by Betsy Haynes
Taffy sighed and headed for home. "I don't know why I bothered to go all the way to Hollywood to film Nobody Likes Tiffany Stafford," she whispered to herself. "They could have brought the camera crew here to Wakeman and called the movie Nobody Likes Taffy Sinclair."
When she got home, her mother was waiting for her in the kitchen.
"How did your first day back at school go, dear? Was everybody excited about having a movie star for a classmate?"
Taffy dropped her books on the counter with a thud. "Are you kidding?" she muttered. "Most of them treated me like poison."
Mrs. Sinclair nodded and smiled sympathetically. "I'm sure they're a little jealous. After all, none of them have ever done what you have."
Taffy sighed. "Shawnie says that my going to Hollywood makes them feel like big fat nothings. Do you think that's true?"
"Probably, but you can't let that bother you, sweetheart. You have a wonderful future as an actress, and someday they'll all be bragging that they knew you in school. Just you wait and see."
But what about now? Taffy wanted to ask as she headed upstairs to her room. Someday was a long way away. She thought about what had happened during the day. Her overhearing The Fabulous Five talking behind her back. Laura McCall's pretending to gag and giggling with her friends when Taffy told her homeroom about Hollywood. Taffy's finding out that Kimm Taylor had practically stolen her best friend while she was gone. And now, the scene at Bumpers.
I don't want to wait for someday, she thought miserably. I want kids to like me now.
CHAPTER FIVE
For the next couple of days Taffy bit her tongue every time she was tempted to mention Hollywood or Raven Blaine or anything else about making a movie. It was more difficult than she had expected, but it was the only solution she could come up with to keep people from thinking she was bragging.
She sighed every time she looked at her bulletin board at the clipping from the Hollywood newspaper of her and Raven Blaine, or at the gold star necklace that Raven had given her. But she didn't wear the necklace to school again. It would just remind me of things that I'm better off not thinking about, she told herself.
On Friday Cory asked if he could walk her home after school so they could make plans for their date that evening. Before they had even left the school grounds, Cory had told her that he would come by at six-thirty and that they would be doubling with Shawnie and Craig.
With that settled Taffy linked arms with Cory for the rest of the walk home, sauntering along as slowly as possible. She wanted to make the time with him last, even though she knew her mother would be sitting in the car in the Sinclair driveway, impatiently tapping her fingertips against the steering wheel and watching the hands on her wristwatch move closer to the time Taffy's acting lesson was to begin.
"You're awfully quiet. What are you thinking about?" asked Cory. "I hope it's not Raven Blaine."
"Raven Blaine!" Taffy echoed. Her heart began to pound. "Why would I be thinking about him?"
Cory looked down at her, a tiny frown creasing his face. "I heard that you told everybody at Bumpers a few days ago that Raven Blaine was totally cool."
"That's not what I said," Taffy argued. "I never ever said he was totally cool. What I said was that he was a really nice person, that's all."
"Okay, okay," said Cory. "I didn't mean to come off sounding jealous."
"That's okay," said Taffy, but her heart was still pounding. Did Cory suspect how she felt about Raven?
"So, what were you thinking about?" he asked.
Taffy squinted up at Cory in the bright sunlight. "I was just dreading going to my acting class," she said. "My mother is determined to make me into an actress."
"I thought you liked acting," said Cory.
"Don't get me wrong. I do like acting, but I'd also like to have more time for other things—" she flashed him a big smile—"like spending time with you. It'll never happen, though. Now that the producers of Nobody Likes Tiffany Stafford are considering turning it into a weekly television series, my mother's more determined than ever. I don't know what she'd do if they cast someone else in the part of Tiffany Stafford." Cory stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "Do you mean that you might go back to Hollywood?" he asked incredulously.
Taffy didn't say anything for a moment. She hadn't wanted to tell Cory about that possibility, but it had slipped out. "Maybe," she admitted, "but I really don't want to. Honest. It's my mother who wants it. She's devoting her whole life to making me a star." Taffy hoped her voice sounded sincere. She hadn't lied to Cory. Not exactly, anyway. Part of her did want to stay here and be a real teenager. But even though she couldn't admit it to him, part of her loved the glamorous life in Hollywood and wanted to return.
"If you're going to take lessons, why don't you take singing lessons?" suggested Cory. "Then you could take Kimm Taylor's place as singer for The Dreadful Alternatives."
"Replace Kimm? You've got to be kidding," said Taffy. "But then . . ." she mused, and lapsed into thought. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. Shawnie had said that the band was trying hard to make it big. If that happened, she wanted herself—not Kimm—to be in on the glory. Besides, it would serve Kimm right for trying to steal her best friend.
"I'm serious," said Cory. "Talk to your mom. Tell her that you'd rather be a singer. She ought to go for that, since you could still be a star. You don't have to mention The Dreadful Alternatives."
"I wouldn't dare ask her anything like that," Taffy said with a laugh. "She'd come totally unglued."
"What would your dad say?" Cory asked. "Would he be more sympathetic?"
Taffy shook her head. "It wouldn't do any good if he was. He wasn't a Radio City Music Hall Rockette who gave up a career for marriage and a family. Mother considers herself the authority on show business, and she makes all those kinds of decisions."
Just as Taffy had predicted, Mrs. Sinclair sat idling the car at the bottom of the driveway. When she saw Taffy and Cory approaching, she jumped out and began waving.
"Hurry, Taffy. Do you know what time it is? We're going to be late."
Taffy looked at Cory helplessly. "I have to go," she whispered.
Cory glanced quickly toward Mrs. Sinclair, who was ducking back into the car, and then pretended to cough. When he put his hand to his mouth, he kissed the tip of his index finger and brushed the finger across Taffy's cheek.
"See you later," he said softly.
Taffy smiled and nodded as she got into her car. She touched the spot where Cory had left the kiss as she waved good-bye to him. He was so wonderful.
Who knows about Raven Blaine? she thought. He seemed to care about me. But maybe he acts that way to every girl he meets.
She sighed and thought about Cory again, closing her eyes and seeing them together on stage with The Dreadful Alternatives. Now, more than ever, she wanted to be a regular person, an ordinary seventh- grader at Wakeman Junior High, instead of a movie star. And maybe someday The Dreadful Alternatives, with her as their singer, would make it into the big time. Then she would be a star after all.
"Taffy. Did you hear me?" asked her mother as she pulled into a parking space in front of a red brick building. "I asked if you've memorized the scenes your class is going to work on today."
Taffy blinked away her daydreams. "I read them over a few times," she offered.
Mrs. Sinclair shook her head. "I certainly hope you don't embarrass yourself," she scolded. "I'd think the least you could do is memorize your scenes. Well, come on."
Why won't she leave me alone? Taffy wondered miserably as she followed her mother into the building and up the stairs. Why won't she just let me lead my own life the way I want to?
Taffy thought about mentioning the idea of taking singing lessons instead of acting lessons, but she knew the timing wasn't right. Maybe she could bring up the subject another time, when her mother was in a better mood. But she would have to be careful and handle it just right. The chance to replace Kimm was too important to make a mistake.
Mrs. Sinclair opened the door to The Merry Chase Studio and pushed Taffy in ahead of herself. The walls were covered with pictures of famous actors and actresses who had studied with Merry Chase. Taffy went past the secretary's desk into the room where class was held. It was a large room with twenty-five or thirty chairs lined up in three rows at one end. The rest of the room served as the stage, where the students practiced their roles.
At least a dozen other boys and girls around Taffy's age were already seated. Most sat beside their mothers, but a few others—the lucky ones, to Taffy's way of thinking—were clustered in the third row, talking and giggling together. Taffy looked longingly at this group as her mother tugged at her and pointed to two seats at the front.
When everyone was finally settled, Merry Chase herself took center stage. She was stick-thin with heavy makeup and hair dyed black. Her hair was piled on her head, and she was dressed in a long, flowing muumuu with tons of silver jewelry hanging around her neck.
"Good afternoon, loves," she called out in a deep, throaty voice.
"Good afternoon, Merry Chase," the students answered obediently.
Merry Chase smiled benevolently. "I hope everyone has memorized the scenes for today, because we all want to work hard and become famous movie stars."
Mrs. Sinclair nudged Taffy and looked down her nose at her as if to say, "I told you so!"
Taffy rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and groaned inwardly. She was trapped.
CHAPTER SIX
The telephone was ringing when Taffy got home from acting class.
"Hi, Taffy. It's Cory. How would you feel about going roller-skating instead of to a movie? A lot of kids from Wacko are going to Skateland over on Lincoln Avenue tonight. I thought it might be fun to go along."
"Wow," said Taffy. "I haven't been skating in ages. I'd definitely like to go."
"Great. I'll see you at six-thirty then. And Taffy . . ." He hesitated a moment. "Did you say anything to your mother about singing lessons?"
Taffy bit her lower lip. There was no way she could ever talk her mother into letting her take singing lessons instead of acting lessons, but she didn't want to tell that to Cory. "Not yet," she said.
Stalling wasn't much better than lying, she told herself after they hung up, but it would give her time to plan what to say when Cory asked again. She didn't want to say anything that would make him mad at her, not right now, when they were beginning to date again.
"Remember to be home on time," her mother warned when Taffy came downstairs to wait for Cory that evening. "You need your beauty sleep. What if you get a call to go back to Hollywood and you have dark circles under your eyes?"
"Mo-ther!" Taffy said with a huge sigh. "I've never had dark circles under my eyes in my life."
Before Mrs. Sinclair could reply, the doorbell rang. Taffy hurried to open the door and drew in her breath at the sight of Cory. He looked so handsome standing there, his blond hair falling gently over his forehead.
"Hello, Cory," her mother said behind her. Then the tone of her voice changed. "Why are you carrying skates? I thought you two were going to a movie."
Taffy winced as she noticed that a pair of black-and-neon-green roller skates were slung over Cory's shoulder. "We changed our minds, Mother. I forgot to tell you."
She could see storm clouds gathering in her mother's eyes.
"A bunch of Wakeman kids are going," she added quickly. "I'll still be home early."
"Taffy! You know you can't go skating. What if you broke a leg? It would ruin your movie career!"
Taffy felt as if her whole body were crashing inward. She didn't dare look at Cory. What could she say?
"It's okay, Mrs. Sinclair," said Cory. "We can go to a movie. I guess I wasn't thinking when I asked her to go skating."
In exasperation Taffy spun around and opened her mouth to plead with her mother, but the look of determination on Mrs. Sinclair's face stopped her.
"Come on, Taffy," Cory urged. "It's okay. Honest."
Taffy got her jacket from the hall closet and said good-night to her parents. Then she followed Cory out of the house.
"I feel just awful," she said as they walked down the street toward Cinema Six. "Were we supposed to meet Shawnie and Craig at Skateland?"
Cory nodded. "Don't worry, though. We'll explain later. They'll understand."
Even though Cory seemed perfectly content to see a movie, Taffy couldn't help wishing they could have gone to Skateland. There would be so many Wakeman kids there, and maybe if they saw her with Cory, they would realize that she was just one of them. Maybe they would even forget to hate her for being a movie star. Also, hadn't Kimm said that Cory had already seen all of the movies playing at Cinema Six? No wonder he wanted to skate, she thought. He's probably bored to death.
But halfway through the movie he reached for her hand, and on the way out of the theater he slipped his arm around her waist. "Do you mind if we skip Bumpers tonight?" he said. "There's something I'd like to ask you—in private."
Taffy's eyes widened, and her heart skipped a beat. "It's okay with me," she assured him.
When they were outside, Cory steered her into a small park and motioned toward a bench underneath a beautiful oak tree. They sat down, and he made circles in the dirt with the toe of his sneaker. Finally he looked up and said, "I'll bet things seem pretty dull here after Hollywood, don't they?"
"No, honest," Taffy insisted. "I'm really glad to be back." Then she added quickly, "Going to classes at Wacko is a lot more fun than sitting around with a tutor on a movie set. Of course, we only had to go to school three hours a day, which was pretty neat, but—" She broke off the sentence quickly, embarrassed that she had forgotten her vow not to make a big deal about Hollywood or starring in a movie. She would just answer people's questions and let it go at that. Now she had broken that promise to herself. What if she had blown Cory's feelings for her, too? she thought frantically.
"Yeah. Well, I guess things are different there," Cory said lamely.
"No . . . I mean, yes . . . I mean . . ." she fumbled, trying desperately to think of the right thing to say.
Then, to her surprise, Cory looked at her and said, "I . . . I really missed you while you were in Hollywood."
Taffy felt a pink glow spread over her cheeks. "I missed you, too," she said shyly.
"I was worried that you might like it so much out there that you'd never come back."
Taffy bit her lower lip. She could never admit to Cory just how much she had liked Hollywood and how much she missed it, now that she was home. "But I did come back," she told him.
"Yeah." Cory grinned broadly. "And am I glad!" He looked down again, making more circles in the dirt with the toe of his sneaker. "What I wanted to know is . . ." he began, ". . . would you go steady with me?"
Taffy's heart leapt into her throat. Had she heard him right? Had he actually asked her to go steady? But the look in his eyes told her that he had.
"I mean, if you don't want to, or if you think you're going back to Hollywood . . ."
"Oh, yes," she answered quickly. "I'd love to go steady with you."
Cory leaned toward her and kissed her softly on the lips.
I'll never go back to Hollywood, she vowed silently as they walked toward home. And I'll talk my mother into letting me take singing lessons so I can sing with Cory's band, if it's the last thing I do.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next day was Saturday, and as soon as Taffy finished breakfast, she raced to the phone to call Shawnie and tell her the big news, that Cory had asked her to go steady. She also wanted to explain why they hadn't been at the skating rink. Taffy let the phone ring at least a dozen times, but no one answered.
"Rats!" she said in frustration. She knew Shawnie and her mother frequently went shopping on Saturday. It was obvious from Shawnie's fabulous wardrobe. But she was still disappointed. It was the same old thing, she thought, good news and no one to tell it to.
She wandered ar
ound the house all morning, alternating between trying Shawnie's number again and daydreaming about Cory and how wonderful it would be to be onstage with him.
She was stretched across her bed, picturing her favorite scene for the hundredth time. The setting was the Wakeman Junior High gymnasium. The Dreadful Alternatives, with her as singer, were performing onstage. On the gym floor the crowd was applauding wildly. Suddenly a knock on her bedroom door jolted her back to reality.
"Taffy?" her mother called from the hallway. "May I come in? I have something for you."
"Sure," Taffy answered, wondering why her mother sounded so excited.
Mrs. Sinclair entered the room smiling broadly and handed a letter to Taffy. "This just came for you. It's from your friend Paige Kramer in Hollywood."
Taffy drew in her breath. "From Paige?" she asked excitedly. "Gosh, thanks."
Paige Kramer was a former child star. At first she had been Taffy's enemy on the movie set because she had wanted the starring role that Taffy got. But later, after Taffy had gotten to know Paige and understand her problems, they had become best friends. Taffy carried the letter to her bed and sat cross-legged in the center. She started to open it when she noticed that her mother had not moved. Mrs. Sinclair was watching her intently.
"Hurry, Taffy, open it," her mother instructed. "Paige might have heard whether or not your movie is going to become a TV series."
Taffy frowned. It was her letter. Her private letter. "I'll let you know if she says anything about it," said Taffy. She put the letter in her lap and looked at her mother calmly.
"Well!" huffed Mrs. Sinclair. Then she hurried out of the room, muttering. "After all, I am your mother."
As soon as the door closed again, Taffy sank back against her pillows and eagerly tore open the envelope.
Dear Taffy,
I know you've only been gone a few days, but I had to write anyway, to tell you how much I miss you. KJ, Tess, Raven, and I went to the beach yesterday. Raven wore his red wig and sunglasses disguise so he wouldn't be mobbed by teenage girls, but things just weren't the same without you.