I was pretty proud of myself.
From the moment Stephie got in the van with us I began to wonder whether I’d done the right thing by asking her along on our outing. The members of the We Kids Club had said it would be good for her, and so had Lisa Meri. And of course Stephie’s father had said it was all right for her to go. He should know best.
But in the van on the way to Hollywood, Stephie was so clingy — and so different from Erick and Ryan. Was she going to have an emotional asthma attack? Was she frightened being with so many strangers, and on her way to an equally strange place? I kept one arm around Stephie during the entire ride, and the other hand on her inhalator, which she had given me and was in my pocket. Boy, was I relieved when we parked the van and Stephie was still sitting next to me, breathing normally.
We ambled toward the theme park. Stephie held my hand and did not say one word. But I could see her looking around with interest. She was taking everything in, in her own quiet way.
And then — we entered the world of Universal Studios and Stephie came to life. Her eyes positively lit up.
“Look, Mary Anne!” she cried. “There’s Woody Woodpecker! … Ooh, and look at this store. Look at all the stuff in it. Can I buy a T-shirt? And this hat? And this stuffed animal? Puh-lease? Daddy gave me spending money.”
“Why don’t we wait until we’re leaving before we buy souvenirs? Otherwise, we’re just going to have to lug them around all day.”
“Okay,” said Stephie affably, jumping from one foot to the other.
I almost said, “Calm down,” but thought better of it.
Soon we were on line for the tram ride through the studios. I spotted a fake Frankenstein leaning against a tree and pointed him out to Stephie, so that she would be prepared when we walked by him. To my horror, the “fake” Frankenstein jumped out and tugged at Stephie’s pigtails. Immediately I put my hand on her inhalator again. But Stephie giggled at the Frankenstein, even though he did not change the horrible expression on his face.
“He pulled my braid!” said Stephie in delight. “He must like me!”
(I loosened my grip on the inhalator.)
After waiting for fifteen minutes or so (and I must say that Stephie was a much more patient waiter than either Erick or Ryan), we boarded the tram. The seats were six across in each row.
“Ooh, can I sit on the end?” asked Stephie excitedly. (She had just spotted Frankenstein lurching around the tram. I think she was hoping for another pigtail-pull.)
“Sure,” I said.
Erick and Ryan were not happy. Kristy had made them sit in the middle two seats.
“How come she gets to sit by the side?” whined Ryan.
“Yeah,” added Erick.
Kristy and I exchanged a glance. We knew why, but we couldn’t very well tell the kids that it was because we thought Stephie would be well behaved, but the boys needed supervision. Luckily, Frankenstein did come by then, and Erick whipped out his camera. All was forgotten.
Kristy and I exchanged another glance. This one meant, Whew!
When everyone was settled, our tour guide introduced himself and gave us warnings about staying in our seats and keeping our hands inside the tram at all times. Stephie, who was resting the very tips of her fingers on the edge of the tram, immediately pulled her hand into her lap, looking guilty.
“Don’t worry,” I told her.
“Okay,” she replied, but she was solemn and subdued throughout the movie and the long demonstration of special effects. She was interested, but she was awfully quiet.
“Feeling okay?” I asked her as we left the special-effects stage and reclaimed our seats on the tram.
“I’m fine,” she replied. And then she added, “Honest.”
“Okay.” (I was not reassured.)
However, once the tour got going, Stephie perked up.
The tour was not exactly restful, but Stephie loved everything. You would not believe the things that happened on our ride. I can’t remember the order in which things happened, but this is what went on:
We drove through a dark tunnel and suddenly, from below us, King Kong loomed up. He was awful-looking. Even some of the adults on the tour were scared. Something burst into flames (false ones, I hope), sirens were screaming, a helicopter smashed to the ground and … King Kong was on the loose. Stephie was literally face to face with him. She gripped my hand (I gripped the inhalator) but she just shrieked with delight, even when he opened his mouth and bared his yellow teeth. (By the way, I could swear he had banana-breath.) His hairy chest and blazing eyes were just inches from Stephie — and she was giggling!
On another part of the tour, the guide began saying something like, “For those of you who remember the TV show McHale’s Navy …” (My friends and I looked at each other and shrugged. McHale’s Navy? It must have been one of those shows our parents watched. Maybe even our grandparents.) “For those of you who remember McHale’s Navy, here’s where it was filmed. Remember all that water? Well, this is it.” (We were driving by a body of water the size of a small pond.) “Of course, we haven’t filmed the show in years, so this is an unused—”
Whoosh! Bang! Whoosh! Bang!
In the pond, two somethings exploded loudly, spraying water into the air.
“Hmm, I guess there are still a few undetonated bombs out there,” said our tour guide, trying to look concerned and surprised.
I put my arm protectively around Stephie in case another bomb should go off, but Stephie had loved the excitement.
“Cool!” she said.
At another point on the ride, our guide was talking away again. “Here we are, approaching this little Mexican village that we’ve used as a backdrop in many movies. Isn’t it nice that you can see it when the sun is shining and … Uh-oh. What’s that? I thought I heard thunder. And is that rain?”
Before I knew what was happening, a flood of water was rushing down a hill toward us and the tour guide was crying, “Look out! It’s a flash flood!”
Of course it wasn’t real, and of course Stephie loved it. As we drove away, I looked back. The water was already receding. How did they do that? I guess it’s the magic of movie making.
Okay. Then there was Jaws. I have not seen the movie because my father won’t let me, but I know what it’s about — a shark named Bruce (I don’t know why that’s his name) with an appetite for humans. I was pretty sure that as soon as our tour guide said, “And this is where Jaws was filmed,” we were going to see Bruce. I was right. We saw him in a big way. First from across the lake — just his fin streaking through the water. Then the fin disappeared and the next thing I knew, Bruce was leaping out of the water, and like King Kong, he was just inches away from the tram. His gaping mouth, which was filled with fangs, was snapping viciously.
Stephie screeched, I grabbed her inhalator, and she exclaimed, “Awesome!”
The last tunnel we drove through looked innocent enough in the beginning, but by now I knew better. What were we in for this time?
The walls were blue and white and we drove through the tunnel slowly. Then our tour guide said, “Well, here we are in the ice tunnel, the only way back to civilization. We should be safe—”
Of course we weren’t. I heard a thundering noise and suddenly we were spinning around and around. “Avalanche!” cried the tour guide.
“Oh, my lord!” exclaimed Claud.
I clung to Stephie for dear life. If she fell out of the tram, her father would kill me. And how come there were no seat belts in the tram? If we were going to go on a ride like this, we ought to be strapped in as if we were on a roller coaster.
I began to feel awfully sick to my stomach and was glad we hadn’t eaten lunch yet. I know my face must have been green, so I turned to look at Stephie. I hoped she didn’t have a delicate stomach. But, as usual, Stephie was grinning away. Then she tugged at my sleeve.
“What? What is it? Do you need your inhalator?” I asked frantically.
“No!” Stephie was giggl
ing. “Look! We’re not turning, the walls of the tunnel are. We’re staying completely still.”
I looked. She was right. It was an optical illusion. I loosened my grip on Stephie, feeling pretty foolish. I also felt relieved. Lisa Meri and the members of the We Kids Club had been right. Stephie’s asthma attacks weren’t brought on by activity or excitement.
I relaxed. And when the tram ride was over, I didn’t worry about Stephie all afternoon. We saw a show called “Star Trek Adventure,” we ate lunch (everyone found food they liked), and then we went to the Animal Actors’ Stage, where we saw all kinds of animals do all kinds of tricks. Stephie especially liked the performing monkeys and giggled helplessly. After that, Jeff, Ryan, and Erick wanted to go see this show about Conan, but Mr. Schafer said we had to go home. So we headed back to the car.
Stephie slept during the entire ride home. I knew I didn’t have to worry about her anymore.
Wish her luck? Janine doesn’t need luck with anything. She’s a genius, remember? I’m the one who needs luck.
Today, when we were at Universal Studios, Stacey was on my back nonstop about Terry. (Well, whenever she wasn’t helping Kristy to control Erick or Ryan.)
“You can’t give up on him,” she kept saying to me.
“But at dinner I gibbered around and gagged down slugs—”
“Snails,” corrected Stacey. “Escargots.”
“Whatever. And I know I made a fool of myself.”
“How do you know?” asked Stacey. (We were in the tunnel with King Kong and she wasn’t paying attention to anything, including the giant gorilla.)
“Because … because …” I stammered.
“Did he stop talking to you? Did he roll his eyes at you?”
“No.”
“So okay. Who knows what he thinks? Maybe he was impressed by you. I’d be impressed by anyone who ate snails.”
“Oh, you don’t understand,” I muttered, as we left King Kong behind.
“Maybe not,” said Stacey. “But you should give him another chance.”
I thought about Stacey’s words off and on during the rest of the afternoon. Maybe she was right. Maybe I shouldn’t give up on Terry. So you know what I did when I got home that night?
I called Janine…. Janine.
This is why: I wanted to ask her about world affairs.
“World affairs?” repeated Janine.
“Yeah. You know, like greenhouses and stuff.”
“Do you mean Greenpeace? Or the greenhouse effect?”
“Anything,” I said. “I know there are things going on in Russia and — and in other countries. And some wall came down.”
“Claudia, you’re on vacation,” said my sister. “Why do you need to know these things? It seems quite odd.”
“I need to know them,” I said, sighing, “to impress a boy. A really smart boy I met on the beach. He reads books like yours. And he speaks French.”
“But Claudia, trying to impress him isn’t going to help anything. Trust me. Sooner or later, he’ll find out you’re not who he thinks you are.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” I wailed. I felt a little funny talking to my sister like this. Usually we just talk about … well, I don’t even know what. But not personal things.
“Just … be … yourself,” said Janine.
I was silent for a few moments. At last I said, “That’s what Dawn told me to do. I guess I didn’t listen to her.”
“She gave you sound advice,” said Janine wisely.
“Okay. But how am I supposed to be myself? That’s harder to do than it sounds.”
“Well,” said Janine slowly, “what are you and your friends doing tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? We’re going to Hollywood. There’s tons of stuff to do there.”
“Why don’t you ask him to join you? Could you do that?”
“I’m sure Dawn’s father would say he could come. But the things to do in Hollywood … well, I don’t think they would interest Terry. He likes books and reading and, um, current affairs.”
“And what are you going to do in Hollywood?”
“Oh, see stars’ homes and go to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. That kind of thing.”
“How do you know Terry won’t want to go along with you? I would. It sounds like a fun day.”
“You’d want to drive around and try to find Cher’s house?” I exclaimed.
“Sure. Why not?”
“I don’t know. Okay. Maybe I will ask Terry to come with us tomorrow.”
“Good! Let me know what happens.”
“All right. And Janine?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
We hung up the phone, and I felt pretty close to my sister, even though she was three thousand miles away. I also decided to take her advice. I asked Mr. Schafer if Terry could come with us to Hollywood the next day. He said yes. So, with shaking hands, I dialed Terry’s number.
Terry answered the phone.
Okay. Now I had to go through with this thing.
“Hi, Terry. It’s Claudia,” I began.
“Claudia! Hi!” (At least Terry seemed pleased to hear from me.)
“Um, I was wondering something. Of course, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It’s just an idea. I mean, it probably isn’t the kind of thing you like to do at all, but I thought I’d ask anyway. Remember, though, you don’t have to do this. Don’t feel pressured to—”
“Claudia, what is it?” Terry sounded tortured.
“Well, tomorrow, Mr. Schafer is driving my friends and me to Hollywood. We’re going to — you know—”
“Look for stars’ homes?” asked Terry.
“Yes.”
“Go to the wax museum?”
“Maybe.”
“Hmm.”
I couldn’t believe it. Now Terry sounded sort of interested. “You mean you want to come with us? To Grauman’s and places like that?”
“Definitely! I love old movies. I like anything that has to do with stars.”
“You’re kidding. Why didn’t you ever say so?”
“I don’t know. I guess the subject didn’t come up.”
“Oh.” (Why hadn’t I brought it up, instead of things I didn’t know about?)
“When are we leaving?” asked Terry.
“We’ll pick you up at eight-thirty tomorrow morning, okay?”
“Great! I can’t wait.”
“Me neither. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and don’t get dressed up. We’re all just wearing jeans and things.”
“Okay. Good night, Claud. Hey, and thank you!”
* * *
Nervous wreck? Nervous wreck? Was I a nervous wreck the next day?
Definitely.
Our crowded van picked up Terry at eight-thirty on the dot. He was dressed casually, but with style. I think that’s safe to say. He climbed into the van and sat next to me.
“Hi,” we both said nervously.
I saw Kristy and Mary Anne elbow each other.
During the drive to Hollywood, Terry was pretty quiet, but maybe that was because he was squished in with seven females. (Carol was not along, to Dawn’s delight.) The only males were a kid and a grown-up. Uh-oh, I thought. We aren’t even making small talk. I was gabbing with the BSC members instead of Terry.
Finally we arrived in Hollywood. Mr. Schafer parked the car. “We’ll do a little walking today,” he said. “How about starting at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre?”
“Oh, boy!” said Mal. “I want to see how my feet compare to Marilyn Monroe’s!”
Before we knew it, we were standing in front of this building with all these footprints in the cement on the sidewalk. We didn’t pay a bit of attention to the building, but we ran around looking for footprints and sometimes trying to fit our feet into them. Terry was sort of reserved, but he did step into John Wayne’s footprints (cowboy boot prints, actually).
Next we walked by Hollywood High, wh
ere a lot of people who are stars now once went to school. Then we walked back to the street Grauman’s is on and took a stroll down the Walk of Fame. It’s a sidewalk studded with squares outlined in brass, and inside each star is the name of a famous personality. It’s supposed to be a great honor to be on the Walk of Fame. But guess what Terry said? You have to pay to get a square in the sidewalk. And you have to pay a lot of money.
“How do you know?” I asked Terry.
“I just do,” he replied. He smiled at me. And then he took my hand.
(Jeff snickered.)
Terry held my hand as we bought a map to the stars’ homes, got back in the van, and prepared to cruise around and see where famous people live (or lived). We drove all over the place. At first we were just awed. “That’s Steve Martin’s house?” “That’s where Fred Astaire used to live?” “Oh, my lord! There’s Harrison Ford’s house!”
We grew more and more excited, but guess who was the most excited of all? Terry. Only he was impressed by people I’d never heard of, like Cornell Wilde, Anne Bancroft, and some others I can’t remember.
I realized I was starving then, so I was really glad when Mr. Schafer said, “How about lunch, everybody?”
“Great. I’m famished,” replied Dawn.
“I wish the Brown Derby were still open,” said Mary Anne. “We’d be bound to see stars there.”
“We might see stars anywhere,” said Terry excitedly.
So we found this nice restaurant full of little tables. Since the tables were so small, Terry and I sat at one alone together. We talked and talked. Terry told me how he had gotten so interested in movies and movie stars. Then I told him about the things that interest me. I told him about my art, I told him about the Baby-sitters Club, and I even told him about my grandmother Mimi, who had died. Terry liked hearing about the art the most, and was especially interested in a portrait of Mimi that I had painted.
When our day was over, I was actually sad. I realized that I wanted to keep seeing Terry. How come such a great guy had to live in California when I live in Connecticut? Oh, well. There was nothing we could do about that.
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