“Mom,” says Maddie. “You can’t get it right. Don’t even try.”
“Stunning,” Maddie and Brenna say together, with the emphasis on the second syllable.
“I’ll leave you all to be stunned together,” Maddie’s mom says. “Don’t forget to fold the laundry.”
I can say “stunning,” Dini thinks. I can say it right.
But she doesn’t.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Across Many Time Zones
DINI AND MADDIE RUSH THROUGH the laundry, and Brenna helps too, although half the time she’s juggling the clothes. They dance the dance until they collapse in a heap. Brenna catches on fast, and even Maddie’s getting over her Egyptian tomb–person instincts.
“We should have something to hold in our hands,” Dini says. “You know what I mean? If we put it in the middle and then pick it up when we go in and out, that’ll look stunning.”
“Okay, but what’s this ‘it’?” says Maddie.
“Ribbons? Flowers?” Brenna says, tossing a sock up three times and catching it behind her back as it comes down. Not a miss. Not one. That’s coordination.
“Not flowers,” says Dini. “They won’t last. Ribbons? Don’t know. Bells?”
“No,” Maddie says. “Can’t grab ribbons easily, and no one will hear them over the music. How about scarves?”
Scarves? “Too traily and wispy,” Dini says. “We have to find the right Dolly symbol.”
They brood on this awhile, on what would be right for Dolly. Considering how Dolly’s characters do the right thing and get their way. That’s a hard thing to manage in real life, Dini is coming to see. But it's a goal, she thinks. Something to aim for.
“We need something that means something,” says Dini. “An international Dolly symbol.” She writes it down quickly: “International Dolly symbol.”
But that does not get them any closer to deciding what “it” could be. So they give up and check out the Filmi Kumpnee website instead.
From the “News ’n’ Views” column of Filmi Kumpnee: Your Magazine of the Stars (“Paper? Digital? Our news, you choose.”):
Dolly fans, we have a word for you, and the word is:
Panic.
Filmi Kumpnee’s intrepid reporter has scooped a staggering story! Upon arrival in the United States, our own dazzling Dolly narrowly escaped injury in an attack by a wild elephant. Only the swift action of a brave fan saved the day.
Wild elephant, you ask? In America, the land of Hollywood, cowboys, and Citibank? Yes, we asked that too.
But wait! Mr. Soli Dustup himself, manager, owner, and artistic director of Bombay’s own Starlite Studios, and patron in chief of the new Bolly-Dazzle Museum, was sighted by a fan at Abu Dhabi Airport catching a connection to Washington, D.C. Our tireless reporter called his mobile number and tried to get a word with him, but “Have to go,” that’s all he said. So it must be true. Otherwise, why would Mr. Dustup, brave soul, be going in person to America? He knows there is reason to panic.
We are investigating, night and day, across time zones. Stay alert. Thank you to fans worldwide who keep us informed about our starriest star. We will also be alert, and we’ll keep you up-to-date on the latest news—whether breaking or already broken.
No prop help there. “Wild elephant?” says Maddie.
“No way,” Dini says. “I saw it. It didn’t look even a bit wild to me. Scared, maybe.” The Filmi Kumpnee people are not as alert as they think they are. In fact, they are out of step. They are not even in the dance.
“Let’s go look in my closet,” Maddie says.
“For wild elephants?” says Brenna, and they all burst out laughing. Dini tries to stay serious, but she can’t.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Brilliant
MADDIE STANDS ON A CHAIR and hands down stuff from the top shelf of her closet, including flags from the collection that she and Dini began together in third grade. “Just put this junk down somewhere so I can see what’s up here.”
“Does Dolly know the producer guy’s coming?” Maddie asks.
“Studio executive,” Dini says. “I don’t know. I know she was trying to call him.”
“Must be really exciting meeting all those movie people,” Brenna says, doing a thoughtful handstand.
“It is, sort of,” Dini says, trying to twirl the Russian and Sri Lankan flags at once and dropping them both. “Mr. Dustup can be . . . weird sometimes.”
“Weird?” Maddie asks, handing down Hawaii and Ukraine. “Like how?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Dini says. “Just kind of the way filmi people are, you know? A little . . . clueless.” It’s not a complaint, just a fact she’s never realized before. Grown-ups are supposed to have the answers, but sometimes, she thinks, those filmi grown-ups can be just as clueless as kids.
That includes Dolly. They love her, of course, but let’s face it, she’s not always what you’d call in touch. It’s why she needs loyal fans.
Nepal comes off the shelf, along with Zimbabwe. Brenna says, “Oh, I like that!” The Nepal flag is not rectangular like the others but has unexpected zigzags along one edge. “It matches the steps in the dance.”
Dini stares at her.
“What?” says Brenna. “What did I say?”
“Here. Can I show you?” Dini grabs the zigzaggy flag. She does a quick demo, Nepal in one hand and Zimbabwe in the other.
In and out, back and around
and one more loop,
and back and around
and one more loop.
She hands the flags off and shows how the movement begins all over again. “Like that. What do you think?”
“Let me try.” Brenna zigzag-loops through the steps at top speed.
She can move fast. She doesn’t miss a step! All she has to do is see it once and she’s set. Dini can see that Brenna is going to be really, really good at this. Much better than Dini herself, quite honestly.
“Are you all done with your dance?” Maddie’s mom demands, emerging from her office room where she fixes clients’ accounts.
“Not really,” says Maddie, “but we’re going out to the front steps.”
“Front steps?” says Gretchen.
“Front steps,” Maddie says, and hustles them out.
“What’s the hurry?” says Dini.
The hurry is about two cans of paint—one green, one silver. “They’re left over from the sets we made at school for the end-of-term performance,” Maddie explains. “I brought them home for this.”
“For what?” says Dini. “I mean, I like the colors. They’re—”
“Dolly colors,” Brenna says. “Yup. Exactly. See those steps?”
“We’re going to . . .,” Dini begins, then stops. “No. Really?”
Maddie nods. Brenna nods. “In case Dolly comes to visit,” Brenna says.
“D’you think she will ?” says Maddie.
Dini is speechless. It’s a why-not kind of question, isn’t it?
Three steps and some skinny railings may not look like much, but looks can deceive. The painting takes time. Then they have to sit around and watch the paint dry. “Good thing it’s not raining,” Maddie says.
Dini paints a last stroke. Her hand wavers. The paint pools into a shallow spot where the wood is uneven. “Oops, sorry.” She tries to smooth it out but it gets lumpy.
“Here, let me.” Brenna takes the brush from her and does some fancy wristwork, and in a quick one-two the lumpy place is fixed.
“How’d you do that?” Dini says. She can hardly see the spot that she’d been on the verge of ruining.
“I have really. Steady. Hands.” Brenna puts the brush back in the paint can, then lifts her hand and freezes it in midair. “See? I dare you. Make me move. I can be a statue forever.”
“Don’t even try,” says Maddie. “It’s useless, let me tell you. . . .”
Dini looks at Brenna’s hand, frozen in front of her face. Brenna is so still Dini can hardly see her
breathing. That hand holds completely steady. A statue hand. Brenna shakes loose from the pose. She laughs. “I just can,” she says. “Always been that way.” She starts on the silver paint now that the green is dry. She paints a zigzaggy silver border on each step. Not a wiggle or a wobble in sight.
Brenna is strange, Dini thinks. But then, sometimes life can use a little stranging up. Look at Dolly. Strange is why she dazzles.
“Hey, girls . . .?” Maddie’s mom, phone in hand, is staring down at their fine handiwork. “What are you doing?!” she demands.
“Surprise!” says Maddie. “Don’t you love it?”
Gretchen takes a breath. Then another. “Well, it’s . . .” She stops, choosing her words carefully. “Brilliant. That’s what it is.”
“Do you like it?” says Dini anxiously.
“Let’s just say that it might grow on me.” Maddie’s mom stares at the steps.
“Oh, Mom,” says Maddie. “You’re not going to make us paint it over, are you?”
Her mother sighs. “No,” she says. “But I need you to promise me, on pain of consequences too terrible to mention, that you’re not planning to paint the walls to match.”
They promise.
“Your dad called.” Gretchen hands the phone to Dini. “He wants you to call him back.”
Dini calls Dad. “I’m going out for a while,” he says. “Wanted to make sure everything’s okay with you.”
“Where are you going?” says Dini.
“RadioShack. To buy a coaxial splitter.”
Dini has no idea what a coaxial splitter is, although it sounds dangerous. “Don’t forget, Saturday is the rehearsal,” she says. “And we need to go to Union Station to get some stuff for it in the morning. Flags. Is that okay?”
“Sounds hunky-dory,” he says. “See you then, cowhand.”
“See you, Dad,” Dini says, and hangs up. Her mind is racing faster than she can keep up with it. Maddie and Brenna are laughing together over something. She wonders if they would miss her if she were to sink into those green steps and disappear from sight. She will not, of course. Sinking and disappearing are not normal, everyday actions.
But then she hears what Brenna is saying. “Rehearsal. Grand opening. That’s soooo . . .”
“Isn’t it just soooo . . .?” Maddie agrees. “Didn’t I tell you Dini was soooo . . . ?”
They stare at her in admiration, which makes Dini feel just a little “soooo . . .” as well, in a funny kind of way. It’s nice to be admired, of course, but honestly, it was the last thing she expected. Admiration has just thrown a monkey wrench into her motivation. She didn’t exactly plan to be stunned by Brenna. In fact, she came all prepared to dislike her. Not that she wanted to dislike her—or did she? Maybe she did, and that wasn’t very nice, was it?
Oh, life is way too confusing, Dini thinks. It is simply impossible to choreograph things like friendship, no matter how hard you try.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Zoo?
ARRIVING AT THE PROMENADE HOTEL, Mr. Soli Dustup tips his helpful cabdriver generously, books himself a room, and falls into the welcome softness of the high-thread-count sheets. Too late to see Dolly now, he tells himself. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.
Mr. Soli Dustup sleeps. And sleeps. He sleeps for several blissful hours. He dreams comforting dreams filled with applause, happy fans, rolling credits, and many, many ticket sales.
But soon the sunlight creeps in through the window and unfurls its warmth across the room, pushing the edge of a shadow right over Mr. Dustup’s face. He starts awake, much to his surprise, in the middle of a snore.
Once he realizes where he is, and why, he tries to order breakfast through room service. But it is past noon now and breakfast is no longer being served.
He gets ready in a hurry and hastens to the front desk, where he inquires into Dolly’s whereabouts. He offers his business card as proof that he is on the up and up. He can be given this information. He is not some lunatic fan disrupting the star’s privacy.
“Mr. Dustup.” The hotel manager beams at him. “I know who you are. Mr. Chickoo Dev gave us a list of names so we could screen calls.”
Bless that Chickoo. The man is a saint. Dolly is lucky to have found him. “So where’s my lovely Dolly, then?” Soli asks, helping himself to a mint from the bowl on the counter. “And my good friend Chickoo? Take me to them.” Rested and fortified, he is ready to handle any starry moods in store.
But the manager’s reply sends pain knifing up and down Soli’s arm. He swallows his mint whole and turns several shades of mauve. “The zoo?” he says. “You took my number one star and you sent her off to the zoo?”
“She wanted to go,” protests the manager. “On account of the elephant.” He launches into a scrambled, tangled story. Dolly is involved, as is an escaped elephant. And Chickoo, who is really okay now, can walk around and everything.
“Why . . .?” Soli grabs the counter for support. “Could he not walk before?”
The man says something about a dart. No, no, not poison, he hastens to add, but tranquilizer. For the elephant, only it missed the mark.
“Dolly!” exclaims Mr. Dustup, turning fuchsia. “She wasn’t hurt, was she?”
“No, no,” the manager assures him. “Not Dolly, but Chickoo.” He goes into details.
More details than Soli can digest all at once. He waves his arms feebly. He wants to tell this young blabbermouth to hurry up. He wants to know the real scoop, the up-to-the-minute update, the bottom line. Because the thought of Dolly loose in a zoo, with a highly tranquilized Chickoo for company—that thought is turning Mr. Dustup’s face from fuchsia to magenta.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Zoo!
KRIS HAS TRIED EVERYTHING, BUT Mini won’t respond to her favorite toys. She ignores the mobile made out of old pickle barrels. She just sits in the outer room of the Elephant House, ears drooping, emitting the occasional doleful sneeze.
“Peanuts?” Kris offers her a bag of them.
Mini turns away. She gets up and rambles to the door. She bumps it with her head. But the lock has been replaced. That door is no longer an easy exit.
Kris’s phone rings. “There’s someone here to see your elephant,” says the security guard at the main gate.
“No!” Kris snaps. “Tell them we’re closed.”
“Sorry, she insists. She’s come all the way from India and she wants to see Mini again.”
“Again?”
“Saw her yesterday.”
“On the news,” Kris says bitterly, “like half the metro area.”
“No, she was there,” says the guard. “Listen, give her a minute, will you?”
“Okay, okay,” Kris says.
“Name’s Dolly. Dolly Singh. She’s quite . . . er, unique.” He adds something Kris doesn’t quite catch, then hangs up.
That can’t be right. Did he say she’s a famous movie star? Kris shakes her head, braces herself to be polite but firm. No, she will say, you can’t come in. The Elephant House is closed for renovation. See that sign?
But when the couple arrives, Kris finds herself rethinking. She’s not expecting so much dazzle. Or flying jewelry, or flashing eyes. “What can I do for you?” Kris asks uncertainly. That is not what she meant to say, but the dialogue forms itself.
The man has an amiable smile. His face is, well, dominated by the nose. He introduces himself and the dazzling woman. They’re here for a movie opening. “Dolly’s latest, greatest hit,” he says with pride.
Dolly’s latest greatest? So she is. A movie star. She looks like one. What’s more, she knows her own starriness. Kris finds herself wishing she herself were starrier. It would be nice to be starry.
“Is she all right?” Dolly demands. “We saw it all! So much hungaama about a poor little elephant!” She loses a necklace and a ring in her agitation.
Kris has no idea what “hungaama” means, but “poor little elephant” strikes a chord.
“So, what I
want to know is,” Dolly goes on, “why were those lunatics with dart guns after your precious pachyderm?”
Kris mumbles an explanation about the faulty lock and Mini’s escape. She picks pieces of jewelry up and hands them back to Dolly. “You weren’t hurt, were you?” she inquires.
“No, but my brave Chickoo was!” Dolly says. “My fiancé, bless him.”
“Oh no!” Kris says. This nice guy was the one who got hit?
“Hit by that dart,” Dolly says. “Knocked him right out. He crashed like a tree, I tell you.”
Kris takes in the meek man with the unruly hair and the nose. He doesn’t appear capable of crashing like a tree. “I’m glad you’re okay now,” she says.
Chickoo scratches his head. “Didn’t expect it,” he admits. “Took me by surprise.”
“So where is your lovely little elephant?” Dolly demands.
“Would you like to see her?” Kris says. These are not the words of a responsible zookeeper. She’s not supposed to take them into a closed exhibit. But she is under Dolly’s spell. She can’t help herself. She thinks, If my boss finds out . . .
Mini’s in the outer room. She turns her head when she sees them coming in.
“Oh, pretty princess!” says Dolly.
Mini looks up. She looks up! She hasn’t looked at Kris since the business with the dart.
Dolly’s necklace flies onto the concrete floor, and Mini gets up. She. Gets. Right up! She ambles gently toward Dolly. She bends and picks the necklace up. Holding it delicately in the end of her trunk, she offers it to Dolly.
“My beauty,” Dolly says, and scratches Mini in the wide space between her eyes.
Mini sits. She sits down for Dolly and lets her scratch the top of her head and her flappy ears. She never lets anyone do that but Kris! All of a sudden Kris is filled with hope.
She’s glad she didn’t turn these nice people away. Look how Mini’s relaxing. Look at all the smiles. Listen to the click-click of the camera as the man with the nose takes pictures.
But this scene of peace and harmony is about to be rudely interrupted. A red-faced man bursts in, shouting and waving his arms.
The Problem with Being Slightly Heroic Page 8