“Sorry,” Jean said. “It’s just that I’m so proud. Peter is a fantastic sailor.”
Zinnie then spotted Ashley and Kara and Tara, who were in a big group, taking turns dancing in the middle. She ran over to say hi.
Tony & the Contractors were good, playing songs both the kids and grown-ups liked. Ashley air-guitared to “Hound Dog,” and Zinnie pretended to drive a car and honk the horn to “Drive My Car.” She was glad she was wearing her favorite jeans, because she could do some of her break dancing moves, like the worm, and not worry about anyone’s seeing her underwear. Lily did the tsunami in her tutu. Peter gave Lily a piggyback for almost three songs in a row. Even Marigold was getting into it, twirling in her pretty dress and leaping across the room. When Tony played “California Girls,” Marigold, Zinnie, and Lily danced in the center for the whole song.
Then Tony tapped the microphone. “This one is for a very special lady,” he said. “One of the finest women I’ve ever known. And she looks so darn pretty tonight, I can hardly believe my eyes. Here goes.” Tony began playing the guitar very softly.
Zinnie guessed he was talking about Aunt Sunny, but she was totally sure of it when she realized he was playing “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles. She looked for Aunt Sunny, who was where she’d been most of the night, standing by the snack table, talking to Jean. Only now she was swaying to the song with a shy smile on her face. Tony was gazing at her, and she was gazing back. Zinnie could practically see a string of hearts between them. Their makeover had been a true success! Zinnie looked around for Marigold.
“Dance with me!” Lily said, and put her arms around Zinnie’s waist.
“We need to find Marigold and tell her that our plan worked,” Zinnie said, taking Lily’s hand and weaving through the crowd. Everyone was dancing to this song, even the grown-ups.
“What plan?” Lily asked.
“You know,” Zinnie said, leading Lily toward the porch. Maybe Marigold had stepped outside for some fresh air? It was kind of crowded in here. “The one where we get Aunt Sunny to—” She stopped in her tracks. There was Marigold. Sitting on the steps with Peter. He was leaning in close. And then he was kissing her. On the lips.
“Where we get Aunt Sunny to do what?” Lily asked.
“Never mind. Come on,” Zinnie said, yanking Lily back inside. She did not want to ruin another kiss for Marigold.
51. Marigold, Full of Stars
After the dance a group of kids was going to Edith’s for ice cream. Marigold and Peter walked at the back of the group, smiling at each other every few steps but not speaking very much. This was okay with Marigold. She was busy reviewing the kiss in her mind so that she wouldn’t forget it.
It had happened like this: She was taking a punch break after dancing in the circle with her sisters to “California Girls.” Lily and she had tangoed, with Lily wanting to be dipped every other step, and then she had tried to follow Zinnie’s break dance moves, which were kind of crazy. She was so thirsty! She had just finished her third cup of punch when Peter tapped her on the shoulder.
“Want to see the Big Dippah, Marigold?” he asked.
“What’s a dippah?” she asked, smiling. She liked the way he said her name now, no doubt about it.
“You know, the stahs?” he said.
“Oh,” Marigold said, “the Big Dipper!”
“You want to see it or what?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, and followed him out to the lawn.
As they looked up into the night sky, he showed her not only the Big Dipper but also the Little Dipper and Orion’s belt and another constellation called Cassiopeia, which was shaped like a W.
“Cassiopeia was a queen who thought she was better than everyone else,” he said as he took a seat on the steps of the big porch. “You know, I used to think you were stuck up.”
“You did?” Marigold asked, though really this didn’t surprise her. She plopped down onto the step next to him, her dress spreading out around her.
“I thought that you thought you were too good for Pruet,” he said. “I thought you hated it here.”
“I didn’t like it at first,” she admitted, “but I like it now.” As she leaned back on the porch steps, she realized that she really did like Pruet. She liked how quickly she fell asleep in her boat bed after swimming at the beach and playing tag in the pear orchard with her sisters. She liked that she could actually see the stars here. And sailing. She had loved the wind on her face and how far the boat tipped without turning over. And she liked Peter. She liked that he was so nice to Lily. She liked that he knew so much about sailing and baseball and nothing about skateboarding or surfing. She even liked his stupid hat. She was filled with so much like for Peter that she punched him lightly in the arm. And that’s when he leaned over and kissed her. She lost her breath and felt herself blush. It was soft and short and real. There were no cameras, no director, no set. There was just a boy in a tie, a girl in a hat, and a skyful of stars.
52. Amanda Arrives
Peter took Marigold’s hand as they walked to Edith’s Ice Cream Shop. It was a little awkward because Peter kept jumping up to grab branches, accidentally yanking Marigold along with him.
The line at Edith’s was long, and Peter offered to stand in line and get the ice cream (rocky road for him, peppermint stick for her) while Marigold waited for him on the little bench outside. She had just sat down when a big black SUV with tinted windows pulled up in front of the store. The window rolled down halfway.
“Marigold?” a girl’s voice said from inside the SUV. As the window went down, Marigold saw that the girl inside was Amanda Mills, the pop singer who was going to star in Night Sprites. Marigold felt a little buzz that not only had Amanda remembered her name but she had actually asked whoever was driving the car to stop so that she could talk to her. Though it made sense that Amanda was here because of the movie, she was so out of context that for a moment Marigold felt like she was dreaming.
“Hi,” Marigold said, standing up from the bench and walking over to the SUV.
“You’re in this, too!” Amanda said. “That’s so cool. Now I have a friend on set!”
I’m your friend? Marigold thought, and tried not to look as thrilled as she felt for fear it would seem uncool. “Well,” Marigold said, “I’m not exactly in it. Yet.”
“Then what are you doing here?” Amanda asked.
“Oh, um, I’m staying with my aunt,” Marigold said.
“You must be dying!” Amanda said. “There isn’t a Sephora for seventy-five miles. I just looked it up on my phone. Luckily, Young & Lovely sent me a whole bunch of sample stuff. I’m going to be on the October cover.”
“Wow,” Marigold said, in total awe. She peered into the SUV. There was a driver up front and a woman snoring in the back.
“That’s my mom,” Amanda said.
“Oh,” Marigold said. Marigold looked at the woman sprawled in the backseat in her hot-pink tracksuit, a tiny string of drool hanging from her mouth and her bare feet curled up. She didn’t look like a mom, and that’s when Marigold remembered the stories she had heard about Amanda’s mother: that she had been to jail for something; that she had abandoned Amanda when she was little but come back for her once she’d been discovered on America Sings.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Amanda said, “but some lady asked Phil to judge a talent show that the locals are doing.” Marigold gulped. She felt sick. “I guess the winner gets to have a walk-on role in the movie or something. Anyway, I’m totally going, too, because it’s going to be hilarious. I’m going to help him judge.”
“You are?” Marigold asked.
“Well, not officially, but I bet he’ll ask my advice since I won America Sings, the biggest talent show in the world.”
“Maybe some of them are talented,” Marigold said. “You never know, right?”
“Wait, are you in it?” Amanda asked.
“No,” Marigold said, without even thinking. “No wa
y.”
“For a minute I was like . . .” Amanda made a face. “Because I’m totally going to tweet about it. Maybe I’ll even post the worst ones on YouTube. We have to sit next to each other!”
“I don’t think they allow cameras,” Marigold said.
“Who cares? Hey, after the talent show tomorrow there’s going to be a barbecue at Phil’s place. You can come with me if you want.”
“Really?” Marigold asked. “That would be great.” This was exactly what Marigold needed: a real introduction to Philip Rathbone. She was suddenly realizing that if she wanted to be in this movie, she shouldn’t be in a silly, unprofessional talent show. That was probably the last thing she should do. Instead, she needed someone important, like Amanda, to make the connection for her. Then he would take her seriously.
“Maybe there’s still a part for you,” Amanda said.
“Do you think? That would be awesome,” Marigold said.
“You never know, but it’s worth a shot, right?” she asked with her trademark wink.
“Yes,” Marigold said with a distracted smile, because although she was thrilled at this unexpected gift of glimmering opportunity, she was already anxious about telling Zinnie that she could no longer be in the play.
“God, the people around here are such hicks,” Amanda said. “I just saw a grown man in overalls. And look at that loser and a half,” she said, pointing toward Edith’s Ice Cream Shop. Marigold turned to see Peter coming out of Edith’s with two large ice cream cones, both of which looked like they were about to tumble over. He was staring at them, as if this would help him not to drop them, when he tripped over a step.
As Marigold watched him regain his balance, managing to lose only one scoop off the left cone, she saw Peter through Amanda’s eyes. His jacket was a little too big for him, and his pants were a little too short. His ears were sticking out from under his baseball cap. She couldn’t believe that less than an hour ago she had kissed him. Marigold felt so confused. Her mouth went dry. Her ears started to hum. She wanted to disappear.
“Hey, um, do you think you could give me a ride?” Marigold asked. “I need to get back to my aunt’s.”
“Sure thing,” Amanda said. “I can show you my latest video on the way.”
Marigold ran to the other side of the SUV and climbed inside.
53. Temporary Blindness
The next day, the day of the talent show, it was so windy that they didn’t even bother carrying the beach umbrella out of the car. “If we open it up and hold on, the wind will swoop us away over the sea,” Aunt Sunny said.
“Maybe it would drop us on a forgotten island,” Lily said.
“Let’s go there in our imaginations instead,” Aunt Sunny said, and she and the girls took the wood-planked path to the estuary side of the beach. A strong breeze blew, filling Zinnie’s ears with swirling air and billowing out her T-shirt. It was odd to go to the beach on such a blustery day, but earlier that morning Aunt Sunny had insisted there was nothing to soothe a nervous soul like the fresh ocean air. They would have to get to the casino a few hours early to help Jean set up, but Aunt Sunny assured them that there was plenty of time for an early lunch and even a quick dip.
“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Aunt Sunny asked when Zinnie had barely touched her pancakes, her favorite breakfast. Aunt Sunny was right. Zinnie was too nervous to eat. It wasn’t just that the whole talent show had been her idea and she desperately wanted it to go well, or that Philip Rathbone himself was going to be judging the contest and would determine on the basis of her play whether or not Marigold got to be in Night Sprites, or even that she was going to be playing Gus, the chicken, in front of so many people. It was also that Marigold had been acting really weird all morning. She was speaking in a more high-pitched voice, she wasn’t making eye contact, and she was chewing her nails, a habit she’d quit in fifth grade.
Zinnie wondered if it was the kiss that had turned Marigold into such a weirdo. Isn’t that what all the songs about kissing and falling in love said? That it made you crazy? Now that she thought of it, the latest single by Amanda Mills was called “Kiss Me to Crazytown.” Had Marigold, in fact, been kissed all the way to Crazytown?
When they reached the estuary, there was a wooden sign that read FAST CURRENT, SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISK. NO LIFEGUARDS. Zinnie had never noticed it before. As the breeze lifted her curls into the wind, she wondered if that sign was always there or if today was particularly dangerous.
“That’s the spot,” Aunt Sunny said, and pointed to a sandy little nook up the beach that was sheltered by two big dunes. They made their way there and set up camp. Zinnie tried to spread out her towel while standing up, but it was too windy. It kept fluttering over her head. She had to hunker down and secure it with rocks. Marigold simply sat on her folded towel and gazed out at the estuary.
“I have quite a surprise for you girls tonight,” Aunt Sunny said, with one hand holding the hat on her head as she unfolded her beach chair and planted it in the sand. The chair part was so saggy that it touched the sand when she sat on it.
“What is it?” Lily asked, plopping down next to Aunt Sunny without even bothering to sit on a towel. She was holding the rock that Peter had given her.
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” Aunt Sunny said, rustling Lily’s hair.
“What if we guess it?” Lily asked.
“I’ll never let on,” Aunt Sunny said. “I’m like a Swiss vault.”
“What do you think it is, Marigold?” Zinnie asked, noticing that once they were sitting down, there was hardly any wind in their little corner of the beach. It was toasty warm.
“Dunno,” Marigold said, picking up a fistful of sand. She stared at it as she let it slip between her fingers.
“I’m hungry,” Lily said, and fluttered her lips.
“Me, too,” Aunt Sunny said, and sat up, looking around her. She sighed and tapped her head. “See, I’m so excited about the surprise that I’ve gone and left the sandwiches in the car. Never mind. I’ll go get them. You girls stay here. Don’t anyone go in the water until I’m back. Marigold is in charge.”
“Okay,” Lily said. She was now burying her legs in the sand, covering everything except Peter’s rock, which was balanced on her right kneecap.
Once Aunt Sunny had disappeared completely down the path, Marigold turned to Zinnie and took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you,” she said.
“Is it about the K-I-S-S?” Zinnie said, squinting in the sun.
“No.” Marigold sighed. “Wait, how did you know about that?”
“I kinda saw it,” Zinnie said, and bit her lip.
“That’s weird,” Marigold said. Zinnie felt a sting of humiliation; it wasn’t like she’d meant to see it. “But no,” Marigold continued, “it’s not about that. Actually, I have to tell you that I can’t be in the play.”
“Ha-ha. Not funny,” Zinnie said.
“I’m not joking,” Marigold said.
“What?” Zinnie studied her sister, not understanding. It was like Marigold had spoken to her in Kawooluh, the ancient Night Sprite language.
“I’m serious,” Marigold said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s in four hours, Marigold,” Zinnie said. “You have to do it.”
“Yeah,” Lily said. “You have to. You’re the star.”
“I can’t,” Marigold said.
“Why not?” Zinnie asked. Her lower lip started to tremble.
“I’m a professional actor, and it got out to the actors’ union that I was doing this. And they won’t let me.”
“That’s a lie!” Zinnie said. “You’re lying! Tell me the truth.”
“Stop yelling,” Lily said, putting her hands over her ears.
“I just can’t,” Marigold said. “Okay. I can’t!”
“But you’re going to ruin everything!” Zinnie said.
“Stop it,” Lily said, jamming her feet in the sand.
Zinnie stood up. She should
have known this was going to happen. Yesterday, before the dance, when Marigold gave her a makeover, had just been a freak accident. This whole summer had been a fluke. Here was the Marigold she knew, who took what she wanted and didn’t care about anyone else, who changed the radio station every time Zinnie started to sing along, and who didn’t allow her to sit with her and her friends in the school cafeteria.
Zinnie paced, the anger building inside her with every footprint in the sand. Each memory of Marigold’s dismissing and belittling her was like another stick thrown on Zinnie’s fire. She turned to Marigold, who was pouting as if Zinnie were the one who was acting like a brat. What had she expected? That she could just ruin her play and Zinnie would accept it?
“How did you get so mean?” Zinnie asked her. “Mom’s not mean. Dad’s not mean. I’m not mean. Lily’s not mean. So why are you?”
Marigold threw off her sunglasses and sprang to her feet. “Because you copy everything I do, and I hate it. I hate it so much. You copy what I say, you copy what I do, you copy what I wear, and you even copy how I walk. You tried to be an actress because I’m an actress. You figure out what my favorite song is, and then you make it yours. You even try to make my friends your friends. I just want some space to be my own person without you following me everywhere and breathing down my neck. I just want my own life!”
“Fine,” Zinnie shouted, her hair flying in her face. She looked Marigold right in the eye. She pointed at her with a shaky finger. “I’ll stop copying you. I used to look up to you, but I don’t anymore. You’re a bad sister.” Zinnie watched, not breathing, as Marigold’s face paled, then reddened as if she’d been slapped, but she wasn’t finished. “You’re too scared to tell me the real reason why you’re quitting. I always thought that you were brave and smart and perfect, my strong older sister. But you’re not. You’re just a chicken.”
Marigold’s eyes filled. She sucked in air and turned around. Then she screamed. Not a scream of anger but a scream of fear. “Oh, my God,” Marigold shrieked. “Oh, my God, where’s Lily?”
The Forget-Me-Not Summer Page 17