Ann Martin - Mallory Pike, No.1 Fan

In the house, Dad and Jordan were at the kitchen table going over Jordan's math homework. From the sound of it (a sound sort of like a buffalo stampede) everyone else was downstairs in the rec room. "How did it go?" Dad asked as I came in.

"Words can not describe the greatness of being Henrietta Hayes's assistant," I said se74 riously. "I've already given her a book idea." "Good for you," said Dad. "This might turn out to be an importantjob for you." "Maybe," I agreed, although that wasn't the most important thing to me right then. It was wonderful enough just to know Ms. Hayes and have the chance to talk to her.

I was so inspired that I went right upstairs to work on my own play. I'd entitled it, "The Early Years." It was the story of a young author in the early years of her life. Of course, the young author was me, but I'd fictionalized the story a little so no one would be offended.

Lying on my bed, I read over what I'd already written, which wasn't much more than the opening. Here's what it said.

When I finished reading it, I felt pleased. It had comedy (the bucket stuff and all), and tragedy (the poor writer burdened with an insensitive, needy family), and it was taken from my true life experiences.

Filled with quiet excitement, I clicked my ballpoint pen and began writing the further adventures of the maniac Spike family.

Chapter 7.

S tacey helped me pass out the copies of my completed play to the kids in the KCDAC. I figured they were ready to work on it. Last week I'd assigned them to do improvisations. That's when you describe a situation and ask the kids to act it out using their own words. (I'd read about improvising in The Basics of Play Writing. The kids did well with it, so now they were ready to start my play.) "All right, everybody," I said. "Take a few minutes to read this over, and then we'll read some scenes. Stacey and I will decide who we think should act out which part. Okay?" The kids nodded and began reading. Haley giggled from time to time, but Becca frowned deeply. "Is Ranessa supposed to be Vanessa?" she asked finally.

"Umm . . . I just changed that character's name," I said, avoiding the question. "From now on she's named. . . Jill." Ranessa was a little too close to Vanessa.

"It's Vanessa," Haley said knowingly to Becca.

"Is this play about your family?" Stacey asked me.

"Well, yes," I admitted. "All great literature is basically autobiographical." Stacey wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. "Are you sure? What about, say, Peter Pan?" "J.M. Barrie isn't considered one of the world's great writers," I replied.

"What about, oh, Stuart Little or Charlotte's Web?" Stacey continued.

"Okay, they're fantasies," I said. "It's hard to tell what parts of E.B. White's life are in those. But I bet if I knew more about his life I could find things that were the same. After all, Stuart Little lives in an apartment in Manhattan." "I know," Stacey said, a~ fond look coming into her blue eyes. "That's one of the things I always loved best about that book. Plus, after I read Stuart Little I never thought about mice the same way again. Whenever anyone caught a mouse in a trap, I felt sad, like it might be Stuart Little." "Exactly," I said, although her remark didn't prove my point at all. Maybe little kids' books aren't autobiographical, but books for older kids are. "Take Little Women," I said. "Louisa May Alcott really did have sisters, and she did live in the North during the Civil War." We didn't have time to discuss it further because the kids started to look restless. "Well, what do you think of the play?" I asked them.

"It's pretty funny," said the girl I didn't know. Her name was Wendy.

"Is it a comedy?" Stacey asked me in a low voice.

"Parts of it are," I said "All right, let's start reading. Becca, you read Valery's part. Haley, you be Ranessa, I mean Jill. Tony, you read Ricky's part. And Danielle, you be Margarita." "Where should we start?" asked Becca. "Try the final scene, where Valery is sick in bed." I'd written this scene thinking about the time I'd been sick with mononucleosis. I'd missed tons of school, and wasn't even allowed to baby-sit for awhile.

"Should we stand or sit?" asked Haley. "I think they should stand," Stacey suggested to me.

"Yes, stand," I agreed. "You guys will have to get used to talking on your feet. Take it from Valery's line, 'I'm all right. I want to know how I can help you.'" The kids stood in the center of the circle of chairs. Becca read Valery's first line.

"Oh, you're so unselfish, Valery," said Danielle, as Margarita.

"I care about my family," read Becca. "But you're so sick, Valery," said Danielle. "It's true, my play is unfinished, but you all need me so much," Becca read. "I'm not too sick to help my family." Stacey volunteered to read the mother's part. (After the meeting she told me that she enjoyed it. It reminded her of when she played Mrs. Darling in Peter Pan.) - "Oh, Valery," Stacey read. "I blame myself. I worked you too hard.

"No, Mother, don't blame yourself," Becca said. "It's my fault. I stayed up late trying to do my writing. I exhausted myself." "Valery, when you're better, we'll make sure you have time for your writing," said Haley.

"Forget it," said Tony, as Ricky. "Valery gets all the attention. That's not fair." "Okay, thanks," I stopped them. I'd seen enough. They were all pretty bad - all except Danielle. She read her lines with some expression, not like a robot. "I realize this is the first time you guys have seen the script," I said. "But try to put a little more feeling into it." For the next reading, Stacey suggested having Danielle read Valery's part. I agreed. We read another section of the play, one with the Jordan, Byron, and Adam characters in it. Of course, I'd changed their names. Bruce read Myron, Buddy Barrett read Atlas, and a boy named Peter Tiegreen read Gordon. I asked Charlotte to read the part of Delaware, who was based on Claire.

"But this is a baby's part," Charlotte objected.

"A great actress can play anything," I insisted.

"I don't want this part," Charlotte said firmly. "I'm not playing a five-year-old. And I'm certainly not a great actress. I want to work on the costumes." I ignored the last part of Charlotte's comment. "All right. I just changed Delaware to a six-year-old." "But she still sounds like a baby." "Well, I'll rewrite that character, I suppose," I grumbled. "Turn to the next page and read the Jill part." In this scene, Valery finally finishes her great play, only to have Myron, Gordon, and Atlas use it to build a fire. (This never happened to me, but it was the kind of thing the triplets might easily do.) "My play! Oh, no! What have you done with my play?" Danielle read dramatically.

"What play?" asked Peter.

"That's my play you just threw in the fire!" cried Danielle.

"That big bunch of papers?" read Buddy. "We thought it was garbage." "No! No!" Danielle sobbed. "That was my play, the one I've been trying to write all year." "You've burned Valery's play!" said Charlotte in a mechanical voice I had to strain to hear.

"Relax, would you?" Bruce read. "She can always write another one." "Not bad," I told them. "Danielle, you were terrific." "Thanks," she said with a sweet smile.

We asked the kids to run through a few more scenes. By the time we were done, it was clear that Danielle was the best actress in the group. Stacey and I told the kids to take a break while we discussed who should play which role.

"We know Danielle will play you . . . I mean, Valery," said Stacey.

"I'm worried about her being sick, though," I said quietly. "Becca told Jessi she's started missing a lot of school because of her doctor appointments. What if she misses rehearsals, or even misses the play itself?" "Who else could handle that part?" Stacey asked.

No one could. "We'll just have to take a chance with Danielle, I suppose," I agreed. "We can make someone her understudy." "Good idea," Stacey agreed.