Best Friends (9 page)

Mae Sherman looked with wonder at Main Street. It had been closed before the parade and now, the parade over, it was still blocked off between Aiken Avenue and Stanworth Drive. Not a car was in sight. But plenty of people, old and young, some in costume, roamed up and down and across the street in the warm sun. Quite a few dogs were out, too. Mae saw one at the end of a leash made of red, white, and blue beads. In front of the movie theatre, a man dressed in clothing from the 1890s was playing the piano, and a barbershop quartet was singing “In the Good Old Summertime.” Across the street, a vendor was selling peanuts and lemonade.

“Is this a circus?” Mae asked, sniffing the air. She was walking hand in hand with her brother and sister, Mrs. Sherman just ahead, and she tilted her face up to Nikki.

“It feels like a circus,” Nikki agreed. “But it's really a birthday party for our town.”

“I liked the parade,” said Mae. “Who was that on the last float? Tell me again.”

“Uncle Sam,” Tobias supplied.

“We have an uncle Sam?”

“No, Uncle Sam represents the United States.”

“What?” said Mae.

“Never mind,” said Nikki. “Wasn't it fun seeing Flora and Ruby and Olivia in their costumes?”

“Yup,” said Mae, skipping a little. “Hey! There's a balloon man!” Mae knew not to ask for a balloon. The Shermans could rarely afford extras and luxuries. “Why does it say ‘three five zero' on the balloons?”

“That's three hundred and fifty,” said Mrs. Sherman, “for Camden Falls's three hundred and fiftieth birthday.”

Nikki let out a sigh of pleasure. She and Tobias and Mae and their mother had been in town since the parade had started. They had stood in the crowd and cheered when the Needle and Thread float glided by, and Nikki had been astonished to see a very uncomfortable-looking Flora dressed in a too-tight costume riding self-consciously with Ruby and Olivia and the others, trying to appear as if she knew how to operate a spinning wheel. After the parade, the Shermans had wandered to the town square, where Nikki had located Flora and a strangely quiet Olivia along with an equally quiet Annika Lindgren. Awkward introductions had been made, and Nikki had been about to ask Flora what was going on when Ms. Angelo, the director of the Camden Falls Children's Chorus, had raised her hands, and Ruby and the other members of the chorus had sung the first sweet strains of “This Land Is Your Land.” They had followed with two other songs, and then Ms. Angelo had asked everyone to join the chorus in singing “Happy Birthday” to Camden Falls. Nikki and her mother and Tobias had sung softly, as they had the few times they'd been to church, but Mae had bellowed out the song, causing people standing near the Shermans to turn and smile.

Now it was noon. The Children's Chorus had drifted away, and Ruby, accompanied by Min, had left for CFE to get ready for the opening performance of
The Witches of Camden Falls
. The Shermans planned to spend most of the day in town. The judging of the exhibits would take place in the afternoon, and Nikki's mother had promised that all the Shermans would be on hand at the Fongs' studio when prizes were awarded for the drawings and paintings.

“I'm hungry,” announced Mae.

“Then let's get lunch,” said Mrs. Sherman. “What do you want? There's Bud's cart.”

“Could we go to the food stalls?” asked Nikki, pointing down Main Street. “I see signs for hamburgers and corn on the cob and strawberry shortcake and all kinds of things.”

“I see someone selling cotton candy!” cried Mae. “Could I have cotton candy?”

“Not for lunch,” replied her mother. “Maybe for dessert.”

“Really?” said Mae. “This is too exciting!” She let go of Nikki's and Tobias's hands and skipped around her mother.

The Shermans made their way through the crowd on Main Street, passing people dressed in colonial costumes, a woman selling penny candy, a German shepherd wearing a tricorn hat, and a man giving rides in a horse-drawn buggy. Nikki peered into several stores. As they passed Needle and Thread, she saw the displays of quilts and felt her stomach jump as she thought of the exhibit at the Fongs', her three carefully chosen drawings hanging somewhere on the walls.

When the Shermans reached the food stalls, Nikki's mother opened her wallet, counted the bills, thought for a moment, then handed several dollars to each of her children. “You choose what you want,” she said.

Nikki took Mae by the hand again, and they looked at every one of the stalls before making their decisions. In the end, Nikki bought corn on the cob, a barbecued rib, and something called a funnel cake. Mae ate a hot dog in a great hurry and then begged to look for the cotton candy man again.

Half an hour later, their stomachs full, the Shermans met in front of Time and Again, and Mrs. Sherman said, “Should we check out the exhibits now? Tell me what's going on, Nikki.”

“Well, the art exhibit is at the Fongs' studio. Let's not go there until later, when the prizes are awarded, okay?”

“Okay,” said Mrs. Sherman.

“Then there's the photography exhibit. That's at the community center, and Olivia entered some of her pictures. The history exhibit is at the library, and Flora entered her book. Did I tell you she wrote a book?”

“An actual book?” said Mrs. Sherman.

Nikki nodded. “Yup. She had it bound and everything.” She paused, thinking. “Oh, and there's a display of quilts at Needle and Thread — actually, two displays.”

“How do you know all this, little sister?” asked Tobias.

Nikki shrugged, smiling. She had lived in Camden Falls all her life, but she hadn't truly felt a part of the town until she had become friends with Flora and Ruby and Olivia. And, she had to admit, until her father had left and the Shermans had allowed themselves to emerge from their isolated world in the country. “I just do,” she told her brother.

“Where should we start?” he asked.

“With the photos, I think,” said Nikki. “Then we'll go to the library, and then to Needle and Thread.”

The community center was crowded, but its doors stood invitingly open, and a woman wearing a long dress and a wig of brown curls ushered the Shermans inside and pointed out a stack of brochures. Nikki picked one up, saw that it was an alphabetical arrangement of the photographers' names, turned to the back, and found the listing for
Walter, Olivia
.

“‘Ten years old. Wildlife photos,'” Nikki read. “‘Numbers sixty-one through sixty-three.'”

For twenty minutes, the Shermans wandered through the community center, examining photos of Camden Falls people and Camden Falls buildings and Camden Falls streets and Camden Falls festivals. At last, they came to a wall labeled
CAMDEN FALLS WILDLIFE
.

“Olivia thought she was going to photograph every kind of animal and insect and bird that lives here,” Nikki told her family. “She was surprised when she found out she could only enter three photos.”

“Relieved, too, I'll bet,” said Tobias.

Nikki looked at the photos Olivia had selected — a very nice shot of a squirrel in the Walters' backyard, a picture of a cardinal that Nikki knew had been taken in Mr. Pennington's garden, and a shot of what looked like a puddle of water.

“What's this last picture supposed to be of?” asked Tobias.

“That's Olivia's art photo. It's a fish in that pond near school.”

“Where's the fish?” asked Mae.

Nikki squinted. “There, I think. Olivia mostly liked the way the ripples in the water were shimmering.”

The Shermans walked to the library next and were very impressed with Flora's book. “She interviewed all these old people,” said Nikki, “and wrote down their stories.” Nikki told her family about Flora's great-grandfather.

Tobias picked up the book and paged through it. “Wow. This is kind of amazing.”

“I know,” said Nikki. “And it turns out that the lives of most of these people are connected.”

Mrs. Sherman took the book from Tobias. “Flora interviewed Mrs. Fitzpatrick? She's Mrs. DuVane's mother, you know.”

Nikki nodded. “And Mrs. Fitzpatrick knew Mr. Pennington's father and she knows Mary Woolsey, and —”

“I'm bored,” said Mae loudly.

“Let's go look at the quilts, then,” said Nikki. “And after that, let's stop by the Fongs' to see when the judging will take place.”

By the time the Shermans reached the studio, Mae had begun to whine.

“But look,” said Nikki. “Look over there, Mae. Those are my drawings.”

Nikki, her heart beginning to pound, crossed the polished floor of the Fongs' studio. For a moment, she felt as if everyone else in the room had somehow slid away and she was alone, being pulled toward the wall where her drawings, now matted, hung beside small signs reading
NICOLETTE SHERMAN, AGE TWELVE
. Two of the drawings were of Paw-Paw, the third was a study of a snakeskin. She knew that some people found snakes revolting, but she had thought the skin, with its intricate pattern, was beautiful, and she had drawn it in careful detail.

“Very impressive, sis,” said Tobias, reaching her side.

Nikki couldn't respond. She had never seen her work look so professional.

“Honey, this is wonderful,” said her mother. “I'm awfully proud of you.”

After a moment, Nikki said quietly, “I see Mr. Fong. I'm going to ask him what time the judging's supposed to take place.”

“Four o'clock,” was his reply.

Nikki looked at Mae, who was sitting on her mother's knee, saying, “But I'm hungry. And I'm thirsty. And I'm tired of walking around.” (She dragged out “around” until it had three syllables.)

“Mom, if you want to take Mae home, that's okay,” said Nikki, a wave of disappointment washing over her.

“Nonsense. I wouldn't dream of it. I'll take Mae back to the community center for a while. They're going to be showing children's films there all afternoon. Mae just needs a rest. We'll meet you and Tobias here at four.”

Nikki breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she said.

Tobias left then to find friends, and Nikki returned to the library, where she hoped to meet up with Olivia and Flora. She was pleased to find them there, along with Annika. But she was dismayed when she saw that none of them was smiling.

“What's wrong?” asked Nikki.

“The photos and the history projects have already been judged,” Flora replied.

“Oh. And … you didn't win anything? I'm really sorry,” said Nikki, feeling her stomach go hollow as she realized that that probably meant none of her drawings would win a prize, either.

“No,” said Flora. “I got second place in the elementary division.”

“And I got an honorable mention,” said Olivia.

“But that's wonderful!” exclaimed Nikki. “Why aren't you celebrating or something?”

“It's hard to explain,” said Flora.

“Yeah,” agreed Olivia.

“You know what? Sometimes you guys are weird,” said Nikki.

 

At exactly four o'clock that afternoon, Nikki stood with her mother, Tobias, Mae, and a crowd of people, including Flora, Olivia, and Annika, in the Fongs' studio. A smiling Mr. Fong, holding a fistful of ribbons, had just announced, “I am pleased to award prizes to the top entries in five categories.” He went on to describe the categories (Nikki wasn't paying attention — her head was swimming and she slipped her hand into her mother's) and then said, “My wife and I looked through stacks and stacks of amazing artwork, and we had a hard time making a decision, but in the end, we were able to choose a first place, a second place, a third place, and four honorable mentions in each category. Here's the list of winners.”

Nikki gripped her mother's hand tightly when Mr. Fong reached the elementary category. He announced the honorable mentions first, then third place, and then second. Nikki's name had not been read. She let go of her mother's hand and tried to hold back the tears that were burning her eyes. And then Mr. Fong said, “Finally, first place goes to Nicolette Sherman for her study of a snakeskin.”

Nikki grabbed her mother's hand again and felt the tears — happy ones — begin to fall. Her friends whooped and cheered. Mae jumped up and down. Mrs. Sherman hugged Nikki, and Tobias leaned down to whisper to her, “You see what Shermans can do? Anything at all. What does Dad know?”

That night, even though she could barely afford it, Mrs. Sherman took her entire family out to dinner in Camden Falls, the first time in Sherman family history.

On Saturday morning, some butterflies took up residence in Ruby's stomach and seemed to increase in number as the day wore on. Ruby could feel them as she rode on the Needle and Thread float in the parade, just a little flutter of wings here and there. She could feel them as she stood in the town square with the rest of the Children's Chorus and sang “This Land Is Your Land.” (The fluttering had increased to flapping.) And during the rest of the day, after Min dropped her at Camden Falls Elementary, the butterflies increased their vigor. By the time Ruby was in her costume and had had her makeup applied (sitting meekly in the hallway between Ms. Holton's room and Mr. Levithan's room), the butterflies, herds of them, seemed to be tap-dancing in her stomach.

“Are you all right, Ruby?” asked Mrs. Gillipetti. “You look a little pale.”

“I'm okay,” she replied. (Tap, tap, tappety-tap.)

“You're sure? You aren't sick, are you?”

“Just nervous, I guess.”

“All right,” said Mrs. Gillipetti uncertainly.

Ruby wished with all her heart that Aunt Allie hadn't moved back to Camden Falls. Then she wished that Aunt Allie wasn't her aunt. Then she wished, somewhat more reasonably, that Aunt Allie wasn't going to be sitting in the audience that night.

Aunt Allie had ruined everything.

Ruby had spent the last few weeks concentrating so hard on being able to show her aunt what a wonderful and professional actress she was — one with true potential for stardom — that she had enjoyed very little of the hours and hours of rehearsal time.

Darn old Aunt Allie, thought Ruby miserably as she sat apart from everyone in the corridor outside the auditorium. She had assumed one of her yoga positions and had tried to clear her mind, but every time it was just about empty, an image of Aunt Allie would intrude in a most annoying fashion. Ruby could hear her saying, “You have no dressing room. You're performing in an elementary school. This is just a school play.…” And then the butterflies beat their wings harder than ever.

“Ruby?” A voice called to her from down the hallway. Ruby turned and saw Min. “All ready, honey?”

“I guess.”

“The auditorium is really filling up. Flora and Aunt Allie are in their seats. All your friends are here, too.… Are you okay?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me that?” cried Ruby.

Min looked around at the rest of the cast, most of whom were running noisily through the corridors, laughing and calling and chattering. “You just seem a little … I don't know. Are you” — Min chose her words carefully — “are you sad because your parents can't be here for your big night?”

Well, now I am, thought Ruby.

“Five minutes to curtain call!” announced Mrs. Gillipetti then, and Min gave Ruby a hug.

“Remember,” said Min, “we're all here for you. Break a leg! I know you're going to be a hit.” Min hurried back to the auditorium.

Ruby concentrated on breathing deeply.

“One minute to curtain call,” said Mrs. Gillipetti. “Ruby, are you
positive
you're all right?”

“Yes!”

Ruby took her place backstage. The curtain was down, the stage was dark, and Ruby could hear a great din from the other side of the curtain. Moments later, the first notes of the piano and violin sounded, played by the Central High students who made up the small orchestra.

The curtain rose.

The stage was slowly lit.

And Ruby J. Northrop stood before what felt like all of Camden Falls, Massachusetts.

For one horrifying moment, she couldn't remember what was supposed to happen next. Then her line came to her and she spoke it clearly, and just loudly enough.

But not with any emotion, thought Ruby, panicking.

Someone in the audience coughed. Someone else sneezed.

The cardboard tree standing next to John Parson's house began to teeter. Ever so subtly, Ruby reached out and steadied it. The teetering tree had been quite amateurish, Ruby knew, but her response to the problem had been professional. She hoped Aunt Allie had noticed. Ruby was pleased with herself, and some of the butterflies lost their energy.

The play continued. Ruby concentrated on her lines. The first scene came to an end. The second scene came to an end. The third scene began and Ruby willed herself to think of nothing but the story that she and the cast were telling. She placed herself hundreds of years back in time, in the life of the beleaguered Alice Kendall, and suddenly found that she
was
Alice. When Harry Lang accused her, rather more sharply than usual, of being a witch, her tears came easily and naturally. They slid down her cheeks, and she allowed them to fall without wiping at them, knowing that not calling attention to them actually called quite a bit of attention to them and made her performance remarkable indeed.

The audience was hushed, but at the end of the scene, burst into spontaneous applause.

And with that, Ruby's butterflies disappeared entirely. She was, at last, able to enjoy her role.

Ruby glided through the rest of the performance and felt quite proud of it, even though later one of the kindergartners wandered onto the stage when it wasn't her scene. Ruby thought quickly and ad-libbed a line: “Run along now, duck, and find your mother.” (She liked the addition of the old-fashioned-sounding “duck.”) Then she shooed the girl into the wings. Toward the end of the play, shortly before Ruby's long-awaited death scene, Harry said, “So let this be a lesson to you, Ruby,” and stood smirking, waiting for Ruby's reply. The audience caught his mistake and Ruby heard a few snickers. Again she thought quickly, and after the briefest of moments, said, “I know of no one in these parts who goeth by the name of Ruby, so assuredly you meant to calleth me by my given name of Alice.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Harry.

Ruby picked up with her next line, aware of laughter but pleased with herself, and then launched into Alice's best-ever death scene. Shortly after that, the curtain came down on colonial Camden Falls, and the auditorium erupted in cheering and applause.

I did it! thought Ruby. She looked at Mrs. Gillipetti, who was standing in the wings, wearing a broad smile.

“Wonderful,” said Mrs. Gillipetti quietly. “Just wonderful, everybody. Okay. Get ready for the curtain call.”

Later, Ruby found that although she could recall the first scenes of the play quite clearly, much of it, including the curtain call, had become a blur to her. She remembered lots and lots of clapping and even some whistling and cheering. She vaguely remembered seeing the smallest children run onto the stage holding hands, so that when one of them tripped, the entire row fell down. She remembered watching Harry walk onto the stage alone, watched him grinning and waving at the audience. And she definitely remembered what happened when she walked onto the stage herself. The audience, which had been noisy, fell silent. The clapping stopped. The cheering stopped. The whistling stopped. Then each person in the audience stood, raised his arms, and clasped his hands above his head, forming a lopsided circle.

Ruby, confused, looked at the rows of ringed arms, and Mrs. Gillipetti leaned over and whispered, “They're giving you a standing O.”

The audience had just taken their seats again when a stream of people, each holding a bouquet of flowers, walked down the aisle and approached the stage. One by one, they stepped onto the stage and presented a member of the cast or crew with a bouquet. Some received more than one.

Olivia handed Ruby a small bouquet and whispered, “This is from Nikki and Flora and me.”

Min placed a bouquet of roses in her arms and said, “This is from Aunt Allie and me, and from your parents, too, because I know they're here tonight.”

Ruby felt tears spring to her eyes, and she pulled Min to her in a tight hug.

Bouquet after bouquet was delivered. Mrs. Gillipetti received three, each member of the orchestra received one, and the lighting director received one.

Ruby was in a happy muddle of tears, chatter, and flowers, the cast members giving one another high fives, when a tall woman wearing what Min would call a no-nonsense suit strode onto the stage. Once again, the auditorium fell silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Mrs. Gillipetti, “a few words from Mayor Howie.”

Ruby turned to Harry and mouthed, “The
mayor
?”

Harry nodded, eyebrows raised.

“This,” began Mayor Howie, “has been a wonderful event. Everyone involved in the production should be very, very proud. What you've seen here tonight,” she said to the audience, “represents months of hard work, dedication, and ingenuity. Kudos to the cast and crew of
The Witches of Camden Falls
.”

Ruby watched the mayor stride off the stage. She decided that if, when she was grown up, she didn't get to be an actor for some reason, then she definitely wanted to be a mayor.

Mrs. Gillipetti now took Mayor Howie's spot on the stage, raised her hands, and said above the din, “Thank you all for coming and for your support. Remember that our final performance will take place tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock. Spread the word.”

Ruby was following Harry into the wings, feeling sad that opening night was over, when she felt someone take her by the elbow.

“Ruby Northrop?” asked a man's voice.

“Yes?” Ruby turned around.

“Douglas Geoffries,” he said, holding out his hand. “I'm with the
Camden Falls Courier
. Could I have a few words with you?”

“Sure!” said Ruby, who then answered Mr. Geoffries's questions about her age and how long she'd been living in Camden Falls and other performances she'd been in.

The paper was published on the following Wednesday. When a copy was slapped down on the front doorstep of the fourth Row House from the left, Ruby snapped it up, turned the pages until she found the article about
The Witches of Camden Falls
, and scanned it for her interview. There was her name in print. And there was a photo of her and Harry onstage. Ruby cut out the article and tacked it to her bulletin board. She was very proud of it. It made her feel as happy as when Aunt Allie, on the drive home after opening night, had reached into the backseat of Min's car, taken Ruby by the hand, and said, “You were wonderful, dear.”