Short

by Holly Goldberg Sloan

  As I head to Mrs. Chang’s car, Brock Wacker disappears from my mind like a sneeze. He’s just suddenly gone.

  I don’t think he’s coming back.

  • • •

  Even though it doesn’t matter what someone said about us in the newspaper, we find out later that the Munchkins’ call time has changed and we will now arrive thirty minutes earlier than before.

  We do this so that we can go to the piano and sing our songs one time through. We then head to the stage and take our places, and we perform our musical numbers up there with the theater seats empty.

  Gillian and Kitty and Dana don’t come early. No one does but us Munchkins.

  We’re just kids, so we need this extra help.

  By the end of the first week of performing we don’t make any mistakes, and all of the butterflies and moths are gone. I only get a little light-headed before we pop up from the flowers, and once we are singing and dancing I feel free onstage. The door never again sticks when Randy is supposed to appear, and Quincy doesn’t fall over.

  I wish that Brock Wacker would come back to the play now, but that’s not how it works. He sees it once and he writes his opinion.

  Mrs. Chang says that you are judged often in life before you’re ready. She’s not talking about spelling tests, but I understand.

  I can’t decide if I’m going to add the newspaper review to my scrapbook. I have it right now in my closet. I’m keeping it because the article says the play was a triumph. Maybe later I will feel okay about gluing it onto one of the pages.

  I did put in the scrapbook part of the zipper and the bottom of the blue jacket as a memory of when I hit Johnny Larson. But that was from a long time ago.

  So maybe when I’m in college I’ll think of Brock Wacker differently.

  THIRTY

  The last three weeks have gone by so fast.

  Out of nowhere, we’re now doing the last performance.

  I can’t believe it when we rise up out of the glitter-covered daisies after being told to “Come out, come out, wherever you are . . .”

  I’m shaking inside, not because I’m nervous about singing or dancing, but because I’m so upset that it’s all going to be over.

  Mrs. Chang and Olive and I join hands before we’re lifted in our harnesses, and Olive whispers, “The flying monkeys live forever!” I don’t correct her and say “winged monkeys,” because we know who we are.

  Mrs. Chang and I nod.

  I whisper, “Forever.”

  Nikko and his guys have accepted us now as almost equals, and when we are lowered down at the end of our scene we get a lot of hugs. It makes Mrs. Chang laugh.

  It isn’t much later that we are all standing onstage for the final curtain call.

  I look into the audience, and I see Mom and Dad. Grandma Mittens is in Yosemite National Park with her friend Arlene. My brother Tim said he didn’t need to see the play twice. My parents are clapping like crazy, especially my dad. I didn’t know he was such a fan of the theater. Maybe he’s just a fan of me. And of course Randy.

  And then I notice a person I never thought would be here.

  I see Stephen Boyd.

  He’s sitting with his parents and his older sister, and something happened to him over the summer: He got glasses!

  Did he always have bad eyes? He doesn’t look out the window at school like I do. Maybe that’s why.

  At first I don’t think it’s him, but then I recognize the shirt. It’s got green and white stripes. So I know for certain. He must love that shirt. He wears it all the time.

  Stephen is clapping in a very real way. I don’t think he knows I’m the smallest winged monkey in the front row.

  I can’t help myself. I wave.

  The Munchkins are big copycats, so I should have known they’d all start waving to the audience too. But it’s the last night, so this is okay. We’re saying good-bye to being up here. Coco is in Gillian’s arms, and she starts to bark. Dogs understand more than people think. She can’t wave, but she wants in on the action.

  And then the curtain comes down, and it’s over.

  There should be a word for the kind of moment when you are excited but also sad and at the same time you know that what’s happening is important. Maybe there is a word but I don’t know it.

  Because this is our last night, we don’t have to follow the regular routine. We don’t take off our costumes or wash off our makeup right away.

  We are allowed to go straight out to meet people who have come to see us. I’m getting ready to go see my parents when off to the side I notice Stephen Boyd waiting.

  He starts to walk toward me.

  “Hey Julia,” he says, “you did a great job.”

  I’m surprised he figured out that it’s me.

  I say, “Thanks, Stephen. And thanks for coming to see the play.”

  He says, “You’re welcome. My parents have season tickets to the arts program and they make me go to everything.”

  I’m feeling all squishy inside because it’s the last night and I wasn’t expecting to see Stephen Boyd.

  I say, “I’ll see you in a few weeks at school.”

  He says, “Yeah. And Julia, we got a new dog this summer. Maybe sometime you want to come see her. She’s rescued. Her name’s Phyllis.”

  I say, “Phyllis?”

  “They told us we shouldn’t change the name.”

  I say, “I like Phyllis.”

  He says, “I know you were really sad when Ramon died.”

  I can’t believe he remembers Ramon’s name. And also that he said “died,” not “passed away.”

  I’m not even thinking. “Stephen, do you want to go canoeing sometime? We could go rent one at the boathouse.”

  He says, “I’m not a great swimmer. We won’t tip over or anything, right?”

  I say, “I’m pretty sure they’ll make us wear life jackets.”

  He nods. “Okay. We’ll figure it out.” He then turns and walks back to his parents. He looks like his mother. I remember him telling Jordan Azoff that she cooks good macaroni and cheese. Her secret is to add chopped-up bacon. I’d like to meet Phyllis. I wonder if she sheds a lot. Her name sounds to me like she has long hair.

  I go over to my mom and dad, and they give me a big hug. Randy is already there, and then Gene and his parents find us and everyone is talking at once. Dad takes a lot of pictures. Mom collects a bunch of extra programs.

  I thought that there would be a fancy party and it would be like opening night. I was dreaming about the pizza and the champagne and staying up late, but that’s not happening. There was a party and it was only for the grown-ups and they had it the night before.

  Now everyone is going their own way.

  Shawn Barr is getting on a plane first thing in the morning. Gillian and Coco are driving south tonight with Kevin. They must really want to get out of town if they’re leaving this late. I heard that Kevin quit his job at the bank, but I don’t know if this is true. I don’t need a car loan, so it doesn’t matter.

  Gianni has a “gig” in Seattle. I like the word “gig.” I hope he’s okay with rain. He seems like a sun kind of person.

  Quincy and Larry have been working together on making some kind of app, and they are going to try it out for the first time in two days, so they don’t stick around. Quincy has been learning to write code. I’m not sure what their app is for, but I should have asked days ago. Now it’s too late.

  The university has hired a crew to begin taking apart the sets right away, because they are using the whole area for a conference on Monday morning. I can already see people with crowbars and hammers walking around making plans. I can tell with one look that they aren’t theater people.

  Mom says, “Julia, should we wait while you get out of your costume?”

  Mrs. Chang shows up behi
nd me. “I can take her home. We won’t be too late.”

  My parents say that would be fine, and Mrs. Chang and I head backstage.

  I start to feel really heavy, like I’m carrying around a backpack filled with rocks.

  I clean off my makeup and get into my peasant blouse and my shorts and my leather sandals. I go to turn in my stuff to the costume people, but then I hear that Mrs. Chang owns it because she bought all the materials and of course made the thing. They say she wants me to keep it.

  I guess this October I’ll have the best Halloween costume of any kid in town.

  Josephine says she has a bag for everything. But it’s in her car. I tell her I’ll come back, and I put on my fuzzy jacket. I already did my good-byes to everyone about three times, and I’m not going to say good-bye to Olive because she lives here and we already made a plan to drive to the flea market at the fairgrounds next Sunday to look for used bowling shoes. We aren’t going bowling—we just think it would be fun to wear the shoes outside.

  There is only one person I haven’t said good-bye to yet.

  I find him sitting in the greenroom, which is an area where you can wait if you are important until you have to go onstage. It’s not green. That’s just a name. He has a cup of coffee in his hand, and he’s talking to Lorenzo, who takes care of the stuff in the buildings.

  He says, “Lorenzo, give me a minute.”

  I’m glad he told Lorenzo to get lost, because I need to do this alone.

  I say, “I have to go home now, but I want to give you something.”

  I reach into the pocket of my jacket, and I take out a present. I wrapped it in paper that is covered with owls, because they are wise and also they had this giftwrap at the bookstore and it was on sale. I still had a little bit of money left from my Christmas certificate.

  While Shawn Barr carefully peels off the owl paper I say, “My uncle made this for me. He’s a champion carver. Not of dogs, but of birds. It’s Ramon. He was my dog.”

  Shawn Barr takes wooden Ramon and holds him in a very kind way. He makes one hand flat like a shelf, and he looks carefully at the carving.

  “Are you sure you want to give this to me? This is very special.”

  I nod and say, “Ramon was very special.”

  It’s hard for me to speak. I whisper, “And so are you.”

  Shawn Barr looks from Ramon to me. He smiles, and his eyes are soft. He reaches down into his shoulder bag.

  “Baby, I should have wrapped this. Forgive me, but I didn’t get a chance.”

  He then hands me his work notebook. It says SHAWN BARR in fading gold letters on the worn leather. Inside is his copy of the script for The Wizard of Oz. Every single page has little arrows with his ideas.

  This is the most amazing thing in the whole world.

  It is too big to put in my scrapbook of the summer.

  And then I realize this is my scrapbook of the summer.

  The other stuff I’ve been collecting is great, but this is different.

  “Don’t you think you should keep this? It’s got all your secrets.”

  He points to his head. “At this point everything’s up here.”

  “Well, if you forget something, you can call, and if you tell me the scene I’ll find what you need. My number is on the cast sheet.”

  He nods.

  I try not to cry, because my nickname is Baby but I’m not a baby. I say in a very small voice, “I don’t want it to end. Why does it have to end?”

  I realize tears are leaking out of my eyes, which I know is not a good look for me.

  He says, “Everything has to come to an end sometime.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s a line from The Marvelous Land of Oz—by L. Frank Baum.”

  “Oh. I haven’t read that much of his stuff.”

  Shawn Barr doesn’t know that I don’t do that great in school or that sometimes I’m not a good listener and that I can daydream.

  He doesn’t know that I got fired by my piano teacher.

  He doesn’t know that I miss my dog so much, people were worrying.

  He sees a different me than other people.

  I say, “Shawn Barr, because of you, when I grow up I think I might try to be a director.”

  He says, “You could be a writer and a director.”

  I say, “I don’t know if I want two jobs. I like my free time.”

  He might be tired, because his eyes are blinking a lot. “Julia, I never had a kid, but if I did, I would’ve wanted her to be just like you.”

  Then Shawn Barr leans over and kisses the top of my head.

  He puts wooden Ramon into his shoulder bag.

  I don’t move.

  I can’t move.

  Shawn Barr turns and walks away.

  He’s still getting over his broken tailbone, and that makes him take funny steps. Or else maybe he knows I’m watching and he wants me to laugh.

  He could also still be working on his signature walk.

  I watch until he disappears into the back entrance of the stage.

  I turn and I see Mrs. Chang. She’s now standing under a big bluish light. She has taken off her costume, but she kept on the feathered wings. She raises them up into the air, which is one of the moves we make when we are doing wire work.

  I grip the binder in one hand, and I lift my arms and hold them out in the same way.

  We learned to fly together. And Olive was with us. Mrs. Chang already knew how to fly, but this summer she got another chance.

  I’m so glad Mrs. Chang and I live in the same town.

  On the same street.

  And I feel so glad that she has the ducks. I’m going to work on learning their names. I’ll start by writing them down.

  I pull the leather notebook to my chest. I know that I’ll take the secrets on the pages and I’ll study them and they’ll change my life.

  I grew this summer.

  Not on the outside, but on the inside.

  And that’s the only place where growing really matters.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would not have this book without being asked by Mike Winchell to write a story for an anthology he was editing for Grosset & Dunlap. So I begin by thanking Mike.

  I am so fortunate to have a brilliant editor who is also my brilliant publisher. It’s possible I write books solely to get Lauri Hornik’s approval. Thank you, Lauri, for everything.

  All of the people at Dial and Penguin Random House Books for Young Readers have been wonderful—but a special thanks to Don Weisberg (now gone from the building but never forgotten), the magnificent Jen Haller Loja, Jocelyn Schmidt, Felicia Frazier, Jackie Engel, Mary McGrath, Cristi Navarro, Todd Jones, Ev Taylor, Mary Raymond, Allan Winebarger, Colleen Conway, Nicole White, Jill Bailey, Sheila Hennessey, John Dennany, Biff Donovan, Doni Kay, Dawn Zahorik, Nicole Davies, Jill Nadeau, Steve Kent, Judy Samuels, Tina Deniker, Elyse Marshall Pfeiffer, Shanta Newlin, Emily Romero, Erin Berger, Carmela Iaria, Rachel Cone-Gorham, Christina Colangelo, Alexis Watts, Erin Toller, Eileen Kreit, Mina Chung, Theresa Evangelista, and Dana Chidiac. And a special shout-out to Regina Castillo.

  I have the best agent in the world in Amy Berkower. And I have the best former agent in the world, and he is now the publisher at Viking, Ken Wright.

  I rely on many writer friends who inspire me with their tremendous work. Thank you, authors John Corey Whaley, Margaret Stohl, Rafi Simon, Melissa de la Cruz, Mike Johnston, Aaron Hartzler, Alexander London, Meg Wolitzer, Adam Silvera, Maria Semple, David Thomson, Lisa Yee, Tahereh Mafi, Ransom Riggs, Noah Woods, Lucy Gray, Gayle Forman, Evgenia Citkowitz, Charisse Harper, Lauri Keller, Maile Meloy, Laura McNeal, and Julie Berry.

  I want to thank Brant and Lauren Hawk for sharing personal stories.

  My life changed the summer I was a Munchkin in a prod
uction directed by Don Fibiger starring Joe Medalis, Lucille Medalis, Jeremy Hart, Norman DeLue, and LeeAnn Bonham. I want to thank them all for being so encouraging to kids.

  And finally my world spins because of my two sons, Max and Calvin Sloan, and my husband, Gary Rosen. There’s no place like home.