Into the Mix #4

by Diane Muldrow

  “I guess not,” said Molly, looking down at her plate.

  “I guess not,” echoed Amanda, twirling her fork in her spaghetti.

  “I guess not,” said Matthew in a girly voice, imitating his sisters. His shirt was already splattered with tomato sauce.

  Molly and Amanda couldn’t help looking over at Mr. Jordan during dinner. His back was to the girls. but they were able to check out the attractive woman he was with. She wore a bright pink dress and seemed to laugh at everything Mr. Jordan said.

  Where was Shawn? wondered the girls. And did she know what was going on?

  As soon as they got home from Luigi’s, Amanda picked up the phone.

  “Hi, Shawn,” said Amanda into the receiver.

  “Hi!”

  “Hi, Shawn, I’m here, too,” said Molly on the extension. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, not much. I’m just hanging out here with Grandma Ruthie. She’s been teaching me how to knit. She’s going home tomorrow. Dad went out to dinner for a few hours and he just got back.” The twins heard a muffled sound as Shawn turned her head away from the phone. “I’ll be right there, Dad!” she called, then turned back to the phone. “What did you guys do tonight?” she asked the twins.

  “We went to Luigi’s for dinner,” said Molly.

  “We saw your dad there,” said Amanda. “He didn’t see us. He was kind of far away from us. Was he on a date?”

  There was a pause.

  “A date?” asked Shawn sharply. “I don’t think so. Why would he go on a date? He said he was just going out to dinner with a friend.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Amanda quickly. “Well, we’ll talk to you later!”

  “Bye,” said Molly.

  “Good-bye,” said Shawn. Molly and Amanda could tell she was mad.

  The twins hung up and looked at each other without saying anything.

  “Uh, did we do something we shouldn’t have?” Molly finally asked. “I sorta think we did.”

  Amanda frowned. “Shawn seemed kind of upset. Maybe we shouldn’t have said anything.” She sighed. “Oh, well, it’s too late now to do anything about it. Anyway, don’t you think her dad should have told her he was going on a date?”

  “I don’t know,” said Molly. “Maybe he was going to tell her afterward and we blew it for him. Yipes! Or maybe it wasn’t a date.” Molly folded her arms over her chest and said glumly, “I guess Dad’s right. It was really none of our business.”

  Monday after school, Shawn was at cheerleading practice. It was a hot day, and she was in a rotten mood. She didn’t want to be at practice. All day, the only thing she’d wanted to do was be by herself, listening to music in her room. She hardly talked to the girls at lunch. Molly and Amanda hadn’t looked her in the eye much. She knew they felt bad about calling her the other night. But she was glad they’d called, even though she didn’t tell them so.

  At least she was getting information.

  What’s up with Dad? she kept wondering. Why does he have to date? How could he do that to Mom? And me?

  “Shawn, are you going to join us?”

  Shawn suddenly snapped to attention. She looked up to see Coach Carson looking at her. Actually, the whole squad was looking at her questioningly like, Hello?

  “Sorry,” said Shawn. She’d completely spaced out. What was she supposed to be doing?

  “Shawn, I just announced that we’re having an extra practice this week. Can you make it?” asked Coach Carson patiently.

  “Oh, sure,” said Shawn. “I’ll be there.

  “Okay,” said Coach Carson. “Let’s get in line and work on the new cheer. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

  After practice, Coach came up to Shawn as the girls were heading back to the locker room.

  “Everything okay, Shawn?” she asked. She gave Shawn a warm, understanding smile. “You seem to have a lot on your mind today.”

  “Oh, everything’s okay,” said Shawn. She smiled back. “Thanks. Uh, sorry about spacing out earlier.”

  Whoa, she thought. I must have been really out of it.

  “You’re not eating that much,” Mr. Jordan pointed out at dinner that night. “Aren’t you hungry? Better eat up, cause this is the last of the fried chicken your grandma made for us.”

  “Dad?” asked Shawn. “Who’d you go to dinner with on Friday night?” She gulped. That had just slipped out. It was like she’d been thinking about it so much for the entire weekend that it had come out on its own.

  Mr. Jordan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “Well,” he said. He cleared his throat. He adjusted his glasses.

  Here it comes, thought Shawn. Her heart started to pound. Some kind of bad news!

  “I went to dinner with a woman named Donna Payne. She’s very nice. I met her on the plane, coming home from Australia.”

  “Oh,” said Shawn.

  “We sat next to each other on the plane, and talked. It’s a long flight, you know. So, anyway. I asked her if she’d like to have dinner with me. That’s all.”

  “So it was a date!” cried Shawn. “Molly and Amanda were right!”

  “Molly and Amanda?” asked Mr. Jordan, confused.

  “The Moores were at Luigi’s, too,” explained Shawn. She felt a lump growing in her throat. “Oh, Daddy, how could you go on a date? What about Mom?” Tears blurred her vision. She felt her dad’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Baby,” said Mr. Jordan kindly, “it was just a nice dinner with a nice person. You know what? I like to go to movies and go out to dinner and be with friends. Just like you do. Do you understand? Dads need to have fun, too.”

  Shawn nodded. That did make sense. But...

  “Are you going to get married to Donna?” she asked sadly.

  Mr. Jordan smiled and shook his head. “No, sweetie,” he said. “I’m not thinking about getting married right now. But I do want to have a social life.” He chuckled. “Donna was just here in New York on business anyway. The day after our dinner, she flew up to Boston to see her family. Then she flies back to Australia. I’ll probably never see her again, but I enjoyed having dinner with her.”

  “I see,” said Shawn.

  “You’ll always be the number one girl in my life,” Mr. Jordan assured Shawn. “And you know how much I loved your mother. Just like you, I’ve been sad since she died. Neither of us will ever forget her.”

  “That’s right, Daddy,” said Shawn. “We never, ever will.”

  Chapter 9

  “Room 303,” Natasha muttered to herself on Monday after school. She was in an empty hallway, searching for the newspaper office. “Oh, here it is.”

  That’s when Natasha hesitated. She wanted to go inside for the first newspaper meeting, but her feet refused to go any further.

  Can I really do this? she thought. What if I’m the only sixth-grader and no one talks to me?

  Just then, Justin came walking down the hall. “Hi, Natasha!” he said. “Are you going to the newspaper meeting?”

  Natasha smiled, relieved to see someone she knew. “Yes, are you?”

  “Yeah. I want to be on the photo staff. Come on, let’s go in.

  Justin and Natasha weren’t the only sixth-graders, but there weren’t many.

  A petite, round, blond teacher came in and closed the door behind her. Smiling and showing a few dimples, she said, “Hello, I’m Ms. Zane. I’m the faculty advisor of The Post. Welcome to the meeting, everyone. This is a nice turnout! I’d like to introduce Lena Zagorski, who is editor-in-chief of The Post. And that’s Brian Jones, photo editor. Lena, I’m going to turn it over to you!”

  A tall girl with long, dark hair stood up. “Hi, everyone, thanks for coming today,” she said. She seems so confident, thought Natasha enviously.

  “Our first issue of The Post comes out in two weeks,” Lena went on. “And I’d like to make this year’s paper even better than last year—which will be a challenge since the paper was so awesome!”

  “Yeah!” exclaimed some studen
ts.

  Lena asked everyone what they were interested in doing, and the group divided into writers and photographers. Justin moved over to Brian’s group.

  “We’ve got a lot to cover,” said Lena. “A lot of games are going on next week. And I want to start some special features.”

  Games? thought Natasha. I don’t want to be a sports-writer. Uh-oh! What if they make me write about the football game? I don’t even know how to play football!

  “Who wants to cover this weeks football game against Bay Ridge?” asked Lena. A couple of boys raised their hands.

  “Tom, you can cover it. Garth, I’d like you to write a feature about Mr. Tafoya, the new football coach.”

  “Excellent!” said Garth.

  “Now, for the girls’ soccer game...” Lena’s eyes searched the room.

  “Natasha...” said Lena, thinking. She was looking down at her notes.

  Everyone turned to look at Natasha. She could feel her cheeks burning.

  “You can cover the soccer game,” Lena told Natasha, “or you can interview a student that you find interesting. I want to feature a different student in every issue.

  Interview? Talk to someone I’ve never met? Well, that is what a reporter does, Natasha told herself. And I’m not that interested in soccer...

  “I’ll do the interview,” said Natasha quickly. She couldn’t keep Lena waiting.

  “Great!” said Lena. “Let me know your ideas by the end of the meeting. Then we’ll brainstorm with Ms. Zane for a few minutes.” Her gaze shifted to the girl next to Natasha. “You’re Tanya, right? Would you like to cover the soccer game?”

  “Sure,” said Tanya.

  Rats, thought Natasha. Maybe I should’ve done soccer. What if I don’t know what questions to ask in my interview? And how am I gonna come up with an idea by the end of this meeting? Too late now...

  Natasha only half-listened during the rest of the meeting. She was too busy trying to think of an interesting student to interview.

  Suddenly, it hit her. The Chef Girls! I’ll interview the Chef Girls, she thought. About Dish!

  After the meeting, Ms. Zane and Lena came up to Natasha.

  “So, Natasha, have you had a chance to think about whom you might interview?” asked Ms. Zane. She smiled. “I know we didn’t give you much time.”

  “Um, I was thinking of more than one person, actually,” said Natasha. She told Ms. Zane and Lena all about Dish.

  “Sounds very interesting,” said Ms. Zane.

  “Mmm-hmm,” said Lena, nodding her head.

  “There’s only one little problem,” said Ms. Zane. “Naturally, you’ll want to interview all of the girls in Dish. But you’re a part of Dish. As a journalist, you’re supposed to be impartial—and you can’t really interview yourself.”

  “Oh, right,” said Natasha. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “But is it such a big deal that Natasha’s in Dish?” asked Lena. “This isn’t a hard news story. It’s a feature article on interesting students. She can mention that she’s in Dish. But she’ll let the people she’s interviewing tell most of the story.”

  Ms. Zane grinned. “Okay, Lena, I’m convinced. Natasha, you can get started, and let us know if you need help. We’ll want a photographer to take some pictures, too!”

  “How about Justin?” asked Natasha. She pointed. “That kid over there. He’s a friend of ours.” She giggled. “Actually, he helped us with one of our cooking jobs when a couple of the other girls were grounded!”

  Lena and Ms. Zane laughed. “Perfect!” said Ms. Zane.

  “Great!” said Natasha. She picked up her backpack. “See you next week!” Walking out of the office, she suddenly felt important, more grown-up. She was a feature writer, with her own article in the paper. With her name on it!

  “So, what do you think?” Natasha asked the Chef Girls the next morning on the walk to school. She’d just told them all about her writing assignment.

  “I can’t believe we’ll be featured in the paper’s first issue!” exclaimed Molly. “With a picture!”

  “And guess who’s going to take the picture?” asked Natasha. “Justin! He’ll be working on the paper, too.”

  “Justin?” asked Amanda. “So you’ll be working together. That’s nice.” But it didn’t feel that nice to her. Oh, well, she thought. I’m an actress now and I’m too busy to worry about those two. Did I fell you that Ms. Barlow said that I have a really great voice?” she said, changing the subject. ”Yeah, she came up to me after rehearsal the other day and said that I project really well. That means the audience will hear me just fine...”

  For all the girls, the next few weeks went by quickly. There were essays to write and lots of studying, quizzes, exams, and after-school activities.

  Somehow, the girls managed to fit in a cooking job for Mrs. Freeman, who’d hired them before. Shawn didn’t come, though. She said she was too busy with cheerleading. Amanda tried not to let it bother her, but she felt that she didn’t even get to talk to Shawn much anymore. But she was having fun with the play, and she and Tessa were becoming friends. They’d rented My Fair Lady and watched it at Tessa’s house.

  One day at rehearsal, Ms. Barlow announced that it was time for everyone to be measured for their costumes. The costume crew came into the classroom.

  Peichi rushed over to Amanda. “Hi!” she cried. “Guess what! I’m working on your costume! What a coincidence, huh? See? Ms. Barlow sketched what it’ll look like.” She showed a drawing of a woman in a long black skirt, a high-necked blouse, and a hat.

  “Hmmm,” said Amanda. “Right, this looks like what the flower sellers wore in the movie.

  Peichi pulled some black fabric out of a bag. “Here’s the material for the skirt. I’ll tear it here and there so that it’ll look old and raggedy. of course...see this old black shawl? We found it at the Salvation Army. You’ll wear this over the skirt. And I think we already have an old blouse that will fit you. but then it doesn’t really matter if it fits, does it! Cause you’re a poor flower seller with a dirty face! We’ll make the blouse look like it has soot on it. Isn’t it great? It’s been so much fun working on your costume!”

  Amanda didn’t say anything for a moment. “Uh,” she finally said, “it is neat that you’re working on my costume.”

  “Well, what do you think?” asked Peichi anxiously. A disappointed look flashed across her face. “Don’t you like it?”

  No, I don’t! Amanda wanted to say. This is so blah! No one is even going to see me under this big black skirt and big black shawl!

  Just then shrieks erupted across the room as Ms. Barlow unfolded a bolt of white netting with white polka dots to show some of the eighth-grade girls. “Isn’t this gorgeous?” she was saying. “And look, here’s some pink chiffon. This will look great for one of the evening dresses. And look at these big blue feathers! Perfect for the big hats you’ll wear! Here are the white gloves...”

  Wow, thought Amanda, I wish I could wear something like that! She turned to Peichi. Poor Peichi had been so excited, and Amanda didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “I think my costume looks, uh. really great! Thanks, Peichi!”

  “Whew,” said Peichi. Her face relaxed. “For a minute, I didn’t think you liked it! I couldn’t believe I found this old black shawl! We had so much fun that day with Ms. Barlow at the Salvation Army...”

  I’ve got to get a better-looking costume. Amanda was thinking as Peichi chattered on. I’ve just got to!

  Amanda sighed a lot that night at dinner.

  Is something the matter, Manda?” asked Mom.

  “Oh, not really.” Amanda sighed again. She looked up and everyone was looking at her as if to say, Well? What is it?

  Amanda set down her fork. “It’s just that—well—it’s so terrible.”

  “What? What’s terrible?” asked Matthew. He pretended to choke himself, making his eyes bug out. “You look okay to me.”

  “It’s not funny Matthew,” Amanda said. “
This is about my costume. It’s not right. Peichi is working on it, and I can’t hurt her feelings! But it’s so blah!”

  “But sweetie, your costume’s supposed to be plain,” said Mom patiently. “You’re a flower seller.”

  “Make that flower seller number four,” said Amanda with a pout.

  Matthew and Molly giggled, and Amanda’s face turned red. “Why? Why does it have to be plain? What can’t I look good? No one’s even going to notice me! I want to stand out and look important! This is my first play! And I’m not cool in it! I’m just not cool.”

  “Look, sweetie,” began Mom. “Every role in the play is important. The play wouldn’t work if it had just glamorous people in it. The whole point is that Eliza Doolittle goes from being a poor flower seller to an elegant lady. Well, you’re one of her flower-seller friends. You’re plain. That’s your job. But you’re also singing in it, and dancing! That’s exciting! Wait and see—when the whole play comes together, you’ll feel very important. Trust me!”

  “And remember, you’re supposed to be trying something new and having fun,” added Dad. “You are having fun, aren’t you?”

  Amanda nodded. “Yes, I am. but...”

  “Gee, Amanda,” said Matthew. “You sure have a lot of problems that aren’t really problems.”

  Amanda pretended she didn’t hear him.

  That night, Amanda called Peichi.

  “Hi!” said Peichi. “Are you studying for the English test?”

  “Uh-huh.” said Amanda. She cleared her throat. “But I’m calling about the play. I mean my costume.”

  “Oh! What’s up? Do you want to see what I’ve done to it? Stop by the costume room tomorrow after school. I’ll be there.”

  Amanda winced. “It’s just that I think it needs a little—something,” she said. “You know, a little color, maybe a little more shape?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Peichi.

  “Give me a minute,” pleaded Amanda. “Don’t worry, I’ve thought it all out. Ms. Barlow told us to think up stuff about our characters’ personalities and lives and stuff, so that it will help us act out the part and make it believable. Well, this is what I made up about my character: she used to be really rich! And her husband died of a terrible sickness that was going around London. And so then she didn’t have any money, because in those days ladies didn’t work, of course, but at least she still had her beautiful clothes, so she wears those when she sells flowers! Doesn’t that sound good?”