We Are Party People

by Leslie Margolis

  “What is Jenna Johnson doing here?” Sophie whispers.

  “Oh, you know my cousin?” asks Molly.

  “Jenna is your cousin?” I ask.

  “She is,” says Molly. “Our moms are sisters. Hey, can I make another puppy?”

  I’m about to ask Sophie if everything is okay, but by the time I turn around to talk to her, she’s gone.

  31

  I scan the yard quickly and see Sophie duck into the pool house. Phew. I’m glad she didn’t go far.

  Also, I’m happy that Jenna hasn’t seen us.

  I’m about to look for my dad, to ask him if I can take a break, when he taps me on the shoulder. “Hey, Pix, it’s time for the main event. Can you please take the c-o-s-t-u-m-e to the pool house and help get you-know-who ready?”

  “Yes, I need to head over to the pool house, anyway. Can you handle everything at the crafts table?”

  “I think so,” says my dad, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see. We’re making race cars, yes? Where did you put the wheels?”

  “Very funny, Dad,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “I’ve got the mermaid craft covered. Please go and help your friend get ready!” my dad says as he reaches under the table and hands me the costume box.

  I glance over my shoulder at Jenna. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have noticed me, which is good, but I am annoyed with myself for caring.

  Tucking the box under my arm, I hurry into the pool house.

  I’m surprised to find Sophie on a small blue couch, crying her eyes out, with her face buried in her hands.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “This is beyond mortifying,” she wails.

  “You mean Jenna?”

  “Of course I mean Jenna! She totally slaughtered me in the election. Plus, she’s the most popular girl in the seventh grade. I can’t believe I tried to run against her. What was I thinking? And now I have to see her on a Saturday. At some kid’s birthday party? This is the worst.”

  I am stunned. Is Sophie joking? “I thought you didn’t care about losing the election.”

  “Of course I care,” says Sophie. “How could I not care?”

  “But what about last weekend? You said you were so happy that you still got to make a difference at Beachwood. You know, with the new community service committee you’re going to start.”

  “I was happy.” Sophie sniffs as she wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands. “But being okay with losing is a lot different from parading around in front of Jenna dressed up as a mermaid.”

  I sit down next to her. I’m not really sure about what to say. The Sophie crying before me right now is nothing like the Sophie I’ve been hanging out with all month. She’s like a totally different person. And there is no time to deal with this now. People are waiting. I rack my brain, trying to come up with the perfect thing to say, and then, finally, it occurs to me. “Well, I guess it’s your lucky day, because there’s no way she’ll recognize you in the costume. With the wig and the tail and the makeup I’m going to apply, you’ll be completely transformed. So you don’t even need to worry.”

  I hold the box out to Sophie, expecting her to take it, except she simply stares at me without moving a muscle.

  “Come on,” I say, opening it up. I’m hoping she’ll be dazzled by the sheer beauty of the costume because it’s stunning, and has always been one of my favorites, except she doesn’t even look.

  “The show must go on,” I try, but get nothing. “Sophie, we’re running out of time.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sophie says, shaking her head. “But there’s no way. I can’t wear that thing and go out there and swim in front of her. It would be too mortifying.”

  “But you must,” I say. “Molly is expecting it. I promised her. You’ve got to go out there and wish her a happy birthday and answer the kids’ questions in a cool British accent. We’ve been practicing all week.”

  “Okay, I would love to do that as long as you can get Jenna to leave,” Sophie says.

  “You know that’s not possible,” I say. “She’s Molly’s cousin.”

  Sophie crosses her arms over her chest and sinks back into the couch. I cannot believe this. She is acting like a total baby and I have no idea how to handle it.

  “This can’t be happening, Sophie. Everyone is counting on you and I can’t believe you even care about Jenna. She’s just one person. And remember what you said before? That it doesn’t matter what people think. You decide who you get to be. And today you’re Luella. It’s all going to work out great. It has to.”

  “I know I said all those things, and I fully believed them at the time, but now, with Jenna here? I can’t do it.” Sophie has this weird look on her face. I’ve never seen it before and I have this strange thought—maybe Sophie, who I thought was so sure of herself, is more like me than I realized.

  “Look, you need to do this,” I say, firmly.

  Sophie shakes her head. “I can’t.”

  “Is there a problem, girls?”

  The voice behind me is familiar and I turn around fast.

  There, standing before me like a vision, is my mom: radiant and bright, happy and beaming. I rush over and hug her so hard, I almost knock her over. She laughs and stumbles backward but then steadies herself. Once she’s got her bearings she squeezes me even harder. My arms are wrapped around her waist and I don’t let go. I take in the scent of her. I feel like I’m five years old, and we must look silly but I don’t care. I am so happy, I’m crying.

  My mom kisses my hair and strokes my back. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much.”

  “When did you get here?” I ask.

  “Just now,” she tells me. “I woke up before the sun rose and drove. I have missed you so much, Pixie, I couldn’t stand it.”

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I say.

  “Neither can I. I’ve been a wreck—so worried and homesick.”

  “But now you’re back.”

  “For a little while,” my mom says. “I’m making progress, but I do need to go back to Fresno tomorrow night.”

  “So why did you come?”

  “Because I couldn’t bear spending another day apart from you,” my mom says, stroking my head.

  “This is awesome,” says Sophie. “And perfect timing. Now you can be the mermaid.”

  My mom looks to my friend and grins. “Oh, you must be Sophie. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. And please don’t worry about the stage fright. It happens all the time.”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Sophie mumbles, looking down at her feet. “And I’m sorry.”

  My mom waves her hand in the air and shakes her head. “Don’t even worry about it. Your mermaid is here, so hand over that costume!”

  Sophie sighs in relief. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for saving us.”

  I grab the mermaid tail and hold it up in all of its shimmering glory. This is it. My mom came from so far away. She drove for hours to see me, and now she can swoop in and save this party. It makes perfect sense, because she’s always been the mermaid. There’s no one better. I love her so much and I am beyond thrilled to see her.

  Suddenly my dad knocks on the door and calls, “Has anyone seen Luella? Because we’re ready for her.”

  “Oh, I’ll be there in a moment,” my mom sings in her best British accent.

  She reaches for the tail, but for some strange reason I don’t let go.

  32

  “Wait,” I say, pulling the costume away from her. “I have an idea.”

  My mom pauses and looks at me. “Molly is waiting, sweetheart. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “I know,” I say, and I take a deep breath. “And I’m so happy you are here, that you came all this way. For me. Finally. It’s huge. And, Mom, I know I didn’t want to be a mermaid when Dad first asked me to, or, like, ever. And two weeks ago, I couldn’t have done it. I’ve been so stressed! But I’ve also had a lot of time to think. A
nd I changed my mind. I don’t really know if I want to be a mermaid or not. But I’m pretty sure that I need to at least try it out.”

  My mom stares at me, her eyes watery with happy tears. “Nothing would make me prouder, Pixie. Because you’ve always been our mermaid, and it’s nice to see that you’ve finally realized it.”

  “Well, I haven’t done it yet,” I say.

  “Then what are you waiting for? I’ll go help your father stall the crowd. Sophie, can you help Pixie get ready?”

  Sophie nods. “Yes, I’d be glad to. As long as I don’t have to wear it myself, I’ll do anything.”

  “Well then, I’ll see you out there. Break a leg, sweetheart.”

  I smile and tell her, “Mermaids don’t have legs.”

  “See, you are already better at this than me,” my mom says with a wink before heading back outside.

  “Pixie, you are awesome,” says Sophie.

  “Let’s hope so,” I say. “Please hand me that bikini top. I need to get ready.”

  I turn around to face the wall and pull my shirt off and then unhook my bra. Then I take the bikini top and slip it on and tie it in all the right places.

  I stand in front of the mirror. So far, so … well, not good, but not terrible. It’s almost good … maybe even close to cute, or in the same neighborhood as cute, anyway.

  Next I secure the wig and comb through it with my fingers, which are trembling because I’m so nervous. The hair is soft, like the hair on my old Barbies. I feel like backing out but I can’t. I promised Molly a mermaid and I must deliver a mermaid.

  Once the wig is in place with bobby pins, I brush it out. Next I clip on the aqua crystal earrings. They are big and dangly and the matching necklace has a huge stone that rests on my collarbone. On my wrists I wear a hundred thin bangles in every color of the rainbow.

  “You are looking amazing,” says Sophie.

  “Thanks,” I say quickly. I’m almost afraid she’s going to ask for the costume back, but one look at her face tells me no, she’s relieved to sit this one out.

  “Are you ready for the tail?” she asks.

  “Not yet,” I say. “I need to put on the makeup.”

  This part is easy because I’ve done makeup for my mom a million times. Everything is waterproof, that’s the most important thing. Also—bright colors! First I paint a palm tree with a coconut on my left cheek. Then on the other side I draw a parrot with red, yellow, blue, and green feathers. I use glittery blue eye shadow and frosty pink lip gloss. Smacking my lips together, I gaze at myself in the mirror.

  Everything looks fantastic. I am no longer shy-and-slouchy Pixie—she’s disappeared. Now I’m a magical creature from the sea. Practically … there is only one thing missing.

  I pick up the tail, carry it over to the couch, sit down, and wriggle into it. It comes on easily up to my thighs, and then I have to lift my hips and really pull it on, adjusting the fabric so that it’s smooth. I lean back and flap it on the floor a few times, gazing down at the blue and green scales, the sequins and rhinestones. It feels heavy and awkward. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to the sensation of having my legs bound together. I’m worried about how I’m going to manage in the water, and I wish I’d thought this out and had time to practice before the show.

  “That thing is crazy,” says Sophie.

  “I know,” I say with a sigh. I run my hands along my hips. Then I adjust my bikini top one last time, making sure the ties are tight. I try to think like a mermaid, inhabit the costume as if it were normal, natural, a part of me.

  “Ready?” asks Sophie.

  I gulp and nod. “Yup, can you please get my dad? He’s got to carry me out to the pool now.”

  Sophie pauses and bites her bottom lip. “But what if I run into Jenna?” she asks.

  I look up at her. “What if?” I ask with a shrug.

  She thinks about this for a minute and nods. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. I’ll be right back.”

  Now I am alone and stranded on the couch like a beached whale. No, not like a beached whale, more like a mermaid on dry land. That’s who I am now, at least for the next forty-five minutes.

  Unless I back out, call the whole thing off.

  Maybe I could still get my mom, insist that she wear the costume?

  No, that’s not the answer. I can do this. And also? I’m glad Jenna Johnson is here and I almost hope she recognizes me. Other people don’t get to determine who you want to be. Or at least they don’t get to determine who I’m going to be. I’ve been letting that happen for too long.

  It sure seems to be taking Sophie a long time to get my dad.

  Is it possible to get stage fright when I’m not even on stage? Would it be called stage fright, even, or something else? Like pool fright?

  But what am I afraid of, anyway? Jenna? Molly? A bunch of five-year-olds? Or their parents? What’s the worst thing that can happen? I’ll drown in front of thirty kids, traumatizing them for the rest of their lives?

  My dad wouldn’t let that happen to me.

  Once I get into the water, everything will be fine.

  Suddenly I hear someone knocking on the door. “Are you ready?” my dad asks.

  It’s a good question. Am I ready? I don’t know, and at this point it doesn’t even matter. It’s too late to back out.

  33

  I’m not the strongest swimmer—never have been. I should’ve practiced, should’ve prepared. Should’ve given the costume to my mom. What was I thinking?

  But there is no time for any of that. I am in my dad’s arms and he’s walking swiftly toward the pool.

  “You look amazing,” he whispers into my ear. “Now smile and wave. Everyone’s watching.”

  Oh yeah. I raise one arm and wave my best princess wave. I pull my lips into something that I hope resembles a smile even though I’m so scared, my teeth are chattering. And not merely that—my whole body trembles.

  Some kids ooh and aah and the grownups clap as I am eased into the pool. The water is shockingly cold. Yikes! I start to sink but then remember that I can’t get the wig wet, so I dolphin-kick and move my arms and propel myself to the deep end, carefully keeping my head above water.

  I do a couple of laps, stopping occasionally to smile and wave. So far I haven’t said a word, and unfortunately, my mind is blank. There’s a song I should be singing—something my parents wrote years ago—something Sophie and I practiced at lunch every day last week. I even wrote the words down for her. But now I can’t remember even one line.

  “It’s Ariel,” someone yells.

  “Ariel, Ariel, Ariel,” other kids shout.

  “Ariel has red hair,” someone says.

  “No, she has orange hair,” another kid says.

  The kids start debating this among themselves. A couple of them jump into the pool but cling to the edge, watching me warily like they’re afraid to get too close.

  I do three strong dolphin kicks and then move my hips in the opposite direction of my legs so I can spin around.

  “Good day, Molly. Happy birthday to you. And to Molly’s wonderful friends—welcome to the party! Ariel is a friend of mine, but she was busy today and asked me to come instead. My name is Luella.”

  My voice is loud and clear and my accent sounds amazing.

  “Who’s Luella?” someone asks.

  “I am a magical mermaid who traveled from the deepest depths of the blue, blue ocean to celebrate Molly’s birthday.”

  A blond girl with a purple bathing suit narrows her eyes at me. “Do you really know Ariel?” she asks from the edge of the pool.

  “Of course. I know every mermaid in the ocean, and the fish and the octopi and the hermit crabs. I even know SpongeBob.”

  This impresses them. Soon more kids jump in the pool. I am getting tired, treading water in one place, so I swim some more laps. And this time a bunch of kids follow me.

  Being the center of attention, wearing this outfit? It’s not my all-time favorite thing in the wor
ld. And in fact, I’m so nervous I’m shaking. But seeing the kids, their smiling faces, how they believe, it’s like magic. Something comes over me, a warm wave, and it isn’t from the kids peeing in the pool. At least I hope it’s not from that.

  I laugh at the thought. And the laughter is contagious. The kids are laughing, too, like we have a secret. They are so happy, so sweet, so wanting to believe. And I want to believe, too.

  For the first time I think maybe some of my parents’ pixie dust wore off on me. Maybe I can pretend as much as they can. Maybe I’m slipping into the costume and slipping into a new personality as well. Whatever it is, I can’t explain it. But it’s working. I know it’s working.

  I even remember the song—the words and the melody come to me at once. That’s what I think, at first, but then I realize it’s my dad, strumming the guitar proudly. My mom is standing by his side, both of them at the edge of the pool, both of them watching me and singing, and I join in. Except I sing louder and clearer and soon their voices fade away.

  My name is Luella and I come from far away

  To celebrate Molly’s birthday on this very special day

  The world is full of wonder, full of treasures large and small

  And we are here to celebrate, boys and girls, one and all

  I don’t know if Jenna is watching or not and the best part is, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. This isn’t about her.

  I perform for a half an hour. Then I take a break and sit on the edge of the pool, keeping my tail in the water. Kids come up to me and ask questions and I do my best to answer. Some simply come to sit at my side and stare.

  Ten minutes later I get back in the pool and a bunch of kids join me and we have some swim races. Then, eventually, my dad signals for me to get out.

  “My time is up, little ones,” I say. “Farewell. Thank you for a magical afternoon!”

  Everyone claps and cheers. I blow them kisses and then heave myself out of the pool. My dad scoops me up in his arms and my mom gives me a hug, and then my dad heads back to the pool house with me.