by Lin Oliver
“Think about it, Sammie,” Charlie went on. “You heard Officer Beswick. What happens when Governor Corday goes someplace?”
“Um, she gives a long-winded speech and gets her pictures taken for the news.”
“Bingo!” she said. “This place is going to be swarming with photographers. And you know what that means?”
“Cameras?”
“Yes! And photo opportunities galore. For me. For Lauren. For the other girls. A chance to launch our modeling careers for real. Maybe we could be discovered right here. We could even get our pictures in Teen Vogue magazine. Maybe even the cover! And then it’s just a small step to Seventeen and People.”
“Raise your hand if you’ve gotten totally carried away and need to be put in an insane asylum,” Ryan said, walking over to Charlie and raising her arm in the air.
“Stop it, Ryan,” she snapped. “You have no sense of the career opportunity this presents for a future top model.”
He pretended that someone had stabbed him and, clutching his chest, fell to the ground.
“Ow. You really know how to hurt a guy,” he fake moaned.
“Charlie,” I said, trying to add my own touch of reality to the situation. “Don’t you think the photographers are going to be here to take pictures of the governor?”
“Yes, but we’ll make sure to stand close to her,” Charlie said. “And you know how on the news they always film people commenting on what’s going on? Well, that could be me.” She cleared her voice and assumed a model-like pose, pretending to be talking to an imaginary film crew. “I am so proud to host Governor Corday at our beach club. She means everything to us,” she said. “Plus, she looks great in pearls.”
“I know this is a wild and crazy idea,” I suggested, “but maybe you want your remarks to focus on arts education in the schools. After all, that is what the evening is all about.”
“Great idea, Sammie. You can tell us all about that stuff later. Right now, I’m going to call Lauren. She is going to be so blown away.”
Charlie pulled out her cell phone and flopped down on one of the chaise lounges. I could hear her chattering excitedly. Ryan went inside to inhale another armload of food, and I perched on the tabletop and looked out at the ocean, trying to process everything that had happened. My mind was churning as I watched the dark orange sun sliding down toward the horizon. It was very exciting to have the governor come to the event at the club, but not just because there would be photographers there. There would also be reporters who might stay long enough to watch our Truth Tellers performance. Maybe they would write about what we had to say. Maybe we could help raise some real money for the school arts programs.
The thought of that was so exciting, I couldn’t resist. I took out my phone and called Ms. Carew to tell her the news. Her reaction surprised me. I thought she’d be all excited and screaming and everything. But instead, she got very quiet and serious.
“We have a responsibility now to be extraspecial good, Sammie,” she told me. “We’re not just telling the truth about ourselves, but about what having arts programs in schools means to us. Drama, dance, painting, poetry, sculpture, ceramics. We have an opportunity to represent them all to the public.”
“Wow, that’s a pretty big deal.”
“If we raise some money so that these programs can continue to exist, that will be an even bigger deal, Sammie.”
“Do you think we can do that, Ms. Carew?”
“Yes, if we work hard. We’ll really dig into our rehearsals every day and try to be the best we can be.”
I felt so inspired when I got off the phone. Charlie had just gotten off her call with Lauren, and she obviously felt inspired, too.
“We’re all going to meet here tomorrow,” she said excitedly. “The plan is to study the photos Tyler took to see which angles are best so we’ll know what to do and how to pose on Saturday. It’s going to be such a busy week.”
“For me, too,” I said.
“Why? What do you have to do?”
“The Truth Tellers are going to perform on Saturday night,” I told her.
“You’re kidding. They are?”
I realized she hadn’t been there when Mr. Ballard had asked us, and since we barely spoke to each other on Sunday, I hadn’t mentioned it to her.
“Spencer’s dad asked us to,” I explained.
Charlie did not seem happy with the news.
“But we want it to be a glamorous evening,” she complained.
“We who, Charlie? We, as in Lauren and Brooke and Jillian?”
“There’s nothing wrong with us wanting to look the best that we can. Not to insult your friends, but you know, I just can’t imagine them on a magazine cover.”
There it was again, the same conversation we’d had about Oscar and Eddie.
“Listen, Charlie, how about we do what we do, and you guys do what you do,” I said impatiently.
“Please tell me you’re not going to do all those weird monologues and poetry set to music.”
“We speak from the heart, Charlie. We’re going to speak about what having arts in the schools means to us. Hopefully that will raise some money to pay for new programs.”
“Well, the first thing they should pay for is some makeovers for the art teachers. I saw that gnarly ceramics teacher, Mr. LaRue, in the cafeteria the other day. I swear, he had hunks of dried clay in his beard.”
We both cracked up. As much as kids love Mr. LaRue and his ceramics program, he is known for some spectacularly bad grooming.
“What’s so funny?” my dad asked, coming back outside with the officers and GoGo. I noticed the officers were eating pie-shaped slices of cheese quesadilla. Esperanza makes the best quesadillas in the world, and with GoGo’s homemade salsa, it’s a taste to die for. Obviously, the two of them had conspired to feed the officers.
“I think we’re all set,” Officer Beswick said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “We’ll coordinate with the governor’s advance people and escort her limo here.”
“Our officers will be posted in strategic positions,” Porter said. “We’ll stay until the governor is back in her car to make sure there are no incidents. You hear that, Little Miss Rule Breaker?” He fixed his eyes on me. “No incidents.”
Holy cow! What is this guy thinking? That I’m going to snatch the governor’s pearls and make a run for the border?
“Sammie is really very law-abiding,” GoGo said. “Both my granddaughters are.”
If you didn’t know GoGo, you’d think she sounded all friendly, but I could hear the irritation in her voice. She didn’t find Officer Porter any more amusing than I did.
“Now let me show you two gentlemen to your car,” she said, holding open the gate to the parking lot. “I’m sure you have lots more preparation.”
“We appreciate everything you do,” my dad said to them as they made their way to the gate. “We’re looking forward to Saturday. It’s a real honor.”
We all stood on the deck and waved good-bye, watching them climb into their police cars and drive away. After they were gone, my dad came over and gave Charlie and me a hug.
“I wish your mother were here to see this,” he said. “Imagine, having the governor of California at our house.”
Technically, it wasn’t our house, of course. It was the Sporty Forty’s house. But we did live here, and the three of us were all proud to be hosting such an important person—each for our own reasons.
“Dad,” I said, taking advantage of his great mood. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure,” he said. “What is it?”
“I need to get ungrounded. I have to go to Truth Teller rehearsals this week and it’s really important.”
“A punishment is a punishment, Sammie,” he said. Clearly, I had miscalculated how good a mood he was in.
“Rick, the kids are raising money for the schools,” GoGo reminded him, ever so gently. “To support vital arts programs.”
“Are you taking her side, Phyl
lis?” my dad snapped.
“No, I’m taking the right side,” she answered, not intimidated at all by his tone of voice. “The arts programs need money. It’s as simple as that. What would life be without the arts? Just a long series of dental appointments.”
Charlie was noticeably quiet. I knew she didn’t want us performing Saturday night, but you’d think she could chime in with a word of support.
Nothing doing. I was on my own in this one.
“Listen, Dad,” I said, going in for the kill. “If we raise enough money, Mr. Ballard said he’d even contribute some to Oscar’s medical costs. The doctor and hospital are doing the surgery for free, but he’s going to need money for physical therapy and crutches and stuff.”
“We owe this to Esperanza,” GoGo said.
“Go inside and set the table for dinner,” my dad said to us, rubbing his forehead. I’m sure this was giving him a headache. “And tell Esperanza she can go home. Meanwhile, I’ll consider your request.”
Charlie and I ran inside the house, leaving him with GoGo. From the corner of my eye, I could see her square up to him, hands on her hips. She’s little and shaped like a twig, but she’s got the strength of a giant oak tree.
Charlie and I set the table in silence. There were delicious-smelling chicken quesadillas waiting for us, and a bowl of Espie’s homemade guacamole, which already had a big dent in it from you-know-who-of-the-traveling-mouth. When Charlie accused Ryan of swiping the guacamole, he denied it, but I knew better because he had green chunks in his teeth when he smiled and I can guarantee you it wasn’t spinach.
“Do you think Dad’s going to unground me?” I asked Charlie finally.
“Could go either way,” she said.
“Fifty-fifty,” Ryan agreed.
When I went out to the deck to call Dad in for dinner, he was sitting on one of the chairs, talking to GoGo. As soon as I arrived, he stopped talking.
That was either good news or bad news for me, and honestly, from the look on his face, I couldn’t tell which one it was.
Dress Rehearsal
Chapter 9
“I have good news and bad news,” my dad said, walking into the kitchen.
I hate that sentence, I really do. In my experience, the good news is never good enough to outweigh the bad news. For example, last year at my annual checkup, Dr. Hartley said, “The good news, Sammie, is you’ve grown two inches; the bad news is you’ve gained fifteen pounds.”
So I think you see my point.
Anyway, I’m not going to keep you in suspense like my dad did to me. Here’s what happened. He ungrounded me, sort of.
He said I was free to go to Truth Teller rehearsals after school, but there were a lot of conditions. First, I had to promise that I would play my hardest at our upcoming tournament on Sunday and never ever would I voluntarily give up a point again. I had to agree to help him and GoGo get everything set up for the party on Saturday, including cleaning the barbecue, which is a job I hate because your hands smell like barbecued chicken for a week afterward. And finally, and this was the hard part, I had to e-mail a letter of apology to the management of the Sand and Surf Club for kicking up such a fuss in the lobby.
I didn’t want to agree to that condition, and I put up a big fight, but in the end GoGo convinced me to do it. After Dad went to bed, she helped me write an e-mail that was sort of an apology but wasn’t totally one. It said stuff like, “I’m sorry I didn’t follow your rules. Even though they seem out of date to me, I’m sure there are some of your members who think they are important.” The best line was the last one, which said, “I’m sure you welcome all sorts of people to your club, and the next time my friends from El Salvador are with me, I will see that their collars are highly visible.”
GoGo and I had a good laugh as I clicked SEND.
It was a busy week for both Charlie and me. She spent a lot of time with her friends going over their pictures and rehearsing for what they were sure was their rise to stardom. I went to Truth Tellers every day after school. I wrote a monologue about how I used to be a tennis player who was only focused on winning until I discovered poetry and drama in Truth Tellers and uncovered all kinds of other emotions.
Alicia worked on a demonstration of painting techniques that people in El Salvador use for decorating handmade pottery. Will and Sara actually created a medley of different dances from the tango to the hora. They performed it while Devon read this poem:
We dance for laughter
We dance for tears
We dance for madness
We dance for fears
We dance for hopes
We dance for screams
We are the dancers
We create the dreams.
At first, a couple of us snickered when Will and Sara performed their dance routine because Will is so short and Sara is so tall. He barely comes up to her boobs. When they did the tango, you could hardly see Will. He basically disappeared into Sara’s huge mane of curly hair and all you could see were his legs from the knees down. But then, Ms. Carew pointed out that the true meaning of dance is to express yourself, and not just to look good for other people. We all said we were sorry and applauded like crazy when they did their dance again.
The dress rehearsal was on Friday. Alicia asked if she could bring Oscar and Eddie to see it. Oscar was starting to get nervous about his operation, and she felt coming to Truth Tellers would be a good distraction. Besides, he had been nagging her all week about wanting to see me. This was the only chance he’d get, though, because I was still officially grounded after five p.m. and had to hurry home right after Truth Tellers.
We took a vote, and it was a unanimous yes. Oscar and Eddie could come.
On Friday, a couple of the moms and dads came to be in our test audience, too, as well as Bernard’s sister Veronica and Keisha’s cousin Brandon. I asked Charlie to come, but she was having a final meeting with her top-model group to rehearse important-sounding things to say about the arts. Spencer’s dad had told them their chances of getting on TV were best if they had short, quick, punchy things to say to the camera. “Sound bites,” he called them. Charlie was trying to decide if hers should be “Art is smart” or “Art in school will help us rule.” You should have heard Jillian’s sound bite. She planned to say that studying painting in school helped her learn how to apply eyeliner.
Yes, it’s true, and may I also add, it’s the deepest thought Jillian Kendall has ever had!
After school on Friday, Alicia and I waited on the front steps to meet Oscar and Eddie. I hadn’t seen Oscar all week, and I was looking forward to seeing him. I guess you could call it looking forward. I felt like I had butterflies in my stomach, like the way you feel when you’re waiting in line before you go on a roller coaster. Kind of excited and nervous and afraid all at the same time.
“Are you nervous about the performance?” Alicia asked me.
“No, not really.”
“Well, you seem nervous, Sammie. Anything I can do?”
“I’m feeling kind of weird,” I said.
“Like you’re getting the flu? That would be horrible on the day before the event.”
“No, physically I’m fine. I just keep thinking about …” I hesitated. Alicia was my best friend. I could tell her anything. I took a breath and plunged in. “I just keep thinking about Oscar.”
Alicia nodded.
“I think about him, too,” she said. “It’s a big operation he’s going to have. I just pray everything comes out okay and nothing goes wrong. He’s very special to me.”
“To me, too,” I whispered, before I could stop myself. “When I first met him, I thought he was sweet. But now I’m thinking about him more and more in a different kind of way.”
Alicia held up her hand to stop me from going on.
“Listen, Sammie,” she interrupted. “Oscar is my cousin. My family is here to protect him. None of us want him hurt.”
“I would never hurt him, Alicia.”
“I know you wouldn’t intentionally. But you don’t know how he feels about you.”
“Do you?”
“No, not exactly. But I can see he likes you, in a special way. And right now, he should be only concentrating on one thing—getting through the surgery and recovering fully. That’s what we all want for him. I’m sure that’s what you want for him, too.”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Then let him be,” she said. “Nothing can get in the way of this operation.”
Before I could ask her what she meant, Candido pulled up in his truck. I followed Alicia as she ran over and flung open the door. Oscar and Eddie climbed out, all dressed up, with pressed white shirts (wouldn’t you know it, with collars!) and their hair slicked back like they were going to Sunday school.
“You guys look great,” I said, being careful to include both of them and not just talk to Oscar.
“We don’t want to embarrass you again,” Oscar answered, and I wanted to cry.
We walked into the main building. I walked slowly so that Oscar could keep up. It was me who didn’t want to embarrass him.
We headed down the hall but stopped when we saw Charlie at her locker. She was standing there talking with Lauren, Lily, and Jillian.
“Eddie,” Lauren called out, waving at him as if Alicia, Oscar, and I were totally invisible.
Eddie’s face lit up when he saw Lily and he veered over to them so fast he practically left skid marks on the linoleum floor.
“Eddie, we need to get to Ms. Carew’s class,” I said. “You’re part of the audience and it’s showtime.”
“Actually, Eddie,” Lily said, “I was just thinking that maybe you want to come back to the Sporty Forty with us.” She flashed him a really inviting smile.
“Yeah,” Jillian agreed, getting into the flirt fest. “It’d be a shame for all your fancy clothes to go to waste.”
Okay, I’m not even going to deal with the fact that she had reduced our whole Truth Tellers performance to being a “waste.” Jillian couldn’t help it if her idea of a peak meaningful experience was watching the Real Teen Makeover marathon on reality TV. But I did object to the fact that we had invited the boys to our event and now the SF2s were trying to mess that up.
