by Nancy N. Rue
Actually — not with Phoebe involved.
Phoebe wanted to do every scene six times until it was perfect, even though they were just playing with them to get ideas written down.
She said things like, “I want to try it again, only with Cuban Girl here.”
“Her name is Maggie,” the Corn Flakes told her nine times. By the tenth time, they all shouted it together, with the boys joining in — even Nathan.
A smelling-something-funny smile spread across Phoebe’s face.
“That was good. You guys should all be off-camera yelling during the scene where I get in Cuban Girl’s — Maggie’s — face in the Food Stamp Office.”
“Yelling what?” Darbie said.
“You know, stuff like ‘Get a job or go back where you came from, moocher.’ ” Phoebe looked at Willoughby. “You’re a Rah-Rah Girl. You know how to yell.”
Willoughby gave a nervous half-yip. “I don’t think I can yell that.”
“It’s acting,” Phoebe said. “Okay, I’ll do the scene, and when I wave my hand, you just yell stuff like you agree with me.”
“You know,” Fiona’s pink bow of a mouth twisted into a knot even as she spoke, “Sophie is usually the director.”
Sophie folded her arms. “Yeah, if you don’t mind — ”
“Just let me show you,” Phoebe said. “You — ” She looked at Maggie. “Sit in this chair. I’m behind the desk, and you just came in asking for food stamps.”
She half pushed Maggie into a dining room chair. Maggie looked down at the table. Once again, all expression disappeared.
“We’ll work on your part later. Let’s just do mine.” Phoebe leaned back in the chair and narrowed her eyes until Sophie was sure they would cross. “I am so sick of you people,” she said.
Willoughby yipped. Darbie put a hand on her arm. “She’s acting,” she said.
“Miami isn’t even an American city anymore,” the Phoebe character said. “Once you people started running out the whites, that was the end of anything American.” She crawled her forearms halfway across the table. “I bet somebody’s payin’ you under the table so you don’t have to pay taxes, and here you are trying to get money from our taxpayers. The real Americans.”
Phoebe waved her hand, but nobody said anything. Sophie didn’t even know what she was talking about. Besides, she was frozen by the hatred Phoebe was acting out.
“Nobody wants to live near you people,” the Phoebe character said, her voice rising. “All the whites are running from you aliens. That’s what you are, you know, trying to make us all speak Spanish and running for office so you can turn Miami into another Cuba. No!”
Phoebe banged her fist on the table and made Darbie’s aunt Emily’s crystal vase jitter in place.
“Some people might help you, but I intend to remain civilized! Otherwise, they’re gonna let anybody in here. Any scum, do you hear me?”
“What in the world?”
Sophie jittered like the crystal vase. Aunt Emily crossed the dining room with one manicured hand over her mouth. She was what Mama called a true Southern lady, and right now she looked like she was about to faint like one.
“Why am I hearing this kind of talk?” she said in her very-proper Virginia accent.
“Phoebe was just acting a part for our flick, Aunt Em,” Darbie said.
“Cool,” Phoebe said. “I had you convinced.” She turned to Darbie. “Did you get any of that on film?”
“I’m not so sure I like this movie,” Aunt Emily said.
“You’re not actually supposed to like it.” Vincent’s voice cracked. “It’s supposed to educate you and make you think.”
“Or make you mad,” Fiona said.
Aunt Emily tapped a finger against her lips. “I think it will.”
As hard as it was, Sophie had to agree with her. Phoebe was an amazing actor. She might know it like no other, but she was good.
Even Fiona nodded her approval as Aunt Emily left the room.
“You should be in real movies,” Willoughby said.
“I will be someday,” Phoebe said. “Wait ’til you see what I do in the tent-city scene.” She looked at Fiona. “That’s at your house tomorrow?”
“We have to switch to plan B,” Fiona said. “My dad said he doesn’t want us putting up a bunch of tents in the yard and messing up the lawn.”
“No problem,” Phoebe said. “We’ll do it at my house. My dad could care less about the lawn.” She curled her lip into that smile. “You guys really think I’m good?”
“Hello!” Willoughby said. “Look — I chewed off two fingernails!”
There was smiling. Something, Sophie thought, had kind of changed. Still, she felt squirmy.
After Sunday school the next day, the Corn Flakes talked nonstop about Phoebe.
“We have to admit she’s an incredible actress,” Fiona said. “Even though I hate to because she thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”
Willoughby tilted her head. “I think she started being nicer after we gave her all those compliments.”
“She did?” Darbie said.
“She invited us to her house,” Sophie said. “That might be Phoebe being nice.”
“What’s ‘nice’ for Phoebe is, like, almost heinous for one of us.” Fiona put up her hand. “That’s not against the Code. I’m just agreeing.”
Sophie felt the shiver of an idea, something Liberty Lawhead herself might come up with. “You know what?” she said. “I just remembered that other thing Dr. Peter said. We’re supposed to appreciate her for her good stuff.”
“Like tell her she’s all that as an actress?” Willoughby said.
“Yeah,” Sophie said. “’Cause like you just said, she was a little nicer when we did that.”
Fiona pulled back and frowned. “Dr. Peter said we shouldn’t try to change her.”
“Maybe that’s not changing her,” Darbie said. “I acted like an eejit when I first met all of you — worse than Phoebe — but I wasn’t really like that inside. I just did it because I was all angry and afraid.” Sophie thought Darbie’s eyes got a little misty. “But then you accepted me, and now I’m— ”
“Fabulous!” Willoughby said. She gave her happy-poodle yip.
Sophie didn’t get to find out if anybody else agreed. Daddy appeared and sent her to the primary room to sit with Zeke because he was having a meltdown. His third one that day.
Sophie had to feed him an entire roll of Smarties she’d been saving, even her favorite green ones, just to get him calmed down from the fit he was having because somebody else was playing with the Noah’s ark set. She tried not to think about what Tuesday afternoon was going to be like.
It was easy to forget about that the minute Fiona’s grandfather, Boppa, pulled up to Phoebe’s house that afternoon in the SUV loaded with the Corn Flakes and their tents.
“I see why Phoebe’s father doesn’t care about his lawn,” Fiona said. “He doesn’t have one.”
Sophie couldn’t actually tell if there was any grass around the house with the peely green paint. There was something on every square inch of the ground — old lawn mowers and gas cans and something that might have been a car once.
“Where are we going to put up tents?” Darbie said.
“Someplace safe, I hope.” Boppa’s caterpillar eyebrows almost met in the middle. “I think I’ll stick around and watch the rehearsal.”
“That would be fabulous, Boppa,” Sophie said. Something about Phoebe’s yard was making her want to stay in the car.
Phoebe bolted out the front door wearing a faded poncho that looked like somebody had worn it the last time ponchos were in style. Nathan, Vincent, and Jimmy trailed out after her. Nathan’s face was so red, Sophie couldn’t tell where it stopped and his Redskins cap started.
“I thought you’d never get here,” Phoebe said. “The call was for two o’clock and it’s five after.”
“The call?” Fiona said, lips already bunching up.
&nb
sp; “That’s theater talk,” Phoebe said. “I can give you a lesson on that later.”
“I thought you said she was getting nicer,” Darbie whispered to Sophie as they followed Phoebe to the backyard.
Fiona grunted. Maggie didn’t say anything. She hadn’t said anything since they’d pulled in.
“We have to keep giving her compliments,” Sophie whispered back.
“Great space for the tent scene,” Vincent said.
There wasn’t as much stuff in the backyard. Just one rusty wheelbarrow and a chicken coop minus the chickens.
“They all died,” Phoebe told them.
It took a few minutes for the girls to get their tents up near where the boys had already pitched theirs. Boppa stood on the back porch until the door creaked open. A man almost as stick-skinny as Vincent came out.
“Ned Bunting.” Boppa stuck out his hand.
“Buck Karnes.” The man shook Boppa’s hand absently as he squinted at the kids. Sophie was amazed how much Phoebe looked like him. The only thing missing was a gap between his two front teeth.
“Don’t be touchin’ none of my stuff, Phoebe,” he said.
Okay, so the gap wasn’t missing. But there was something — in his eyes — that Phoebe didn’t have in hers.
“We aren’t gonna touch any of your precious stuff,” Phoebe said without looking at him.
“I’d be afraid to,” Fiona murmured to Sophie.
Sophie knelt to check her tent spikes. Jimmy was suddenly there beside her. “Phoebe must be really poor,” he whispered. “I kinda feel sorry for her.” His blue eyes looked sad.
Sophie decided she liked that about him. “We’re all trying to tell her she’s fabulous and all that,” she whispered back. “She seems nicer when we do that.”
Jimmy nodded his blond head toward the back porch. “I don’t think that’ll work on her dad. He’s pretty mean. You shoulda heard him yelling at her before you came.”
Even now, Mr. Karnes’ voice was way louder than it needed to be for Boppa, who was standing right next to him.
“This is some thing they picked to do a movie about,” he said. “Cubans. I told Phoebe all they’re good at is highjackin’ planes.”
He grinned like he’d just delivered a hilarious punch line. His lip even curled back like Phoebe’s. Boppa didn’t smile with him.
“I remember back in ’80 when Castro let all his rejects go,” Mr. Karnes went on. “It was all over the news, them washin’ up right on those fancy beaches in Miami and spongin’ off Americans the minute they got here.” He spat off the side of the porch. “I heard any white person wants to stay livin’ down there has to have bars on their windows.”
“I don’t think so,” Boppa said.
“Oh, yeah. Crime’s worse down there than in New York City. Cubans are dealing drugs and counterfeiting money and robbing tourists.”
“Excuse me,” Fiona said.
Sophie sucked in her breath. Fiona was marching toward the porch.
Eight
In case you haven’t noticed,” Fiona said before she even reached Phoebe’s father, “our friend Maggie is Cuban. I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate you saying things like that.”
“Who’s a Cuban?” Mr. Karnes’ eyes darted across the yard like he was looking for a rattlesnake.
Darbie stepped in front of Maggie. Jimmy was right beside her. Sophie was stuck between wanting to cover Maggie’s ears and wishing she could escape into Liberty Lawhead on the spot.
“Fiona,” Boppa said, “let me handle this.”
“You better do it quick,” Fiona said. “Before I — ”
“Fiona,” Boppa said.
Their beloved Boppa didn’t raise his voice that often. When he did, everybody shifted into obedience mode. Fiona backed down from the porch.
“You kids get to work,” Boppa said. He looked at Mr. Karnes. “Could we talk privately? Inside?”
Mr. Karnes shrugged, and they disappeared inside the house. Nobody said anything for a minute. Even Phoebe was quiet as she stared at the door.
“I wondered where you got that big speech yesterday,” Vincent finally said to Phoebe. “Now I know.”
“You sounded just like your father,” Darbie said.
Fiona snorted. “Go figure.”
Phoebe took a bow. “Thank you,” she said. “I get my material wherever I can.”
“Do you believe him?”
Sophie jumped. It was the first thing Maggie had said since they’d arrived. And Maggie’s face wasn’t blank anymore. Her eyes were hard and shiny, like wet stones.
Phoebe looked as startled as Sophie felt, but only for a few seconds. Then something hard came into her eyes too. That final piece made her look identical to her father.
“My dad’s a jerk,” she said. “I never even listen to him except when I need an example for a character. When I told him what we were doing our movie on, he just came out with this whole monologue — ”
“Then you don’t believe him,” Sophie said quickly. She could practically feel Maggie growing stiffer by the second.
“Who cares?” Phoebe said. “It’s all about the part for me.”
“We care if Maggie gets her feelings hurt.” Fiona’s nostrils were flared so wide, Sophie was sure she herself could have crawled in. “Your father needs to apologize to her.”
“Right,” Phoebe said. “Like I can make him.”
“You probably can’t,” Vincent said. He sounded like he was talking about a math problem. “On the meanness scale, he’s about a — ”
“So, do you guys want to do this scene or what?” Jimmy said.
Sophie decided she liked him for that too. But as they set up the “scum word” scene, Sophie couldn’t help wondering —
Was Phoebe really that good an actor? Had she really just played her father yesterday when she yelled at Maggie?
Or did she believe what she was saying?
She can’t even remember Maggie’s name half the time, Sophie thought. And she just automatically assumed Senora LaQuita was the cleaning lady.
Not only that, but Phoebe pushed Maggie around like she was her servant or something. Even now, she was saying, “You — get behind Fiona since she’s your mom and act like you’re scared. Do something besides just stare.”
“You know what, Phoebe?” Fiona said. “Why don’t you just worry about your own acting and let Maggie do her thing?”
“Works for me,” Vincent said.
“I’m just trying to make this thing sensational,” Phoebe said. “You guys could learn so much from me.”
Liberty Lawhead drew in a deep breath. This was the hardest case she had ever come up against. It was so much easier when the bad guys were totally bad and there was no mistaking their heinous-ness. But when someone was sometimes right, but was so hard to listen to, and when that same someone didn’t come right out and say she, well, hated Cubans, what was she to do?
“I must remember what Dr. Barton Gunther Prince Jr. told us,” Liberty said out loud so she would be sure to hear herself. “We must pray and not judge. God will make it clear to us when we need to speak out.”
“How does that fit into this scene?” Phoebe said.
I think it fits into every scene, Sophie thought.
She looked at Maggie and wished the hardness would disappear from her friend’s eyes.
But that look stayed with Maggie over the next several days.
They practiced at Sophie’s after school Tuesday because of Zeke. When Sophie set him up on the back patio with his Spider-Man toys, he swept them all off the table with one arm and wailed that he wanted to be in the movie.
Phoebe said Maggie should watch him because wasn’t that what “you people are good at?” It didn’t sound like a compliment to Sophie, and it obviously didn’t to Maggie, either. She looked so hard at Phoebe, Jimmy jumped in to sling Zeke over his shoulder and carried him around through the whole rehearsal. Sophie really liked that about him.
But Zeke
was so wired after everybody left, he grabbed the plates off the dinner table and flung two of them like Frisbees before Sophie could stop him.
“I’m staging a protest!” he said.
No more rehearsals at their house, Mama said.
Wednesday, Phoebe complained because the rest of the girls went to Bible study instead of meeting to practice.
“So come with us,” Sophie said.
Three different Corn Flakes poked her in the back.
“Me go to church?” Phoebe said. “Nah. Religion is a bunch of hooey.” She looked at Maggie. “Do you go to this Bible study thing too?”
“Yes,” Maggie said woodenly.
“Why wouldn’t she?” Fiona said.
Fiona’s voice got colder every time she spoke to Phoebe. Pretty soon, she was going to frost Phoebe’s eyebrows.
“I thought the Cubans did, like, weird rituals and stuff. I read it in some of that stuff Vincent printed out.”
Sophie made a mental note to tell Vincent to stop with the Internet, already.
“I’m a Christian,” Maggie said, staring at Phoebe.
Phoebe shrugged. “Okay. Don’t have a seizure.”
During Bible study that day, Dr. Peter had a fall feast for them, with grapes and bread and apples and pumpkin squares. There was a lot of giggling and grape peeling, but they didn’t have time to discuss their problems like they usually did.
That was okay with Sophie. She wanted to talk to Dr. Peter alone about it, and she hung back after everybody else left. She especially didn’t want Maggie to hear — just in case Maggie wasn’t catching all the little remarks Phoebe muttered under her breath. It would be okay after she told Dr. Peter everything, she just knew it.
“We really, really tried to appreciate her and not judge her and stuff,” Sophie told Dr. Peter after she’d brought him up to speed, “and I’ve been sort of praying for her. She’s nicer to the rest of us now, but not to Maggie.” She wrinkled her nose to push her glasses up, the way Dr. Peter always did. “Maybe she’s just naturally mean that way, you know, like her father.”
Dr. Peter wrinkled his nose too. “I don’t think any kid is just naturally mean,” he said. “Usually a girl acts mean because she’s angry or scared.”