Maryellen. No one heard her, so she said again loudly, “What’ll I do?”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, trying hard to think of what Maryellen’s talent might be.

“You already made those great posters,” said Carolyn at last.

“But what’ll I do in the show?” asked Maryellen.

Davy sat up. “You’re good at talking,” he said. “Tell jokes or something.”

“Like, why did the clown throw the clock out the window?” said Wayne. “Because he wanted to see time fly. Get it?”

“Be quiet, Mr. Helicopter Head,” said Maryellen. “I don’t want to tell silly jokes. I want to encourage people to get vaccinated, which is serious and important.”

“Well, then make a short speech about Jonas Salk,” said Carolyn, “and sing one of your songs. Maybe the one about getting vaccinated, the ‘poh-lee, oh-lee, oh’ song.”

“Yes, that would be good!” said Angela brightly.

Maryellen hugged her script close to her chest. All that hard work for nothing! She was sorely disappointed. But it was clear that no one wanted to do the show that she had written. They just wanted to sing and dance and show off. She had no choice; she couldn’t do her show all by herself! So she gave in.

“All right,” she said. At least she’d get to wear her bridesmaid dress—if Mom had finished it. That might be a big if, Maryellen thought. I’d better ask Mom how my dress is coming along.

That evening, Carolyn was at a sock hop at the high school gym, and Maryellen and Scooter rode along in the car when Mom went to pick up Carolyn after the dance. It was unusual to have Mom all to herself, and Maryellen knew that she should ask about the bridesmaid dress, but she wasn’t quite sure how to begin. She was still hesitant about bugging Mom. Finally, she said, “Gosh! Carolyn has changed, hasn’t she? She never would have gone to a sock hop last year. Next thing you know, she’ll be going to the prom in a prom dress, with a corsage and a boyfriend and everything, like Joan.”

“Carolyn’s a real teenager now,” agreed Mom. “She’s what the magazines call a ‘bobby-soxer.’” Mom smiled, and then said with a sigh, “All you kids are growing up so fast! It feels like just a minute ago Joan got her first prom dress. Remember that gorgeous pink one? It’s still in the closet somewhere. And now Joan’s getting married, for goodness sakes.”

Maryellen grabbed her chance. “By the way,” she asked casually, “how’s my bridesmaid dress coming along?”

“Well, Mrs. Fenstermacher helped me cut the fabric,” said Mom. “Now I just have to sew the pieces together.”

That didn’t sound too hard. “Do you think, I mean, I was wondering if you might have it finished by my birthday?” Maryellen asked.

“Ellie, sweetie,” Mom said, sounding tense. “When you’re planning a wedding, a lot has to be done far in advance. So even though the wedding is not until the end of the summer, I’m already awfully busy with the preparations. There’s so much to do, and I want it all to be perfect. I’ve got to reserve the caterer and decide the menu. Then I’ve got to order flowers from the florist, and find musicians and choose the music… The list goes on and on. I don’t know if I’ll have time to finish your dress by next week or not. We’ll see.”

Scooter snorted in his sleep, as if to say, Humpf—“we’ll see” isn’t very reassuring.

That was what Maryellen was thinking, too.

Mom seemed glad to change the subject as they pulled up to the high school. “Run in and tell Carolyn we’re here, please, sweetheart,” she said to Maryellen.

As Maryellen walked in, rock ’n’ roll music was blaring so loudly that the whole gym seemed to be thumping to the beat. The gym was packed with girls in pretty, swirly dresses and boys in letter sweaters or jackets and ties, and it was decorated with loops of colorful crepe paper strung between the basketball hoops and the windows. All along the walls, shoes were lined up, and the kids on the dance floor were in their socks, dancing fast to rock ’n’ roll. Maryellen thought the sock hop did sort of look like fun, except for the dancing-with-a-boy part. She looked around, and when she spotted Carolyn, she hardly recognized her. Carolyn was dancing with a boy, dancing as well as a dancer on TV! And she looked beautiful. At home, Carolyn wore the bobby-soxer’s standard outfit of jeans with the cuffs rolled up, an old shirt of Dad’s tied at the waist, bobby socks, and penny loafers. But tonight she was fancy. The full skirt of her dress was nipped in at the waist, and it swooshed gracefully when her partner twirled her under his arm. Her feet just flew. Maryellen caught Carolyn’s eye and waved. Carolyn waved back, and as the music ended, she said good-bye to her partner and hurried over.

As she watched Carolyn come toward her, waving good-bye to her friends, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed, Maryellen had a quick, jumbled-up mix of feelings. She felt a little envy, a little pride, a little sorrow, a little curiosity, and underneath it all, hope for her own future. Being a teenager looked pretty nice.

Hope was something that Maryellen needed more and more as rehearsals for the birthday-party variety show went on. Every day after school, everyone in the show came over to the Larkins’ house to practice. At least they were supposed to be practicing. But really Wayne and Davy just ran around lassoing each other, chased by Tom and Mikey. The ballerinas, Beverly and Karen Stohlman, couldn’t agree on who’d do what in their ballet. Carolyn was always inside talking on the hall phone with a boy named Douglas Newswander, who was the one she’d danced with at the sock hop. And Karen King kept changing her mind about what song she and Angela would sing.

“Oh, I’ve had the most wonderful idea,” Karen King said to Angela the afternoon before the show was supposed to go on. “Instead of singing ‘Rock Around the Clock,’ let’s sing ‘How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?’ We can borrow poodle skirts from Ellie and Karen Stohlman, and Scooter can be the doggie in the window! Won’t that be cute?”

“Mm-hmm,” said Angela. “Except I don’t know the words to that song.”

“I do,” said Karen King. “It goes like this:

How much is that doggie in the window?

Something, something, waggedy tail.

How much is that doggie in the window?

La la la la doggie’s for sale.

“Anyway, sort of like that,” Karen King went on breezily. “It’ll be easy to learn the words.”

“By tomorrow?” asked Maryellen, trying not to sound shrill. “You’re going to learn the something, somethings and la la la’s by tomorrow? Because that’s when the show is. It’s way too late to be loosey-goosey. This is our last rehearsal.”

“We know,” said Karen King with exaggerated calmness. “You don’t have to get all huffy about it.”

“Also,” said Maryellen, “good luck talking Scooter into having a ‘waggedy tail’ or doing anything you want him to do when you want him to do it.” Davy had already given up on lassoing Scooter because Scooter wouldn’t sit up. Scooter would just lie there looking like a sack of potatoes. “Davy has to lasso me instead of Scooter,” she pointed out.

“Well, if you’re going to be Scooter for Davy, you can be a doggie in the window for Karen and me, if Scooter won’t cooperate,” said Angela. “You could tie Davy’s rope around your waist, and swing the end to be the waggedy tail.”

“Ohhh-kay,” said Maryellen tepidly. Her own part in the show was so small that she was filling in anyplace, in any act, where anyone needed her for anything. For example, neither Beverly nor Karen Stohlman wanted to be the boy ballerina in their ballet because they both wanted to wear a tutu. So Maryellen had to wear pants and be the one they leaned on when they stood on tiptoe. She also had to help Tom and Mikey with their puppet show. Tom and Mikey liked to move the puppets, but they didn’t know what to say, so Maryellen had to make up a story for them to match what the puppets were doing, which was mostly sleeping, waking up, and hugging, because that’s really all Tom and Mikey knew how to make the puppets do. It was her job to turn the pages of Carolyn’s sheet music because Carolyn hadn’t yet memorized all the notes in the rock ’n’ roll song she was going to play, called “Shake, Rattle and Roll.”

Shaken, rattled, and not at all ready to roll was how Maryellen felt right now. It was time to rehearse the most important part of the show—her own speech and song. She stood in front of the carport and began. “Fighting Polio,” she said, sort of out of breath. “Dr. Jonas Salk—”

“Wait a minute, Ellie,” Karen King interrupted. “In the real show tomorrow, aren’t you supposed to wear your bridesmaid dress when you make your speech? When’ll you have time to change out of your pants?”

Maryellen pushed her hair off her sweaty forehead. “I guess after Carolyn’s music.” She didn’t want to admit to herself or to anyone else that even though Mrs. Fenstermacher was over all the time helping Mom, her dress still wasn’t finished.

There was another thing she didn’t want to admit, either. And it was that her act, which was supposed to be the whole point of the show, was a dud. Her song wasn’t too bad, but she had become accustomed to seeing people wander off when she practiced her earnest speech. Even Scooter sometimes left, and he never moved unless it was absolutely necessary or food was being offered. Once, in an effort to cheer her up, good old Carolyn had said, “Look on the bright side, Ellie. Your act will make people appreciate all the other acts more!” But Maryellen didn’t feel cheered; she felt worried.

“Fighting Polio,” Maryellen began again. She was surprised and gratified that this time, as she was making her speech and singing her song, everyone was watching for a change. They were even nodding and smiling. They seemed to be really enjoying her act. Maybe I’m getting better at it, she thought. Or maybe they’re just finally beginning to appreciate the important things I’m saying.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, Maryellen caught a movement. She whirled around and found Wayne right behind her. He’d turned his eyeglasses upside down and made his hair stick out all over his head so that he looked like a mad scientist from a science-fiction comic book. He had helped himself to two test tubes from her chemistry set, which Mom allowed her to use only in the carport because of the rotten-egg smells the chemicals made. Wayne had squirted water from his squirt gun into one test tube and then poured the water from that test tube into another, as if he were Dr. Salk inventing the polio vaccine. With a sinking heart and a flash of indignation, Maryellen realized that Wayne had been behind her hamming it up the whole time, pretending to be Jonas Salk and miming the actions she’d described Dr. Salk doing in her speech.

As Maryellen watched, speechless, Wayne began shooting his squirt gun straight up in the air so that water flew up like a fountain as he sang,

Get a shot so you won’t catch

Poh-lee, oh-lee, oh!

“Cut it out, Wayne!” Maryellen ordered. But her voice was lost in the claps and cheers of the other kids.

“Wayne, that was hilarious!” said Karen Stohlman. “You should do that in the real show tomorrow.”

“Yes!” said Karen King. “It’s a riot! The audience will love it.”

“No!” exploded Maryellen. “I don’t even want Wayne to come to the show, much less to be in it and ruin my act by making fun of it.”

“Oh, come on, Ellie,” coaxed Angela. “Wayne’s funny.”

“It’s my show and my act and my idea and my party and my birthday,” Maryellen said furiously, “so I get to say if Wayne can be in it or not. And I say, he cannot. And that’s final.”

Everyone was stunned into silence. Even Wayne had nothing to say. An odd expression crossed his face as he replaced the test tubes, and Maryellen realized that she’d hurt Wayne’s feelings. Good! she thought. Now he sees how it feels.

“Listen, Ellie, people aren’t puppets,” said Karen King. “You can’t just boss us around and make us do what you want us to do.”

“All right then,” said Maryellen. She was fed up. “Do what you want. And I will do what I want. I quit.”

“But you can’t quit,” wailed Carolyn. “It’s your party.”

“We can’t do the show without you,” said Davy.

Maryellen shrugged. “You should have thought of that before,” she said. “It’s too late now.” And she flounced off into the house, slamming the screen door behind her.