Hollywood: Juniper and Able

by Samantha M. Clark

  The studio was about forty-five minutes away, and Juniper was glad the day wasn’t too hot. The compartment was stuffy, but at least she could see out the small window in the side door. To pass the time, she thought of all the horse tricks she’d seen on Castle McAvoy that Able might be asked to do. Before she knew it, the truck had stopped and her dad was talking to the guard at the studio gate.

  Juniper’s heartbeat galloped in her chest as the truck pulled into the studio lot. The trailer turned left, then right, then left again, and Juniper watched out the window for the familiar turrets of Castle McAvoy.

  Finally, the trailer stopped, and Juniper rubbed her clammy hands on her jeans. Her father was not going to be happy to see her, and the crimp in her chest pinched harder. This was the only way to show him that she could help. She had to take the chance.

  Her father’s truck door opened and closed. “I’ll be right back, Able.”

  Juniper carefully climbed out of the cabinet, and Able nuzzled her neck.

  “You knew I was in there the whole time, didn’t you?” she asked the horse, rubbing his nose. “Pray that Dad isn’t too mad. But even if he is, when he sees you get that part because I’m here, he’ll forgive me. I hope.”

  Juniper peered out of the trailer at the studio parking lot. A trolley carrying tourists rattled by, and some waved at her like she belonged there. A wave of excitement sprang up Juniper’s spine.

  “I’ll bring him around.” Her father’s voice was followed by his footsteps getting closer. The stampede of nervous horses in Juniper’s tummy pounded faster.

  She heard a click, then the back doors of the trailer swung open. “All right, Able, you’re—Juniper!”

  Her father’s eyes grew wide when he spotted her. She gave him her best smile. “Hi, Dad. Don’t worry about Able. He’s going to do great in his audition. I was just telling him how wonderful he is, and . . .”

  Juniper trailed off. Was that smoke coming out of her father’s ears? If it wasn’t, it could’ve been. He twisted his arms across his chest tight enough to squeeze a flea. She waited for his outburst, ready to explain, to plead for mercy, to beg him to understand.

  But instead of exploding, he narrowed his eyes.

  That was so much worse.

  “You’re supposed to be in school.” His voice was low and gravelly. “What did I tell you last night—”

  “I know, but Able really needed me. You said he did better with me around, and—”

  “Are you ready, Paul?” A tall, slender woman walked up to the trailer with a clipboard in her hand. When she got close, she peered inside, and a smile lit up her face. “Juniper? Is that you? Little Junie?”

  Juniper grinned. Her father couldn’t be angry with her now, at least not in front of the casting lady.

  “Hi, Fay.” Juniper gave her a wave.

  “I haven’t seen you in years,” Fay said. “You’re growing so big.”

  Juniper wanted to roll her eyes. Was that all grown-ups ever noticed? She had to keep Fay on track. “You’re going to love Able. He can do any trick you want. He’s amazing. Right, Able?” She patted Able’s nose, and he seemed to nicker in agreement.

  “That’s exactly what we need.” Fay smiled brightly. “Let’s head over to the set and see him in action.”

  Under a deep frown, Juniper’s father whispered, “We’re going to talk about this later.” Then he turned to Fay with a grin. “We’re on our way.”

  Juniper grabbed the lead rope and clipped it to Able’s halter. Then they were out of the trailer and following Fay around the back of the big studio buildings.

  With her father and Fay walking ahead, Juniper guided Able and tried to keep her heart from racing straight out of her chest. She had to stay calm and professional, just like she’d seen her father do when she’d joined him on sets when she was little. But as soon as they turned the corner of the studio, Juniper lost all her composure. She froze, sucking in a breath, then managed to squeak out, “That’s it, Able. That’s it!”

  The main courtyard of Castle McAvoy stood before them. The tall stone walls of the castle surrounded a huge opening laid out with packed dirt, hay bales, and tufts of grass. It was just like Juniper had seen on TV, except one big difference: When she gazed up, there were no towers or turrets—just a huge, bright green screen.

  “This is Castle McAvoy, Able,” she whispered into his ear. “You’re going to be on the show. I can feel it.”

  Able nodded like he knew it, too.

  “We just need to see Able on the set,” Fay said, halting a few feet from the packed dirt. “We’ll have him walk, gallop, do a few jumps. That sort of thing. Sound good?”

  “No problem,” Juniper’s father said. He grabbed Able’s lead rope and turned to Juniper, eyes as serious as an arrow aimed at its target. “Stand over there, out of the way, and don’t say a word.”

  “But, Dad—”

  “Ah!” Her father lifted one finger. “Don’t make me send you to wait in the truck, because I will.”

  Juniper clamped her mouth shut. She ran her hand encouragingly down Able’s neck, then walked to the spot where her father had pointed. Stuffing her hands deep into her pockets, she watched as her dad walked Able around the large set.

  “He’s a beautiful horse,” Fay said. “Ben, what do you think?” She nodded to a man who was striding up from the main building. A boy walked at his side, and Juniper wondered if he was one of the actors. He was taller than Juniper; older, but not much. She couldn’t recognize him, though, and she felt sure she knew every face that had ever been on the show.

  Ben and the boy stopped next to Fay. Ben whistled. “Great-looking. He’s just what we need. If he can jump well, of course.”

  If he can jump, Juniper thought. Able could jump better than any horse on the show.

  Her heart raced a little faster. She was even more sure Able was going to get this part.

  Fay turned to Juniper’s dad. “Paul, Marcus is one of our stunt riders.” She pointed to the boy, who stepped forward. “Let’s have him take Able around the courtyard.”

  “Sure,” Juniper’s father said. “Hey, Marcus. Able will be nice to you.” He smiled big, and Marcus mirrored his expression.

  Juniper watched nervously as the boy mounted Able and took him for a light trot on the dirt. Able looked good, his head high, and Juniper’s chest filled with pride. Marcus pushed Able faster, and he obeyed. Then Marcus took the horse for a small jump over a hay bale, but Able resisted.

  Juniper straightened. It wasn’t a difficult jump. Why had Able hesitated? Marcus tried again, and this time Able did the jump, but it hadn’t looked pretty.

  She glanced at her father. His cheek stuck out like it did when he gritted his teeth hard. He was worried.

  “Go again,” Fay called to Marcus, and the boy took Able around the courtyard again. He lined them up with the hay bale and began the jump, but Able again resisted, making a jump that looked clumsy.

  Ben shook his head slightly. “I don’t know. He’s a good-looking horse, but I don’t think he’s—”

  “I’ll show you!” The words were out of Juniper’s mouth before she could regret saying them. When her father turned to her as though he might breathe fire, she knew she’d probably made a big mistake. But it was too late now. And if there was anything she could do to help Able get this part, she had to do it.

  “Able’s really not a bad jumper,” Juniper continued, hurrying over to her horse. “He’s usually great. But this is his first time on a set, so he’s nervous. I can show you what he can do. I know you’re going to love him.”

  Juniper knew she was babbling, but she was as nervous as Able was.

  “Well,” Fay started, “you can try, but—”

  “Great!” Juniper didn’t wait for any more words. As soon as Marcus had dismounted, Juniper swung herself onto Able’s ba
ck. She leaned down, patted his neck, and said, “You can do this, Able. I believe in you.”

  Able nodded his head, making Juniper smile.

  She could feel the energy running through Able. With her on his back, he was comfortable and excited to show off.

  Juniper gave his reins a quick tug, and they cantered around the courtyard. She walked Able backward, then pulled him up to rear. Eyeing the hay bale, Juniper lined up Able, and they soared over. Then she trotted him to where Fay, Marcus, Ben, and Juniper’s father were standing. Able finished with a one-legged bow.

  Everyone was smiling broadly now, then Juniper heard applause. She looked up and saw a group of people at the door of the main studio. There were grown-ups and some children. Juniper immediately recognized the kid actors Caleb Donovan, who played Sir Gregor, and Alicia Hernandez, who played Lady Penelope. They were watching her!

  “You were right, Juniper,” Fay said. “Able does move beautifully. I guess he just needed the right rider.”

  “Hey,” Marcus protested, and Juniper had a stab of worry that he felt insulted. But when she glanced at him, Marcus was smiling. He didn’t seem to mind that she’d brought more out of Able than he had.

  “I’d be happy to help,” Juniper said, then cringed inwardly. Her father would not like that she offered. But if it made the difference between Able getting the job and not getting the job, it had to be worth it, hadn’t it?

  Fay turned to Juniper’s father. “Thanks for bringing Able, Paul. He’s everything you said he was, and more. We’ve got another horse to look at, but I’ll let you know.”

  “Great,” Juniper’s father said, nodding to Juniper to get down. “Let me know if you need anything else. Come on, Juniper, let’s get Able home.”

  On the drive back to their ranch, Juniper sat in the passenger seat of her dad’s truck instead of cramped inside the trailer’s equipment cabinet. Her father didn’t say a word the entire trip, and Juniper knew that was a bad sign. The quieter her dad got, the angrier he was. But nothing could wipe the giant smile off her face.

  She had ridden her horse on a TV set and done well. She wanted to do that every day for the rest of her life.

  Later that night, as Juniper sat with her family around their dinner table, Rose pestered her with questions about the set, and Juniper was all too happy to tell her everything. Their father did not think it was fun.

  “I told you to stay quiet and out of the way,” he said, lowering the piece of garlic bread he’d been bringing to his lips. “You don’t listen, Juniper. This isn’t a game. It’s not showing off for your friends. This is my work.”

  “I just wanted to help,” Juniper said.

  “But you didn’t. You showed them that Able can only work well with you, but on a set, he’s got to be able to work well with other stunt riders and the actors.” Anger filled every word. “I trusted that Able would get there with Marcus, but now, they’ll never know. You might’ve cost us the job.”

  Juniper opened her mouth to answer, but when her dad’s cell phone rang, she shut her mouth again.

  Her father walked into his office to take the call, and Juniper sank into her seat. She’d only been trying to help. She hadn’t thought that she could’ve ruined Able’s audition, and now . . . maybe she had.

  “He’s just in a bad mood,” Rose said, twirling spaghetti onto her fork. “I think you did the right thing, Junie.”

  “Your father’s not in a bad mood,” their mother said. “He’s taking care of you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Juniper’s one of the best riders around,” Rose said, and Juniper looked at her in surprise. They used to ride together all the time, but ever since Rose started high school, she acted like riding was for babies. Juniper didn’t think Rose had seen her ride in months, but here she was, cheering her on.

  “He’s got his reasons for keeping you away from the set,” their mother said. “You need to trust him.”

  “But Mom . . . ,” Rose began but stopped when the door to their father’s office opened and he walked out.

  His phone was in his hand, and he had a grim look on his face.

  “That was Fay,” he said, and Juniper’s heart sank. She had ruined Able’s audition. She had ruined everything.

  “They want Able for the role,” he said.

  “That’s wonderful,” her mother said.

  “And they want Juniper to stunt as well,” her father said.

  Juniper looked at her dad in astonishment. Had he just said what she thought he’d said? Had he just said . . .

  Rose squealed, squeezing Juniper in a hug. That was when Juniper realized she had heard right.

  “I’m going to be on Castle McAvoy?”

  Juniper squealed, too.

  Chapter 3

  First Day on Set

  The morning of her first day on the set of Castle McAvoy, Juniper could barely control her excitement. She was filled to the brim, and her fingers continuously twitched, even after she put her hands into her pockets.

  Her parents had been reluctant to allow her to go. Her father kept giving her his “the animals are the actors in this family” line, and her mother was worried about school and safety and security—all things Juniper was sure would be okay. Finally, it wasn’t Juniper’s begging and promising that she’d stay on top of schoolwork that changed her parents’ minds. It was Rose reminding them that this was Able’s big break, and he’d gotten it because of Juniper.

  Now Juniper felt as though she had to prove to her parents that they had nothing to worry about, that she wouldn’t let them down. She had to help Able be his best, and she had to be perfect at all her own stunts, just like Claudia Rains was perfect with her tricks.

  But as Juniper and Able walked with her father from their truck to the set, the stampede of nervous horses returned to Juniper’s tummy.

  “I’ll be with you the whole time,” her father told her, “but make sure you don’t do anything dangerous. I don’t want you doing any trick you haven’t done lots of times before. Okay?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Take your time. If they need to do a few takes, that’s okay.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Just breathe and concentrate and—”

  “Dad!” Juniper squeezed Able’s lead rope. “You’re making us more nervous. Right, Able?”

  Able shook like he was trying to get the worrying thoughts out of his head.

  “All right.” Juniper’s father nodded. “Just be careful.”

  “We will.”

  Juniper plastered an uneasy smile on her face, but it quickly drained away. The studio was filled with much more activity than when they’d come for the audition. People rushed about—some in costumes, some carrying lights, some pushing carts full of props. Able’s ears pricked up and rocked from side to side, listening to all the strange noises. Juniper rubbed his neck to ease him, hoping the soft movement would calm the herd in her stomach, too.

  “Juniper!”

  Marcus hurried over, and Juniper felt relieved to see a familiar face.

  “Hey, Marcus.”

  “Welcome to Castle McAvoy.” He grinned. “Let me show you where we’ll be rehearsing today. We’ve got a lot to go through.”

  “I’m going to get all the paperwork signed, Junie,” her dad said. “Don’t do anything until I get back, okay?”

  “Dad, I’ll be fine.” Inwardly, she rolled her eyes, but she was pretty sure her father got the message from the tone of her words. She didn’t want Marcus to think she was a baby who needed to be protected. She was a TV stuntperson now.

  If her father was offended, he didn’t show it. Concern was written all over his face. “I won’t be long,” he said, then headed off toward the studio.

  “Parents!” Juniper said to Marcus once her dad was out of earshot.

  He
chuckled. “It’s nice that he’s worried. I don’t think my parents ever worry about what I’m doing.”

  “They don’t?”

  Marcus shook his head. “They run the stunt team for the show. Remember Ben from your audition?”

  Juniper nodded.

  “He’s my dad. He just wants me to hit my mark, every time.” Marcus laughed again.

  “Wow! You’re so lucky. It’s my dream to be here. And I owe it all to Able.” Juniper rubbed her horse’s nose.

  “Nah. You were great. You both were.” Marcus leaned toward Able to make sure he got the compliment, too.

  Marcus led them to an open field beyond the courtyard. Barriers had been set up in the same large semicircle as the courtyard, and blocks were in place where the hay bales had been.

  “We work out the stunt scenes here while they’re filming other scenes on the real set,” Marcus said. He took them to the far side, where a black horse a few hands taller than Able was hitched to a pole.

  “This is Zombie. She’s been with my family since she was born.” Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie with apple slices. He gave one to Zombie and one to Juniper.

  “Hi, Zombie.” Juniper lifted her palm, with the apple slice on it, up to the older horse. “She’s beautiful. Why’d you call her Zombie?”

  Marcus laughed. “When she was a foal, she fell in love with a big rubber eyeball we had put out for Halloween. She played with it and slept with it, so we figured that if she loved eyeballs that much, she must be a zombie.”

  Juniper giggled. “At least she doesn’t act like a zombie,” she said as the horse nibbled the apple slice off Juniper’s palm.

  Marcus shook his head. “Nah. She’s really easygoing. We’ll work together, so Able can get used to being with her. Zombie’s in most of the horse scenes on this show, so she can keep Able comfortable.”