by Annie Bryant
“No way,” Nick said.
“She didn’t really pick a fight, but she was yelling a ton,” Avery admitted.
“The mother kept yelling that the ball was out of bounds,” Isabel said.
“Sounds intense!” Nick said.
“It kinda was,” Avery nodded.
“I felt so sorry for that little girl,” Maeve said.
“Megan,” Katani added.
“She was so embarrassed. She looked as if she wanted to hide,” Charlotte said, suddenly empathizing that this would have been one of those times when being able to become invisible would have really come in handy.
“Why do parents act like that?” Isabel wanted to know. “It’s only a game.”
“Parents are so weird sometimes. They make such a big deal over stuff. They should just let the kids handle it,” Avery said. “You know what else is funny? Her mother couldn’t come to two of the games, and Megan played much better when she wasn’t around.” Avery took a big gulp of her hot chocolate.
“Big surprise,” said Maeve.
“Sounds like the only thing out of bounds was Megan’s mom, she probably needs to chill out!” Nick said, as he wiped off the table next to them.
CHAPTER 2
The Talent Show
Isabel was running late.
She ran down Beacon Street, turning right on Harvard, and passing Yuri, who was just setting up the fruit stands outside his shop.
“Hey!” she waved, but she didn’t stop. Yuri was Charlotte’s friend, and lately, she and Isabel often stopped to talk to him together. Sometimes he even gave them a free apple.
“Hola, Isabel! What? You don’t stop to see your friend Yuri today?”
“I’m so late,” Isabel shouted back over her shoulder. “Charlotte and I’ll stop by later.” Isabel loved Yuri. He acted so grumpy, but he took the time to speak Spanish with her every day. He said he was trying to set an example for Americans, who, he claimed, were “language impaired.”
“Maybe Yuri will not be here later. Maybe Yuri will close early and go to the beach!” Yuri was obviously making a joke. Today was even colder than yesterday. “You Americans,” he yelled after her, “always rushing, never time to enjoy…”
Isabel sprinted up the front of Abigail Adams Junior High, her long, black hair whipping around her face as she ran. At the playground just to the side of the school there was the usual cast of young mothers from the neighborhood, sipping their morning coffee and chatting back and forth as they watched their toddlers stumble and fall every few feet in the sandbox. The toddlers looked like fat little cartoon munchkins with their chubby faces and puffy jackets. Normally, Charlotte and Isabel would have stopped to say hi and play with them for a few minutes, but there was no time today. Isabel’s alarm clock hadn’t gone off this morning, and she was too late to stop.
“You better go, girl!” one of the mothers cheered her on. “The second bell hasn’t rung yet!”
As if on cue, the bell sounded.
Isabel sprinted past Mrs. Fields, the school principal, who was standing outside on the school steps talking to two custodians. They were all staring at some disgusting looking brown water that had pooled alongside the building. One of the custodians scratched his head as if he were seriously puzzled about something. Isabel rushed past them, pushing open the big wooden door with all her might.
Too late. The halls were deserted. Certainly, not a good sign. She stopped dead in her tracks, wondering what to do next. Isabel hated moments like this. You only had a split second to make a decision, and what if you were wrong?
If you were late to school, you were supposed to stop in the office and have Mrs. Fields sign a pass so you could get into class. But she was only a minute late. And besides, Mrs. Fields was outside. Isabel didn’t want to interrupt her. And she didn’t want to be any later than she already was. So, she decided to go for it. She would break the rules, just this once.
PERFORMANCE ANXIETY
When she opened the door to Ms. Ciara’s music class, Isabel could hear Henry Yurt singing “Happy Birthday” at the top of his lungs. He didn’t sound good; in fact, he sounded really, really terrible, kind of like a nasty old screech owl. The really funny part was that Henry looked so sincere. But was he? Henry was a puzzle. Was he faking or just the worst singer ever known to man?
Isabel wondered whose birthday it was. As she moved into the room, she saw Henry standing by the side of his desk, not singing to anyone. He was looking straight ahead. And no one was singing along. This was a solo performance.
Ms. Ciara saw Isabel standing in the back of the classroom and motioned her to an empty seat next to Charlotte. “You okay?” Charlotte whispered.
“Alarm meltdown. It didn’t go off,” Isabel whispered back and sat down.
When Henry finished singing, the class just sat there, not knowing what to do. It was such an outrageous performance. Henry couldn’t sing a single note on key.
Most of the kids were trying not to laugh, all except for Anna and Joline, who were giggling madly. Trademark Queens of Mean behavior.
“Well, that certainly was an interesting choice, Henry,” Ms. Ciara said. “Please tell the class why you picked that particular song.”
“I couldn’t help it, Ms. C,” Henry grinned. “You said to bring in a favorite song, something that means something to you and your family, but my family is so unmusical it’s not even funny. The only song we ever sing is ‘Happy Birthday,’ and even that is pretty rare. We usually go out to restaurants on our birthdays so someone else will sing the song for us.”
That did it. The whole class burst into laughter at that one, even Ms. Ciara was smiling. “You may sit down now, Henry,” Ms. Ciara said. The boys in the back, led by the Trentini twins, began to chant “Yurt, Yurt, Yurt” as Henry walked back to his seat.
“Settle down,” Ms. Ciara said sharply. The boys obeyed immediately because everyone knew that Ms. Ciara was not opposed to sending kids to the principal’s office. She was a nice teacher, but you had to really behave in her class. She would have made a good policewoman.
“Clearly, Henry put some…meaningful thought into his assignment,” Ms. Ciara said, struggling for the appropriate words, “and into his performance. Let’s see what some of the rest of you came up with.”
Naturally, Betsy Fitzgerald’s hand shot into the air. Betsy was always the first to raise her hand for everything. She was driven to make a good impression on all of her teachers. Isabel was curious about Betsy and what made a girl try so hard to be the best all the time. At the same time, she had to admit that Betsy was pretty nice. She was never really mean to anyone. It was just that she was…sooo intense, and so PERFECT!
Isabel felt kind of bad for her when Ms. Ciara looked around and spotted Maeve’s hand.
“Maeve, why don’t you go next?”
Maeve didn’t stand next to her desk, but rather walked confidently to the front of the room where she could face the entire class. While Maeve sometimes struggled with her schoolwork, she was a true performer. All her classes in drama and music had prepared her to stand in front of an audience and not be paralyzed with embarrassment. The only time Maeve remembered feeling anxious on stage was when she won an award for her blanket project. When Maeve saw her parents sitting separately for the first time, she got upset and clammed up like she’d never seen a stage before. Very embarrassing and confidence shredding!
Today was different. Maeve was totally in charge. She didn’t even care that the Queens of Mean, Anna and her “I’m so never gonna leave your side” sidekick, Joline, were whispering about her.
“I’m going to sing a song from Ireland,” Maeve said.
“And why did you pick this particular song, Maeve?” Ms. Ciara asked, not wanting any more surprises.
Maeve thought for a moment. “I think the real reason I picked it was because I can sing it a cappella.”
“Does anyone know what a cappella means?” Ms. Ciara turned to the class.
“It means u
naccompanied,” Charlotte blurted out. Ooo! she hoped she hadn’t sounded like a know-it-all. She looked around quickly to see if anyone was rolling their eyes.
“That’s right, Charlotte,” said Ms. Ciara.
Maeve taped up a poster collage of Ireland. It was a landscape with gardens and fields and old castle ruins. In one corner, there was a thatched roof cottage. Little green shamrocks were stenciled all around the border.
“I thought I needed a little set decoration,” Maeve smiled. Leave it to Maeve. She loved to make things sparkle.
Unfortunately, one end of the poster came undone and started to roll up. Anna and Joline took to snickering at Maeve, who was trying to flatten the corner. Katani glared at them and they made a face at her, but they stopped. Katani had a way of getting people to back off. Maeve flashed her a grateful smile, and Ms. Ciara went to her desk and came back with more pushpins.
Isabel took advantage of the extra time Maeve was using to get herself settled. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a cassette player. Then she found her music notebook and flipped to the page where she had written today’s assignment. She hoped she hadn’t misunderstood what they were supposed to be doing. She was pretty sure Ms. Ciara hadn’t told them they had to sing. She would have remembered that. Isabel didn’t mind singing with a group, but getting up and performing by herself was way too terrifying for words. What if she sounded like Henry Yurt? Isabel felt she would just die of embarrassment.
Better check. Whew! Her notes just said to bring in music that represented some kind of family tradition; it didn’t say sing. The music Isabel had picked was from her cousin Irma’s Quinceanera celebration, which had taken place last summer at their grandparents’ home in Mexico City.
In the Mexican community, when a girl turns fifteen, it is cause for a big celebration, one that is often planned years in advance. Isabel’s sister’s Quinceanera celebration was planned for this coming spring. Relatives and friends would be coming from all over. Even though she hadn’t been feeling all that well lately, Isabel’s mom was enjoying making plans for Elena Maria’s Quince. It gave them all something to look forward to. Hardly a week went by when they didn’t plan some detail, from the pink dress that looked like a bridal gown, to the princess tiara, to the selection of the Quinceanera’s court, which was the toughest decision so far.
Isabel wasn’t all that sure she wanted a Quince. It seemed like an awful lot of planning for just one night. Besides, knowing herself, she would manage to spill paint all over her fancy party dress. In fact, looking down, Isabel could see a splotch of blue paint the size of a quarter on her clean white T-shirt. Great, thought Isabel. I just hope Ms. Ciara doesn’t pick me to go to the front, she thought.
Isabel looked up from her notes. Maeve was singing a song called “She Moves Through the Fair.” It was a traditional Irish ballad with a mournful air. Maeve had a clear, strong voice that could belt out a ballad or switch to a soprano without missing a beat. Everyone was listening intently.
Elena Maria wanted to sing at her Quince celebration. She was all excited about it. She practiced her scales religiously any time of day or night, which had gotten to be kind of a joke between Isabel and her mother. Elena Maria was not nearly as good a singer as Maeve, but she was so enthusiastic that no one wanted to discourage her. Isabel thought her sister should stick with cooking, which she was really good at. But no, Elena Maria was bound and determined to master singing. And to her sister’s credit, Isabel had to admit, she was getting better.
When Maeve finished her song, Ms. Ciara stood still for a long moment. “That was beautiful,” Ms. Ciara said.
Isabel caught Dillon looking at Maeve. He was clearly enamored by her singing. She would have to remember to tell Maeve about the look on his face.
When she had finished, Maeve just stood there, punctuating the silence with her breathing. Then, with a big grin plastered across her face, just as the kids were starting to clap, she broke into “The Rattlin’ Bog,” a wild and lively Irish tune. By the end of the song, everyone was laughing and clapping in time. Amazingly enough, even some of the boys in the back were drumming on their desks. Henry Yurt jumped up and managed a pretty credible Irish jig. Ms. Ciara was enjoying herself so much she let the Yurtmeister continue all around the room.
When the second song was over, Maeve took a bow. Riley shook his head in disbelief as the whole classroom broke into applause. Maeve was so proud she practically flew back to her desk. The thought that she made people happy with her singing made her feel all toasty and warm inside.
When things settled down, Ms. Ciara said, “That was just wonderful, Maeve. I have a feeling we may see you on a real Broadway stage some day.” Maeve beamed. This completely made up for the C-she got on the math quiz yesterday.
“I know it was supposed to be one song. But my dad thought that everyone would really like both songs.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Ms. Ciara said. “Now can you tell us something about the family tradition of singing Irish songs? Such as how it started?”
“How it started?” Maeve looked at her blankly.
“Yes, could you give us some background? Were these songs passed down through the generations, or were they sung on some special occasions, like Henry’s song?”
Some of the kids couldn’t help giggling at the reference to Henry.
“Um…” Maeve hesitated. “They sang them all the time. Both my mother and father…I mean, whenever they felt like singing. They used to do harmonies.” Used to. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Maeve realized she’d said more than she intended. She could feel her face getting red.
Avery and Katani exchanged looks. Clearly, Maeve was uncomfortable. They both hoped that Ms. Ciara wouldn’t ask any more questions. Maeve’s parents hadn’t sung any songs together since they had been separated.
“So these are songs that have been passed down through your family?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Not actually passed down.” The truth was she had learned them with her family. “We learned them from my grandparents and from some old Irish movies…we actually…” Maeve’s voice broke off.
Anna and Joline snickered again.
What was up with these two anyway? thought Isabel, as Ms. Ciara shot them an admonishing look.
A minute ago, Maeve was in her glory. Now she just wished she could sit down.
“That’s very interesting. I want you all to think about this because there’s a lesson here about traditions and how they get started. For any of you who don’t know, Maeve’s parents own our local movie theater. So it makes sense that some of their traditions would come from the movies. See, we’re not only learning about music here, we’re learning about family and cultural traditions and how they develop over the years…Very nice job, Maeve.”
Maeve sat down. Relief spread over her. She loved singing in public, but she didn’t want to get into family matters, not now. She couldn’t trust what her responses would be if anyone asked about what was going on at home. The only people she felt she could talk to were her best friends.
“Who wants to go next?” Ms. Ciara asked. “I know Maeve is a hard act to follow, but remember, Maeve studies singing and dancing outside of school. I don’t expect the rest of you to perform at her level.” You could practically hear the collective sigh of relief. Ms. Ciara asked again, “Any volunteers?”
Still, not a single hand went up. Maeve’s song had been so good that no one wanted to follow her. Not even Betsy Fitzgerald, whose hands remained folded on her desk.
Walking around the classroom, Ms. Ciara spotted the cassette player on Isabel’s desk.
“Isabel,” she said. “Why don’t you go next?”
Oh, no, lucky me, sighed Isabel to herself. I shouldn’t have taken out my recorder. There was nothing to do but get up from her desk and walk slowly to the front of the room. Very slowly. Maybe the clocks were wrong and the bell would ring. Isabel put her right hand behind her back and crossed her fingers
as she turned to face her classmates.
Following Maeve was the last thing she wanted to do, but she couldn’t exactly say no. She took as much time as she could setting up the cassette player.
“This music is from my cousin’s Quinceanera.”
“Quincey a whata?” Anna whispered so everyone could hear.
Ms. Ciara didn’t even say anything this time. She was probably getting sick of dealing with the Queens of Mean, thought Maeve. I mean, how many times a day would you want to tell kids to be quiet, or shape up, or whatever? Meanwhile, Maeve could see Isabel’s hand shaking as she slid her tape into the player.
“Quinceanera is a special celebration that happens in the Mexican community when a girl turns fifteen. It’s a like a growing-up ceremony. The first part takes place in the church, but that’s mainly for the family. Afterwards, there’s a huge party, with costumes and dancing and everything.” Isabel could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Suddenly, in front of all these people, the idea of a Quince seemed very old fashioned.
“Kind of like a Bat Mitzvah?” Maeve offered.
“Yes, kind of. But practically every Mexican girl gets a Quince party. People bring gifts, and usually the party lasts all night.”
“I think it would be cool to stay up all night,” Avery said.
“The Quinceanera, which is the name for the girl whose party it is, usually wears a tiara and carries a scepter, like a princess. And she has a court of fifteen Damas—which are girls—and Chambelans—the boys. They are the ones who do the dance, which is usually a waltz.”
“A waltz?” Anna snorted. “No one does waltzes anymore.”
Ms. Ciara shot her a really scary look. Anna better be careful, thought Avery. Ms. Ciara looked like she had had enough. Detention looked about a minute away.
Isabel’s face was getting redder and redder, she could feel it.
“Go on,” Ms. Ciara said. “This is very interesting.”
Isabel took a breath before speaking again. She couldn’t wait for this to be over so she could sit down. She reached for some photographs she had brought, hoping that no one would notice her shaky hands as she passed them out. “These pictures are from my cousin’s Quince. It was in Mexico City last summer. The ceremony was at the Church of San Juan Bautista, and the party was at my grandparents’ house.”