The Brightest Stars of Summer (5 page)

T
hat night, Zinnie dreamed that she was walking down a twisting path in a dark forest. She was scared because the plants and animals were all strange. Then she realized that she had one of Aunt Sunny's field guides with her and she was able to identify the life around her. As she walked on, recording her discoveries in her notebook, dappled light illuminated the path. She knew that she didn't need the field guide anymore because although it was unfamiliar, she understood this world.

Then the path opened up. At the end of it was the dune in Pruet that she loved so well. She ran to it and climbed it. With each step her feet sank so deeply into the warm sand that it became almost comical for her to keep going, but she did. She was laughing as she reached the top. And there she saw the beach with
the estuary, and miles of Atlantic Ocean, and her sisters playing in the waves. Aunt Sunny was there, too, standing in the surf.

“Come on in,” Aunt Sunny called from below.

“But I forgot my bathing suit,” Zinnie called back. “I won't be able to go in.”

“That's okay,” Aunt Sunny said, gesturing for her to join them. “I brought an extra one just in case!”

Zinnie ran down the dune, so happy that she lifted off the sand and actually started to fly.

When Zinnie woke up, she could feel the sun on her cheeks. At first she thought she was in Pruet about to take a swim with her sisters in the chilly ocean, but as she blinked awake and her room came into focus, she realized that she was in her bed in California. Pruet and all its summer treasure was thousands of miles away. She sat up and grinned, knowing that it wouldn't be far away for long.

That evening she wrote an email.

Dear Mrs. Lee,

Because of a last-minute opportunity to visit my great-aunt Sunny in Pruet, Massachusetts (she's getting married!), I am afraid that I will no longer be attending Summer Scribes. My mom said that she talked to the school, but I wanted to write and tell you that while I am very excited to see my aunt, I am also very sad to miss out on camp. It was pretty much the hardest
decision of my life! Also, I know I sent a story already, “Spell of Warriors,” but could you please delete it? I've thought about it a lot and I don't think it's a good story to submit. I can't tell you how much I want to be a part of the Writers' Workshop next year and I know I need to turn in my very best work. I think I need to write something new. Since I won't be attending Summer Scribes, do you have any advice for me?

Sincerely,

Zinnie Silver

She received a response the next morning.

Dear Zinnie,

We had quite a waiting list to get in, so your spot was snapped right up. Though we will miss you in class, I am glad you are going to spend some time with your aunt. How exciting to go to a wedding, and Cape Cod is beautiful. Many famous writers have found inspiration there, including Tennessee Williams and Eugene O'Neill. I have no doubt that you will do the same. Also, it's fine to submit a new story if that's what you'd like to do. It just has to be in by the deadline of July 10th. My only advice is to write a little something every day, keep your eyes open, and let yourself be surprised. Stories are everywhere. Some are hidden and some are in plain sight. Don't be afraid to go looking! I look forward to reading your work. Remember, I can only accept ten students into the Writers' Workshop, which is really very few.

Best wishes,

Candace Lee

Zinnie felt a twinge of anxiety as she read that last line.
Only ten students!
There were five seventh-grade spots and five eighth-grade spots. New spots only opened up for the eighth graders who chose to leave the workshop or who, in Mrs. Lee's words, “weren't taking full advantage of the opportunity.” It hardly ever happened that an eighth grader left, so it was extra-important that Zinnie get in this year. Going to Pruet had seemed like such a good idea when she'd woken up from her dream, but now she wondered if she'd made a mistake.

Her spot in Summer Scribes had been filled, so it was too late to change her mind. She'd made her choice and she was going to have to stick to it. She could only hope that it would lead to inspiration the way the path in her dreams had led her to the dune, and that her words would be her wings.

“T
hank you for joining us on Atlantic Airlines,” the flight attendant said over the loudspeaker. “We have now reached our cruising altitude of thirty thousand feet. We'll be coming by shortly with snacks and beverages. A menu with available items can be found in the seat-back pocket.”

“Remember, Mom and Dad said no soda,” Marigold said to her sisters as they reached for their menus. “Too much sugar.”

“I always get cranberry juice anyway,” Zinnie said.

“They didn't say anything about cookies,” Lily said, pointing to a picture of one on the menu.

“That's true,” Zinnie said.

“We can split it,” Marigold said, determined to be the responsible older sister.

It was almost two weeks later and the three Silver
sisters were on their way to Pruet, where they'd spend another two weeks helping Aunt Sunny get ready for her wedding. They were settled into row 34, with Zinnie on the aisle, Lily in the middle, and Marigold by the window. Lily liked the center seat because she enjoyed being right in the middle of the sister action. Zinnie and Marigold had had to flip a coin for the window seat. Zinnie wanted to be by the window because she liked the view when they crossed the Rocky Mountains. Also, despite everyone telling her it would never happen, she was still hoping that they would fly close enough to another plane so that she could wave to the other passengers.

Marigold had other reasons. She wanted to watch Los Angeles shrink into a maze with ant-sized cars and teardrop swimming pools until it disappeared. She wanted to relish the moment they escaped into the clouds and soared into the blank blue sky. So back in terminal 3, she'd been delighted when her dad had flipped a coin, and she'd won.

As she pressed her forehead against the window and stared at the sky, she was relieved, knowing that with every minute there was more space between her and Los Angeles.
Night Sprites
was coming out in theaters tomorrow and she wasn't going to have to be there. The billboards advertising the movie were everywhere from Santa Monica to Pasadena.

It seemed like every single bus had a picture of
the star, Amanda Mills, with her glittering wings, on the side of it. Thankfully, there were no billboards or city buses in Pruet. There wasn't even a movie theater. It was true that the director, Philip Rathbone, had a summer home in Pruet, but he was going to be so busy promoting
Night Sprites
that he wouldn't be there.

Maybe even more than wanting to forget her acting disappointment, Marigold didn't want to see the Cuties—especially once they realized that she wasn't in the movie. Maybe they already knew, Marigold thought with a shiver. Maybe Pilar had told them. Marigold's heart pinched as she remembered her last meeting with Pilar at the Cupcake Café. During their middle-of-the-night mother-daughter meeting, Mom had encouraged Marigold to talk to Pilar so they could clear the air before they went their separate ways for the summer. Marigold called Pilar the next day and asked her to hang out.

“It's important,” Marigold said on the phone, sensing that Pilar was trying to think of an excuse. “It's about our friendship.”

“Okay, meet me at the Cupcake Café,” Pilar said.

Mom drove Marigold to the café, which was right around the corner from Pilar's house, and waited outside in the car.

They both ordered the vanilla cupcake with chocolate frosting, and then they faced each other in silence until Marigold finally said, “I like your haircut.”

“Thank you,” Pilar said, peeling the wrapper off her cupcake. “I like yours too.”

“Thanks,” Marigold said. This was already so weird. It seemed like just yesterday they would have planned their haircuts out together, and now they were being as polite as almost-strangers.

“I saw you at Griffith Park with the Cuties!” Marigold finally said after what felt like a whole minute of awkward silence. “How come you lied to me about having to pack for Mexico the other day?”

“I guess I knew you'd be mad,” Pilar said. “I'm sorry.”

“Are we still best friends?” Marigold asked.

“I don't know,” Pilar said. “You basically ignored me this spring. It really hurt my feelings. I mean, did you expect me to not make any other friends? The Cuties at least want to hang out with me.”

“I'm really sorry,” Marigold said. “I want to hang out with you now. Can we just go back to how it used to be?”

“Don't you only want to hang out with famous people now?” Pilar asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“No. Not at all! I'd so much rather hang out with you!”

“Really?” Pilar smiled.

“Yes!” Marigold said. “I've missed you so much.”

“Me too!” Pilar said. She stood up and hugged her. Marigold hugged her back. Pilar smelled just like her
house—pleasant and clean and a little perfumy. Marigold fought back tears as she realized how much she had missed their pajama parties and shopping trips.

“So, are you going to be going to the premiere and stuff?” Pilar asked.

“Well,” Marigold said, “here's the thing. I'm not in the movie anymore. I was cut out of it.”

“Oh my gosh,” Pilar said. “I'm so sorry.”

“I'm definitely not a movie star,” Marigold said. “But the good news is that we can hang out all the time now.”

“Oh,” Pilar said. “Now I feel like you want to hang out with me just because your plan to be famous fell through!”

“It's not true,” Marigold said. “You're my best friend.”

“Only because you're not in the movie!” Pilar sighed. “Look, I need some space this summer. To think things over.”

“Um, okay. Are you going to be best friends with the Cuties now?” Pilar shrugged. “Can you at least tell me why they don't like me?”

“They think that you think that you're soooo great. It's like you don't think you're a normal, regular girl. Maybe you should try to be more . . . ordinary.” As mad as Pilar was, Marigold could tell that she was trying to give her advice. “At least that's what you have to do if you want to have any friends in eighth grade.

“I'll call you when I get back from Mexico in August,” Pilar went on. She picked up the cupcake with one hand, tucked her wallet under her arm, then put her keys and her phone in the other hand and walked out the door.

She needs a nice bag,
Marigold thought.
Maybe a clutch.
Then she stared at the table in disbelief at the conversation. She had no appetite for her cupcake.

As soon as Marigold climbed into her mom's car, she burst into tears.

Now, on the airplane, Lily tugged on her sleeve.

“How long is this ride, Marigold?” Lily asked, chewing the sugar-free gum that Mom had bought them to keep their ears from popping during takeoff and landing.

“Four hours and forty-four minutes,” Marigold said.

“Oh,” Lily said. Marigold reached into her carry-on bag and pulled out some activities for her youngest sister: stickers, drawing paper, and a book about puppies. Lily opened the puppy book and began to read. “Four hours and forty-four minutes is a lot of time to read about puppies.”

“You can color, too,” Marigold said. “Just let me know when you get bored.” Then she turned on her iPad, switched it to airplane mode, and opened a diary app that she'd downloaded last night. Now that Los
Angeles was safely behind her, it was time to get started on her plan.

Marigold was going to give herself a makeover, inside and out, and she was going to record it in her digital diary. The haircut was just the beginning. She would return to school with a new look and a new attitude, and maybe even start going by the less distinctive name Mary.

This summer she was going to practice how to be more ordinary. After all, changing over the summer was something that people did. Girls had left the sixth grade looking like kids and returned in September as full-blown teenagers. Even though Marigold was on the late-bloomer side of the whole looking-like-a-teenager thing, why couldn't she go away and return as the kind of girl everyone wanted to be friends with? She tapped her iPad on and started to make a list of things she thought she needed to do in order to transform.

1. Be more ordinary.

2. Dress casual.

3. Don't show off or try to get attention.

4. Find something else to love besides acting.

She leaned back in her seat and examined this list. It was shorter than she would've liked, but she wasn't sure what else to do to make sure she stopped behaving like she thought she was “sooooo great.” She
decided that this was okay for now. Maybe not being a famous actress wouldn't be so bad. There were lots of people who didn't care about being actresses or looking like movie stars, and they seemed perfectly happy. She glanced over at Zinnie, whose eyes were glued to the pages of her enormous novel about dragons. There was a small stain on her T-shirt, and even though Marigold had taught her how to do her hair, she still just always put it up in a messy ponytail. Marigold opened her list again and added under the first point:
Dress more like Zinnie.

Can I go that far?
Marigold wondered.
Probably not. That's a little too extreme, but I bet I can find something in between.

And in Pruet there was Peter Pasque, the red-haired boy who'd taken her sailing last year. He didn't care about acting or Hollywood. He hated the spotlight. When he'd sung “Rocky Raccoon” last year at the talent show, his face had turned bright red and he'd looked totally miserable.

She smiled as she thought of the two of them sailing close to the beach and how fun it had been when the wind picked up and it had felt like they were flying. Now that she was thinking of him, she remembered that he'd told her that at first he'd thought she was stuck-up. They'd lost touch once school started, but he would be so happy to see that she was on her way to being perfectly average. And if he was her boyfriend
again this summer, she'd definitely have stuff to talk to the Cuties about.

“Hi, girls,” the flight attendant said as she came around with the beverage cart.

Marigold quickly shut her iPad and put it in her seatback pocket. Technically, it was hers and she didn't have to share it, though it was going to be hard because her sisters always wanted to get into her stuff. Zinnie had brought her laptop, and Marigold hoped that would keep Zinnie from trying to use the iPad and discovering her diary.

“What would you like to drink?” the flight attendant asked.

“Cranberry juice, please,” Zinnie said.

“Apple juice, please,” Lily said.

“Sparkling water and a cookie to share, please,” Marigold said.

“Yes, ma'ams, coming right up,” the flight attendant said, and she gave the girls their drinks and a cookie the size of a dinner plate. “Oh, and someone on the last flight left this behind, and I thought you older girls would be interested.”

She handed Marigold the latest issue of
Young & Lovely
magazine.

“Thanks,” Zinnie said, reaching for it and quickly turning it upside down on her tray table. But it was too late. Marigold had seen the cover, which had the
Night Sprites
cast on it. Marigold felt a twinge in her
chest so sharp that for a moment she was sure that the cabin pressure had dropped and they were plummeting below the clouds to the hard earth they had so recently left behind.