by Annie Bryant
The driver—who’d let the limo door fall shut after waiting so long—jumped at the sound of banging within. Was that knocking and clattering coming from the limo? The driver mumbled an apology and threw open the door. A hush fell over the crowd. Everyone’s eyes were glued upon the limo, waiting to see who would be the next star to pop out.
Instead of a star, the only thing to pop out was a loud cough-cough.
“My apologies again,” said the driver. “And last, but certainly not least. Certainly, certainly not least, may I present, the Princess of Pastries herself, Mademoiselle Madeline Von Krupcake.”
A boot covered in shaggy white fur slipped out of the car, followed by a dainty little hand French manicured to perfection. A girl emerged in silky black pants and a white, puffy, fur-lined jacket, her long blond hair topped with what looked like a real diamond tiara. Even though I loved the crown Ms. Pink gave me … how I envied those twinkling jewels on Maddie’s head! She was the same angelic little girl from the Krupcake commercials, except now she was my age … and very pretty. I could never imagine her going to my school, Abigail Adams Junior High. She oozed a lifestyle of the rich and famous. To top it all off, in her arms was a tiny white dog that looked like a cotton ball with an itsy-bitsy head. I was glad that Marty wasn’t here to see it—because he might get jealous. This dog was adorable … really adorable.
“Wave to our friends, Fitzy,” Madeline cooed into the little pup’s ear as she waved his paw at everyone. Fitzy didn’t seem too happy about it, but I knew Marty would have been thrilled. Marty was a little like me. We were both kind of showoffs.
Maddie turned to the driver and hissed, “Jeffrey, the Maddiecakes. NOW!”
“Oh yes. So sorry, Mademoiselle Madeline.”
What in the world is going on? I wondered. The limo driver dove again through the door behind Maddie, who tried to cover up the commotion by waving little Fitzy’s hand at the crowd again and saying, “Thank you for being here. You’re all too kind.”
When the driver reemerged he had a four-foot-long sterling silver tray of individually wrapped plastic cakes. “Voilà! Maddiecakes for all!” Maddie squealed. “My gift to you. Bon appétit!”
The driver looked like he was about to topple over under the weight of the giant tray as he knelt to the ground, balancing one side on his shoulder. Hands reached out and surrounded Madeline, and she looked like she was positively in Seventh Heaven.
“Have a Maddiecake—they’re delicious,” she repeated, doling out the packages. The Maddiecake was like a doughnut but with no hole, covered with frosting, caramel coated popcorn, and white chocolate chunks. Sweet was one thing, but the Maddiecake looked like a mouthful of cavities.
Pretty soon, everyone was munching away and saying how yummy the Maddiecakes were. Even Sam’s face was plastered with frosting. Don’t get me wrong—I adore my junk food (Chocolate Gag is, after all, my signature dish). But for some reason … I kinda lost my appetite. Maybe Avery’s anti-junk-food lectures were starting to get to me.
Pretty soon everyone’s mouth was white with Maddiecake sugar … except mine and Maddie’s. Maddie’s picture perfectness was totally off the charts … she looked ready to get her picture taken for the cover of a magazine.
Mr. Von Krupcake walked over to Dad and pumped his hand up and down so many times that I was afraid he’d pull it right off. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of arranging a few last-minute decorations,” he gushed. “I thought the situation called for just a smidgen of pomp!”
If this was just a smidgen, I wondered what Mr. Von Krupcake’s real parties were like … and if Madeline had been to tons of them.
I brushed myself off and found a place to stand with the rest of the kids who were watching Madeline—totally awestruck. They were so fascinated that no one even noticed a small black car pull up behind the long limo. No one—including the news crews—even noticed a very chic woman step out of the car. She had sleek red hair parted to the side, with long bangs sweeping over one side of her face. She reached up and neatly tucked the strands behind her ear with a sparkling white glove, exposing an even more sparkling diamond earring. She looked around cautiously and quickly tiptoed to the backdoor.
“Who’s that?” asked the little boy behind me.
I could totally understand not knowing who the Krupcake King was … but Artemia Aaron? In the name of Hollywood and film camp, I simply had to say something. But of course, Mr. Know-It-All beat me to it. “Hellooooo?” said Sam. “That’s Artemia Aaron! She’s like … a world famous movie director.”
“No, not her, Sam,” scoffed the boy. (I couldn’t believe that we’d been at camp for less than ten minutes, and people already knew Sam’s name!) “I meant the girl with the curly red hair. Right there! Is she famous or something?”
As I turned to shake the hand of my new little admirer, Sam burst out laughing. “No way, José! That’s my sister, Maeve. She’s not famous. She’s just my plain, old, annoying sister.”
I glared at Sam. “Not famous yet,” I corrected. “But I most likely will be soon enough.” I smiled my warmest movie star smile. “It’s never too soon for an autograph—” I started to offer, but the little boy wasn’t listening anymore. Maybe some people around here didn’t know who the très glamorous Artemia was, but everyone instantly recognized her son.
“Hey!” cried my almost fan. “That’s him! That’s … that’s … Apollo Aaron! Home Unsupervised is like my favorite movie EVER!”
“COOL!” Sam exclaimed. “Hey, Maeve, can you duck or something? Your hair’s blocking our view.”
It was time to face the fact that my fifteen minutes of fame (okay, two minutes) were officially over, so I stepped into the crowd next to Sam.
We watched as a tall, tanned boy with light brown curly hair got out of the car. He was wearing jeans, a green sweater, sneakers, and a navy blue Dodgers baseball cap. But even though this kid looked like he was a regular freshman from Brookline High School, there was no doubt about it—that kid was surely Apollo Aaron the child movie star! He looked up and gave the crowd a shy half-smile. “Oh!” I gasped, catching a glimpse of his dazzling sky-blue eyes. I thought my heart might skip a beat! He had grown up to be sooo cute! Wait ’til I tell the BSG …
The cameras and kids swarmed around him like bees to honey. Apollo looked totally embarrassed to be the center of so much fuss. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to be drooled over. Wouldn’t having a bunch of people whispering about you be really … flattering? Artemia, seeing that her son was stuck in the people muck, ran back and took his arm.
She smiled warmly and waved at the crowed, showing off her arm-length gloves. “We are so happy to be in Boston!” she called. “And I am very pleased to direct this session of the New York Film Academy Camp!” The crowd erupted into applause and the camera lights flickered. What a star! I sighed and wished I had thought of elbow-length gloves. Hmm … maybe I should have dressed like Audrey Hepburn this morning?
Artemia escorted her shy (but adorable) son in through the backdoor of the theater, and the crowd let out a disappointed groan. Lucky for them, there was another aspiring star to take center stage. Only this time, it wasn’t me.
Madeline ran into the middle of the carpet, eager to return to her place in the spotlight. “And I am very pleased to be a camper at the New York Film Academy Camp!” The cameras flickered again as all eyes turned to Madeline Von Krupcake. Everyone started to ask her questions and she seemed super confident when she answered. Her dad took a red silk hanky from his jacket pocket and started dabbing his eyes.
Sam pulled my arm. “Wait, I don’t get it. Aren’t we all campers here?”
I shrugged. “That’s what I thought.” But Madeline was the only camper in a diamond tiara with a stretch limo. She also seemed to be a natural in front of the fans. Not only was she totally glamorous (obviously with tons of famous connections) but what if she was also an amazing actress/ singer/dancer? What if this Madeline girl
was the serious ack-tour that her father had promised?
CHAPTER
6
Freeze and Justify
Sam went ahead with Dad to turn on the stage lights, leaving me alone with the crowd of campers. At first I was kind of overwhelmed by all the kids yammering on and on. I wondered how I’d ever join in the conversation. Then I realized what they were talking about: our Movie House! “This place is so cool!” one girl whispered to the boy beside her. “It reminds me of the opera house from Phantom of the Opera!”
“Hey,” I interrupted. “Phantom is one of my favorites. I just love the song, ‘Music of the Night.’ Don’t you?” Suddenly I shivered.
“Are you cold?” asked a boy.
“No, it’s just that I hate to think about poor Christine Daaé being dragged down into the dungeons below the theater. I’m an above-ground kind of girl. No bats and creepy crawlies for me.”
He stared at me for a moment. Maybe he thought I was a little weird. But instead, he held out his hand politely. “I’m Mickey.”
“I’m Maeve. Nice to meet you, Mickey.” I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Mickey like the Mouse, right?”
I shook my head as we walked into the stage area. “Nope. I was actually thinking Mickey like Mickey Rooney. He was, like, a big, big star back in the day of Judy Garland and Elizabeth Taylor. Ever heard of him?”
Mickey blushed. “Actually, my mom named me after him. She’s a big Mickey Rooney fan. I kind of come from a long line of movie nuts,” he confided.
“You think that’s bad?” I looked both ways like I was about to reveal a very important secret. “My dad … owns this place.”
Mickey’s eyes grew wide. “No way! You’re the luckiest person ever!”
I smiled back. I wanted to raise my hand and say, “Thank you, thank you very much,” but I knew that the grown-up thing to do was not brag. Besides, hearing all the kids going “ooh” and “aah” as they first entered the theater was already making the skin on the back of my neck prickle. A few younger kids ran straight up the stairs stage left and poked their heads behind the enormous red curtain. Being around so many people who felt the same kind of excitement as I did when they walked into a theater was seriously bizarre and wonderful. It felt like we were all part of a crazy family of theater groupies.
“People, quiet down!” Dad called, but everyone just continued talking. All the kids had gathered around Madeline. The girls especially were asking her all sorts of questions, like where she got her furry boots (Gucci) and her bag (Prada) and her cute little Fitzy (a Pomeranian from Paris). One girl even asked her if she was friends with Hilary Duff, and I think Maddie said that she wasn’t best friends with her, but they were definitely close.
The only person who didn’t look like he’d been hit by Cupid’s Madeline arrow was Apollo Aaron, who was busy moving around heavy boxes and showing the younger kids how to turn on some of the fancy lights. That’s weird. I thought. Considering Madeline and Apollo are both a part of the whole Hollywood scene, I figured the two of them would be the best of friends already. But Apollo seemed more interested in setting up the stage and Madeline seemed more interested in showing off Fitzy.
Artemia click-clacked her way to center stage and clapped her hands together. “Attention, set! QUIEEEET!” she hollered. Whoa, so that was how you commanded an audience as a famous and successful director! I sure had a lot to learn. The kids hushed and immediately scrambled to find seats in the front row of the theater. “Welcome, young actors and filmmakers, to the New York Film Academy’s Boston winter camp!” The room started clapping and hooting—we were all so excited to just be there.
“First of all, this film is going to be created entirely by the people in this room—from the script to the filming. We are going to have videographers, grips, light technicians, set designers, costume designers, editors, makeup artists … every single job that needs to be filled in order to make this movie happen is going to be performed by the members of this camp.”
“What about the actors?” I blurted. Oops. I totally forgot to raise my hand, but it just slipped out. Artemia hadn’t mentioned anything about actors when she went over the jobs, and that was extremely important to me, obviously.
Artemia smiled. “The people at camp who want parts in the movie will have the opportunity to audition,” she assured us.
I heard a lot of people around me breathe sighs of relief. I looked around at the room full of wannabe ack-tours. For the first time in my life I was worried whether I, Maeve Kaplan-Taylor, would actually “cut the mustard,” as my dad used to say. I started to bite my nails and then remembered my perfect silvery manicure. I quickly sat back on my hands.
Artemia went on, “But just because you’re an actor doesn’t mean you won’t be getting your hands dirty. Even the lead actors will have other jobs, such as settings, props, costumes … you get the idea. I am thrilled to be directing the production, but I’ll need assistant directors. And you should all know that there is no easy job in the movie production world. By the time camp is over, all of you will learn that each person on the set matters when it comes to making a movie … which is amazing since we only have ten days to get this done. But believe me, we will get this movie done, and it will be one fabulous movie. And speaking of a fabulous movie, I’m sure you all read the part in the brochure that the plot of the movie is going to come from one of your ideas.”
I felt butterflies in my stomach. Just wait until Artemia heard about Boston Holiday! She’d be so impressed.
“Now I have a question,” Artemia boomed. “Who can tell me when film camp started?”
A few kids’ hands shot into the air. “Ooh, ooh, pick me, pick me!” begged a girl. She reminded me a lot of Betsy Fitzgerald—the resident over-achiever of Ms. Rodriguez’s class. She always went way out of her way to do extra credit assignments and was totally obsessed with her college applications even though it was like Hello? We’re only in seventh grade here! Betsy was kind of nice, but she just got way too intense about school.
“Yes,” Artemia called on the Betsy-clone sitting near the center.
“Camp started at exactly 9 a.m. this morning,” the girl pronounced in a know-it-all voice.
Duh, I thought. Everyone knows that.
But Artemia didn’t say “Exactly.” She just raised her eyebrows and smiled a little. “Anyone else?” she offered.
“It starts right now?” another kid in the crowd peeped.
“Well, that’s one way of looking at it …” Artemia scanned the crowd once more.
Very slowly I felt like my hand was being pulled up by an unstoppable force.
“Yes, Maeve.” She nodded. (I couldn’t believe she actually remembered my name!)
“Well I guess this is the first official day of camp …” I began, “But for me, I started thinking about film camp as soon as I found out about it,” I admitted.
I bit my lip waiting for Artemia’s response. “Very good!” she said. “New York Film Academy Camp started the moment every single one of you wrote your name at the top of the application form. You see, in the movie business, a film doesn’t start with the script, or when the film starts shooting … it starts out as something very small, like a little tiny seed of a dream or an idea. Yes, Madeline?”
I hadn’t even noticed that Madeline had her hand wiggling in the air. “Artemia, I was just thinking that for me, film camp started even before we had a film camp. See, this whole film camp was partially my idea. I had the seed of a dream for having a New York Film Academy Camp right in my hometown, Boston.”
Artemia nodded. “Very good, Madeline. Without vision we’d never have the incredible art and movies that we’re fortunate enough to have. Thank you for your passion. So I hope that you all possess the same attitude as Maeve and Madeline and have done some good brainstorming already. Now who’s excited?” Artemia asked.
All the kids started clapping quietly.
This time everyone cheered and stomped their feet. I caught Sam out of the corner of my eye whooping and shaking his head around so that his crazy, blond hair stuck out everywhere. He looked like a cross between Tweety Bird and Huckleberry Finn. I wanted to laugh. Even if it did mean I’d have to put up with a little bit of annoyingness, it might end up being kind of fun having Sam around.
“I have something else to say,” Madeline announced and without waiting to be called on, continued, “Daddy’s seed of a dream is going to be the most unbelievable film camp ever! He’s going to—”
“Maddie, wait!” Artemia interrupted.
“But, Artemia!” Maddie had this totally stunned look on her face, like no one had ever told her to “hold her horses” before. I’d heard that one all the time.
Artemia said very primly, “Your father hasn’t finalized this with me yet. I don’t want to get peoples’ hopes up.”
Madeline smacked her lips shut and pretended to zip them tight and throw away the key, but the damage had been done. It was obvious peoples’ hopes were already up. Way up. Everyone was chattering about what they thought the Krupcake King’s seed of a dream was … the seed that was going to make this the most unbelievable film camp ever.
“Hee hee, ha ha, it’s okay, Artemia! It’s okay!” Mr. Von Krupcake had the absolute strangest laugh ever. I turned to see him huffing and puffing as he ran down the aisle of the theater. “They’ll find out soon enough.” Then Mr. Von Krupcake did something really strange. Mr. Von Krupcake turned around and tried to lift himself right onto the middle of the stage. Since the stage was pretty high, though, he didn’t quite make it on the first try. He just kept jumping until Dad leaned down and helped hoist him over. In his gray suit and big mustache, I thought that Mr. Von Krupcake sort of looked like a walrus. I could hear some of the other kids snickering quietly. I am proud to say I resisted the urge. First, it wasn’t polite to laugh at people. And second, Mr. Von Krupcake had just fixed up the whole Movie House, which was like beyond nice. So, no matter how funny he looked, I just couldn’t laugh.