I looked at the pile of magazines on the floor of my closet and sighed. First, I thought I might just take the ones with stories about James Dean and Natalie Wood. She’s my ideal. We have practically identical eyebrows. The first thing I’m going to buy when I get my break in the movies is a gold slave bracelet, like she has. She’s always photographed with that slave bracelet on. It’s sort of her trademark.
We’re a lot alike in other ways, besides just having the same eyebrows. She’s only a couple of years older than me, but she’s also very mature for her age, and very sophisticated. She says her biggest problem is that she smokes too much. I don’t smoke yet, but I guess I’m going to have to start pretty soon.
Anyway, I started going through the pile of magazines, and realized that almost every one of them had a story on James Dean and a lot of them had articles on Natalie Wood. That’s why I’d bought them in the first place. So I gave up on the idea of taking any of them, and just put my scrapbook on the bottom of the suitcase.
All the best pictures were in there anyway. Lots of James Dean, all the ones of Natalie, plus Tab Hunter, Rock Hudson, Elvis, William Holden, etc. Besides, I told myself, once I started being in the movies I’d have plenty of money to buy all the magazines I wanted. I’d probably even be in some of them!
I packed my underwear and shoes on top of the scrapbook. I didn’t have any tissue paper, which was too bad, because in this article on “How to Pack for Traveling” by Joan Crawford, she said tissue paper is an absolute must for keeping things from wrinkling and for wrapping shoes in. I only had two pairs of shoes that I was going to pack and one that I was going to wear, so I went downstairs to the kitchen and got some wax paper to wrap them in.
I unplugged Aunt Grace’s white plastic radio that she-keeps on the kitchen counter and took it upstairs with me so I could have some music while I worked. Another thing I wanted more than anything in the world was my own portable radio, but I just couldn’t afford to spend $19.95 on a luxury like that. When I was famous I would have a radio in every room. The Photoplay story about me would explain, “So she can have music wherever she goes.” Maybe that could be my trademark.
I plugged the radio in next to my bed and finished packing my suitcase.
Elvis was singing “Blue Suede Shoes” when I started packing the hatbox. I sort of bounced around the room, picking up my stuff, opening drawers, singing the words along with him. I knew them by heart, of course.
I had to take all my cosmetics and makeup with me. Those were the only other things besides magazines that I spent money on, but I knew they were worth it. The right makeup can transform a merely pretty girl into a true beauty, and there are lots of merely pretty girls who think they can get into the movies. I would be competing with them for my big break, and like I said, I’m realistic enough to know I have to be as beautiful as possible to make it in Hollywood.
But I also planned to live out of that hatbox on my trip to California, so I had to get some underwear and a pair of shortie pajamas and a change of clothes in there too. I couldn’t keep opening and closing the big suitcase every time I needed something. With all those bottles and jars and compacts and things, I was a little worried about stuff breaking, but I wrapped some of the breakables in my thick white crew socks and hoped for the best.
I glanced at the clock on my night table. It was noon already! Aunt Grace and Uncle Ted would be back in fifteen minutes. I looked around the little room trying to see if I had forgotten anything.
I pulled the desk chair over to the closet and hauled the big suitcase up to the top shelf. I nearly broke my arms trying to wedge it back on the shelf where it belonged, but I got it. I pushed the chair back under the desk and stuck the hatbox all the way over to one side of the closet behind my crinolines, where you couldn’t see it when you opened the door.
The crinolines were another problem, but I had solved that very cleverly, I thought. I absolutely had to take them with me, because I needed them to wear under my best dress, which was a pink Teena Paige with a square neck and a beautiful full skirt. Naturally I had to take that, for interviews and dates and things, and naturally I couldn’t wear it without three crinolines underneath it so the skirt would stand out right.
So I decided to wear it on my trip, then I wouldn’t have to worry about fitting the crinolines in my suitcase because I’d be wearing them under the dress.
I had everything figured out perfectly.
I heard the sound of the Chevrolet in the driveway. Four doors slammed and one of the twins yelled, “Sylvie, Sylvie, we’re home!”
So soon! I snapped the radio off and jumped into bed. I pulled the covers over me.
They were ten minutes early. It’s a good thing I hadn’t stopped to take a shower.
“Sylvie?” It was Uncle Ted. I could hear his footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Sylvie, how are you feeling? It’s barbecue time!”
With no one in the house, I’d forgotten to shut the door. I turned toward the wall and pretended to be asleep.
Chapter 2
“Sylvie! Sylvie! Daddy’s going to barbecue!”
Honey and Bunny, the twins, came barreling into the room right behind Uncle Ted. One of them jumped on my bed. I turned over slowly, pretending I was just waking up.
“Get off the bed, Honey,” Uncle Ted said irritably. “You might catch what Sylvie’s got.”
“What’ve you got, Sylvie?” Honey bounced on my bed until Uncle Ted grabbed her under the arms and lifted her off.
“A stomachache,” I said. “I wish you wouldn’t bounce on my bed. It makes me feel sicker.”
“I’m not bouncing anymore,” Honey said. But she was. She was bouncing on the floor, she and Bunny, jiggling around in their matching yellow sunback dresses, like jumping jacks that had to go to the bathroom.
“Now you two get out of here,” Uncle Ted said sternly. “Sylvie isn’t feeling well and you’re just making her feel worse.”
Hardy har har, I thought. Just like he was really concerned. There was only one reason he wanted them out of my room and it had nothing to do with my pretend sickness.
“That’s okay,” I said. I made my voice sound brave and noble, like I was really suffering but determined not to show it. Like Judy Garland in A Star Is Born when she gets the Academy Award. “They don’t bother me.”
“You can’t even eat, Sylvie?” Bunny said. “Not even hamburgers and hot dogs?”
“I don’t think so. Oohh,” I groaned, and held my stomach. It was absolutely vital that they think I was too sick to go to school tomorrow, which was one of the two reasons I had to start being sick today. The other was so that I could get out of going to church with them and get my packing done.
“Not even barbecue hamburgers?” Honey said, like she could hardly believe it.
I could have kicked myself for saying I had a stomachache instead of a headache or sore throat or something, because I really was hungry. I should have sneaked something to eat while they were at church. I hadn’t eaten anything since supper last night and I was starving. And now it looked like I wouldn’t get to eat until tomorrow.
Aunt Grace came into the room. “How are you feeling, Sylvie? Any better?” She pulled off her white gloves and fanned herself with them. “My, it certainly is hot up here. You must be perishing.” She took off her little white hat and patted her Blonde Mink curls. (Courtesy of Mr. Anthony’s Salon de Beauté.)
“Sylvie is sick,” Honey said. “In her stomach.”
“Sylvie might throw up,” Bunny added. She sounded like she was almost excited at that idea.
“Now shoo, you