The Perfect Star

by Rob Buyea

  I guess you could say that was me forgiving Holmes and trying to help him. I can’t really describe it, but I felt different after I got done saying those things. There was some dark piece inside me that sorta let go and disappeared.

  Ms. Stewart smiled when I stopped talking. Then she looked into the camera and finished things up. “We grown-ups aren’t always smart enough to listen to our children. Or to even give them a chance, for that matter. I hope we know enough to listen this time.

  “I’m Connie Stewart with the story behind the little girl who stole our hearts. Thank you for watching.”

  It was cool getting to hang at Gavin’s to watch the taping of Connie Stewart’s special segment for Good Morning America. The camera dudes and computer nerds let Mark and me check out all their equipment, and they showed us how to use it. We learned a few tricks and got some ideas for our show. Like I said, it was cool, but things got more exciting after Natalie texted.

  Natalie: Big news: Baby shower ending early; Mrs. Magenta’s water just broke!!

  I elbowed Mark and showed him my phone. “What’s this mean?”

  He shrugged. “Must be a pipe burst in the Senior Center. Bummer. I hope Mrs. Magenta’s presents didn’t get ruined.”

  I shoved him. “You moron. Read it again.” I stuck my phone in his face. “It says Mrs. Magenta’s water broke, not the Senior Center’s.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “That’s what I asked you. Man, you’re hopeless sometimes.”

  “Why don’t you text her back and ask her?” he suggested.

  “I can’t. She’s busy.” But for real I didn’t want Natalie to think I was stupid.

  Just then Scott came waltzing in from the kitchen, shoveling another cookie into his mouth. I was desperate. “Psst,” I hissed, getting his attention and calling him over with my finger. “They had to end the baby shower early because Mrs. Magenta’s water broke,” I whispered.

  “Really?” he squawked, spitting cookie bits everywhere.

  “Yes,” I said, “and be quiet. They’re taping, remember?”

  He nodded and gave me a thumbs-up.

  “What’s it mean that her water broke?”

  “It means Mrs. Magenta’s going to have her baby now.”

  “What? Now? How do you know that?”

  “I saw it happen in the grocery store once. A pregnant lady’s water broke, and it went everywhere.”

  “What went everywhere?” Mark asked.

  “A baby is surrounded in a sac of water that protects it while it’s in the mommy’s belly,” Scott explained. “When the sac breaks, the water spills out and then the baby comes next. They had the Mississippi River right there in aisle nine.”

  “The water comes from inside the woman?” Mark asked, making sure he had it straight.

  “Yup.”

  “Dude, that’s nasty.”

  “That’s life,” Scott said.

  So that explained Natalie’s text, but it also left me with a new question. A scary one. Fortunately, Natalie and Randi showed up right then, so I didn’t have to rely on Mark and Scott for my answer.

  “Did you get my text?” Natalie asked when she came in.

  “Yes,” I said. “Natalie, Mrs. Magenta wasn’t supposed to have her baby yet. Will it be okay?”

  “She’s early, but close enough to her actual due date that everything should be okay. It’s not like the old days, Trev. Hospitals are equipped and ready for these things.”

  I sighed. “That’s good.”

  “It’s sweet that you’re worried,” she said, grasping my hand.

  Whew, I thought. She thinks I’m sweet, not stupid. I smiled. I could’ve stayed like that for the rest of the day, but Gavin finished up his interview and came to check on us—and Connie Stewart was with him.

  “Hey, you made it,” he said when he spotted Natalie and Randi.

  “The shower ended early because Mrs. Magenta’s water broke. She’s on her way to the hospital to have the baby,” Scott said, reporting the facts.

  “Whoa,” Gavin said.

  “She’s okay, Gav. Don’t worry,” Randi added.

  He nodded.

  “Are these your friends?” Connie asked, looking us over.

  “Yes,” Gavin replied.

  “Well, since they’re here, I think we should do a quick segment with them, too.”

  “Great idea!” Scott cheered.

  “With us?” Natalie said, sitting up tall and straightening her skirt.

  “You must be Natalie?” Connie said.

  “Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Stewart.”

  “Likewise,” Connie replied. She turned to Randi next. “So you must be Randi. And you must be Scott.” He was easy to pick out. “Which means you guys must be Trevor and Mark, though I’m not sure who’s who.”

  “I’m with stupid,” Mark said, pointing at me. I swear, he was the goof-off king.

  “So you’re Mark.” She had him pegged.

  After our quick introductions Ms. Stewart brought us into the filming area, and we taped a short segment. She had us tell the camera our names and she asked a few questions, and then she closed things down with a Natalie-style monologue. And it was a good one.

  “America, these are modern-day kids with old-school values. When a friend needs help, they are there for one another—time and time again. I hope their story inspires you like it has me. I’m Connie Stewart, and on behalf of the Recruits, I’m saying, ‘Have a razzle-dazzle day, America.’ ”

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

  ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #20

  February: Baby Magenta

  Mrs. Magenta had a baby boy. He surprised everyone by deciding to show up four weeks ahead of schedule, but we were excited to have him here. I’d told Trevor his coming early was no cause for alarm, but that wasn’t entirely true.

  Four weeks is early—no matter the advancements we’ve seen in medicine and technology—so there were risks and potential complications present. For instance, the baby’s lungs wouldn’t be mature yet; he might have jaundice, which meant he’d be yellow in color; he might not be feeding well, and he’d probably be tiny. On the bright side, all of these issues were manageable. But still, I saw no point in telling Trevor any of this and giving him reason to worry when worrying wouldn’t do the baby any good, so I kept it to myself. (You might say I was following Scott’s playbook from the fire fiasco; I’ll give credit where credit is due.)

  What I failed to realize about the baby coming early was that it also meant he had to be kept in the hospital. I expected him to be there for a few days and then go home with his proud parents. Not the case. Premature babies, such as Mrs. Magenta’s son, sometimes needed to stay in the hospital until they were finally strong enough to go home. Mrs. Magenta was allowed to leave, but what new mother wants to leave her baby behind? She and Mr. Magenta traveled back and forth every day, spending as much time as they could with their newborn son.

  I had wanted to go to the hospital on the night Mrs. Magenta’s water broke, but that was clearly out of the question. First off, labor can take a long time, especially with the first baby. Apparently I made Mother and Father agonize for close to fifteen hours before I decided to come out. And second, to reduce the risk of infection for a premature baby, there were no visitors allowed. Thus, we were forced to wait.

  Perhaps you’ve noticed that I haven’t mentioned the baby’s name yet. That’s because he arrived before Mr. and Mrs. Magenta had settled on one. So while waiting for the green light to be able to visit the little guy, I used The Razzle-Dazzle Show to enlist everyone’s help in finding the perfect name. After three weeks, I had collected enough suggestions that I could’ve published a baby-naming book—even after disc
arding the duplicates—but Mr. and Mrs. Magenta didn’t need my book by then.

  “This is Eric Wesley,” Mrs. Magenta said, introducing her newborn son to us when we were finally able to visit her at home. He was absolutely precious, swaddled tight and nestled in her arms. Mr. Magenta stood nearby, gloating; he was a very proud father.

  “I thought he didn’t have a name yet,” Scott said.

  “He didn’t, not until a few days ago, when Mom brought Dad here to meet him for the first time. When I put the baby into Dad’s lap, Dad smiled and muttered Eric’s name. That’s when I knew.”

  “So he’s named after your brother?” Scott said.

  “Yes.”

  “Then who’s Wesley?” he asked next.

  “Dad,” Mrs. Magenta answered.

  “Coach’s name is ‘Wesley’?”

  “Yes. And this little guy is Eric Wesley, named after two of the best men I’ve ever known.”

  “I think you’ve given him the perfect name,” Gavin said.

  “Me too,” Mrs. Magenta agreed.

  After getting all of his questions answered, Scott kept his distance, as did the other guys. They did the look-not-touch thing. It was funny to see them more petrified of a little baby than they had been of Stonebreaker. So it was just Randi and me who took turns holding him, and that was fine because it meant we got to hold him longer.

  “I think I see a future gymnast,” Randi said when she had him in her arms.

  “I see a lawyer—or president,” I commented.

  “Quarterback,” Gavin chimed.

  “Maybe a pop star?” Trevor mused.

  “Archaeologist,” Scott said. “And scuba diver. And—”

  “No,” Mark said, cutting him off. “You’re all wrong. Dude’s going to be a garbage man by day and race car driver by night.”

  “Ugh,” I groaned.

  “Wrong,” Mrs. Magenta said, which made us laugh.

  “Eric will be anything he wants,” Mr. Magenta said. “The sky’s the limit—but we hope he’s like all of you.”

  Until that moment, I wasn’t sure I’d ever thought of myself as a role model—maybe because I didn’t have any younger siblings—but I liked the idea. I left her house feeling quite happy. I wished I could’ve held on to that feeling for a little longer, but a heavy dose of sad was next in line.

  The best part about going to Mrs. Magenta’s house was all the food. When you have a baby, people make you all kinds of stuff. Mr. Magenta had two lasagnas, a chicken parm dish, and some crazy casserole thing to eat, but I helped him with his brownies and cookies.

  It was nice to see Mr. and Mrs. Magenta and their new son, but it was boring, too. Babies don’t do anything. And you can break them if you don’t do the holding part right. It’s not like tucking a football under your arm. So the only ones who held him were Randi and Natalie because they weren’t chicken.

  “Babies are good at eating, sleeping, and pooping,” Mr. Magenta told me. He must’ve noticed I was bored.

  “Those are impressive stats,” I said.

  “Next time I’ll show you how to change a dirty diaper,” Mrs. Magenta teased. “It’ll be your new secret-weapon play.”

  “No, thank you,” I replied. “No amount of practice will get me ready for that.”

  Everyone found that funny and laughed, but I wasn’t fooling around. Changing dirty diapers sounded scarier than Stonebreaker.

  Even though baby Eric was boring, I had fun visiting. I liked when we surprised the baby with our present before leaving. We gave him a copy of Charlotte’s Web signed by all of the Recruits.

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Magenta said. “This will be our first read-aloud. It’s perfect.”

  “My favorite is the goose, goose, goose, and the way she talks, talks, talks,” I said.

  There was more laughing after that, but not from the baby because he was still boring. He was sleeping. We took that as our cue and said our goodbyes and left. Everyone headed home, but not me. I was going to the Senior Center because we were having dinner with Grandpa. I’d planned to tell him all about our visit because he still hadn’t met the baby, but we never got around to talking about that stuff.

  The Senior Center wasn’t the same place when we got there that night. All the fun and smiles and happy faces had stayed at Mrs. Magenta’s. I remembered Grandpa being sad and lonely before he moved there, but I was too little to remember much of what he looked like after Grandma died. If I could remember, I’d bet he looked like what I saw when I got to his room.

  Grandpa’s eyes were red like he’d been crying and rubbing them, and he was sitting all alone in the dark and quiet.

  “Gampa, turn the lights on,” Mickey shouted.

  “Dad, is everything all right?” Mom asked. “What’s wrong?”

  She took the words right out of my mouth.

  “We lost Coach this afternoon,” he said.

  When Mom said Scott was on the phone, I was kinda confused. I’d just seen him at Magenta’s, so I didn’t know why he’d be calling. But you know Scott. When I picked up the phone and said hello, he didn’t waste any time beating around the bush. He came right out and told me.

  “Coach died.”

  It was sudden. Real sudden. But that’s how life can be sometimes, and I’d been shown that more than once already. That’s why you have to play every play like it’s your last. That was Coach’s advice.

  I was beating myself up after he died. I knew something like this could happen, but I’d still never made it back to visit him. And now it was too late. Game over.

  But it wasn’t game over for me. Somehow I was supposed to find the strength to keep playing ’cause even after bad stuff happens, the world keeps spinning. The sun keeps rising and setting, and you need to keep on keeping on. Well, that’s easier said than done. Mom and Dad saw that I was hurting pretty bad and came into my room to check on me after they said good night to Megs and Otis.

  “Hi, niño.” Mom spoke softly.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “How’re you holdin’ up?” Dad asked, wheeling his chair closer.

  I shrugged. I woulda started crying if I tried talking.

  Mom sat next to me on my bed. “Niño, after coming to America, I never made it back home to see my mama and papa before they passed.”

  I looked at her. I never knew that.

  “I know how you feel.”

  My eyes blurred.

  “You need to give yourself time to grieve,” Dad said, “but don’t keep beatin’ yourself up. Coach knew you were busy bein’ a great son, doin’ everything you could to help me and your mom and sister. He was proud of you, not mad at you.”

  “You made Coach’s life better, and he made yours better,” Mom said. “You shared a very special friendship. Remember that and feel good about the time you did have together. Hold tight to those memories.”

  She kissed my cheek, and Dad patted my leg. They said good night and turned out my lights.

  One thing I learned is that getting through rough patches takes time, but it also takes family and friends by your side. I had the best family. They made me feel lucky even when I was down in the dumps.

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

  ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #21

  February: The Elephant in the Room

  Not to be boastful, but one of my strengths is planning special events, such as the joint wedding vows renewal the previous year or, more recently, Mrs. Magenta’s baby shower, but I was not interested in planning Coach’s funeral. It most certainly qualified as special—extra special, even—but I didn’t want to get involved; it didn’t feel right. I shared my reservations with Mother and Father, and they assured me that was probably for the better.

  “Someti
mes you need to know when to take a backseat,” Father said. “You don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, especially during personal times such as these. Your role is to be there to comfort and listen as needed.”

  You’re likely familiar with the often-heard catchphrase “Mother knows best.” Well, I’d like to add, sometimes a father knows best. I decided that the smartest way for me to fulfill my role was by continuing to do what I knew best. The Razzle-Dazzle Show had to go on.

  Mr. Allen was a team player and filled in for Mrs. Woods while she was out, and we continued to bring Lake View Middle our broadcast. I thought it’d be wise if we kept it simple as we made our way through rough waters, so we stuck to the basics: the weather, announcements, and sports recaps. To be honest, it was all rather bland and melancholy. But we had the antidote for that—Scott.

  Let me introduce another often-spoken metaphorical expression: the elephant in the room. Simply put, this expression is used when referring to the thing that is on everyone’s mind but no one is acknowledging or talking about—except when you have Scott.

  “Don’t you think we should do something about Coach?” he asked after one of our shows. He just came right out and said it.

  Our response was stunned silence. Coach was the elephant—the thing we weren’t talking about because we didn’t know how and we didn’t want to upset Gavin.

  “When somebody important and influential dies, TV news shows usually put together a tribute to honor that person. Don’t you think we should do something like that for Coach?” Scott continued.

  The cat still had our tongues, but then…

  “Yes,” Gavin croaked. “Yes.”

  That was all the okay we needed. We got to work.

  Not everyone at school knew Coach like we did, but after watching our tribute, they were going to feel like they did. We came up with the best game plan.

  My job was to video people at the Senior Center sharing memories of Coach. I got that job because I’d already proven I was good at it. I started with Eddie because she was the first person I saw when I got to the center, and I was too excited to wait. I also talked to Agnes and Grandpa. These were my favorite things they said.