“Because we just have to!” her mom cried, getting to her feet. “Things will remain as normal as possible around here,” she said as she began to pace.
Except that I won’t have a dad, Andrea thought angrily.
“Look,” her dad said suddenly. “This is too much. I’ve got to go pack. The sooner I get out, the better.”
He rose and left the kitchen. Andrea started after him. “Honey,” her mother began.
“Leave me alone!” Andrea cried. “You finally got your job. You don’t need Dad or me or Timmy.” Andrea ran from the room and up the stairs after her dad. She burst into his bedroom. His suitcase was open on the bed, and he was loading the contents of his dresser into it.
“Oh, Daddy!” Andrea broke into sobs and threw her arms around him. “Don’t go! Please! Please, don’t go!” she sobbed.
He held her tightly while she cried. Then he gently pushed her away, grabbed a tissue from the dresser, and offered it to Andrea. “Andi, honey, this is really hard for me, too, but I have to go.”
“But I love you!” she cried. “Where will you be? When will I see you? I don’t want you to go!”
“I love you, too, Andi. I really do,” her dad said, smiling at her with a heartbroken look in his eyes.
“Then if you love me, you won’t leave me,” she gasped between sobs.
“I’ll see you often,” he promised. “I’m getting an apartment. You can come and visit whenever you want.”
“Mom’s making you leave, isn’t she?” Andi demanded, her eyes red and swollen.
“Now you stop that, Andi,” her dad said sternly. “It’s not your mother’s fault. We agreed on this together. Your mom and I just aren’t working out.”
He pulled her close again. Andrea didn’t want to let go. After a minute, he sat her firmly on the bed and finished packing his bags. When he was through, he hoisted his luggage and started down the stairs. Mrs. Manetti stood at the bottom.
“I’ll get the rest of my stuff later—when the kids aren’t here,” he told her in a low voice.
Andrea watched from the top of the stairs, trying to stop crying.
“Daddy go bye?” Timmy called happily from the living room as his dad stopped to kiss his cheek.
“Daddy go bye,” Mr. Manetti repeated softly.
Andrea watched through tear-filled eyes as her dad walked through the front door and into the bitter, cold November day.
SEVEN
Somehow, Andrea made it through the next few weeks. At times she felt as if she were living in a bad dream. She wished she could wake up and find everything had been imaginary. Even when her dad called and gave her his new address and phone number, the divorce still didn’t seem real.
But it was real. She was angry with her mother and went out of her way to be mean and sassy to her. Fortunately, her mom seemed to understand. She didn’t hassle Andrea about anything for the first few days after her dad had moved out. Andrea spent a lot of time alone in her room reading magazines, getting lost in the pretty-picture world of other places and other lives.
One article in particular caught her attention. It was about a celebrity couple who separated, lived apart for a month, and then decided that they really belonged back together. A small hope began to grow within her that maybe the same thing would happen to her parents. Maybe after some time apart, they would decide they missed each other, and her dad would move back home.
The thought made her happier. So she pretended that her dad was just away on business and that he would be back home in a few weeks. That’s what she told Terri, too. Holding onto hope, Andrea felt better and began to concentrate on school and chorus again. Her life took on the familiar routine of homework, long phone calls to Terri, and household chores to help her working mom.
“Let’s go Christmas shopping!” Terri said one morning on the phone. It was the third week of December, and school was out for the holidays. Winter’s chill had settled in, and festive decorations appeared in all the stores and along the downtown streets.
Christmas! Andrea’s heart sank at the thought. This would be her first Christmas without her father at home. She forced the sad thought aside. “Sure!” she said. “Mom’s working, and Timmy’s still in school. I haven’t gotten a thing for anybody yet.”
Just that morning, her mom had given her fifty dollars for her Christmas shopping. Andrea had been surprised.
“I didn’t think we had money for Christmas,” she had said.
“I’ve been putting some aside,” her mom told her. “I know it’s been hard not to have the things your friends have. I’ve done some shopping on my lunch hours. You go do some for Timmy, your dad, and your friends,” she’d added quickly. “Have fun.”
Andrea hadn’t known what to say Fifty dollars! It was all for her to spend on Christmas gifts.
The two girls caught the city bus and headed toward the bustling streets of downtown. Christmas carols and holiday music greeted them as they got off at their stop. Salvation Army bell ringers stood on corners around their fat, red collection pots. Tinsel and lights glittered and flickered in the otherwise cold, gray morning.
They went into Rinegold’s Department Store. Inside was a glittering version of the North Pole. White doves and bells hung from the ceiling. Piles of sparkling puffs of cotton snow lay on the countertops and underneath an enormous Christmas tree in the center of the store, which blazed with lights and red and green ribbons.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Santa’s little helper.” Andrea turned at the sound of the familiar voice and found herself looking up at Tony Columbo. Her stomach flip-flopped. Why did he have to show up and spoil my shopping spree? She rolled her eyes at him and started to walk away.
He caught her arm. “Hold on, Miss Stuck-up,” he said. “Out shopping for my present? How sweet.”
“Let go of me,” she ordered. She was less afraid of him out in the crowd of Christmas shoppers. He didn’t look so tough in the festive surroundings of Rinegold’s.
“Yeah, Tony,” Terri said. “Leave us alone.”
Tony stared at Andrea, then dropped her arm.
“Look,” Tony said contritely. “Actually I just thought maybe you could help me pick out some perfume for my mom. This stuff all smells the same to me.”
Andrea was both surprised and touched. Ms. Vesper’s words about Tony’s rough past came back to her. She shrugged. “Sure. We could do that. Couldn’t we, Terri?”
Terri looked at her like she’d gone nuts. “Okay,” she said apprehensively.
The trio headed to the cosmetics counter and began sniffing samples. When Tony turned his back to the girls for a moment, Terri looked at Andrea and motioned toward Tony with her eyes. Andrea just shrugged and gave her a weak smile.
“Phew!” Tony said after about five minutes. “It smells like a fruitcake around here.”
“Maybe your mom would like a scarf,” Andrea suggested.
“Yeah. Maybe,” Tony said.
The three of them went over to the counter that held a display of colorful scarves. “How about this one?” Andrea asked, tossing a long silky one around her neck and posing against the counter.
“Looks like a dog collar,” Tony mumbled.
They all laughed. Andrea tried on another. Then each of them put on a scarf and posed in front of the mirror, Tony in the middle, Andrea and Terri on either of his arms.
“I look like a gangster,” he said, making a face. Pretty soon they were all pretending to be different characters with various scarves, hats, and sunglasses from the surrounding displays.
After some discussion mixed with giggles, Tony finally settled on a camel-colored wool scarf with fringe. “It looks like something my mom would wear,” he said. After he paid the sales clerk, Tony turned awkwardly to Andrea. “Well, thanks,” he said slowly. “I guess I’ll see you when school starts.”
“Sure,” she said, smiling. “Have a good Christmas.” In a way she hated to see him leave. It had been fun shopping together. But he left in a h
urry and soon was lost among the throng of shoppers.
“You know,” Terri remarked, “he seemed almost human today. Why can’t he be like that in school?”
Andrea shrugged. “A lot of things aren’t what they seem,” she said absently. Then she pushed Terri toward the escalator before her friend could ask a bunch of questions.
Andrea was nervous. It was already past four o’clock on Christmas Day, and her dad still hadn’t stopped by the house. “He’ll be here,” her mom kept saying, but she kept eyeing the mantle clock, too.
Andrea scanned the neat stack of gifts opened and displayed under the tree. Her mom had bought her a beautiful blue sweater, khaki cords, and a purse. Timmy had given her a canvas lunch bag and hair clips. She loved her gifts, appreciating how much they must have cost.
Timmy sat on the floor, playing with his new set of building blocks. It was hard for his uncoordinated hands to stack them. But he tried over and over without getting frustrated and angry as he usually did when a task seemed too hard for him.
If only my dad would come, Andrea thought. It had been a good Christmas, but a lonely one. She kept remembering past Christmases, when her dad would read the Christmas story from the Bible and play Santa Claus, passing out the gifts, pretending he couldn’t read the name tags until everyone was overwhelmed with excitement.
She recalled the time he’d sat up half the night putting together Timmy’s first tricycle. She thought of him carving the turkey, falling asleep on the sofa during the afternoon football game, making turkey and cranberry sandwiches for himself and Andrea just before bedtime on Christmas night. She remembered so many things, so many good times.
She might have started crying if the doorbell hadn’t rung. She flew to the door and flung it open. Her dad stood there holding their gifts. “Ho-ho-ho!” he cried merrily.
“Daddy!” Andrea shouted, flinging her arms around him. “Mom! Timmy! Dad’s here!”
“Hello, Jim,” her mom said tersely, drying her hands on a dish towel as she came in from the kitchen.
“Beth,” he said, nodding toward her.
“You’re late,” Andrea’s mom added. “The kids had about given up on you.”
“Don’t start on me,” he warned.
Andrea’s heart dropped. Don’t have an argument now, not on Christmas Day!
“It’s all right,” Andrea said quickly. “You’re here now. Let’s open presents,” she urged as she pulled her dad toward the Christmas tree.
Under the tree she pulled the gift she’d chosen and lovingly wrapped for her dad. “Here,” she said, handing him the present.
He tore off the paper, held up the book, examined it, and announced, “Thanks, honey. It’s a great choice. I like a good spy story.”
He gave Andrea a pale pink sweater and denim skirt. He gave Timmy a soft football and a bright red helmet. Timmy was thrilled. He donned his helmet and ran up the stairs, clutching the ball under his arm.
“I held dinner for you,” Andrea’s mom began.
“You shouldn’t have,” Mr. Manetti told her. “I can’t stay.”
“But, Daddy!” Andrea cried.
“What do you mean you can’t stay?” her mom asked with irritation in her voice. “We’ve been waiting all day. I’ve kept dinner on hold. You can’t just drop by, open gifts, and then leave.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at Andrea. “But I’ve got to catch a plane to Ontario tonight. There’s a business meeting first thing in the morning. Work doesn’t stop—even for the holidays.”
“This stinks, Jim!” Andrea’s mom said angrily.
Things weren’t going as Andrea had hoped. She’d imagined a whole evening of sitting around like a regular family—spending time together and talking. Now, her dad was leaving.
“Can’t you stay longer, Daddy?” she asked. “Please?”
“I can’t, honey. But I’ll be back next week. I’ll take you to lunch. All right?”
Tears welled up in Andrea’s eyes. All she could do was nod. Her mom followed her dad to the door. She could hear them arguing. “I don’t appreciate this one bit, Jim,” her mom said. “Christmas Day and you can’t spend it with your kids.”
“It’s not like I have a choice!” And it continued for several more minutes.
Andrea pressed her hands to her ears. She didn’t want to hear them anymore. This is the worst Christmas I’ve ever had, she told herself. My parents will never get back together. Never!
Then she ran up to her room and slammed the door behind her.
EIGHT
Everyone in the choral room seemed to be talking at once. Ms. Vesper had just made a startling announcement. In the spring the class would be presenting a full-scale production of the musical Grease.
Andrea could barely contain her excitement. Being able to do an entire show, complete with makeup, lights, and staging seemed too good to be true.
More than anything, she wanted to have a singing role in this show. Deep down, she wanted the part of Sandy, the lead. “I can do that part!” she told herself.
Andrea concentrated on what Ms. Vesper was saying. “I want all of you to try out for any part you feel you’re qualified to play,” she told the students. “There are lots of parts available. It’s a big cast. And I think I have a lot of talent in this room.
“I will hold open auditions. There are also a lot of jobs for your friends who’d like to help out behind the scenes. We have scenery to build and paint. We need makeup people. There’s plenty of work for everybody, and I’d like to get the entire school involved in the show’s production, if possible.
“We’ll need to put up posters, do some public service spots on local radio stations, and invite the whole community. It’s my plan to use the profits from ticket sales on new music, show choir outfits, and class supplies. Besides,” she paused, “I think we’ll have a lot of fun doing Grease.”
Some of the kids clapped. Others yelled, “Cool!” and “All right!” The entire idea was met with unanimous approval.
Ms. Vesper continued. “I have about thirty copies of the actual script. I want those of you who think you want to try out for the leads and the other major roles to pick up a copy after class today. Take it home, decide which part you want to try out for, and start memorizing some lines.
“I’ll hold tryouts beginning next Wednesday. I want to start rehearsals in two weeks. I’d like to have Grease ready for an audience by mid-April. That gives us about three months to do the job. Think we can do it?”
The class immediately began to buzz with chatter as students talked about which roles they wanted and who would be cast. Ms. Vesper laughed and held up her hands for silence. “Then get out there and talk it up,” she urged. “I want full participation from you. Remember,” she shouted, “Grease is the word!”
As the class broke up, Andrea went down front to pick up a copy of the script. She watched Tony from the corner of her eye. She didn’t know how to act around him. He had ignored her in the halls whenever she walked by him. He barely acknowledged her in class. Since he no longer rode the school bus, she didn’t see him before or after school. Still, she wanted to ask how his mom had liked the scarf they’d chosen together over the Christmas holidays. But she was afraid to approach him.
As she passed him near the piano, he bumped up against her. “Hey!” he said loudly. “Watch where you’re going!” he barked.
“I-I didn’t mean to,” Andrea said, confused.
“Sure you did,” he said accusingly as a couple of his friends looked on. “I tell you, girls can’t seem to keep their hands off me!” he announced. The group of guys laughed.
Andrea blushed. How could Tony behave so nicely one time and so mean and childish another? It didn’t make sense.
“Sorry,” she said coldly to Tony and the group of guys around him. While they continued to laugh and joke, Andrea picked up a copy of the script. Then she gave Tony a long, angry look and left the choral room.
Later, at home in he
r room, Andrea put on her Grease soundtrack, flipped through the thick script, and began to highlight the parts for Sandy. She knew she couldn’t sing like Olivia Newton-John, but she could sing. She was wondering about her competition for the part when the phone rang downstairs.
She ran down the steps and picked up the phone. It was Terri.
“Memorized your part yet?” Terri teased. It was all they had talked about on the bus ride home.
“I’m working on it,” Andrea said. “Are you going to do something for the show?”
“How about makeup?” Terri asked. “I think that would be fun. Don’t you?”
“You would do a great job,” Andrea said. “Look at all the secret practice you’ve had.”
Terri giggled. “I know. Listen, I’ll help you memorize your lines if you want.”
“That’d be great!” Andrea cried. “Thanks a lot.” She looked at the clock. “Oh, my gosh!” she exclaimed. “It’s almost time for Mom and Timmy to be home. I haven’t even put supper on! I have to go.”
She hung up and hurried into the kitchen. She quickly got out a pan and ingredients so she could get dinner started before her mom drove up. “How am I supposed to do it all?” she asked herself grimly. “How can I do all my home chores, my homework, and be in a show all at the same time?”
She didn’t know, but she had to try. The thought of the musical was the only bright spot in her life right now. She didn’t even see her dad very much because he was always “busy.” And she missed him a lot.
Andrea began to have the nagging feeling that her parents’ breakup was somehow partly her fault. If only I’d been a better daughter, she thought, then maybe they wouldn’t have fought so much. If only I had tried harder to keep them from fighting, maybe we would still be together. Her mind ran around in circles.
“I want that part of Sandy,” she said aloud to the pan of frying hamburgers. The truth was she needed that part!
Andrea was so nervous. She sat in the choral room with about fifteen other kids, all of whom were waiting for their turns to audition for Grease. She’d heard that Kathy Parley was trying out for the Sandy role. Kathy was a ninth grader. She was tall and kind of pretty, but her voice wasn’t very strong.
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