The Silver Moon of Summer

by Leila Howland

  “Peter, remember what we talked about,” Jean said as she placed the salad on the counter.

  “I’m trying,” Peter said. He handed the potato salad to his mom and then took a seat at the kitchen table.

  “Have some of these fresh berries,” Aunt Sunny said, offering him a bowl.

  “I’m not really hungry,” Peter said. “But thank you.”

  “Are you okay?” Marigold asked, sitting across from him.

  “I just think this whole thing is a big mistake,” Peter said. Jean and Mack exchanged a glance.

  “We’ve been over this, Peter,” Jean said. “Renting out the yacht club to Mr. Rathbone will allow us to build that extra dock and make that repair to the roof—the damage done this winter was severe, and we don’t want to raise membership costs to cover it. We’d risk losing some of our favorite members. The Pruet Yacht Club should be a place for the community, not just our very wealthy summer residents.”

  “Exactly!” Peter said. “But we’re keeping out the locals right now!”

  “Only for ten days,” Mack said.

  “The summer people don’t even usually show up until the middle of July, and they think they’re so great, but they don’t bring anything to Pruet except their attitudes,” Peter said.

  “We only visit in the summer,” Marigold said. “Does that go for us, too?”

  “Of course not,” Jean said.

  “I don’t get it,” Marigold said. “What’s so bad about summer people?”

  “Nothing,” Mack said with a sigh.

  “But there can be some tension,” Aunt Sunny said, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

  “Most of the people who come in the summer have a lot more money than the locals,” Mack said. “And some of them, well, treat us . . .”

  “Like they’re better than us,” Peter said. “But the truth is that we’re the people who make Pruet great, the people who are here all year. All the kids who play on the sports teams and make leaf piles in the fall and shovel snow in the winter and help their parents clean out the gutters in the spring. The summer people just show up in their fancy boats after we’ve worked hard all year and act like they own the place. And the Hollywood people? Forget it! They’re even worse.”

  Marigold swallowed hard. She seemed to be in both of these groups.

  “And anyway,” Peter continued. “The only people you’re hurting right now are the ones in this community. Besides, I thought we were going to have a fund-raiser for the roof.”

  “Peter, dear, I’ve been over the numbers myself. The amount of money Mr. Rathbone is paying is worth three of our fund-raisers,” Aunt Sunny said.

  “You can still use the docks and go sailing, right?” Marigold asked.

  “Only if his ‘production schedule’ allows for it. How am I supposed to prepare if I can’t practice for hours a day? Do you know how embarrassing it’s going to be if Pruet loses our own tricentennial regatta? It’s not fair,” Peter muttered under his breath.

  “Peter, you’re just going to have to make the best of it,” Mack said.

  Peter didn’t roll his eyes, but it looked like he wanted to.

  “How about some positive news?” Jean said. “Sirens and Sailors are going to play on the yacht club lawn right after the regatta!”

  “Wow!” Marigold said.

  “Who are they?” Aunt Sunny asked.

  “Who are Sirens and Sailors?” Marigold said. “They are like one of the coolest indie bands out there. How did you get them to come to Pruet, Jean?”

  “They graduated from Pruet High about five years ago. Can you believe it?” Jean said. “They’ll bring the whole town out for the celebration.”

  “That’s really cool,” Marigold said.

  Zinnie and Lily flew in the doorway, holding the ice cream from Edith’s.

  “Guess what?” Zinnie said. “When we were in Edith’s there was an announcement on the radio that Mr. Rathbone is having an open call tomorrow.”

  “That means anyone and everyone can audition,” Marigold explained. Her heart picked up its pace at the thought.

  “They’re casting extras and three speaking parts,” Lily added.

  “A waitress, a dock boy, and a fisherman,” Zinnie said.

  Within a second, images of waitresses flipped through Marigold’s mind. She knew in a moment she’d wear a white oxford shirt and her hair in a loose ponytail.

  “Peter, you should try out for the dock boy,” Lily said.

  “Nah, I don’t think so,” Peter said, and shook his head.

  “Maybe Tony will be the fisherman!” Lily added gleefully as Aunt Sunny put the ice cream in the freezer.

  “Let’s go tell him about it,” Zinnie said. And they ran out as quickly as they had arrived.

  “Marigold and Peter, will you go pick some flowers for the table tonight?” Aunt Sunny asked. “I’m thinking some of those forget-me-nots by the beech tree would look nice.”

  As Marigold and Peter strolled through the pear orchard, she hoped Peter might take her hand, but he didn’t.

  12 • Auditions

  “Wow, check out this line!” Marigold said as she, Zinnie, and Lily walked into town the next morning. They were on their way to take Lily to camp when they saw that the line to audition for Mr. Rathbone’s TV show stretched all the way down Harbor Road. Word about the open call had spread, and the rest of the town clearly didn’t feel the way Peter did.

  “Break a leg!” Lily said when they dropped her off with the Young Naturalists. She was much more interested in the bird’s nests they were going to study at camp than the equipment trucks that were taking up half the road or the hopeful people who had come to audition. Some had brought beach chairs and coolers. Family members were saving spots and taking turns to use the bathroom and get snacks.

  “I guess Hollywood really has come to Pruet,” Zinnie said as they took their place at the back of the line. Zinnie pulled her notebook out of her pocket and started to jot something down—probably for her blog.

  “I guess so,” Marigold said, scanning the line for Peter. It was crazy to think he’d change his mind after how adamant he’d been last night, but she still held out a bit of hope that he’d come around and audition. Mostly, she just wanted him to be in a good mood again—a handholding mood. “I bet this wait is going to be hours long. Look, isn’t that your friend from the snack shack?”

  “Ashley, what’s up?” Zinnie said.

  “I’m auditioning,” Ashley said. “You may remember I won the talent show a few years back.”

  “Hi, Ashley,” Marigold said. “Hey, how about you two save our spots, and I’ll run back to Aunt Sunny’s and get us some beach chairs.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Ashley said.

  “And maybe some snacks, too,” Zinnie said.

  Marigold had just crossed Harbor Road when she saw Jean, clipboard in hand, looking harried. Suddenly she had a great idea.

  “Jean, I’d love to be your assistant,” Marigold said. “I’m really good at organizing stuff, and I know you’re going to need a lot of help.”

  “Perfect!” Jean said. “I could really use it.”

  This would prove to Peter that she wasn’t just a summer person! And it would also be very civic-minded of her. Marigold was going to turn this situation around. Having Mr. Rathbone take over the yacht club for a little while wasn’t going to be as bad as Peter thought.

  “My name is Marigold Silver, and I’m auditioning for the part of waitress,” Marigold said into the camera. This was called “slating,” and she’d done it many times before. Still, it was weird to be auditioning right here in the Pruet Yacht Club, in Jean and Mack’s office, with a casting director named Meg, Philip Rathbone, and a girl with an asymmetrical haircut running the camera.

  “Okay, Marigold,” Meg said, handing her a tray with a coffee cup on it. “Why don’t you use these props and then go ahead and read the line for me. You can pretend I’m the customer.”

  “He
re’s your coffee,” Marigold said, saying the line and pretending to be Maggie, the Silver family’s regular waitress at her favorite breakfast spot in L.A., the Freeway Café. She had decided in advance that she was a busy but polite waitress who was saving for college tuition. With so many tables to serve, this waitress didn’t have time to chitchat.

  Acting was actually a lot like writing, Marigold had thought as she was preparing for her audition in the pear orchard last night—the more she made up stories for the characters she was playing, the more she was able to really pretend she was someone else. She gave a curt but professional smile to Meg, and then in a moment that felt like a stroke of genius, cleared a plate that had some crumbs on it, which Meg had obviously actually used for her own breakfast. “Scuse me,” Marigold improvised, and turned away from the camera.

  “Brava!” Meg said, jotting down some notes. The girl with the asymmetrical haircut turned off the camera. “Well done, Marigold!” Meg continued with a smile that told Marigold she’d at least be getting a callback. “Though I see by your résumé that you have some real credits.”

  “She’s a pro,” Mr. Rathbone said, and winked at her.

  “Thank you,” Marigold said, beaming inside. She’d done a good job; she could feel it.

  “Should I go get the next person?” the girl behind the camera asked.

  “Sure,” Mr. Rathbone said.

  “Okay,” the girl with the asymmetrical haircut said. Marigold knew exactly who was next—Zinnie.

  “I’ll go with you,” Marigold said. “My sister is next in line.”

  “Thanks,” the girl said as they walked out of the office and through the dining room, where production assistants were taking measurements and clearing out the yacht club furniture to bring in their own. “I’m Chloe, by the way. I’m Philip’s niece.”

  “Cameron’s cousin?” Marigold asked. Chloe nodded. “Were you here last summer?”

  “No, I was doing a filmmaking program in New York,” Chloe said.

  “That’s so cool,” Marigold said. “Because my sister was the one—”

  “Your sister is Zinnie!” Chloe said, her face brightening. “My family loves her. I really want to meet her.”

  “I can introduce you right now,” Marigold said as the girls walked out the entrance and made their way to the start of the line in the driveway. “Do you live in New York?”

  “I wish! New York is so cool,” Chloe said. “I live in L.A.”

  “I do too!” Marigold said. “Where do you go to school?”

  “I was at Bright Path, but I’m starting at Performing Arts Magnet next year,” Chloe said.

  “What?” Marigold asked, touching Chloe’s hand without even thinking about it. “Me too!”

  “Awesome,” Chloe said.

  Marigold couldn’t believe her luck. Here was the possibility of her first high school friend, right here in Pruet. And this girl was cool. She had great style, and she knew how to use a movie camera. Oh my goodness, Marigold thought, remembering a few nights ago when she’d wished for a friend on a star. Here she was—an honest-to-goodness wish come true! Maybe they could work on projects together—maybe they could make their own movies as a team!

  “I don’t know anyone else who got in,” Chloe said.

  “Me either,” Marigold squealed, happier than ever that she was going to PAM. There weren’t going to be any Cuties there. There would just be other artists like Chloe. And now she’d get to go to school knowing someone!

  Marigold pointed out Zinnie, who was waiting in line with Ashley. Zinnie’s face was alive the way it was when she was doing an impersonation and Ashley was laughing. Meanwhile, Edith was racking up customers by the minute. She was taking orders from the sidewalk and making change with dollar bills and coins from her apron pockets.

  “My sister is kind of a spaz,” Marigold warned Chloe as she pointed her out.

  “She’s funny!” Chloe said as Zinnie did what looked like a zombie walk. What was Zinnie talking about, Marigold wondered.

  “Zinnie, this is Chloe,” Marigold said. “She’s Mr. Rathbone’s niece, and she’s also running the camera for the auditions. And you’re next.”

  “Hi,” Zinnie said.

  “I’m so happy to meet you,” Chloe said, embracing Zinnie in a bear hug. “You don’t know me, but I know you.”

  “Really?” Zinnie asked.

  “You saved my little cousin last year,” Chloe said. “I can never thank you enough.”

  “You’re welcome,” Zinnie said. “And actually, I know who you are, too.”

  “You do?” Chloe asked.

  “Yeah, you’re the notebook girl,” Zinnie said.

  Marigold felt her brow furrow. What was Zinnie talking about?

  “My sister has a wild imagination—” Marigold started, but Chloe didn’t look surprised at all.

  “Wait, you saw me writing in my notebook?” Chloe asked.

  “Yes,” Zinnie said. “In Edith’s.” Zinnie pulled her own notebook out of her pocket. “And you know what? I’m a notebook girl, too.”

  Marigold felt a sting of jealousy. When Marigold and Pilar were still best friends, she worried that Pilar liked Zinnie better than her. When they all hung out together, Pilar would laugh at Zinnie’s jokes, and she would invite Zinnie to go shopping with them when Marigold would have preferred some one-on-one time with her friend. Was that going to happen with Chloe? It couldn’t, she remembered, because Zinnie would be at Miss Hadley’s, and Marigold and Chloe would be all the way on the other side of town at PAM.

  “Come on,” Chloe said, leading Zinnie back to the yacht club office. “It’s time for you to audition.”

  13 • The Wrong Accent

  The next morning before her sisters woke up, Zinnie grabbed some orange juice, a blueberry muffin, and her laptop and headed out to her picnic table to get to work. She’d received an email from Mrs. Lee last night, confirming that it was okay for Zinnie to complete her first eight posts in such a short period of time.

  I wish you luck on this ambitious project, Mrs. Lee had written. Producing eight quality posts in two weeks will be a challenge, but I have faith in you.

  The word “quality” had been circling in Zinnie’s mind as she’d drifted off to sleep. Of course she wanted to turn in her best work—she always wanted to do that—but the fact that Mrs. Lee had mentioned it in the email reminded Zinnie of just how hard this task was. With only two posts a week, her classmates would have several days to compose and refine their posts. Zinnie, on the other hand, was going to have to work much more quickly without sacrificing excellence. She hoped Aunt Sunny was right about Edith spreading the word about her blog.

  She’d also checked on her classmates’ blogs again last night—and they were so good; even better than Zinnie had anticipated. Madison’s dual diary blog had almost moved Zinnie to tears! Jenny Tom’s designs looked fantastic. And then Sophie Hamilton was spending the summer in Washington, DC, following her aunt who was a congresswoman. Her first blog posts were linked to articles about current events. Zinnie just had one post—about bats, of all things. She was determined to knock it out of the park this morning.

  Sitting cross-legged on the bench, she got right to work. Luckily, she knew exactly what she was going to write about: her audition! It had not gone well, but instead of making it about not getting something she wanted, she was going to give it a comic spin.

  She laughed to herself, remembering just how determined she was to do a Massachusetts accent. She’d been practicing in line with Ashley, who was coaching her to say “Hee-ah’s yah cuppa caw-fee,” not “Here’s your cup of coffee.” She thought she had it down. Ashley had given her the thumbs-up.

  When it was Zinnie’s turn, Chloe had brought her into the room and introduced her. Mr. Rathbone had beamed at her from behind the desk and said, “As if this one needs any introduction!” Zinnie smiled as Chloe explained to the casting director the story of Zinnie saving Cameron last summer.

&nb
sp; The casting director gave Zinnie some directions about carrying the tray and using the props. Chloe prepared the camera, and then said, “Okay, go ahead and slate.” Zinnie said her name and then took a deep breath to get into character. The casting director called “Action!” Feeling that she had to move fast in order to keep everyone’s attention, she practically sprinted toward the table with the coffee and then, skidding to a stop, said, “Here’s your cup of tea” in a British accent! British! Ugh! She guessed this was inevitable because after the Writers’ Workshop trip to England in the spring, British accents were hands down her favorite. Zinnie could hear the words coming out of her mouth wrong, but she couldn’t seem to stop them. And even worse than the accent was the fact that she totally messed up the line. She’d said “tea” instead of “coffee”!

  There was a long and awkward silence in the room. The casting director, a lady who seemed entirely out of place in Pruet with her professional hair and makeup, looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

  “That was . . . interesting,” she’d said, and pursed her lips. “Thank you for coming in.”

  Mr. Rathbone smiled awkwardly and said, “If we were looking to cast a lifeguard, you’d be our first choice, Zinnia.”

  Zinnie’s heart sank, because she could feel how nice he was trying to be, and that meant she certainly didn’t get the part. Even though she knew she didn’t stand a chance against her naturally talented sister, especially after saying the wrong line in the wrong accent, a teeny-tiny part of her had dared to hope. That same small part of her had then gone beyond hoping to getting excited about the idea of being on a TV show.

  “Do you think I could try that again?” Zinnie asked. She’d waited hours to audition. She should at least give it her best shot. “See, I went to England this past year, and I have this British accent stuck in my head. If I could have another chance, I’d really appreciate it. I know I’ll get it right the second time.”