by Betsy Haynes
CHAPTER TEN
Taffy climbed into the car beside her mother and slumped against the door. She stared out the window, but she didn't really see anything. She was thinking about her conversation with Shawnie. What if Shawnie was right about Kimm's crush on Cory? What did Cory think of Kimm? Was he as fascinated with her as Shawnie was? Kimm certainly was pretty with her long, dark hair and her almond-shaped eyes. Anything could happen between Cory and Kimm if Taffy had to return to Hollywood for six long months.
When Taffy and her mother arrived at The Merry Chase Acting Studio, Channing Crandall was standing at the front of the classroom conferring with Merry Chase. He had silver hair and a California tan, and he wore large diamond rings on both hands and a heavy gold chain on one wrist.
"Hello, Taffy," he called out.
Just as Taffy started to return his greeting, her mother rushed forward and began shaking his hand. "Oh, Mr. Crandall, it's so good to see you again," she gushed. "Is it possible that you have some good news for us today?"
Taffy looked around in embarrassment. Why did her mother always have to make a big scene? The other boys and girls had stopped their talking, and everyone was looking at her mother and Channing Crandall.
"Come on, Mother," she urged. "Let's sit down."
"It's all right, Taffy," said the casting director. "I understand your mother's concern. As a matter of fact, things look good for the TV series. We'll know definitely in a couple of weeks, as soon as the movie is shown on television."
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Crandall. Thank you so much," said Mrs. Sinclair.
Just then Merry Chase raised her hand for quiet, and Taffy and her mother found seats.
"Good afternoon, loves," said Merry Chase in her deep, throaty voice.
"Good afternoon, Merry Chase," called out the students.
Taffy sighed. It was always the same.
"I'm sure all of you recognize Channing Crandall, the casting director from Hollywood who was here a few months ago and auditioned our own Taffy Sinclair for her movie role," said Merry Chase.
A ripple of excitement flowed through the crowd. Merry Chase pierced the air with a blood red fingernail, signaling quiet, and went on. "He's here today looking for more talented boys and girls, because if Nobody Likes Tiffany Stafford does become a television series, there will be room for more actresses and actors in the cast. He'd like to see each of you perform."
All around her kids were going bananas. Most of the girls had whipped out brushes and were frantically working on their hair. Others ducked behind the seats in front of them to peek into mirrors and apply eye shadow or lipstick. The boys were mostly horsing around and acting like jerks—as usual, thought Taffy.
Beside her, Mrs. Sinclair squirmed nervously. "I don't understand what's going on here. He wouldn't dare replace you in the starring role of Tiffany Stafford," she whispered angrily.
"Merry Chase said he's just looking for more kids to fill other roles," said Taffy with a trace of annoyance at her mother. "Naturally a TV series would have a bigger cast than a movie."
"Humph. I certainly hope that's what it is," grumped Mrs. Sinclair.
Taffy scrunched down in her chair. She had never considered the possibility of losing her starring role. What if she blew this audition on purpose and Mr. Crandall picked someone else?
At least then I wouldn't have to leave home again just when I'm starting to fit in, she thought. I could keep my best friend and my boyfriend. And I could replace Kimm as the band's singer. The idea seemed suddenly appealing.
Channing Crandall moved to the center of the stage. "Boys and girls," he said in a booming voice, "so that I may see each of you at your best, I'm going to ask you to do some improvisation. Who can tell me what improvisation is?"
Hands shot up all over the room, but Mr. Crandall chose an especially pretty brunette in the front row named Summer Lacey. Taffy had never liked Summer. She was too conceited. Taffy would die if Summer stole her part.
Summer stood and flashed a big smile at the casting director as she told him her name. "Improvisation is acting without a script," she said importantly. "It's making up the story and the lines as you go along."
"Thank you, Summer. That's exactly right," said Mr. Crandall. "Improvisation lets you use your imagination to the fullest. I'm sure Merry Chase has told you the importance of imagination in becoming the character you're playing."
Kids nodded all around the room. Taffy bit her lower lip and thought about how easy it would be to improvise poorly. Then perhaps Channing Crandall would decide to cast someone else in the role of Tiffany Stafford. She stole a glance at her mother, sitting beside her, and thought about how disappointed she would be. She would just have to understand, Taffy thought stubbornly.
"Summer, since you're already standing, won't you go first?" asked Channing Crandall.
Some of the color drained out of Summer's face, and Taffy thought she saw her flinch slightly at his words. It was awful to be first, and Taffy almost felt sorry for her. Nodding slightly, Summer went to the front of the room.
The casting director rested his chin in his hand and looked at her pensively for a moment. "You are a babysitter," he began, waving a finger in the air as an orchestra conductor waves a baton. "You are caring for three preschoolers who are each trying to get into mischief."
Giggles rippled through the room.
"One is getting into the refrigerator. Another is climbing up the front of the cupboards. And the third has the cat by the tail. The phone rings. It's the children's mother. You must stop all three disasters while talking to her and not let on to her that things are out of control." He paused for Summer to visualize the scene and then gave the signal for her to begin.
Summer looked flustered for a moment. Then she began swatting the air around her ankles and grabbing for imaginary children as she kept a pretend telephone receiver clamped between her shoulder and her ear.
"Hello, Mrs. Jones," she said. "Yes, everything's fine. The little angels are behaving perfectly. In fact, they're coloring a picture for you right now."
Watching in amusement as Summer continued to improvise, Taffy joined in the applause when Mr. Crandall indicated she could return to her seat. Summer was good. Very good. Taffy felt little prickles of jealousy creep up the back of her neck at all the attention Summer was getting. Even some of the mothers were congratulating her on a good job.
Next Mr. Crandall called Cynthia Cameron to the front of the room. Tall, blond Cynthia was Taffy's biggest rival for modeling jobs and had almost stolen a television commercial away from Taffy last spring when Taffy had been too busy trying to recover her lost diary to attend an audition. What if Cynthia got my role in the television series? Taffy thought in horror.
Taffy narrowed her eyes and watched Cynthia improvise for the casting director. He told her that she was alone in a burning building. There was only one way out, through a window, and the flames were quickly closing in on that window. But she couldn't escape yet. Fido, the dog she had loved all her life, was still somewhere in the burning house.
Cynthia began swatting at the flames and smoke and calling out to Fido. She looked under imaginary furniture and then toward her shrinking escape route with an expression of terror on her face.
She's good, too, thought Taffy. Terrific, as a matter of fact.
When Cynthia finished her scene, the applause was even louder than it had been for Summer. Taffy made a face as she watched both girls. Summer looked so superior that anyone would think she was already a star. Well, she isn't, thought Taffy. I am.
Cynthia was smiling and batting her long eyelashes at Channing Crandall as if he were the most wonderful person on earth.
"It's disgusting," Taffy whispered to herself. "Totally disgusting!"
When the room grew quiet again, the casting director turned to her. "Taffy, we all know what a good actress you are. I'd like for you to show the rest of the class how you do improvisation."
Taffy didn't move for a mom
ent. This was it, the moment when she would have to decide if she wanted to stay at Wacko Junior High and let someone else become a star in her place or if she wanted to prove again to Channing Crandall and everyone in the room, especially Summer and Cynthia, what a terrific actress she was.
"Go on, honey," urged her mother. "What are you waiting for? Break a leg."
Cynthia Cameron put a hand over her mouth to deflect the sound and began imitating Mrs. Sinclair. "Go on, honey. Break your neck."
Giggles broke out all around Cynthia, and Taffy felt the anger rising in her face. Now she certainly couldn't blow her improvisation and let Cynthia make a fool out of her. Tiffany was her part.
Taffy raised her head and smiled as she stepped to the front of the room. "I'd be happy to improvise for you, Mr. Crandall," she said demurely, and immediately the giggles stopped behind her.
The casting director thought a moment and then said, "You are in love with a very special young man. It took you a long time to find each other, and you are very happy together. But now something urgent has come up, and you must go away. You must find the right way to break the news to him."
Taffy stared at Channing Crandall for an instant, thinking how close he was to describing her own life. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Cory Dillon was standing beside her. Only this was an old-fashioned Cory, wearing a powdered wig and dressed in knee-length breeches. He was smiling and motioning for her to walk into a garden with him.
Taffy smoothed her long hoop skirt and said, "There's something important that I must tell you." They walked along in silence for a moment as she tried to find the words. Finally she stopped and sat down beneath a tree, looking into his handsome face as he knelt beside her.
"I must go away soon. Tomorrow, as a matter of fact." She held up her hand to prevent him from interrupting. "It is because of a letter I received, containing proof that I am not who you think I am. According to the letter, my parents were traveling actors who stopped here one cold winter night and left me in the care of the people I've always called my parents. They left me here because I was frail, and they were afraid I could not survive the hardships of traveling from town to town. Now they are dying, and I must go to them before it is too late."
Tears streamed down Cory's face as he begged her to stay. Taffy fought back her own tears as she got to her feet.
"I must go, but I will always love you. And if there is a way for me to come back to you, I will. I promise with all my heart." Kissing the tip of a finger, she brushed it across his cheek, then turned and fled down the path.
There was not a sound in the room as Taffy pulled herself back to reality. Fear shot through her. Had she been that bad? Glancing quickly around, she saw to her amazement that there was hardly a dry eye in the class. Suddenly applause thundered from everywhere.
"Oh, Taffy. That was wonderful!" shrieked Mrs. Sinclair, rushing forward and smothering her with a gigantic hug.
Taffy turned. Channing Crandall was beaming at her.
"That was wonderful, Taffy, and it should prove to everyone here why you, and only you, will play Tiffany Stafford if the movie becomes a series," he said in an authoritative voice.
Taffy nodded and went back to her seat. She didn't look at Summer or Cynthia. She didn't have to. She had ended any chance either of them had to take her role away from her—and she had done it by improvising saying good-bye to Cory.
"But can I do the scene as well if I have to say goodbye for real?" she whispered.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Monday was Clash Day, and Taffy went through her closet looking for the worst possible combination she could find. As she held up one piece of clothing after another in front of the mirror, she couldn't help remembering that it had been exactly one month ago—on Pajama Day—that she had returned from Hollywood to Wakeman Junior High. She winced as she remembered how awful it had been to be practically the only girl in school wearing regular clothes.
"I stuck out like a sore thumb," she told her reflection. "But not today."
A lot had happened in that month, she thought. She still missed Hollywood as much as she had at first, but at least she was starting to feel like she belonged at Wacko. Still, that could all change again if Nobody Likes Tiffany Stafford becomes a television series, she reminded herself.
Taffy finally settled on a bright orange pullover sweater that she seldom wore because it made her complexion look a sick shade of green. Next she put on a fuchsia miniskirt, and completed the outfit with flame red tights and black high-top shoes.
"That ought to do it," she giggled, dabbing on pink lipstick.
She was humming to herself as she gathered her books and jacket and hurried down to breakfast. Mr. Sinclair had already left for work, but her mother was sitting at the table sipping coffee and working the crossword puzzle in the morning newspaper.
"Morning, Mother," said Taffy.
"Morning, dear," replied Mrs. Sinclair. Then she glanced up. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes got enormous, and she nearly dropped her coffee cup. "Taffy! What's wrong with you? And why are you wearing that outfit? You look ghastly!"
Taffy twirled around to give her mother the full effect of her outrageous clothes. Then she laughed and said, "Don't worry. Today is Clash Day. Everybody will be dressed like this."
"I don't care if it's Insanity Day, you're not leaving the house like that!" her mother stormed. "What if someone saw you in that get-up? Someone important?"
"If you mean Channing Crandall, I'm sure he's gone back to Hollywood by now," Taffy assured her. "Like I said, everybody at school will be wearing horrible outfits. I'll just blend into the scenery."
"Taffy, I'm serious," warned her mother. "You are not leaving this house dressed that way. Now, go upstairs immediately and change into something presentable."
"You don't understand! I have to wear this. It's important! I want to be like everybody else."
"You are not like everybody else, dear. You are special."
"Mo-ther!" Taffy cried.
Mrs. Sinclair rose from her chair like an erupting volcano. "Taffy!" she roared. "Did you hear me?"
Tears spilled from Taffy's eyes. She dropped her books on the table with a thud and stomped back upstairs. Why does she always have to be so paranoid? Taffy sobbed to herself as she flung open her closet door and stared at the row of perfectly matched outfits inside. But there was no use arguing. Her mother always got her way. Always!
When Taffy neared school a little later, she debated leaving her jacket on, thinking maybe kids wouldn't notice that the white denim skirt and the red-and-white knit top she wore under the jacket looked great together.
"Hey, Taffy. Let's see what you're wearing," Shawnie called from behind her.
Taffy turned around to see her friend racing up the sidewalk in a wacky combination of brightly colored prints and stripes.
"Isn't this fun?" Shawnie asked breathlessly. Then she stopped and looked at Taffy in disbelief. "Hey, today's Clash Day. Don't you want to fit in?"
Taffy fought to keep Shawnie from seeing the tears of embarrassment forming behind her eyes as she told Shawnie about the scene with her mother.
"Gosh, I'm sorry," murmured Shawnie, and the girls walked the rest of the way to school in silence.
All day long Taffy felt out of place. All the other kids seemed to be having a ball in their crazy outfits, and she was sure some of them were whispering about her as she went from class to class. They probably think I'm too conceited to wear anything that clashes, she thought. Shawnie's words played over and over in her mind. Don't you want to fit in? Of course I do, she thought miserably, but how can I?
When Taffy got home from school that afternoon, she found another letter with a Hollywood postmark. But this one wasn't from Paige. Taffy sucked in her breath and stared at the return address. It was from Raven! She snatched it from the stack of letters in the mailbox and hurried to her room before her mother could spot it and demand to know what it said.
Dear Taffy,
I'm sorry I haven't written sooner. I got your address from Paige a long time ago and started about a dozen letters to you, but I tore them all up. The trouble was, none of them sounded quite right. I guess what I really want to say is that I miss you a lot and want you to come back to Hollywood. I was sincere when I said I'd like to take you out.
We should be hearing soon about the TV series. We're all crossing our fingers.
Well, that's all for now. Write soon, and don't forget your friends in Hollywood!
Love,
Raven
Taffy read the letter at least a hundred times. Then she stretched out on her bed and closed her eyes. She could see the palm trees swaying on the boulevards in Hollywood and hear the waves lapping against the shore at Venice Beach. She could see Paige Kramer's bright red hair and flashing smile, and tiny Tess, who looked six or seven but was really fifteen. Paige and Tess were terrific friends, and so was KJ, who was always wise-cracking and making jokes on the set. But most of all she could see gorgeous Raven Blaine, smiling at her, saying that he wanted to take her out.
She sighed, thinking about how much she missed Raven and all her Hollywood friends, and how she missed studying her lines and being in front of the cameras. She missed being a professional! She giggled to herself, remembering the Media Club's set and the tiny camcorder Jon Smith had used to film the program. There was nothing professional about that.
I could never stand being a member of Media Club, even for Shawnie, she admitted to herself. How could I ever have thought I belonged there? How could I ever have believed I belong at Wakeman Junior High, where everyone is jealous of me and whispers behind my back? No! The truth is, I want to go back to Hollywood. That's where I really fit in.
Taffy had trouble sleeping that night. There was no doubt now. She had made up her mind. If the movie became a television series, she would return to Hollywood. It was the only choice, now that she thought about it. She would never fit in at Wakeman Junior High, no matter how hard she tried.