Natalia Takes the Lead

by Clare Hutton

  “It does sound fun,” Caitlin said, setting out two pencils, an eraser, and a pencil sharpener in a straight line above the edge of her notebook. “But I don’t have time. Sorry.”

  Natalia sighed. Why was everyone so worried about having time for this? You made time for the things that you wanted to do. “What’re you doing that’s taking so much time?” she asked. “You’re not that busy.” Caitlin was on student council with her, but she couldn’t think of anything else that would keep her from walking dogs a couple days a week.

  “I have a master plan,” Caitlin said. She looked serious, but there was a suppressed laugh in her voice.

  “As usual,” Natalia said. She was pretty sure Caitlin was going to end up president, or maybe a super-villain. She was a very organized girl. “What is it this time?”

  “I’m going to get straight A’s this semester,” Caitlin said. “I’m tired of your cousin outclassing me.” She shot a quick glance over her shoulder to where Emma was getting out her own notebook.

  “You need to get over this competitive thing you have with Emma,” Natalia advised. Caitlin and Emma weren’t fighting anymore, the way they had at the very beginning of the school year, but Caitlin was still kind of weird about Emma.

  “It’s not really Emma. I like Emma,” Caitlin said seriously. “I just don’t like people being better than me, and Emma’s the best student in the class.”

  Natalia didn’t see the point in pursuing that any further. As long as Emma and Caitlin were nice to each other, she guessed Caitlin could use Emma to motivate herself to study. “Still,” she argued, “that’s not going to take all your time.”

  “And I want to be Glinda the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz,” Caitlin told her. “This is our last year in the kids’ theater program. Next year, we’ll be in the teen group, and we’ll be the youngest ones and won’t get good parts for ages. This is my chance. But I have to rehearse and rehearse to be perfect.”

  Natalia frowned. “I’m trying out for the Wicked Witch of the West, but I’m not going to give up everything else.”

  Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “If you’re serious about it, maybe you should.”

  “I am serious about it,” Natalia insisted. “I’ve been practicing my cackle since they announced it was the play this year. I’m going to get long fake fingernails so I can menace Dorothy better.” She wiggled her fingers at Caitlin threateningly. “But I can do other things, too.”

  Caitlin shrugged. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  Ms. Patel, their math teacher, cleared her throat at the front of the room, and Caitlin picked up a pencil, opened her notebook, and waited attentively.

  Natalia shook her head. She wanted to be in the play, too, and to get good grades, but sometimes Caitlin was just too intense.

  Ms. Patel began to write on the board, and Natalia rolled her pencil between her fingers. What kind of dogs would the B and B guests have? she wondered. A beagle would be nice—they had such cute little faces. She drew a floppy-eared puppy in the margin of her notebook. Or a husky would be sweet, too. They were such pretty dogs.

  There was a dog in The Wizard of Oz. What if one of the dogs that came to the B and B turned out to be the perfect Toto? She pictured a tiny black terrier, like Toto in the movie, following patiently at Zoe-as-Dorothy’s heels. Natalia could swoop it up in her arms, cackling, “And your little dog, too!”

  Of course, Natalia reminded herself, the guests with the dogs would be gone long before the play was performed. If the dog was absolutely perfect, though, maybe they would want to stay so they could see him onstage. Or they would leave him with Natalia until the play.

  “Natalia!” Ms. Patel’s voice cut through her daydream. At the same time, Caitlin nudged her in the ribs with a sharp elbow. Natalia jerked to attention.

  “Yes, Ms. Patel?” she asked politely.

  The teacher frowned. “Please pay attention, Natalia. For the second time, can you tell me what y would be in the problem on the whiteboard?”

  Natalia looked at the board. The problem read 6 = 2 (y + 2)

  She had to multiply the equation by 2, she knew that. Or was she supposed to add 2?

  “Is y four?” she guessed. “And if not, y not?” Natalia grinned brightly at her own joke, and some of the other kids giggled.

  Ms. Patel pursed her lips, unamused. “We have a midterm coming up, Natalia, and it’s going to cover everything you’ve learned so far this year. If you’re planning to do well, you need to pay attention in class.” She looked at Caitlin. “Caitlin, can you give us the answer and explain how you got it?”

  “One,” Caitlin said instantly. “First you divide six by two to figure out that the equation in the parentheses should equal three and then—” She went on talking, but Natalia tuned out, thinking of puppies and of the fun of being the Wicked Witch of the West. Green face paint, she thought dreamily. And lots of black shadow around my eyes so I look really evil. Zoe’ll help me with that.

  She was half listening, and when Ms. Patel said, “Do you understand now, Natalia?” she snapped to attention.

  “Absolutely!”

  After school, Zoe had art club and Emma had soccer practice, so Natalia headed over to Seaview House to see what the grown-ups were up to. Her mom, Aunt Amy, and Grandma Stephenson were sitting at the table in the kitchen, a bunch of dried flowers spread out in front of them and a pile of books to the side.

  “What are you doing?” Natalia asked, dropping her backpack just inside the door. The kitchen was full of warm smells—something sweet and cinnamony—and the counters and range were shining, meticulously clean.

  “Now that the summer flowers are dying, there’s not much left in the gardens except chrysanthemums,” her mother told her. Seaview House had beautiful gardens, going down in terraced levels toward the bay. All summer different flowers blossomed, filling the air with their scent, and Natalia’s mom and Aunt Amy had cut armloads to decorate Seaview House.

  “Your grandmother’s been drying flowers all summer,” Aunt Amy said. “We were going to make up bouquets to put in the bedrooms.”

  Natalia looked at the piles of dried flowers on the table. There were a few she recognized: roses, lavender, baby’s breath. But while most of them looked vaguely familiar, she couldn’t identify the rest by name.

  “And we thought it would be interesting to figure out the meaning of each flower and say something with the bouquets,” Grandma Stephenson said briskly. “We have a lot of these flower books, and the guests could look up the meanings of their bouquets. Maybe we can give them a prize if they figure out the secret message.”

  That definitely sounded like a Grandma Stephenson idea, Natalia thought. She had two grandmothers: Abuelita, who lived with Natalia’s family a few blocks away, and Grandma Stephenson, who lived with Emma’s family here in Seaview House.

  Abuelita was cozy and solid. She had been a nurse, and she was good at taking care of people. She made you feel like you were precious and special just for being yourself. Grandma Stephenson had been a teacher. She liked to see people learn and wanted them to investigate things and figure them out. She made you feel like you were working for her approval, and when she gave it, you felt like you had achieved something.

  “Okay.” Natalia joined them at the table. “Can I help?”

  “We’ll put flowers together, and you look and tell us what they mean,” her mother suggested.

  Aunt Amy passed her a doughnut from the counter. “Cinnamon apple,” she said. “Brian made them this morning.”

  That explained the tantalizing smells. Uncle Brian, Emma’s dad, had been a chef before he came to Waverly, and he was going to cook all the food for the bed-and-breakfast—once the first guests arrived, that is.

  Natalia bit into the doughnut and closed her eyes in bliss. It was delicious, with a crispness to the outside and a light chewy interior. Really good.

  “What are these?” her mom asked, and Natalia opened her eyes to see her mom holding a wh
ite flower with widespread petals.

  “Star of Bethlehem,” Grandma Stephenson told them. “It’s a kind of lily.”

  Natalia picked up one of the books and searched through it. “It says it means ‘hope.’ ”

  “Seems reasonable.” Her mom picked up some lavender and laid it next to the lily. “What about this?”

  Lavender, apparently, meant “distrust.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good message,” Natalia said. “Hope and distrust? Like you don’t trust the guests, but you hope you’re wrong about them?”

  The phone rang and Aunt Amy got up to answer it.

  “Hmm.” As Aunt Amy began to talk to the caller, Natalia’s mom shuffled through the flowers. “How about the roses?” she asked. “Everyone loves roses.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Aunt Amy said into the phone, and everyone turned to look at her, concerned. She waved a hand in the air in a “don’t worry about it” gesture.

  “Roses mean different things depending on what color they are,” Natalia said. “Red ones mean ‘passionate love.’ ”

  “Hope and passionate love seem like an odd message to get from your innkeeper,” Grandma Stephenson pointed out.

  “I think we could do that, if you have so much already organized,” Aunt Amy said. Her phone voice was cheerful and professional, but there was a small worried frown on her face.

  “A lot of these flowers have weird meanings coming from someone you don’t really know,” Natalia said, running her eyes over the pages of her book. “Like a rhododendron means ‘beware,’ and heather means ‘solitude.’ ”

  “I’m not sure what we want to say to the guests,” Grandma Stephenson said, “but it does seem like we’re going to have to limit what flowers we use if we want their meaning to be reasonable.”

  Natalia closed the book and picked up a few Stars of Bethlehem and some lavender, along with some leaves and baby’s breath. They looked nice together. “I don’t think this idea is working out,” she told her mother and grandmother. “I think we should just put together something pretty and not worry about what it means.”

  Grandma Stephenson laughed and looked at her approvingly. “You’re absolutely right,” she said. “Sometimes I get so caught up in my ideas that I don’t realize they’re not very practical. Thank you for setting me straight, Natalia.”

  “I see,” Aunt Amy said into the phone. “We might actually have a solution to that. Can you hold on for a moment?”

  She muted the phone. Her eyes were shining with excitement.

  “You know that the Liberty Inn over in Middleton had a fire?” she asked breathlessly. Middleton was about ten miles away.

  “It did?” Natalia asked, surprised. She had eaten dinner at the Liberty Inn a couple times. It was bigger than Seaview House, more a proper inn than a bed-and-breakfast.

  “Yes,” her mom said. “They didn’t have much damage, though. What about it, Amy?”

  “Well,” Aunt Amy said, drawing the word out a little, “the only real damage was to their dining room and the patio outside. But the couple I have on the phone right now was planning to get married there in three weeks, on the patio, and to have their reception in the dining room. They don’t want to postpone the wedding, so they’re looking for a new venue.”

  Natalia’s mom gasped, her eyes widening. “A wedding? In three weeks? It would be wonderful, but I don’t think we could.”

  “It’s only a small wedding,” Aunt Amy said. “Minuscule. Thirty people. And they want it simple. They’ve made arrangements with a florist and for a cake and so on already, so it would just be the food and the venue.”

  Natalia’s mom gave a tiny smile. “It would have to be, to put it on in just a few weeks. But maybe …”

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Grandma Stephenson said firmly. “You girls have been dreaming about this kind of thing for years. It’ll be a real rush and a lot of work, but you could start making your reputation in a hurry.”

  Natalia thought it sounded wonderful. Weddings were fun—everyone happy and in love—and she couldn’t think of a better place to celebrate than Seaview House.

  “There’s one other thing,” Aunt Amy said, looking at Natalia. “The couple is planning to use their dogs as ring bearers.”

  Natalia’s heart began pounding faster.

  Grandma Stephenson raised her eyebrows. “My goodness,” she said wryly.

  “Well, their dogs are important to them, Mother,” Aunt Amy said. “They’d be bringing the dogs down with them, and they’d need help walking them while they’re making the arrangements, and then to have someone look after the dogs on the big day.”

  “Four dogs seem like a lot,” said Natalia’s mom.

  But Natalia shook her head. A wedding at Seaview House? How cool would that be?! Surely her mom and aunt weren’t going to throw away an opportunity like this because they thought looking after four dogs would be too much for Natalia, Zoe, and Emma!

  “It’s no problem,” she said quickly. “It sounds like fun. And I know Emma and Zoe would love to help, too. It’ll be easy with all three of us.”

  Briefly, it crossed her mind that Zoe and Emma had been worried about spending a lot of time looking after two dogs. But they were worriers. And this was a wonderful opportunity!

  And after all, how much trouble could just four dogs be?

  “If you decide to audition for a role in The Wizard of Oz, you must be prepared to commit,” Ms. Andrews, the theater club director, said. “It’s a big, exciting musical, and a show that everyone knows and loves. Because everyone loves it so much, as actors, we have a responsibility to do our absolute best to know our parts and give the best performances we’re capable of.”

  Natalia snuck a glance at her watch. It was four o’clock. The two couples with the dogs were supposed to be checking in to Seaview House just about now. She and Emma and Zoe were going to go over and meet the dogs after the theater club meeting.

  Suppressing a sigh, she glanced at Zoe on one side of her, then at Caitlin on the other. Both of them were leaning forward intently, their eyes fixed on Ms. Andrews. Natalia shifted in her seat and tried to refocus and pay attention, too. It wasn’t that Natalia didn’t care about the play; she did. And she liked Ms. Andrews and she was excited to be in The Wizard of Oz. It was just that she couldn’t wait to meet the dogs. At least for today, the end of the theater club meeting couldn’t come fast enough.

  Partly, it was because this was Natalia’s third year in the theater club. Her first year, they’d done Oliver! and Natalia had been an orphan. Last year, they’d done Annie, and Natalia had been a different orphan.

  Which had been great. Natalia really loved being onstage, even if she was just jumping around and singing in chorus with a bunch of other kids. But this was going to be Natalia’s year. She wasn’t a great singer, and usually, in musicals, you had to be able to sing to get a good part. But the Wicked Witch of the West was an amazing part: big and loud and exciting. And you didn’t have to be able to sing. The Witch didn’t sing at all—she cackled and shouted and commanded flying monkeys, but she didn’t have to carry a tune.

  So, Natalia was excited about the show, in general. But she’d heard Ms. Andrews give more or less the same speech both years. Next, they would do some stretches and some voice exercises, and then Ms. Andrews would hand out scripts for the auditions next week. Except for getting the scripts, it was kind of a waste of time.

  Natalia wondered what kinds of dogs would be waiting at Seaview House. She still thought it would be wonderful if one of them would make a good Toto. But, besides the fact that they wouldn’t be staying that long, a Toto would have to be awfully well behaved, because he’d be onstage basically the whole time.

  Now that she thought about it, she was pretty sure Ms. Andrews might just want to have whoever played Dorothy carry around a stuffed dog in a basket.

  “Natalia!” Zoe whispered.

  With a start, Natalia realized that Ms.
Andrews had wrapped up her speech about their responsibility toward the audience and that everyone was on their feet and crowding up toward the stage. Everyone except Natalia.

  It must be time to stretch. Natalia hopped to her feet and hurried after the others. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. Ms. Andrews didn’t say anything, but she eyed Natalia disapprovingly, as if she was quite aware that Natalia had been daydreaming, and she didn’t think much of an actress who couldn’t pay attention to her director.

  “Okay,” she said, once all the kids were in a circle on the stage. “We’re going to start by loosening up. Let’s reach toward the sky.”

  With the others, Natalia stretched and reached, and, as Ms. Andrews instructed, then she slowly, slowly bent over, trying to move one vertebra at a time, and let her body hang relaxed, her fingers brushing the floor.

  “Breathe in deeply,” Ms. Andrews said. “Then, slowly, let your breath out in a steady stream as you roll back up.”

  They rotated their shoulders and their necks, shook out their hands, and made faces, stretching their eyes and mouths wide, then scrunching their faces tightly. Natalia looked to see what her sister was making of all this. Zoe was usually wary of anything that might make her look silly. But Zoe was smiling, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet as she shook and stretched. She caught sight of Natalia looking at her and wiggled her eyebrows. She was having fun.

  After about ten minutes of stretches and of yowling deep in their chests and then high in their throats, stretching their voices like they did their bodies, Ms. Andrews finally made the announcement Natalia had been waiting for.

  “Okay, kids,” she said cheerfully. “Good work! I’m going to pass out audition scripts for the various roles. Raise your hand when I call the part you’re interested in. It’s okay to audition for more than one role, but I expect you all to be word perfect in the audition scenes for tryouts next Monday. If you’re not interested in a major role, speak to me at the end of club, and we’ll sign you up for the chorus. Let’s start with Dorothy.”