Maeve on the Red Carpet

by Annie Bryant

  “Hey!” I yelled over the music.

  She stared at the ground, like I wasn’t even there. “Hello? I said ‘Hey!’ The polite thing to do is say ‘hey’ back.”

  Maddie slowly looked up. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought maybe … you might want company,” I answered.

  “What?” Maddie shouted.

  “COMPANY!”

  Maddie cupped her ear. “WHAT?”

  “Come here.” I sighed. I took her hand and dragged her into the hallway where it was a bit quieter. To my surprise, Maddie didn’t resist. What a switch this was from the days when I was following her around.

  “Why aren’t you dancing?” I faced Maddie. “This is Girl Authority. You gotta work it, girl.” I offered her a smile.

  “Why do you care? I thought you hated me,” she grumbled.

  “No … I don’t hate you.”

  Maddie looked suspicious. “Whatever. It’s okay if you do.”

  I sighed. I didn’t hate Maddie. I felt sorry for her. Maddie could have her limos, and designer gowns, and fancy ice sculptures. But she was missing something—something huge. I thought of the amazing friends I’d met at camp, and of course, my best friends—the BSG. I wouldn’t trade them in for all the glamour and glitz in the world.

  “I don’t hate anybody,” I confessed, remembering a little tip my Dad taught me. “It takes way too much energy to hate, and is soooo not worth it. I was pretty mad at you though.”

  Maddie squinted. “Is this about that whole stupid Boston Holiday thing?”

  “Maddie! That wasn’t stupid. Not to me. I thought I could trust you. I told you my idea and you stole it. And you didn’t even say sorry.”

  Maddie shrugged. “I know. Honestly, I didn’t mean to. It just kind of … happened.”

  “How does that just happen?” I demanded to know.

  “Well, I wanted to be the one who had the brilliant movie idea. And I did think of a few, I promise. I even wrote them down in a notebook.”

  “You did?”

  Maddie bit her lip. “Well, technically Kenneth did. Anyway, when you told me about Boston Holiday I knew it was the perfect idea. I wanted Boston Holiday to be mine so badly, and I always get what I want. So … I just took it.”

  “But you just can’t do that!” I cried.

  Maddie nodded. “I know. It’s a really bad habit. It sort of comes naturally to me now.” She let out a little heave and a sniffle-snort. It was weird. I felt like I was seeing Madeline Von Krupcake for the very first time.

  “You definitely should quit that habit,” I told her. “Stop stealing what isn’t yours and meddling with people’s lives to get exactly what you want. Seriously. You’re going to end up missing out on the most important thing.”

  “The most important thing?” asked Maddie.

  Did she really not know?

  “Friends!” I exclaimed.

  “Friends?” Maddie looked stunned. She blinked, and I could’ve sworn I saw a single tear escape out of her light blue eye. “Friends? You really think friends are the most important thing?”

  “Well duh, after family of course …” I bonked my head as a joke.

  “Maeve, you are so cute.” Maddie started laughing. She laughed harder and harder. “Friends? Hah. Are friends going to win you lead roles in movies? Are friends going to buy you mansions, and pools, and cars, and tennis courts? Well actually, maybe rich friends will. The point is, I always get what I want, and I’ll do anything to get it. It’s the best. Don’t you see, Maeve?” Maddie threw her Pashmina scarf over her shoulder. “Everyone is just jealous of me. I have it all.”

  It was at that exact moment that I did see, and what I saw was this: Princess Maddiecake was missing out on some serious Vitamin L-O-V-E. “Good for you, Maddie.” I smiled my best, most Hollywood-worthy smile. “Enjoy the rest of the concert. Go Girl Authority!”

  If Maddie was happy living in her own little fantasy, that was fine by me. I, on the other hand, had a reality to get back to. And my reality didn’t just have the most important thing—it was chock full of it! That was when I noticed. In the middle of the stage, dancing with Girl Authority and belting out every single word, was my very own little brother, Sam. What do ya know? Looks like the acting bug is genetic after all!

  As I ran back to the ballroom and back to my friends, I couldn’t help but whisper proudly, “I really do have it all … and I love it!

  CHAPTER

  20

  Hurray for Hollywood!

  The sky is a ribbon of magenta and gold as the big, red sun retreats behind the mountains. As if this evening wasn’t already perfect enough, tonight there’s a full moon. In fact, the moon is SO enormous, I seriously can’t tell if it’s real. (Around here, you never know … it could be part of a set!)

  My gown—my incredible, satin, sequined gown—swishes and swirls around me. It’s honestly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn in my life. Want to guess what the color is? (Like there’s even a question!) Pink … pomegranate pink. Now, I know pink and red don’t usually go together. That is, outside of Valentine’s Day. But don’t forget. There’s one shade of red that matches with everything: Red Carpet. Look out Hollywood. Make way for the one and only Maeve. (I’ve been thinking about doing the whole no-last-name thing … like Madonna and Beyoncé.)

  I wave at my many adoring fans and blow a kiss to my beloved family. Mom looks oh-so-beautiful in her velvet plum dress. Dad and Sam, in their très dapper tuxedos, are oh-so-handsome. Mom dabs her eyes with a tissue. Ohh … She’s crying, just a little bit. This is a big night for all of us.

  Breathe, Maeve. Just breathe , I remind myself. As I stroll down the world-famous Hollywood Boulevard, the cameras are going crazy. The flashes all around me are the brightest of bright. No matter how much I want to, I absolutely can’t squint. (Rule #1 of being a movie star: You must look paparazzi-perfect at all times.) When I reach my destination, the crowd forms a crescent around me.

  “How do you feel, Maeve?” asks a reporter, holding out a microphone.

  “I feel like the luckiest girl in the whole entire world!”

  “Maeve!” another reporter calls. “What’s it like to walk in the shoes of Hollywood’s greatest legends?”

  I point my toe and show off my sparkly pink pumps. “It’s a little blistery but totally worth it!” I reply.

  “Maeve! Maeve! Maeve!” all the people are shouting at once.

  Renaldo rushes to my side and shoos away the cameras. “That’s enough questions for now. Maeve, sweetie, it’s time. Do your thing.”

  The sight of my name, “Maeve Kaplan-Taylor” (in gold, with its very own tile on the Hollywood Walk of Fame) is almost too much to bear. Renaldo has to steady me so I don’t lose my balance.

  The cameras snap and flicker as I bend down and squish my hands into the freshly-poured cement. It is cold, wet, and wonderful. Dad’s voice booms over all the rest. “This is it! Say cheese, Maeve.”

  “CHEESE!” I looked up and smiled as Dad clicked the camera. Okay, maybe I didn’t have my very own name in the Walk of Fame yet … but I did have the next best thing!

  “Wow, Maeve. I can’t believe your hands are the exact same size as Audrey Hepburn’s!” Sam knelt down beside me to get a closer look. “That is too weird.”

  “I know! It must be a sign or something,” I giggled.

  Hollywood was every bit as glamorous in real life as I imagined it would be. My gown—my incredible, satin, sequined gown in pomegranate pink—really was the most beautiful thing I’d ever worn in my life. Mom and Dad said this was an occassion to splurge. After all, Mr. Von Krupcake was taking us all to Hollywood. (Mr. Ansel Aaron made sure of that!) Ms. Razzberry Pink had a friend who was a dress-maker, and she whipped up this dress in two weeks. I was in heaven. I was dressed in pink and at the red carpet premiere of Boston Holiday after all. It was a very big deal. And even though I didn’t have a star on the Walk of Fame quite yet, I knew that somewhere on
Hollywood Boulevard there was a future spot reserved for Ms. Maeve Kaplan-Taylor.

  Film camp didn’t just go out with a bang—this was an explosion. Mr. Von Krupcake, true to his word, had arranged a bona fide movie premiere, complete with all the glitter. I’m talking cameras, limousines, gowns, tuxedos, and of course … a red carpet. Plus, we were allowed to invite our whole families. I had to admit, it was really generous of Mr. Von Krupcake. I wished we got to bring our best friends too, but alas, my darlings, the BSG, would have to miss out on this adventure. Of course, I promised to tell them every tiny detail.

  I wanted to run around the red carpet and see all my film camp friends, but the outside of the theater was so crowded I had to use all my powers of concentration just to keep track of my own family. Mom and Dad were working on keeping track too. I could tell, because they couldn’t take their eyes off each other. Then again, Mom did look beautiful in her dress … which was plum. And Dad did look handsome too … in his tuxedo. (Who says dreams can’t come true?)

  “Attention, ladies and gentlemen!” Artemia stood in the middle of the carpet. The crowd—breathless—drew back around her. She wore a smashing gown made of ruby red satin. Her sleek, auburn hair was twisted into a bun using two chopsticks with diamond butterflies on the ends. I noticed she had a tiny microphone clipped behind her ear. “This is it. The moment you’ve all been waiting for.”

  Where’s Apollo? I wondered. I stood on my tiptoes and scanned the faces, but the carpet was so packed, it was impossible for me to spot any of my friends. Everyone just looked like one gorgeous movie star after another. If only Apollo were wearing his favorite Dodgers hat, finding him would be no problem.

  Artemia went on, “I am pleased to welcome you to the world premiere, first-ever public screening, of the New York Film Academy’s production of Boston Holiday! Now, in an orderly fashion, please make your way into the theater.”

  Everyone cheered and began to walk toward the grand marble entrance of the building. But then, suddenly, the people stopped and turned around. A white stretch limousine rolled up to the front of the red carpet, followed by not one, not two, but THREE news trucks full of reporters.

  Sam tugged at my hand. “Bet I know who this is …”

  I put my hands on my hips. Sure, I was no math genius or anything, but come on! That’s a bet I’d never take. “Okay, Sam, do you really think I’m that—ow!” Someone stepped on my poor big toe. A mob of kids, like a herd of wild animals, charged past me toward the limo. Dad lifted Sam into the air to get a better look. By the time Sam had gotten a glimpse of what was going on, the word was already out: Justin DePre, winner of the hit reality TV show U.S. Superstar, was attending our very own red carpet premiere.

  “I see him! I see him!” Sam cried. “Hey, Maeve, he’s signing autographs.”

  “Oh, no fair,” I murmured, wishing to rewind five years to when I was still small enough to be lifted onto Dad’s shoulders. Justin DePre was fourteen years old and beyond adorable. And when I say adorable, I would be talking Justin’s-CrushMagazine-cover-is-on-my-mathbinder adorable. (I needed the cutest of boys to make my math ANYTHING look good!) Justin’s yellow spiked hair was his trademark, along with his swoon-worthy hit single, “Secret Study Buddies.” I could completely understand why everyone would be freaking out about Justin DePre being here. But just why IS he here? That was the part I couldn’t quite figure out.

  “Maeve,” Sam shouted down to me, “Guess who he came with …”

  I didn’t have to guess. I already knew.

  Cameras flashed wildly and reporters swarmed the dazzling teen star and his glossy blond date, Madeline Von Krupcake. She paraded proudly down the red carpet arm and arm with Justin DePre, waving gracefully, blowing kisses, and striking poses for the photographers.

  “Madeline, how long have you and Justin been an item?”

  “Madeline, is it true that you’re starring in Justin’s ‘U Ain’t Crawling Back 2 Me’ music video?”

  “Madeline, can you comment about the rumors that you stole Justin from socialite Venice Doubletree? Is it true that you and Venice are no longer friends?”

  Madeline waited for the hubbub to simmer down before she answered. “Justin DePre and I are dear old friends,” she looked at Justin mysteriously. (I wondered how their paths could have possibly ever crossed with Maddie growing up Boston, and Justin being from a small cheese farm in Wisconsin. Old friends? Mmm … the power of Maddiecakes. I wondered if Justin was a fan.)

  Maddie went on “As far as the rumors that I am to star in the ‘U Ain’t Crawling Back 2 Me’ video … my publicist and I have no comment.” Maddie grabbed Justin’s hand and tried to squeeze through the crowd and into the theater. But with all the kids shoving paper at Justin DePre to sign and the reporters screeching, “Maddie, Justin! Over here, over here,” the two star-studded sensations were positively stuck.

  Lucky for me, this was one red carpet occasion when I would be spared from the pesky paparazzi. With the rest of the kids and families, we snuck right by the huge crowd around Maddie and Justin. As I walked away I could hear Maddie’s perfect-for-stage voice boom, “Venice Doubletree is a spoiled, double-crossing princess and she is NO friend of mine.”

  Sam and I looked at each other and shook our heads.

  The theater filled up quickly, but we got fabulous seats right smack in the middle. I thought maybe Apollo would be by the stage adjusting the lights or something. I squinted and examined the entire room. Still, he was nowhere to be found.

  I sat in between Mom and Dad. Sam insisted on taking the aisle seat, which was probably best. (He had a habit of leaving movies at least three times in the middle to get something.)

  “Are you excited, sweetie?” Mom asked.

  “The word ‘yes’ doesn’t begin to describe!” I answered. “This might be one of the top three most exciting things ever to happen in the history of Maeve.”

  Dad grinned. “What are the other things?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know yet. But I’m reserving places for two at least. I’m going to have a very exciting life, Dad.”

  He nodded. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”

  The lights grew dim and I squeezed Mom’s and Dad’s hands. A large, white castle appeared on the screen. The narrator (Apollo) began, “Once upon a time, in a faraway land called Tazmundo, there was a princess who had everything. Everything, that is … but adventure!”

  The castle turned into the Boston skyline and cut to Sufoo (ME!!!) running through Chinatown carrying a bundle of fabric.

  “And so,” continued the narrator, “our story begins …”

  Red Fooey

  Okay, I admit—I was crying a tiny bit at the end of Boston Holiday. It was just so tragic that Grego and Sophia could never be together, on account of Sophia being the future Queen of Tazmundo, and Grego being a kung fu instructor who didn’t want to give up his U.S. citizenship. “But Grego, no matter what happens …” Princess Sophia uttered tearfully, from her royal convertible, “… we’ll always have Boston. And this.” Princess Sophia released a pink parasol, and her car rode down Newbury Street and into the sunset, with Grego and Sufoo left in the distance.

  For a second, I forgot I was watching a movie. That is, until the clapping and cheering began. Dad tapped me on the shoulder and turned me around. “Maeve! Look!” People were shooting out of their seats to give Boston Holiday a standing ovation. I had been a part of standing ovations before, but it felt really weird to be doing one for myself. Still, when people stand in the theater, the rule was you stood. Mom and Dad were practically jumping, they were clapping so hard. I peered around them to see if Sam was standing too, but strangely, his chair was empty.

  “Look! Look!” shouted a little kid in the front row. He pointed at the screen. “It’s not over! Something’s happening!”

  Sure enough, there was something happening … a single red rectangle of light. I peered to the back of the theater and noticed two people huddled around the proj
ector: Apollo and Sam. In the middle of the screen, in black inky print, flashed the words, “Red Fooey. Produced and directed by Sam Kaplan-Taylor. Edited by Apollo Aaron.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this …” I whispered to myself.

  The song, “Everybody was ‘Kung Fu Fighting,’” started to play, as a person dressed as a green, goopy monster did a kung fu kick for the camera. But it wasn’t just any old green, goopy monster … it was me. Then the movie got even scarier. I watched, wide-eyed, as a straight-haired, much meaner version of me strutted proudly around the kitchen for the camera. Suddenly it all came flooding back—how horribly I’d acted at the beginning of camp.

  “Oh nooooo …” I breathed.

  Sam had caught everything on tape—from my spoiled rotten diva days to me snoring in the car at Boston Common. Clip after clip, I watched myself smear makeup on my tooth, fall on ice during rehearsal, and break into an Irish jig when I thought no one was looking. I had no idea my brother had been taping so much. I wanted to disappear on the spot.

  Sam’s mini documentary ended with a shot of me flying into the bush during the last day of filming and then the final cut where I successfully grabbed the umbrella. If the movie hadn’t been “Maeve the Embarrassing,” it would have actually been kind of funny. But as far as I was concerned, Red Fooey was far from a laughing matter.

  Unfortunately, I was outnumbered. The entire theater was clapping and laughing hysterically. “Take a bow! Take a bow!”

  One by one, each of the film camp kids got out of their seats and made their way to the front of the theater. The more kids filled the front, the louder the clapping became. Even Artemia and Dad went up. They had to—people practically dragged them out of their seats. But I couldn’t move … my feet felt like they were cemented to the floor.

  Mom gave me a nudge. “Go on, Maeve. Get up there.”

  “I can’t! Not after Red Fooey … it’s way too embarrassing!”

  At that moment, a powder blue tuxedo started bolting toward me from the back of the theater. It was David Dell. And he was shouting something. “We want Red Fooey! We want Red Fooey!”