Star Shine (8 page)

“Scott said he heard they wanted people who could do break dancing. He said he and Neil and Joe have been practicing break dancing all summer. He said they were pretty sure they'd be picked. He said Joe sprained his neck and had to go to the hospital, and Joe's mother said he couldn't do any more break dancing so Joe had to sneak out to come here today. Scott Borkowski also said …”

“Give me a break.” Jenny rolled her eyes. “Once more with the Scott Borkowski bit and I might throw up.”

Mary's eyes flashed. “Scott Borkowski also asked me where I lived. He said he might drop in sometime. He's thinking of becoming a corporation lawyer because he'd rather be a little fish in a big pond than a big fish in a little pond.”

“Woowee,” said Jenny in mock amazement. “Maybe he'll settle for a middle-size fish in a middle-size pond.”

“All right, girls. Which one's first?” The scruffy little man snapped his fingers at them. Them. He was talking to them. They had reached the head of the line, and it was their turn to have their pictures taken and fill out the forms. They had arrived.

“You go first, Mary.” Jenny gave her a little push. She needed time to pull herself together. Now that the big moment was here, she wanted to turn and run.

“That's right, Mary,” the man said. “You first and little sis will wait with me.”

“How'd you know we were sisters?” Jenny asked, watching Mary walk self-consciously, dipping her head and smiling up at the photographer.

“I'm good at that,” the little man said, snapping his fingers some more. “Relationships are my bag. If the two of you were in a crowd, I'd pick you straight away for sisters. I got an eye for things like that.”

“Probably that's why you're in the movie business, huh?”

“You got it, kid. Like if I'm at a party or something, I can always pick who's married to who. They say, ‘Ike, match up the husbands with the wives,' and I do it right every time, and I swear on a Bible I have never seen those people before. I'm a no-fail guy when it comes to matching up folks.” The man smiled modestly. “It's a sort of a knack, you might say.”

“What's the holdup here?” called a voice from the crowd. “Cut the conversation and keep the line moving, why don'tcha?”

The little man raised his eyebrows. “If we all stay calm, we‘ll get this thing outa the way soonest,” he said. “All right, there, babe, your sister's finished with the photog, so you just sashay up there and smile pretty and you've got it made, without doubt.”

Lights flashed and spots formed in front of Jenny's eyes. She hated having her picture taken. The form she was given to fill out wanted to know how old she was, the color of her hair. She wrote 11 and ¾ for her age and put “brown” beside color of hair.

Can you ice-skate? the questionnaire continued. Or drive a car? Or play Frisbee?

She checked Frisbee and ice-skate. No sense in pretending she could drive a car. They'd know from her age that was out, although a boy in her class bragged he could drive his father's car any time he felt like it. However, as the boy was notorious for exaggerating, no one believed him.

“Well,” Mary said as they met outside. “What do you think?” She was talking to Jenny, but her attention was on the line. “That was a snap, wasn't it?”

“They'll never pick us,” said Jenny. “I feel it in my bones.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mary said. “I think I have a good chance.”

“What'll we do now?”

“You go on home,” Mary said, supercasual, checking to see if her black velvet headband was still in place. “I'm going to hang around for a while. I want to fill Tina and Sue in on what happens inside so they'll know what to expect.”

“Oh, yeah, Tina and Sue.” Jenny's voice was sarcastic. “Right. Don't hurry. Take your time, I'll see you.” Jenny started off, taking steps as long as her legs would allow. She swung her arms and sang noisily, a song from
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
.

From a safe distance she turned and saw Mary and Sue and Tina, surrounded by a gaggle of boys. Everyone seemed to be talking at once.

“What a bunch of turkeys,” Jenny said in a loud, disgusted voice.

A little boy stopped in his tracks and stared at her.

“It's the dinosaur,” the child's mother said, pointing at Jenny's shirt. “He just loves dinosaurs.”

“I don't blame him,” Jenny said. “Dinosaurs bring good luck, don't they?” She patted the little boy on the head and kept on going.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

If their father knew that Mary had let her come home alone, he'd be furious. Wasn't Mary supposed to be in charge? Jenny turned on the radio in the kitchen and thought of calling him and letting the information slip, then decided to make herself a peanut butter sandwich with gobs of mayonnaise instead. Most people skimped on the mayo when they made a peanut butter sandwich. She put on so much it oozed out and down the sides of the bread. Lovely.

If she called her father, he'd probably come right home. He'd know something was wrong, even if she didn't let slip she was alone. They never called him at work. No one knew she was alone except Mary, and she was too busy flirting and acting like an ass around Scott Borkowski to care what happened.

The mailbox coughed up a postcard bearing a picture of Sebago Lake, Maine.

The message read: “Trying out for part of Emily in
Our Town
. It's a wonderful part! I must have it!” It was signed Mother.

Jenny hid the postcard under a pile of dirty clothes in her drawer. All her clothes were dirty. She liked dirty clothes. When Mary asked if there'd been any mail, she'd say no.

There was almost no food in the refrigerator. Some beer, a head of brown lettuce, a couple of withered lemons that looked like pygmy heads. When their mother was home, there was lots of stuff in there.

The house, empty, was spooky. To cheer herself up and pass the time, Jenny went to her mother's dressing table and took out her painting materials: green eye shadow, black mascara, and rosy blusher. She planned to paint her face like a woman she'd seen in a magazine ad. BEFORE and AFTER. With a ball-point pen she drew a line from her forehead to her chin, cutting her face neatly in half.

Dark lipstick made her mouth huge, like a model's. Blusher laid on her left cheek with a heavy hand gave her an exotic, somewhat reckless air she thought she could become fond of. The mascara was harder. It got into her eye and made her weep, leaving black tracks down her left cheek. She washed out the eye and began again. The finished results were worth the effort, Jenny decided. The unpainted side stunned her with its nakedness. The painted side leered and shone and promised big things. If only she'd thought of the paint job before the extra interview, she'd have the thing sewed up by now.

She heard voices. Peeking out, she saw Tina and Susan and Mary approaching. She wanted Mary to worry about her, think she wasn't home, had perhaps been abducted by a man in a long, sleek car. She wanted to get even with Mary for deserting her. She could hear them in the kitchen, moving chairs around, giggling. Making themselves sound important, talking about boys. Oh, Jenny knew that routine, all right. She knew how girls Mary's age talked endlessly about boys. She, Jenny, planned never to talk endlessly about boys. Three years ago they'd made a pact. Neither she nor Mary would get married. Instead, they'd build a house in the woods and live off the land. They would have chickens and a cow and a big vegetable garden. They would be vegetarians. This last was Mary's idea. Mary said if you were a vegetarian, it purified your blood. Jenny liked the idea of having pure blood, so she said O.K., she'd be a vegetarian for a while. She kept her fingers crossed as she made the promise so she could change her mind later if she wanted. She hated the idea of giving up lamb chops forever.

But recently, when Jenny had shown Mary a picture of a Build It Yourself log cabin she'd found in one of their father's woodworking magazines, Mary had scoffed and said, “Oh, I don't want to live in any one-room cabin.”

“I thought that's what we were going to do—live in the woods and off the land,” Jenny had said, hurt. “I thought we were being vegetarians and growing everything we ate.”

“Listen,” Mary had said fiercely, “I don't have to stick to everything we said a long time ago, do I? People change their minds, you know. People grow up and change, you know.”

“Why?” Jenny had asked. And, in answer, Mary had lifted her shoulders and said nothing.

“Where's Jen?” she heard Tina ask.

“Jenny!” Mary called. Jenny could tell from Mary's voice that she couldn't care less if Jenny lived or died. Jenny hid behind the shower curtain and waited for them to come looking for her. She waited a long time. No one came, and Jenny wished she'd brought
Caddie Woodlawn
into the shower with her. It was her favorite book. If she could be anyone she wanted, Jenny would choose to be Caddie Woodlawn, with her red-gold hair and the Indians who were her friends and roamed the woods with her in Wisconsin more than a century ago. Jenny wondered if Caddie Woodlawn had been a vegetarian.

Time passed. Those dumbos in the kitchen wouldn't get off their duffs and look for her. Jenny came out of hiding and studied her face in the mirror. It was a face to be shared. Those bozos would scream when they saw her. She went halfway downstairs and listened. She could hear the mumble of voices but couldn't make out any words. All right for them. She'd show 'em.

Arms waving, eyes wild, Jenny plunged into the kitchen, giving a very realistic war whoop.

There were six of them there: three girls and three boys. Harpo and two others. Jenny blinked. The girls screamed. One of the boys dove under the kitchen table.

“Attack, attack!” the boy under the table cried. He must've seen too many war movies, Jenny figured.

“May I ask what you think you're doing?” Mary asked in an icy voice, her cheeks flaming. Jenny recovered and nonchalantly opened the refrigerator door, to show them whose house it was. She forgot there wasn't anything in there that was worth talking about, so she peered around for a minute, then closed the door.

“This is my sister, Jenny,” Mary said stiffly. Jenny put one hand behind her back and laid the other across her stomach and bowed low. The boy under the table grinned up foolishly at her. She liked him the best. Harpo said, “Does your sister always go around looking like that?”

“Go wash your face,” Mary ordered.

“You're not the boss,” Jenny replied.

“She thinks it's Halloween,” the third boy said. They all, except Jenny, laughed hilariously.

If Mary thought she was going to pull that boss stuff on her, she had another think coming.

“I thought Daddy said we weren't supposed to have anybody in the house while Mother was gone,” Jenny invented on the spur of the moment. “He said we shouldn't have visitors in while our parents weren't home.”

“He never said any such thing,” Mary said furiously. The subject had never come up.

“He meant boys,” Jenny continued. “He said no boys were allowed in on account of our mother's not here.”

She knew from the look on Mary's face that she had struck a blow Mary might never forgive. No boys had ever come calling before. This was a first.

“We can go to my house,” Tina cut in hastily. “My aunt's there. You want to go to my house?”

“Daddy never said any such thing, and you know you're making that up.” Mary's voice trembled. She turned and addressed the air over the boys' heads. “Would you care for something to drink?”

She'd show them who was hostess here.

“You got any beer?”

A silence fell. This was unexplored, possibly dangerous, territory.

“I like Bud,” said the boy under the table. He must've decided to stay where he was. It was safer.

“I'll take Molson's any day,” Harpo said.

“I don't know what kind we've got,” Mary said nervously. She took a can of their father's beer from the refrigerator. Jenny heard Sue and Tina draw in their breath sharply. Mary's stubborn look had taken over her face. Jenny knew nothing would stop her now. This was definitely getting out of hand.

“You better not,” Jenny said. “Daddy'll be mad.”

Mary tossed her head and said, “I don't know how to open it.”

Masterfully Harpo took the can of beer and masterfully twisted off the top. A sigh went up. “I just drink it right out of the can,” Harpo said. The third boy said, “Hey, give me some.”

The boy on the floor didn't say a word.

Harpo drank from the can and passed it to the other boy.

“You're going to get it, Mary,” Jenny said. She was close to tears. It was partly her fault. She shouldn't have goaded Mary into this. “You're going to get it good.”

She longed to run away and hide, but she couldn't bear the thought of missing anything.

Harpo drank the last of the beer and pinched the sides of the can together like the strong man in the circus. Tina and Susan sat glued to their chairs, looking from Mary to Jenny, then back again to Mary.

“Got any more?” Harpo asked. Jenny wondered if Tina's teeth still ached from Harpo's adorableness. Mary said, “I don't think so.” Harpo opened the refrigerator and took out another beer. Underneath the kitchen table, the boy pounded his head gently against the floor and said, “Oh, no,” in a despairing voice.

“I don't think you ought to,” said Mary.

Harpo popped open the can with an expert twist, and he and the third boy shared the beer. Passing it back and forth, they told jokes and cracked themselves up with unfunny stories.

“We better split,” Tina said, giving the boys a sidelong glance.

Susan said, “What're you going to do?”

Jenny thought of sneaking up and calling their father, but she knew she wouldn't do that.