by P. G. Kain
I walk right past the line for Pretty Perfect and all the people waiting in it. Pretty Perfect is a fantasy of what a bakery in New York City should be. They see the place on TV and think that means it’s good or something. All those people in line are in for a disappointment. It’s a shame they don’t know that the good stuff is actually not what they see on TV but in the cozy little bakery right next door.
I push open the door to the Italian bakery, which has been on the block for more than a hundred years. It’s busy but not nearly as crazed as Pretty Perfect. As soon as the register rings at Pretty Perfect you are shown the door so the next customer can purchase the same exact thing. At Solazzo’s it’s the opposite. Every customer is encouraged to relax with an espresso or an Italian soda at one of the small café tables.
“Hello, Miss Cassie,” Auntie Sofia says from behind the counter when I walk in.
“Hi, Auntie Sofia,” I say. All the kids in the neighborhood call her Auntie Sofia. She started working at her family’s bakery during the Depression, when she was just a kid. She has got to be the oldest person I know, but she is also one of the quickest. I have seen her slice a tart, frost a cake, make a cappuccino, and ring up a customer all at the same time. Her head barely peeks over the top of the glass counter. Her hand reaches around the side, holding a small biscotti. “Here you go. Taste this while I finish with Mrs. Baumann.” I take the crumbling cookie from her hand and put it directly into my mouth. Of course, it’s delicious.
When she finishes with the customer before me, she asks me what I need today, and I tell her three chocolate-covered cannoli.
“Three?” she asks. “Well, one for you and one for Miss Ginger, but who will be getting the third?”
“Actually,” I say, “it’s for Nevin.”
She smiles and nods. “Oh, I see. That Nevin is such a nice boy. Don’t you think so?”
Everyone is always telling me how nice Nevin is. Usually I just ignore it, but for some reason today I say, “Yes, he is.” I think about how he’s been the only person I’ve felt comfortable talking to about the divorce and how he’s helped me in class and how he’s always ready to listen to me. For a second a pang of guilt washes over me, but I put it out of my mind.
Auntie Sofia places the chocolate tubes with creamy filling in a box, and then uses some red-and-white-striped string to tie the lid shut. I walk out of the bakery past the line in front of Pretty Perfect, and I actually feel bad for all those people. I know the cupcakes from Pretty Perfect are the stars of the most popular food reality show, but they can’t compare to the treats from my own local bakery just next door.
CHAPTER 44
I sit on a bench in the shade across from the kids’ playground in the building courtyard with the box of cannoli on my lap. Ginger and Nevin should be coming home any minute now. As I wait, I watch the kids playing on the seesaw. I remember the very first day I met Ginger on the seesaw. She was with a chubby man with a bright red beard, who turned out to be her dad. When she ran over to him, I was totally confused because I had never met someone who was adopted, and he looked so different from Ginger. I was just a kid, so I thought all kids looked like their parents, at least a little bit. They did on all the TV shows I watched. Ginger’s dad introduced himself and told me, “Cassie, love makes a family. It’s the only thing that matters.”
I know my mom loves me. I know my dad loves me. I always thought Ginger’s dad was right, but something about my mom and dad living in different parts of the country means we’ll no longer be a family. Right?
I spot Ginger and Nevin entering the courtyard and wave wildly. They both come over, but I can immediately tell it’s not good.
“Where have you been? I called your cell and knocked on your door this morning until my knuckles hurt,” Ginger says. Her tone is distinctly annoyed.
“You missed class today, and we have our big final at the science museum this week. We have to work together, Cassie,” Nevin complains.
I pull the string on the box and open the lid to reveal the treats. “Look what I have!”
“Cannoli?” Ginger asks. I expect her tone to change dramatically, but it doesn’t. She sounds just as annoyed as she did a few seconds ago.
“Yeah, cannoli. I figured it would help me tell you the bad news.” I move my hands around the box like they do on old game shows.
Their expressions of anger melt into expressions of concern.
“What’s wrong?” Ginger asks. Nevin is silent but keeps his eyes focused on me.
“Well, you know how we were going to go to the Jersey shore next week?”
“Yeah,” they both say with a great deal of hesitation.
“But what do you mean were going to go?” Ginger asks.
“Well, I can’t go.” I frown to show my disappointment. The truth is, if there wasn’t a chance I would be going to the Hamptons to see Rory next week, I would totally go with them. It’s not my fault these two things are happening during the same week and on opposite beaches.
“Are you feeling okay?” Nevin asks.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I say. “It’s just that, well, Rory asked me to go to the Hamptons and, well, he and I are really getting along. And Ginger, we’ve gone to the beach loads of times.”
“But we made plans,” she says. “What about the Starfish Grill? And Ming-wei is going to be at the shore and . . .”
“I know,” I say. But I don’t know what to say after that. I knew I wouldn’t have a lot to say, which is why I brought the treats. “Here.” I grab a cannoli out of the box. “Have a cannoli.”
“I don’t want a cannoli!” Ginger snaps.
“Geesh, what’s wrong with you?” I ask, knowing full well the answer to my question.
“It’s what’s wrong with you. Look, Cassie, I know you have a lot going on, but you can’t just cover it all up with smiles and not talking about it and—and—” Ginger is almost in tears, and the sight of this makes me feel awful. She finally croaks out the last word, “Cannoli!” and then storms out of the courtyard, leaving Nevin and me alone.
There is a long silence, and then in one rapid movement he takes off his backpack and opens it. “We got our quizzes back. Here’s yours.” He hands me a familiar-looking piece of paper with a giant red C on it.
“Great,” I say, taking it from him. “Could this day get worse?”
“Well,” Nevin says, “Mr. Evans did say that you could still get a decent grade in class if you do well on the final. And you do have the smartest lab partner in class, and I know that science center inside and out.”
“Yeah, about going to the science center,” I say, drawing out each word to delay the inevitable.
“What about it?” he asks.
“Let’s just say the beach isn’t the only place I won’t be going.” I tell Nevin that I won’t be at the science center tomorrow. I explain that I booked this very major campaign. I almost tell him that this is my last chance to be part of a happy family. Even if it is totally pretend and just for a day. I think Nevin might be the one person in the world who would understand, but still I keep these thoughts to myself.
After I am done explaining, Nevin shakes his head and says, “But milady, me doth think that the science center is the pinnacle for scientific investigation.” I sigh. It was so nice to have Nevin talking like a regular person for a while. Now he is back to full-blown Nerdlish. “Underestimated it c-c-cannot be, my fair maiden.” Nevin stumbles a bit through the words, and then I realize he really only speaks this way when he’s nervous. It’s like he has to do this to get through a difficult situation. All summer, whenever he was just hanging out with me, or on a break from school without a lot of other kids around, he talked normally for the most part. Now I finally get it. Not only does Nevin understand me, but I also think I understand him.
“Nevin, look. You’ve really helped me this summer, maybe more than you know, but I—just—I mean—I can’t. This is just something I have to do.” I don’t want to hurt Nevin or Gin
ger, but I already made my decision. I know if I stay talking to Nevin even a second longer I might change my mind, so I run out of the courtyard, leaving Nevin alone and confused.
CHAPTER 45
The day of the Happy Family shoot I wake up feeling guilty. Usually guilt is something that grows over the day, but this morning it wakes me up like a hungry puppy. I know I should have turned down this booking, but I just couldn’t. The call time on the cruise ship is a few hours earlier than the start time for the final project at the science center, so that means I need to lie to my mother about where I’m going.
During breakfast I barely utter a word, and when I grab my bag to head out, she says, “Good luck on your final!” I almost break down in tears. But once I shut the door of our apartment behind me, I realize there is no turning back. At this point what can I do? I’ve already told Honey I would be there.
I take the bus that stops a few blocks away from our apartment all the way up the West Side to the pier on the water. I have to cross under the highway to get to the location, and when I emerge on the other side, the sight takes my breath away. The location today is not some brightly lit set at a television studio in Queens. Today we are shooting on the Neptune, the largest, newest, and most beautiful ship in the Happy Family Cruise Line. Even though it is a gray day with some light rain, the gleaming white ship outshines everything.
Well, almost everything.
Ginger and I have never fought before, not really. I don’t know what to do. It gives me a pit in my stomach that I can’t make go away. And Nevin. I never thought I could feel bad about Nevin, but I can’t help thinking of him eating breakfast right now and getting ready to go to the science center this afternoon without his partner, while I am boarding one of the most beautiful cruise ships in the world.
The Neptune is a masterpiece. It’s hard to believe something this massive can float. I walk up the staircase that leads to the entrance, and the ship seems to grow in front of me. When I walk through the passenger portal, I arrive at a ten-story atrium with water slides, shops, and cafés. A glass elevator with blue, purple, and green lights moves from floor to floor of the wonderland.
I’m simply in awe, staring at the fantasy of it all, when a woman in her twenties wearing a scarlet red raincoat comes over to me and says, “You must be Cassie.”
“Are you the assistant director in charge of minors?” I ask.
“Right you are. I guess you’ve been through this before, but just in case, let me show you where to sign in and get you settled in one of the dressing rooms. All the production stuff like wardrobe, makeup, and craft services is on the Calypso deck, and all the dressing rooms are there too. Here’s your schedule for the day.”
She hands me a few sheets of paper with my name on the top of them. Immediately, everything I’ve been feeling for the past few days goes away. I have in my hands the schedule for the day, and I don’t have to worry about what to do or what to say. I don’t even have to worry about how to feel. I look down at the schedule and see my scenes call for a “happy, carefree tween daughter,” and that is exactly who I plan to be.
I look over everything very carefully. I notice that all my scenes will shoot in the morning and that I will be done by lunch. I flip through the papers and see that Rory and the other cruise passengers are scheduled to arrive later in the morning, and his scenes shoot in the afternoon. This is the best news I have had in a while. I’ll be able to hang out with him and talk about meeting him in the Hamptons. Maybe I made the right choice after all.
Knowing that I’m going to see Rory later makes the morning fly by.
I head over to wardrobe and makeup, where I meet my new family for the day. Of course, Ashley is playing my mom today, and a very handsome guy a little older than Ashley with some patches of gray in his hair is playing my dad. A kid a few years younger than me is playing my brother, and as we are having our final fitting, he turns out to be a bit of a pest, but since I imagine most younger brothers are a bit obnoxious, I don’t mind.
The first scene of the day takes place by the pool and shows the happy family enjoying some colorful drinks and eating nachos. My wardrobe for this scene is a floral print rash guard and some brightly colored board shorts. The director meets us in the makeup room to tell us what we’re going to do, and I realize it’s still only 8:10 a.m. I wonder how easy it will be to enjoy a plate of nachos at this hour.
I come out of makeup, and the previously gray sky is absolutely black and pouring sheets of rain. Of course, this doesn’t stop the shoot. The production team has rigged a huge tarp over one of the pools where we will be filming, so it remains perfectly dry. The lack of sun isn’t an issue when you have megawatt lights that create artificial light as bright as a sunny day and more reliable.
When you are on set, even the weather is something you can control.
I spend the next hour part of a happy family. They get about a dozen shots of the mom, dad, son, and daughter lounging by the pool, eating some snacks. We even play shuffleboard. They shoot us in one of the cabins playing a board game and in the restaurant eating dinner. I thought this moment of commercial bliss would solve all my problems, but today the usual magic doesn’t have the same sparkle. I’m not lost in the world of the commercial. I’m simply playing my part. By midmorning we get a break, and I go change into my wardrobe for my last scene of the day, on the dance floor of the ship’s dining room.
I go to the rack where all my costumes are hung and look for the dress I’m supposed to wear. I don’t see it, so I ask the wardrobe mistress, a tightly wound woman with a beehive hairdo named Doris.
“Have you seen my dress?” I ask her.
She comes over and searches the rack and then says, “Oh, I forgot. Channing has it in the wardrobe room. It’s not on the rack. Would you mind running down and just changing down there? I’m up to my eyeballs in elastic seams.”
“Sure,” I say.
I walk down the center staircase of the ship and back to the Calypso deck, where I go directly to the rooms they are using for wardrobe. As I turn the corner I see Faith. I haven’t seen her at any auditions for a while, and I don’t think she was at the callback, but I guess she must have booked one of the spots.
“Oh, hey, Cassie. I really thought they would have booked Phoebe in this spot,” she says. It’s a typical Faith comment. Not exactly nice, but nothing too nasty that I can put my finger on.
“Hi, Faith,” I say, and ignore her comment. “Are you headed to wardrobe too?”
“Yeah,” she says, and then raises her arm to point. “It’s just down this hallway—” she starts.
“I know where it is. I’ll see you there,” I say, and walk away.
Channing recognizes me from my size card, and when he sees me, he says, “Hi, Cassie. Did Doris send you down for the new dress?”
“Yes.” I say, and he walks over to a wardrobe rack where all shapes and sizes of garments are hanging and waiting to be plucked out of the lineup and featured on camera. The rack is tightly packed, so it takes Channing a minute to find my dress among the eligible contestants.
“Here it is!” he says, turning around and draping a garment bag with the dress over his arms. “The director said he wants you to sparkle, so we picked this.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the bag from him.
“I’m doing some last minute fits, Cassie. Would you mind just changing here to make sure everything is perfect?”
“No problem,” I say, and make my way past the girls who are still being fitted and push back the curtain on the dressing room to get changed.
Once I’m in the dressing room, I hang the garment bag on the hook next to the full-length mirror and carefully unzip the bag. Before I even have the zipper halfway down, I can tell this dress is something special. I take the dress out of the bag and just stare at it on the hanger for a second. It’s so beautiful it almost takes my breath away.
The strapless top is made of hand-sewn rhinestones and small silver be
ads that glitter and make the light dance. The waist has a pewter sash with a matching fabric rose, and the skirt is so round and full that it looks like rolling hills covered in fresh snow. I hold it up against my body and admire the ensemble briefly before putting it on.
Once I have the dress on, I examine myself in the mirror to make sure everything is perfect. I’m adjusting the flower on the sash when I hear Faith’s voice on the other side of the curtain say, “Hey, Rory. You finally showed up. How you doing?”
Rory is here.
I get a lump in my throat. I can’t wait to see him. I’m about to push back the curtain when I hear him say, “Hey, Monique, I’m doing great since you’re here.”
I freeze.
My heart sinks.
Is it possible that there is a girl on the other side of this curtain who is actually named Monique and she happens to have a voice that sounds exactly like Faith’s? A bunch of the girls on the other side of the curtain giggle, but then one of the girls says, “Her name’s not Monique. It’s Faith.”
Then I hear Rory say, “I know. It’s just an inside joke.”
I can’t believe it. How many insides does this guy have? Apparently more than one.
He totally played me with that stupid Monique line, and I fell for it. Then I hear Monique—or rather Monique number two—say, “Oh, Rory, I asked my parents about going to the Hamptons next week and . . .”
What? He asked her to go to the Hamptons too? I can’t believe it. I want to tear open the curtain and confront him, but I keep hearing him chatting it up with Faith, and instead of getting angry, I just get very hurt and sad.
One of the assistant directors comes into the room and says he needs all the background players on set. I hear the room clear out. Everyone leaves, except me. In one moment my picture-perfect world has crumbled.
