by Annie Bryant
Lifting her head, Maeve scanned the yard for Isabel, who was staring at a computer screen and sipping iced tea with that Patrick guy and his assistant, Poppy. They were laughing and Isabel looked like she was having the time of her life as Patrick showed her some old candleholder thing.
Bethany had put Riley into dancing time-out under a tent out of the sun, because he was sweating so much (gross!) that his makeup had started to drip off his face. Maeve tried to wave to him, but his eyes were closed and he didn’t see her. Danny and Betsy were nowhere to be seen, and Fabiana was sitting under a tree doing yoga, which she said relaxed her.
Maeve knew that making movies was harder than it seemed, but she was starting to stress out. What if they never get around to shooting my scene today? That would mean that she’d blown off the entire scavenger hunt for nothing. She rolled over and looked up at the sky…At least this sun feels nice….
“Attention, everyone. Group meeting, right here, right now!” the director bellowed. Maeve jumped up. Finally! She ran over to join the group, which had encircled Ozmond, Betsy, and Danny. When the crowd was silent, Ozmond began, “I apologize, fellow thespians and technicians, artisans and actors, et cetera, et cetera…”
“Hmm,” Maeve murmured to Riley, who had come to sit by her for the group meeting. “Ozmond sounds like…someone…” Maeve snapped her fingers. “Oh! It’s Yul Brynner from The King and I.”
“Hey, you’re right!” Riley answered.
Maeve was practically shaking. I’m in the presence of brilliance and Riley actually appreciates it! She clapped for Ozmond, who looked at her strangely.
“Where was I? Ah yes, this delay. As you know, in order to make this movie into a real work of art, it is of paramount importance that we try to be as historically accurate as we can on this shoestring of a budget they have given me.” Ozmond glanced around for approval.
“I have decided that the whole hoopla surrounding the bride and her melodramas is a modern conflict that doesn’t even make sense in the epic tale of Black Sam Bellamy. Which is why I have decided to cut Princess Polly’s lines in this scene in their entirety. So that means, my dear Lola, you will not be speaking in the scene we are about to shoot. Okay, everyone, let’s start filming.”
Lola’s face went from creamy white, to pink, to red, then redder, but Ozmond was in his own world and did not seem to notice. He wrapped his arm around Danny’s shoulder and added, “And by the way, people, we have this visionary of a young man to thank. Everybody give it up for my young protégé, Danny Fitzgerald!”
Maeve’s eyes almost popped out of her head. Wasn’t Betsy Fitzgerald supposed to be the protégé who was helping the director? Maeve turned to see Betsy looking utterly mournful. The poor girl seemed to be on the brink of bursting into tears!
“Oh, Riley, I’ve just got to console poor Betsy. She must be devastated,” Maeve exclaimed. But as she ran over to give Betsy a big hug, out of nowhere she heard a terrible, shrill cry of “Aaaarrrgh!”
From the crowd emerged a furious Lola Lindstrom with streams of black makeup running down her face. She came charging past Ozmond, past Betsy, right to Danny, and knocked him over like a football tackle. With her black Princess Polly wig hanging sideways off her head like some kind of wild witch hair, Lola stood over Danny with her fist in the air shouting at the top of her lungs: “Eeeeek! How dare you march in here with your…your historical facts! Do you know who I am? Do you? And do you know who cares about facts? Nobody! That’s who. People will come to the movie to see me…Lola!”
Before anyone could do a thing, Lola Lindstrom stormed off, leaving a cowering Danny and a stunned crowd. Betsy’s look of despair transformed to one of relief. As the whispers began, she glanced at Maeve with wide eyes and mouthed Phew! As they watched Danny stumble to his feet, Betsy sighed. “Poor Danny. He looks like a shell of his former self.”
Maeve nodded in agreement, although Danny’s face was, Maeve thought, starting to get some color. In fact, his face was getting red! “Oh, Betsy, I think Danny’s mad!”
Suddenly, pandemonium broke out on the set, as all the cast members began mumbling that they had a runaway bride. Maeve’s eyes followed an irate Ozmond who turned to walk back to his office. Maeve followed, beckoning Betsy and Danny to come with her too.
“The nerve!” Danny muttered as the trio darted behind trees. “And no one tried to stop her! I think I’ve suffered hearing loss. Could you say something quietly, Betsy? I’ll tell you if I hear anything.”
“I’ll tell you what I think, Mr. Danny Fitzgerald….” Betsy started.
“Shhh!” Maeve shushed them, straining not to miss a word of Ozmond’s juicy phone conversation. Maeve couldn’t believe it. This drama is better than the movie!
“That was the last straw,” Ozmond shouted into his cell phone. “That diva is off my set! I don’t care if she’s the Queen of England. Bruce, there is simply no place for that kind of behavior in my movies. We are creating a masterpiece on a pauper’s budget, thanks to my wonderful consultants Danny Fitzgerald and…what’s-her-name. The other one. They’re brilliant, I tell you! Brilliant. Yeah, whatever, we’ll put her check in the mail.”
The director flipped his phone closed and dabbed the beads of sweat from his forehead. “Divas,” he grumbled. “I swear, if they didn’t make me millions I’d have every single one of them deported to Mars. Now what I am I going to do?”
“‘What’s-her-name’!” Betsy whispered. “That’s all I am? ‘The other one’!” She didn’t even realize she’d spoken out loud until Danny looked solemnly into her eyes.
“Danny Fitzgerald has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” He grinned. “Let’s go see if they changed the rigging ropes from nylon to cotton like we suggested. Maybe Ozmond will put us in the movie credits: Danny Fitzgerald and Betsy Pellegrino, historical advisors…” Danny chuckled at his little joke mixing up the names. Betsy trailed after him, opening her mouth at least a dozen times. She tried to say, It was my idea to be historical consultants, but Danny never stopped talking.
Maeve was so engrossed in the drama that she didn’t notice Betsy and Danny take off. Over by her trailer, Lola was piling a mountain of dresses, makeup supplies, and empty cappuccino cups into the arms of a hapless Bethany. The poor girl was staggering under all the weight and trying desperately to hold on to all the empty Styrofoam cups, which kept rolling away in the grass.
When someone tapped Maeve on the shoulder, she nearly jumped a foot in the air. “This is crazy!” Fabiana exclaimed.
“I know. Ozmond’s going to have to pick someone on the set to replace her, and Fabiana…” Maeve took her chaperone’s hand in hers and murmured, “I hope it’s going to be me.”
Fabiana smiled sadly. “I wish it could be you, Maeve, but Princess Polly is at least eighteen years old. Lola must have an understudy or something.”
Maeve touched her heart and said, “You know when you want something really really badly, and if you really really believe it’ll happen, sometimes it does?” Her voice hushed to a whisper and she concluded, “It has to be my turn.”
Fabiana shook her head. “Optimistic thinking is good for you, but I don’t think—”
Maeve lifted her chin in the air. “All I need is Lola’s black wig and, snap! Princess Polly.” Maeve turned and sauntered over to demand her rightful role as the heroine replacement, when—just like magic—the director looked right over in her direction and shouted, “YOU.”
Maeve grabbed Fabiana’s hand as Ozmond walked toward them in huge, deliberate steps with his arm extended, pointing straight ahead. Maeve wished she had prepared a speech of what to say when he offered her the part, but her thoughts were a jumble. This is it! Maeve Kaplan-Taylor’s big break! I wish I was wearing pink…. Oh, wait, I am. Should I shake his hand? Bow? Smile?
When Ozmond reached the girls, he placed both hands on Fabiana’s shoulders. “You. You look just like the raven-haired beauty that is Princess Polly. With a little careful film wor
k, audiences will never know the difference between you and Lola. What do you say? Will you help save our little masterpiece and stand in for our misbehaving star?”
Fabiana glanced uncertainly at Maeve, “Um, uh, sir, I’m flattered, but quite frankly I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, that’s easy. This is the opportunity of a lifetime,” he announced with a flourish as he started guiding her toward the costume trailer. “Say yes.”
“Yes!” she instinctively blurted, then turned to Maeve raising her hands in an apology of sorts.
Maeve couldn’t respond. She felt like someone had knocked the wind out of her with a basketball. Oh, the betrayal! she thought in anguish. How could she ever look Fabiana in the face again?
She pointed her finger—which was trembling—at Fabiana and the director as they walked away and decried, “A plague on both your houses! A plague I say! Oh, woe is me! Woe is poor, pitiful Maeve. I was going to be somebody….”
Riley, seeing this breakdown transpiring, ran over and said, in a voice full of concern, “Maeve, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Oh, Riley!” she cried. “Do I look okay?”
He shrugged. “No?”
“You’re so right.” Maeve gritted her teeth. “I’m not okay. Ozmond just chose Fabiana to stand in for Lola Lindstrom in the wedding scene! Can you believe it?” She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “You know, it’s times like this, Riley, that I wonder if I’m cut out for this business. I mean, I just might be too sensitive! So, dude, what exactly happened here to destroy my once-in-a-life-time chance at stardom?”
Riley squinted and then smiled. “Oh, dude. I get it. From a distance, Fabiana looks just like Lola Lindstrom’s character. Whoa! That’s crazy. They could be, like, twins separated at birth or something!”
Maeve’s eyes settled on Riley. She took a deep breath and sighed. “I guess the show must go on.” A tear rolled over her cheek.
“Oh, Maeve, I’m sorry,” he said. He stood there, looking petrified. The lesson Riley had already learned that day was that there was nothing more terrifying than a hysterical actress.
Thankfully, Maeve was not that kind of actress. “You know, Riley, I think I just have to go under a tree somewhere and chill out. Thanks for being there.” And she ran off to sit under a weeping willow tree away from the maddening crowd and the cameras. But when she sat down, she heard a sob, followed by, “Stupid Danny Pellegrino!”
“Betsy!” she exclaimed.
“How COULD he?” Betsy blubbered.
“I thought you felt bad for Danny after Lola?” Maeve said as she sat down next to Betsy.
Maeve twirled the grass between her fingers as Betsy ranted. “It’s like, I was just trying to be a good friend, and be supportive, and he didn’t even apologize for not reminding Ozmond that the cotton ropes were my idea…even after I told him Lola was a horrible witch and he was a wonderful historian!” Betsy sniffed.
“Betsy,” Maeve consoled her, “I know how you feel.”
“They were all my ideas, too, and he got a director’s chair!”
“It’s like you’re not paying attention, and they just go and steal your role right out from under you,” Maeve griped.
“Yes, Maeve! Exactly!” Betsy agreed. She stopped crying and declared, “You think you have talent, you know? That you matter. One day, you’re finding your place in the world—”
Maeve nodded. “—and the next you’re yesterday’s news. That’s showbiz for you, Betsy.” Maeve felt everything she’d been holding in start to well up and managed to utter, “It can be so cruel!”
“Oh, Maeve,” Betsy said, putting her hand on Maeve’s shoulder. “You can let it out. It’s okay.”
With that, Maeve lost control. “Why me? Why?” she wailed.
Ozmond, who was busy coaching Fabiana with some last-minute instructions, took notice of the commotion near the willow tree. “Why, that…that is just the kind of emotion that I’ve been looking for!” he remarked, signaling a cameraman. “Come, follow me.”
He crept up behind Maeve, who was crying as loudly as ever. From the intensity of Maeve’s tears you would have thought she had just found out her family had been abducted by aliens.
“Yes! Yes! That is it! You are sad, very sad. Pretend you have just had your teddy bear stolen—NO—your starring role was stolen. It is…the biggest tragedy of your young little life.”
Maeve suddenly paused her sniffling long enough to realize what was happening. She was being filmed…by not one, not two, but three cameras!
“That is it! Magnifique!” the director exhaled. “That will be the perfect shot for the end of the movie, when the village mourns the death of our hero, Black Sam Bellamy. Young lady, I thank you. You have just convinced me that there is still hope for an Oscar. Now, back to the wedding. Take one…”
Maeve dabbed her eyes, adjusted her dress, and said to Betsy with a smile, “I never doubted myself for a second…and you shouldn’t doubt yourself, either!”
CHAPTER
19
The Amazing Race
I think I’ll call this one Pleather,” said Dillon as he held a tiny strawberry blond kitten close to his face and rapped, “Yo Pleather! Yo Pleather! Who’s in style? You are! You are! Kitty cat wild.”
“Pleather?” Katani grimaced in distaste.
“Hey, Kgirl, don’t dis the Pleather. It’s soft, inexpensive, environmentally friendly…and very stylish,” he said in his fake TV-announcer voice.
“Dude, you are so going to regret this,” ranked Nick as Charlotte snapped a picture of Dillon posing like a British Invasion rock star…with a kitten plastered on the top of his head.
“No way, Montoya. Pleather and I are going straight to the top…. Aren’t we, cat man?” Dillon’s grin suddenly turned to a grimace as the kitten began to dig his tiny claws into Dillon’s scalp.
Charlotte and Katani exploded into laughter at the sight of the desperate Dillon trying to pry little Pleather off his head.
“Seriously, will somebody please get this killer tiger off me before I need a hair transplant?” he begged.
Nick, who had been watching his goofy friend lose his cool, took pity on Dillon, and carefully released the kitten’s claws from his scalp. Nick set Pleather down on Charlotte’s lap as Dillon fell to the grass in a heap, pretending he had been mortally wounded.
“What is taking those Animal Rescue people so long?” a frustrated Patrice groaned. She was pacing back and forth like a coach whose team was down by one point in the last quarter of the championship game.
“They’ll come,” Nick assured her. “Sometimes it takes a little while.” When Patrice checked her watch for the zillionth time, Katani lost it.
“Would you please relax, Patrice?” she pleaded. “You’re really stressing everyone out,” she complained as she grabbed for the kitten that was attacking her shoelaces.
Patrice turned to face the Cods. “You kitten-loving people should be the ones feeling stressed out! If we don’t get on those bikes soon we’ll be hangin’ our heads in shame—beaten by a bunch of Boggers and Barnacles.”
The Salty Cods shifted uncomfortably, like they weren’t quite sure how to respond. Finally, Charlotte said what all the others were thinking. “Umm, Patrice, we agreed it’s more important to save these kittens than win the race.”
Patrice looked like she had just been told she’d committed a terrible crime. Katani, rushing to her sister’s defense, immediately stood up and sputtered, “Patrice just…she just wants to finish the race….”
Patrice put her arm around Katani and made a motion for her to be quiet. “It’s okay. Charlotte’s right. We can wait…a few more minutes.” A subdued Patrice knelt down and reached in the box for one of the kittens.
“Look at this monster here,” she said, holding up the biggest kitten in the litter, a black one with white socks. “I think we should call you Brontosaurus! What ho, Bronty!” she said and began to stroke Bronty on top o
f his head. As the kitten began to purr, Katani watched her sister chill out about a hundred degrees.
“Look.” Dillon pointed. An official white van pulled over by the side of the road, and a pleasant-looking woman got out of the car and walked toward them. “Hi! I’m Dory. Are you Charlotte Ramsey?” she asked Patrice, who was cuddling Bronty.
Charlotte raised her hand. “I am. You must be the Animal Rescue people.”
Barnacles and Butterflies
“Hey, check this out!” a very excited Avery called out to her Barnacle Buddies. “There’s a hummingbird and butterfly garden in this place! Can you dig it? Hummingbirds!”
Avery, lover of all creatures great and small…including snakes (she had one named Walter), wanted to check out every corner of the Wellfleet Wildlife Sanctuary. Its lovely lush marshes and acres of natural habitat provide sanctuary for a spectrum of wild animals, Avery read to herself on a plaque outside the entrance.
“You guys, we can’t miss this!” Avery protested as she caught sight of a small bird whizzing by.
“We have to go, Ave,” Ben yelled. “Remember, we’re on a mission now!”
“Let’s just quickly check out the hummingbird garden…. Five minutes, okay? Oh, man, I just saw a huge monarch!”
“Butterflies are not my thing, dude, but ask the rest of the team,” Ben said with a shrug.
Avery turned excitedly to her teammates, sure that no one would want to pass up the chance to get up close and personal with some cool-looking hummingbirds and supersized monarch butterflies.
But before she could beckon her teammates to follow her, Captain Kiki took the wind out of her sails. “Come on, everyone, we just figured out a clue. Can’t we just take a picture and move on? With all the bonus points Chelsea found, we might have a chance to win.”