it all, hope for her own future. Being a teenager looked pretty nice.
Hope was something that Maryellen needed more and more as rehearsals for the birthday-party variety show went on. Every day after school, everyone in the show came over to the Larkins’ house to practice. At least they were supposed to be practicing. But really Wayne and Davy just ran around lassoing each other, chased by Tom and Mikey. The ballerinas, Beverly and Karen Stohlman, couldn’t agree on who’d do what in their ballet. Carolyn was always inside talking on the hall phone with a boy named Douglas Newswander, who was the one she’d danced with at the sock hop. And Karen King kept changing her mind about what song she and Angela would sing.
“Oh, I’ve had the most wonderful idea,” Karen King said to Angela the afternoon before the show was supposed to go on. “Instead of singing ‘Rock Around the Clock,’ let’s sing ‘How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?’ We can borrow poodle skirts from Ellie and Karen Stohlman, and Scooter can be the doggie in the window! Won’t that be cute?”
“Mm-hmm,” said Angela. “Except I don’t know the words to that song.”
“I do,” said Karen King. “It goes like this:
How much is that doggie in the window?
Something, something, waggedy tail.
How much is that doggie in the window?
La la la la doggie’s for sale.
“Anyway, sort of like that,” Karen King went on breezily. “It’ll be easy to learn the words.”
“By tomorrow?” asked Maryellen, trying not to sound shrill. “You’re going to learn the something, somethings and la la la’s by tomorrow? Because that’s when the show is. It’s way too late to be loosey-goosey. This is our last rehearsal.”
“We know,” said Karen King with exaggerated calmness. “You don’t have to get all huffy about it.”
“Also,” said Maryellen, “good luck talking Scooter into having a ‘waggedy tail’ or doing anything you want him to do when you want him to do it.” Davy had already given up on lassoing Scooter because Scooter wouldn’t sit up. Scooter would just lie there looking like a sack of potatoes. “Davy has to lasso me instead of Scooter,” she pointed out.
“Well, if you’re going to be Scooter for Davy, you can be a doggie in the window for Karen and me, if Scooter won’t cooperate,” said Angela. “You could tie Davy’s rope around your waist, and swing the end to be the waggedy tail.”
“Ohhh-kay,” said Maryellen tepidly. Her own part in the show was so small that she was filling in anyplace, in any act, where anyone needed her for anything. For example, neither Beverly nor Karen Stohlman wanted to be the boy ballerina in their ballet because they both wanted to wear a tutu. So Maryellen had to wear pants and be the one they leaned on when they stood on tiptoe. She also had to help Tom and Mikey with their puppet show. Tom and Mikey liked to move the puppets, but they didn’t know what to say, so Maryellen had to make up a story for them to match what the puppets were doing, which was mostly sleeping, waking up, and hugging, because that’s really all Tom and Mikey knew how to make the puppets do. It was her job to turn the pages of Carolyn’s sheet music because Carolyn hadn’t yet memorized all the notes in the rock ’n’ roll song she was going to play, called “Shake, Rattle and Roll.”
Shaken, rattled, and not at all ready to roll was how Maryellen felt right now. It was time to rehearse the most important part of the show—her own speech and song. She stood in front of the carport and began. “Fighting Polio,” she said, sort of out of breath. “Dr. Jonas Salk—”
“Wait a minute, Ellie,” Karen King interrupted. “In the real show tomorrow, aren’t you supposed to wear your bridesmaid dress when you make your speech? When’ll you have time to change out of your pants?”
Maryellen pushed her hair off her sweaty forehead. “I guess after Carolyn’s music.” She didn’t want to admit to herself or to anyone else that even though Mrs. Fenstermacher was over all the time helping Mom, her dress still wasn’t finished.
There was another thing she didn’t want to admit, either. And it was that her act, which was supposed to be the whole point of the show, was a dud. Her song wasn’t too bad, but she had become accustomed to seeing people wander off when she practiced her earnest speech. Even Scooter sometimes left, and he never moved unless it was absolutely necessary or food was being offered. Once, in an effort to cheer her up, good old Carolyn had said, “Look on the bright side, Ellie. Your act will make people appreciate all the other acts more!” But Maryellen didn’t feel cheered; she felt worried.
“Fighting Polio,” Maryellen began again. She was surprised and gratified that this time, as she was making her speech and singing her song, everyone was watching for a change. They were even nodding and smiling. They seemed to be really enjoying her act. Maybe I’m getting better at it, she thought. Or maybe they’re just finally beginning to appreciate the important things I’m saying.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, Maryellen caught a movement. She whirled around and found Wayne right behind her. He’d turned his eyeglasses upside down and made his hair stick out all over his head so that he looked like a mad scientist from a science-fiction comic book. He had helped himself to two test tubes from her chemistry set, which Mom allowed her to use only in the carport because of the rotten-egg smells the chemicals made. Wayne had squirted water from his squirt gun into one test tube and then poured the water from that test tube into another, as if he were Dr. Salk inventing the polio vaccine. With a sinking heart and a flash of indignation, Maryellen realized that Wayne had been behind her hamming it up the whole time, pretending to be Jonas Salk and miming the actions she’d described Dr. Salk doing in her speech.
As Maryellen watched, speechless, Wayne began shooting his squirt gun straight up in the air so that water flew up like a fountain as he sang,
Get a shot so you won’t catch
Poh-lee, oh-lee, oh!
“Cut it out, Wayne!” Maryellen ordered. But her voice was lost in the claps and cheers of the other kids.
“Wayne, that was hilarious!” said Karen Stohlman. “You should do that in the real show tomorrow.”
“Yes!” said Karen King. “It’s a riot! The audience will love it.”
“No!” exploded Maryellen. “I don’t even want Wayne to come to the show, much less to be in it and ruin my act by making fun of it.”
“Oh, come on, Ellie,” coaxed Angela. “Wayne’s funny.”
“It’s my show and my act and my idea and my party and my birthday,” Maryellen said furiously, “so I get to say if Wayne can be in it or not. And I say, he cannot. And that’s final.”
Everyone was stunned into silence. Even Wayne had nothing to say. An odd expression crossed his face as he replaced the test tubes, and Maryellen realized that she’d hurt Wayne’s feelings. Good! she thought. Now he sees how it feels.
“Listen, Ellie, people aren’t puppets,” said Karen King. “You can’t just boss us around and make us do what you want us to do.”
“All right then,” said Maryellen. She was fed up. “Do what you want. And I will do what I want. I quit.”
“But you can’t quit,” wailed Carolyn. “It’s your party.”
“We can’t do the show without you,” said Davy.
Maryellen shrugged. “You should have thought of that before,” she said. “It’s too late now.” And she flounced off into the house, slamming the screen door behind her.
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