by Annie Bryant
My room was the perfect place for movie planning and really practicing anything. (As a true performer, practicing was very important to me.) Everything around me was pink, pink, pink, from my fluffy comforter to my feathery lamp. It is a known fact that pink is the color of inspiration. The first time Avery saw my room, she said it looked like a bottle of Pepto Bismol exploded over everything. But Katani said that even though it was waaaay too pink for her taste, at least it all matched. I didn’t care what my friends thought. I knew my room was spectacular.
My walls were covered with movie posters—fabulous posters from the greatest movie classics ever. And the best part was they were free! Dad gave me tons of them from the Movie House. I had so many posters that I liked to switch them around depending on my mood. But Breakfast at Tiffany’s always stayed right above my bed. I didn’t have the heart to ever take that one down. Audrey Hepburn would always be at the top of my all-time favorite actresses list.
I stood in the center of my pink rug, took a deep yoga breath, and pronounced out loud, “You … are a princess.” I stared at myself in my full-length mirror and had to try hard not to laugh. “A dazzlingly beautiful, kung fu fighting princess! Hiiiiii-YAAA!” I leaped up and did a double kick with both my hands slicing the air. I was starting to get way pumped up! “You cannot be defeated. No one is more powerful than the dazzlingly beautiful, kung fu fighting princess. Hiiiiii-YAAA!”
My heart was really pounding now. This was all part of my beauty regime. I loved dancing and moving around because it helped me burn off nervous energy. And dancing made me soooo happy. I mean, who wouldn’t be happy singing and dancing?
“Hey, Nik and Sam,” I called out to my guinea pigs. “Check out these moves! Hiiii-YAAA!” I did a quick spin-kick. I liked to change their names around a lot, depending on my favorite couple of the moment. Of course, Nik and Sam were actually two twin sister country western stars, and my guinea pigs were a boy and a girl, but I didn’t think the little guys would mind.
Suddenly I heard a creaking noise … and it wasn’t coming from the guinea pigs’ cage! I turned around and nearly fainted when I saw a little black circle sticking through the crack of my door. It was a camera. And the person holding it was … no way!
“SAAAAAAM!” I hollered at the top of my lungs. “That thing better not be on!”
“Of course it’s on! This stuff is funny.” He barged into the room, pointing the camcorder right at me. “Welcome to the bedroom of the green slime monster,” he spoke in a cartoon voice.
“Stop it! Get OUT!” I shrieked. “Seriously! Moooooom! Sam’s teasing me. That thing better be turned off!” I screamed as I lurched toward him.
“The monster is very mean!” yelled Sam as he leapt backward toward the door.
I heard the sound of angry footsteps outside and in a few seconds Mom appeared in the door. When I saw her I instantly burst out laughing. Mom’s face was covered with green slime too! Sam spun around and pointed the camera at her.
“Wow! The big bad mommy monster’s here too!”
Mom didn’t seem too happy about being taped either. “Turn it off, Sam. That’s supposed to be for film camp.”
I nodded. “Yeah! You’re not supposed to play with that.” If Sam broke one of those cameras we’d be in serious trouble.
“I have permission,” Sam said in a braggy voice. “Dad wants me to tape the whooooole film camp. It’s my job, remember? I’m the filmotographer.”
“Mom!” I gasped.
“Honey, if your dad gave him the camera there really isn’t anything I can do. But Sam, you have to respect your sister’s privacy.”
“That’s right. Dad wants me to documentize everything.” Sam held the camera close to my face, and I suspected he was zooming in on the green goopiness.
I reached my hand out to block the lens, just like I’d seen real celebs do when they were caught with no makeup coming out of the gym or something. “Errrr! I can’t believe this! I’m not even famous yet and already I have to deal with paparazzi!”
Sam giggled. “The monster’s getting angry. Maybe it’s feeding time!” Sam spun around, going back and forth between Mom and me. If this was his idea of filming, his audience was going to be very dizzy!
“Sam, turn it off,” Mom ordered. “I’d rather not make my film debut looking like Frankenstein’s bride.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. You guys both look like Frankenstein’s bride,” Sam reminded her.
Sam kicked the air in one of his tae kwon do moves, so obviously making fun of me. Just because he had lessons once a week, he thought he was some kind of expert.
“Wait ’til I learn some serious kung fu moves from Artemia,” I began. “Then you’ll really—”
“—have something good to tape,” Mom finished for me. Then she literally lifted Sam (which must have been kind of hard because he was going through a major growth spurt lately), plopped him down in the middle of the hallway, and firmly closed the door behind her.
“Hey!” I heard Sam object. “I’m working here!”
I took a makeup remover towel thingy and wiped the goop off my face. Now I knew how stars felt when their photos ended up on the cover of those tabloid magazines—caught! One thing was for sure—if I wanted to do well at film camp I was going to have to put in an A++ effort the whole time. Especially with Sam snooping around. Well, if there’s one girl who can do it, it has to be yours truly! I thought with a smile. And plus, when everyone heard about my oh-so-incredible Boston Holiday idea, there’d be no question about who was the star of the show.
CHAPTER
5
Drama, Drama, Drama—and a Big Red Ribbon
Maeve, I’m leaving!” Mom hollered from the bottom of the stairs.
I burst out of the bathroom and started feeling a panicky tightness in my throat. “But, Mom, I’m not even close to ready!” I protested.
It was actually true. I had a hot curling iron in one hand and my toothbrush in the other. One half of my hair was twisted into banana-curl perfection and the other half looked like I’d just been through some kind of electric shock. There was no way I’d be ready to make a star-quality entrance at film camp … not yet.
“Pleeeease can I just have ten more minutes?” I begged. “I’ll be your servant for life,” I added, even though I knew that promise was never going to happen. Even if Mom wanted to hire me, I’d be the messiest servant ever.
“Maeve, I don’t have ten more minutes to wait. I’ve got my Monday meeting this morning.”
“The train is leaving! All aboard!” Sam announced from the hallway. Err. It was so unfair sometimes how boys could just throw on jeans and a shirt and be all set to go. Girls just didn’t have it that easy. And for girls with super curly hair … well … forget it!
The plan for the first morning was for Mom to walk us downstairs to camp on her way to work so we could be in front of the Movie House with the rest of the campers. Since camp started at 9 a.m., and Mom had to be at work at 8:30 a.m., I’d end up being way early. That should have been the first clue that this plan was just plain-old not going to work. After all, I was Maeve Kaplan-Taylor … how was I supposed to show up at film camp bright and early when it was practically a part of my DNA to be fashionably late?
I grabbed my puff of frizz and gave Mom a look of total desperation. “This might just be the single most important day of my life,” I informed her. “Please can I have just a teeny-weeny bit longer?”
Mom sighed. “All right, fine. I’ll call your father and see if he wants to walk you in.”
“Yessssss!” I breathed. I knew Dad would pull through. He was always a late-bird like me.
“Sam, would you like to wait here with your sister?” Mom asked.
I held my breath. After Sam’s paparazzi attack the night before, I certainly did NOT want my little brother snooping around the bathroom with my hair in major rescue-911 mode.
“No way!” Sam exclaimed. “What if something exciting happens at the Movi
e House and I miss it … waiting for Mrs. Frankenstein?” I wanted to chase him, but I was on frizz patrol. (His monster routine was getting really annoying.) “I’d be the worst filmotographer in the world!”
I was going to point out that he was the only filmotographer in the world, but I bit my lip and decided not to say anything. Mom had an expression for that—“don’t instigate.” That meant—in Mom talk—don’t give Sam any reason to start teasing me. For now, I was safe, and I wasn’t going to push it!
“All right, your dad is on his way,” Mom called, snapping her cell phone closed.
“Eek!” I squealed. “Now I really need to get going!”
I heard Sam mutter something but Mom quieted him down with an “Enough.”
“Good luck today, sweetheart!” Mom called.
I felt lucky. “Thanks, Mom.” The stage was where I felt confident. My hairball—on the other hand—well, that needed all the luck it could get. Thankfully if there was one thing I could count on Dad for it was running late. By the time he finally rang the doorbell I not only had my hair in tip-top form, but I even had time to put on a little blush and lip gloss, giving my face a healthy glow for the big morning.
“Okay, Dad, be honest … what do you think?” I walked slowly down the stairs. I had selected my outfit the night before and I was going for “smashing” … the way Artemia looked in the Movie House the other day. I was wearing a new, crisp white blouse with a black velvet blazer. My pants were soft pink corduroy, perfectly matching my pink headband. I hoped my look said “star” and “serious ack-tour.”
Dad stood in the hallway with a little white bag in one hand and a steaming hot cup of coffee in the other. “You look sharp, Maeve,” he said, slurping the coffee.
“Sharp? Or glamorous?”
“Glamorous,” Dad gulped.
“Hah! It was a trick question. You were supposed to say sharp and glamorous!”
“There, Miss Sharp and Glamorous.” Dad placed the bag in my hand. “Your hot chocolate. That’s why I was late. You wouldn’t believe how long the line was at Montoya’s this morning. You aren’t the only student from Abigail Adams who is staying home during vacation, kiddo. Now let’s get a move on. There are already campers waiting.”
Now I was seriously excited. I loved meeting new people. I slung my Think Pink velvet bag over my shoulder and instantly felt like I was being pulled to the ground by a ton of bricks. How had my bag gotten so heavy? I only had packed the essentials—a printed outline of my Boston Holiday idea, a makeup bag, a change of shoes for dance, an extra sweatshirt, my cell phone, a few magazines, an umbrella in case it rained, a snack for later, and a water bottle, as I would be singing. I mean, a girl has to be prepared.
“Dad, one thing. Why can’t I come in through the back of the theater with you like I always do?” I asked, even though I already knew what Dad was going to say. Mom had explained it to me over and over again during dinner. It was just that I didn’t want my hair to get ruined. Having a giant bozo frizzball effect the first day of camp was not my idea of a perfect first impression. I wanted everyone to see me as the Princess. A girl’s gotta dream.
“Because,” Dad reminded me, “since I own the Movie House and the camp is being held here … I just don’t want the kids to get jealous.”
“Jealous? Of little old me?”
“Okay, not jealous exactly,” Dad tried again to explain. “I just don’t want the kids to see you popping backstage all the time and thinking you’re getting some kind of special treatment … you’re talented already, Maeve.”
I looked away to cover up my proud smile. “What does being talented have to do with anything?”
“Because, let’s just say you were to get a lead part in the film—”
“But you said it was going to be an ensemble cast,” I pointed out.
“Well, there might be a change of plans,” Dad said and I felt my cheeks flush with excitement. Why the change of heart? I wondered. But then I was like, Who CARES? Starring roles and everything! This film camp was getting better and better by the moment. “Anyway, if you were to get a lead part, you’d want the other students to know that you earned it …”
“But I would earn it. Duh … maybe you own the building, but you have nothing to do with who gets to be the star of film camp. Even if you are the coolest dad ever.”
“Thanks, but rumors spread fast in small theaters, Maeve. Take my word for it. Just walk around to the front with the rest of the kids and wait for me to unlock the front doors.”
I started to walk away. “Wait—” Dad shouted. “Come back. We’re already five minutes late! If you walk around to the front you’re going to be even later …”
I sighed, folded my arms, and tapped my foot. “Yes?”
Dad scratched his dark, curly hair and furrowed his brow. “Come with me,” he decided.
“Cool,” I replied.
“No, wait … walk around.”
“Daaaaaad!” I was getting seriously exasperated.
“Okay, okay, come with me.”
I rolled my eyes and walked next to Dad. Why is he being so weird? I wondered. It wasn’t ’til I noticed his hand shaking as he unlocked the backdoor that it finally dawned on me. Oh my gosh, Dad’s actually nervous! I realized. This camp was a huge deal. And Dad was about to make his big introduction in front of all the kids … plus Artemia Aaron and Mr. Von Krupcake. I couldn’t believe it. Dad loved the spotlight as much as I did.
Dad shakily flipped on the lights in the hall of the theater. A shiver went down my spine as one by one the framed posters of classic movies lit up. I always got that feeling—a mixture of pride and excitement. It was like the great movies were in my blood. “How does it look? Is everything … you know … spic and span?” he asked.
Spic and span was an understatement. The Krupcake King’s renovations had made a big difference, and the Movie House had gone from classic to fantastic. Mr. Von Krupcake wasn’t kidding when he said he’d make the whole place glisten. The wood was freshly glossed and polished, and every seat in the theater was covered with red velvet. Plus we had a brand new plush curtain for the stage. I gave Dad a quick hug. “It’s going to be great! We’re going to be great,” I promised him.
Dad patted my back. “Okay then, let’s go.”
There was a little march in his step as he strolled down the carpeted aisle to unlock the door. Mr. Von Krupcake even had new, sparkling crystal chandeliers installed. It was like something out of a dream. Then it got so dreamlike I actually had to pinch myself.
Gathered there, outside the theater, were tons of kids and parents … all here for film camp at our Movie House. I squeezed Dad’s hand for good luck. I felt like I was about to make my very own red carpet entrance!
Dad unlocked the door and I gasped. Sure, the inside of the Movie House was fabulous, but seeing the front of the theater now was really the icing on the cake … the Krup-cake, that is. The whole front was blocked off with a huge white ribbon with the words “New York Film Academy” printed in red letters. All the campers gathered close around it. In front of the theater, passersby had stopped on the street and sidewalk to see what all the commotion was about. And was it my imagination, or was that a photographer and a reporter standing next to the doors? This was getting too amazing for words!
The moment Dad and I stepped outside, the kids all began pointing and murmuring, wondering who this obviously important man was who had just unlocked the doors of the romantic-looking landmark theater … and maybe even wondering who was the very well-dressed, sharp and glamorous redheaded girl? I giggled and hoped they’d think maybe for just a split second that I was a celebrity here for the ribbon-cutting ceremony.
As Dad and I made our way through the crowd to the big bow in the middle of the ribbon, the crowd actually moved apart for us. Kids were totally looking at me and then whispering to each other. Even though half of me wanted to tell them that I was just a regular kid and that the big, friendly looking guy happe
ned to be my dad, the other half of me really wanted to be a famous actress … even if it was just for a little while.
Suddenly, all heads turned away from me and started pointing down Beacon Street. I shielded my eyes and squinted to get a better look. Whoa. Just when I thought this morning could not get more exciting, what should pull up right in front of the Movie House, but a white stretch limousine!
Now the crowd was really going wild. Everyone was shouting things like, “Who has a pen?” “I don’t know who’s in there, but I want an autograph!” I didn’t say anything myself, but thought how funny it was that people went so nuts over stars and autographs. When I became famous, I’d make sure not to forget how important it was for fans to have their picture taken with moi.
The driver got out first and walked around the back of the limo. He swooped down his arm, opened the door, and out stepped Mr. Von Krupcake wearing his fedora hat. “Ahem,” announced the driver. “It’s my pleasure to introduce the one and only Walter Von Krupcake.”
“Huh? Who’s Walter Cupcake?” asked a little boy behind me.
“Don’t you know? He’s the Krupcake King!” answered an all-too-familiar voice. “He helped my dad redo the Movie House for camp.”
I shook my head. Sooo typical. Sam the Know-It-All strikes again. I decided it was best to stay incognito (that means in disguise … another great word nerd word from the brilliant Charlotte Ramsey!) as long as possible. People would definitely know soon enough that Mr. Know-It-All was my little brother.
Mr. Von Krupcake whispered something to the driver, whose face instantly turned white. “I’m sorry, sir!” he gasped and dove inside the car. When he emerged, he was carrying something shiny—something red and gold. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” shouted the driver. “Let me present … the Krupcake King!” He stood on his tiptoes and placed something on Mr. Von Krupcake’s head. It was the huge crown from his commercials. Once the crown was secured, everyone started oohing and ahhing. Sometimes people just needed a little help remembering who was famous, I guess.
