13 Gifts (21 page)

With only a week to go before the performance, the producers of
Playing It Cool
decide to announce that not only will they be holding the premier at the Willow Falls Movie Theatre the evening of Saturday, July fourteenth, but that Jake Harrison will be playing the role of Motel in the Willow Falls Community Playhouse production of
Fiddler on the Roof
the day before. Suddenly the movie and the play are all anyone in town can talk about, and some of the cast are freaking out. Apparently, it’s also awkward for Stephanie and Leo to be singing together because Amanda doesn’t see Stephanie as much as she used to now that Leo is back in her life. Ah, middle school drama. Exactly the kinda stuff I avoided back home. Here, though, it doesn’t seem so much like drama. More like, well, like
life.

With only three days to go, my parents call again. This time I’m able to talk to my mother without feeling a lump in my throat as big as Texas. This one is only Rhode Island-sized. I tell them I’m involved in the play in case Aunt Bethany mentions it, but I don’t tell them how it’s only happening because of me. I can tell they’re shocked enough that I have any part in it.

The next night, the doorbell rings around seven o’clock. Aunt Bethany and Ray are out picking up refreshments for the play while Emily and I are upstairs in our room practicing. Well,
she’s
practicing. I’m working on posters for the ticket table. Rory’s voice calls out, “Hello? Anyone home?”

“Come on up,” I hear Uncle Roger call out from his lab. “The girls are in their room.”

A minute later Rory appears in our doorway. But she’s not alone. I jump up so quickly that all of my art supplies go flying onto the floor.

Jake Harrison = STANDING SIX FEET AWAY FROM ME.

“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow,” I say, then immediately want to bite my tongue. I’m actually meeting Jake Harrison, THE Jake Harrison, who is just as cute in person, and those are the first words out of my mouth?

Emily, who had been practicing twirling in one spot, doesn’t move for a few seconds. Then she yells, “Hey, what’s that?” and points to a typical pile of random stuff in the opposite corner of the room. They both follow her gaze. She then leaps over to my bed and grabs at the corner of the Jake poster hanging on the wall above it. As soon as I realize what she’s doing, I grab the other end. We manage to wrestle it off the wall and into a ball on the floor before they turn back around.

“What are we supposed to see?” Rory asks.

“Um, nothing,” Emily says. “I’ve just always wanted to say that.”

If Jake knew what just happened, he didn’t show it. “So you’re my fiancée?” he asks Emily with a big smile.

I think she may actually be rendered speechless for the first time ever. Finally she says something that resembles the word
yes.

“And this is Tara,” Rory says. “She’s the reason we’re all doing the play.”

“Hi,” I manage to say, amazed that both Emily and I have managed not to squeal yet. “Thank you so much for offering to be in it.”

“It’ll be fun,” he says. “I’ve wanted to branch out from the whole teen movie genre for a while now. This could be my big break!” He smiles again and we all laugh. Like anything he does in our little town could actually be anything other than a blip in his career.

“Sorry to barge in like this,” Rory says, “but Jake came a day early and we thought we’d get some more practice time in.”

No doubt beckoned by the sound of a male voice, Uncle Roger appears in the doorway. Rory introduces them, and Uncle Roger grips Jake’s hand a little longer than necessary. “You’re fifteen now, right?” he asks.

“Yes, sir.”

“Rory’s only thirteen, you know. She’s like a second daughter to us. We take her well-being very seriously.”

Rory shuffles over to where I’m standing and hides her face with her hands.

“Don’t worry,” Jake assures him. “Rory’s father already made me sign something saying we won’t officially date until she’s in ninth grade. Seriously. He had it notarized and everything.”

Emily finally squeals. I reach out and squeeze Rory’s hand. She squeezes back.

Jake turns around to Rory and smiles. “Unless she’s forgotten all about me by that time.”

For the next two hours, Rory and I watch Emily and Jake twirl around the living room. Uncle Roger moved all the furniture out of the way so there’s plenty of room. Emily is a really good teacher and Jake picks up the dance steps very quickly. He has to use the sheet music for the lyrics, though, because it’s a really long song.
“Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles,”
he sings over and over, but who could get tired of that voice?

Emily doesn’t have any lines in this one, she just twirls with him and basks in his adoration as he sings about how it’s such a miracle that they’re allowed to be together. The best part is when Jake has to do a backward somersault and then keeps getting stuck halfway over.

Uncle Roger mutters, “It’ll be a miracle of miracles if that kid doesn’t break his neck.”

Ray and Aunt Bethany return and Emily says, “This is my husband, Jake Harrison.” Everyone laughs. Then Jake stands off to the side while Rory and Emily practice the song they have together: “Matchmaker, Matchmaker.” Emily really belts it out, but Rory does this half-talking, half-singing thing, clearly uncomfortable. Throughout the routine, Aunt Bethany keeps wiping under her eyes with her finger. Her makeup is a mess
but no one mentions it. I wonder if she’s thinking of her mother, too, and how she used to sing the same song.

Jake gives them a standing ovation. “Bravo, bravo!”

Emily curtsies and blushes.

“I think I’ll stick to being an extra,” Rory says.

“Who knows,” Jake says, twirling her around. “Maybe once the world sees your debut in
Playing It Cool,
they’ll demand more of Rory Swenson.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll demand less,” she replies.

Uncle Roger points out that it’s getting late, so Jake and Emily plan to meet up the next day at the community center to keep rehearsing. As they leave, I get a text from David asking me to meet him in the backyard.

I go out through the laundry room and find him sitting at the patio table. The outside lights allow me to see the box wrapped in newspaper on the table in front of him. “Looks like you had company,” he says.

I feel a little weird telling him who it was, but he probably knows. I nod. “Rory brought Jake by to practice with Emily.”

“What was he like?”

“He was really nice,” I admit. “Not at all movie-starry.” I leave out the cute and charming and funny and a good singer and dancer part. He really doesn’t need to know that.

“Cool,” he says.

“How’d it go with the rabbi?” I ask, eager to change the topic.

“It was good. We went over the speech I have to give after the service.”

“You have to make a speech on top of all the other stuff?”

He nods. “It doesn’t have to be long. I’m pretty sure I know what I’m going to say.”

“Cool,” I say. We sit there in silence for a minute until I say, “Sooo … what’s in the box?”

“This little thing?” he jokes. “I just found it here.”

“Really?”

“No. I brought it for you.”

“Oh! What is it?”

He pushes it toward me. “Friday’s going to be so crazy with the play and then I have to go do bar mitzvah stuff at night. I might not get to see you much on your birthday.”

“You got me a gift?” I don’t think I’ve gotten a birthday gift from anyone other than a relative in years.

“It’s a small thing. But I just thought, when you go back home at the end of the summer, you could take this with you.”

I feel a pang of something like the homesickness I felt when I first got here, only the reverse. I focus on unwrapping the newspaper and on ignoring the clenching feeling in my stomach. I put it aside and find that I’m holding a CD case. I hold it up to the light and read
S
OUNDS FROM THE
B
OTTOM OF THE
P
OOL.

“Your uncle lent me some seriously old tape recorder and then I transferred the recording onto my computer.”

“Thank You,” I say, clutching it in my hands. “It’s the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.”

He laughs. “Man, I hope that’s not true.”

“I thought I heard noises out here,” Uncle Roger says. “You’re not planning on climbing into the pool hole this late, are you?”

David shakes his head and stands up. “I’ve had my last practice session. Thanks for lending me the tape recorder.”

“No problem,” Uncle Roger says. “You can keep it.”

“Um, I really need that back,” I say. “I have to return it to the woman who … oh, never mind, just keep it.”

David shrugs. “Okay. You never know when a giant tape recorder might come in handy.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Uncle Roger says, beaming.

“Well, good night,” David says to me.

I glance at Uncle Roger, who doesn’t seem to be leaving any time soon. “Good night. Thank you again.”

“Happy early birthday,” he says, pausing for a minute at the edge of the patio. He glances at Uncle Roger, too. The man is clearly not going anywhere. David gives me a final wave and walks out the gate.

Uncle Roger puts his arm around my shoulder as we head back into the house. “Am I going to have to make that boy sign something, too?”

“Very funny,” I reply. But I know it wouldn’t matter anyway. By the time we’re in ninth grade, he’ll have forgotten all about the girl who lived across the street for a summer.

Chapter Twenty-two

 

It seems like everyone in town has suddenly found a
reason to stop by the community center. By the time I arrive Thursday morning, I have to push my way through the crowd to get to the back room, which is not easy with a big box in my arms. Big Joe is standing in front of the door, his arms crossed. He motions with his thumb to a sign on the door.
PRIVATE — CAST AND CREW ONLY.

“It’s me, Tara,” I say. I gesture to the big box in my arms. “Playbills? Heavy?”

When he doesn’t budge, I add, “I’m the producer?”

Rory opens the door and grabs for my arm. “It’s okay, Joe, it’s her.”

He grunts and moves aside. “You kids all look the same to me.”

“What’s going on?” I ask when I finally get inside. I plop the box on the floor. Putting the playbills together gave me six different paper cuts, but I think they came out really well.

“That’s what’s going on,” Rory says, pointing to the corner of the room. Jake is sitting at one of the round tables with about ten journalists with tape recorders and notebooks surrounding him. A guy in a suit and tie hovers protectively, making sure
that no one gets too close. I’m pretty sure that’s his manager. He looks familiar from pictures I’ve seen of Jake at movie premieres and stuff.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Rory says quietly. Her usually bright eyes have dimmed.

“The play? You can totally do this. It’s just one night. It’s a half hour, really. And then tomorrow we have the bar mitzvah and the movie to look forward to, right?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean the play. I meant Jake. How can I have a relationship with someone when the whole world watches his every move? How would that even work?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

“Any minute I keep thinking he’s going to wake up and wonder why on earth he likes me.”

“There’s a million reasons to like you,” I tell her.

Jake looks up at that moment. His face changes when he sees Rory watching. It softens from the stiff smile he’d been giving the reporters, to a genuine one. I see her smile in return, despite her worries. I never thought I’d say it, but I don’t envy her right now. Jake seems great, but in a spotlight that big, there’s nowhere to hide.

Everyone’s on edge by the end of the day, and Ray treats us all to pizza. While we’re eating, he says, “All right, anyone need to whinge about anything? If so, now’s the time.”

“
Whinge
means ‘complain,’ ” Jake translates. “I did a movie-of-the-week in Australia when I was younger.”

“Hey, me, too!” David calls out. Everyone laughs, including Jake.

“
My
last movie-of-the-week was in Greenland!” Annabelle says. “Pretty cold up there, but my trailer was heated really well!”

Sari raises her hand.

“Let me guess,” Ray says. “Movie-of-the-week in the rain forests of Brazil?”

“Nope,” Sari says. “I have a complaint. How come all the women have to wear their hair either in a bun or under a scarf or a bonnet? Where’s the fun in that?”

“Well, that’s how they did things back then,” Ray says. “Can’t rewrite history.”

“Still,” Sari says, “everyone would look much prettier if I could actually do something with their hair. Maybe some color … or a barrette or two?”

“Bonnet and buns, baby.”

Sari grumbles.

“Anyone else?”

No one replies. “All right, then. Big day tomorrow. Go home, get some rest. Be here at two
P.M
. for hair and makeup. Crew, we’ll be setting up the chairs and prepping the stage.”

Everyone says their good-byes and I get the same kind of pang I did last night with David, that I’ll really miss everyone. It actually physically hurts my stomach. On the sidelines it never hurt. Or if it did, it was a different kind, an easier kind.

Emily talks nonstop from the time we get home until the time we turn out the lights. I know she’s excited and nervous, but I really just want to be alone. Eventually I put my head under the covers and make a tent, like she does with her math
books. It’s peaceful under here, and cozy. I can still hear her, but it’s very muffled. She finally drifts off and I bring my head back out. I think I was about to run out of oxygen anyway.

I awake in the morning to find Emily and Aunt Bethany standing at the foot of my bed, watching me. “Happy birthday!” they cry out.

“We thought you were going to sleep your birthday away,” Aunt Bethany says.

I grunt and curl up on my side. I’m officially thirteen now. Apparently I have twenty-four hours to become a complete person. I wonder how likely that will be to happen if I stay in bed all day.

Aunt Bethany tugs on the covers in an attempt to turn me over. “You’re not supposed to dread birthdays until you’re my age.”

“Don’t you want your presents?” Emily asks.

I open one eye. Emily holds up two gift bags in each hand and swings them back and forth. I open the other eye. She drops one pink bag next to me. “Open mine first,” Emily says. I sit up, dig through the tissue paper, and pull out a framed picture of me, Emily, and Jake sitting on the living room couch the night he came over. I hadn’t even seen anyone snap a picture.

“To replace the poster,” she explains, grinning. “I have a copy, too.”

My eyes get watery and I have to blink a few times. “I love it.”

Aunt Bethany hands me two more bags. “These are from Roger and Ray.” The first holds an issue of
Inventors Digest
with a card announcing I’ll soon be receiving my first of twelve
monthly issues. The other is a copy of
The Dictionary of Aussie Slang, 3rd Edition.
Easy enough to figure out which gift came from which guy.

“And last but not least,” Aunt Bethany says, handing me the smallest of the bags. “I took the liberty of putting David’s CD on it, I hope you don’t mind.”

I turn the bag upside down on the bed, and out plops a brand-new iPod. “I can’t believe it,” I say, picking it up. “This is amazing! Thank you guys.” I reach out and give them both hugs, which feels really great.

The two of them leave me to get dressed and the first thing I do is turn on the iPod. Soon enough I’ll be turning it over to Mom as a replacement for losing hers. But it’s all mine for at least another month! I recognize the name of the song that David sang at Apple Grove and put that one on. Then I lie back down and close my eyes. It’s just as beautiful as it was then. So much so, that I can swear I feel the earth spinning again below me.

Emily and I arrive early at the community center. A bunch of teenage girls are already hanging around outside. I hear them talking about what they’re going to say to Jake when he arrives. At this point, if there’s anyone in town that doesn’t know about the play this afternoon, they’ve been living under a rock.

Almost everyone is already there when we get to the back room, including Jake! After spending the last few days around him, he almost seems like any regular kid. Almost.

“How did you sneak by those girls?” I ask.

“I have skills,” he says with a wink.

Rory rolls her eyes. “I snuck him in through the fire exit.”

“Yes,” Jake says, “but I had the
skills
to follow you.” He sweeps her up and swings her around like he does to Emily in the play. She laughs and holds on tight. I’m not sure they’re going to hold out on that not-dating thing till ninth grade.

Ray reminds everyone what their jobs are, and shoos us out the door. While the boys are moving the card tables and couches out of the way to set up the chairs, I pull a small table over to the entrance and tape my poster to the front of it. Aunt Bethany gave me a cash box and a calculator, so I’m all set for my job as ticket seller. I pull out the playbills from the cabinets where I’d stored them the day before and pile them up. Even though everything is going according to plan, I’m very glad Opening Night is also Closing Night.

Big Joe starts putting up the sets, and I go over to watch. I’m amazed at what he’s been able to do in such a short period of time. He even painted a backdrop of a forest. Ray has it organized so that each song takes place on a different part of the stage, and Big Joe is setting up according to a chart that Ray drew. There’s the outside of Tevye’s house, the kitchen and living room, the forest, and a roof for the Fiddler to sit on. Even though Big Joe isn’t the easiest to talk to, I can’t help but ask him how he learned to make all these things.

“My father taught me everything he knew,” Big Joe says as he crosses the stage to set up another prop. “He did all the plays in town.”

“I didn’t know that,” I say.

He nods and lifts the huge wooden key as if it weighed
nothing. “This one he made for a secret admirer. He said it was the key to his heart.” He laughs. “Guess my pa had a pretty big heart to make a key that big!”

Aw, Big Joe really is a softy.

His voice turns gruff again when he says, “Don’t got no place for these two,” and hands me the duck-headed cane, and the small purple bottle.

“Really? They’re not on the prop list from the script?”

He shakes his head and points to the poster board. I scan the list of which props go in which scene. The basket, candlestick holder, and wine bottle go on the kitchen table, the knife on the counter, the gray blanket is for a picnic scene. Tevye carries the Bible, the necklace is on a few different sisters in different songs, Tevye’s wife wears the shawl, and the giant key is in the barn. But nothing about a cane or a purple bottle anywhere.

“I guess I’ll hold on to them,” I tell him. He shrugs and gets back to work. I stash them behind the ticket table to deal with later.

I go to the back room to see if anyone needs my help and have to try really hard not to laugh. The cast has changed into their costumes, with their hair and makeup done. All the girls look like how I did when I left Bettie’s house that first day. Even the boys are wearing blush and black eyeliner.

“It’s a theatre thing,” David says when he sees my expression. He puffs out his chest and says, “I think I look very dashing for a milkman.”

“Yeah, the eyeliner really makes your eyes pop.”

“I’m actually afraid to look in a mirror,” he says.

I stand back to admire him from afar. “I do like the suit and the floppy hat.”

He tilts the hat a bit. “It was my dad’s. My mom gave it to me last night.”

“It looks really nice. Very Russian milkman-ish, while still being stylish.”

“How do
I
look?” Rory says, joining us.

“Um, did they have green eye shadow in Russia in 1905?”

“I talked her out of the glitter,” she says, “so be grateful for that. If I break out in hives, you’ll have to toss me my allergy medication!”

Emily joins us, all dressed in her top and long skirt, a blue and white bonnet covering the top of her head. Annabelle had to hem the skirt a little, but everything else was in Grandma’s trunk from when she played Tzeitel. They really could be twins. Emily keeps pushing the bonnet back up on her forehead.

“How do you feel?” I ask.

“Like the whole town is about to watch me sing and dance with Jake Harrison, which can’t possibly be true because how crazy does that sound?”

“You’ll be great,” I assure her. “And it’ll be over before you know it.”

“Six minutes and sixteen seconds,” she says. “That’s how long my two big numbers are, combined. The rest of the time I’m just in the background.” She wanders off, pushing her bonnet away from her eyes and whispering
“Six and sixteen, six and sixteen.”

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” I ask Rory. “You know her a lot better than I do.”

“I think she’ll be great,” Rory says. “I may know her longer, but I’ve been trying to get her to dance ever since I saw how good she was. It was the very first night I babysat for her. Remind me to tell you that story one day; she was such a little sneak. Anyway, she’d never do it for me. And you’ve got her starring in a musical! Hey, you should really go sell tickets now before they bust down the door.”

“Break a leg,” I tell her.

“I just might,” she says. “Go!”

Rory was right, people are pressed up against the doors outside, waiting to be let in. And it’s not just girls wanting to see Jake. People of all ages are out there, many with cash in their hands. Before I can even sit behind the ticket table, people begin thrusting money at me. No one complains about the price. Some people don’t even ask for change from a ten-dollar bill because they’re in too much of a hurry to get a seat! I guess six dollars to see a movie star is pretty low. I could have asked for double. Or triple!

The cash box fills up quickly and I have to rummage through the Lost and Found cabinet to find an old gym bag to stuff the money into. Dollar bills are flying everywhere as I hurry to give people their change. David comes out to help, which is really nice of him considering he has the biggest role in the play and is wearing eyeliner.

Eventually the room is filled to capacity, with people standing in the back and kids sitting cross-legged in the front of the stage. Angelina has somehow managed to plant herself right in the front row, just as she said she would, even though I definitely didn’t see her come through the ticket line. I
join the rest of the crew off to the side of the stage where Ray had been smart enough to reserve seats. Aunt Bethany and Uncle Roger are right behind me. It’s warm in the room now, and a lot of people are fanning themselves with their playbills.

Ray — who in slacks and a button-down shirt is more dressed up than I’ve ever seen him — has to shout three times before the crowd quiets down. “Welcome, everyone, to the new Willow Falls Community Playhouse production of
Fiddler on the Roof
!”

The crowd cheers. I’m just grateful he called the play by the right name. He continues, “Thank you for coming out today and supporting the arts here in Willow Falls. We hope you enjoy the show!”

All I can think is, in half an hour, this will be over. I’ll be a whole and complete person, or whatever Angelina said I needed to be before the end of my birthday. But then the curtain parts. David stands center stage, in his black suit and floppy hat and milkman’s jug, and all other thoughts fly out of my head.