Ann Martin - Mallory Pike, No.1 Fan

"Jessi warned me about this," I told her. "She said it's no problem." Once, when Ms. Simon had to be away for a few weeks, Jessi had filled in for her, helping Mr. Katz with the club. Mr. Katz had told her that the kids need to blow off some steam after being cooped up at their desks all day. He lets them run wild for about five minutes before starting the meetings.

"Hi, girls," Mr. Katz greeted us.

"Hi," I replied. "This is my friend, Claudia Kishi. She's going to help me work with the kids, if that's okay." "Terrific," said Mr. Katz.

Ms. Simon approached from the back of the classroom. She already knew Claudia because she'd once had her as a student. "Hi, Mallory. Nice to see you again, Claudia. The kids are very excited about this," she told us. "And so are Mr. Katz and I. Would you like to get started?" "Sure," I replied, suddenly feeling scared. Claudia squeezed my arm gently and smiled. "You'll be great." I smiled back at her, not so sure.

Mr. Katz clapped his hands and the kids instantly came to order, seating themselves toward the front of the room. Ms. Simon introduced Claudia and me. "Mallory is here to talk to you about acting and playwriting," Mr. Katz told the kids. "You'll have the chance to try out for a play she is writing. And then Mallory will help us put together a holiday play to perform in hospitals and nursing homes." The club members applauded, which was very sweet.

From my school pack, I took out index cards I'd prepared the night before. I'd written notes about what I wanted to say. On one card I'd tried to lay out the difference between a play and other forms of writing, namely that a play has to be told through dialogue with very little narration.

I talked about how acting something out was different from just reading lines, about how you had to be expressive and try to pretend you were the character. I had also made an index card with notes on what kinds of plays people who were shut in might like to see. (In my opinion they should be happy plays, not sad ones.) Claudia later told me that while she listened to my talk, she was gazing around the room at the kids. She said they were super interested.

Of course, she knew some of the kids because she'd baby-sat for them. Naturally, she knew Charlotte Johanssen very well, since the Johanssens are regular BSC clients. Char sat crammed into one seat with Becca. And Haley scooted her desk in beside them. The three of them are pretty close friends.

Near Haley, Claudia spotted a girl she didn't know well, but whom she'd heard of from Jessi. It was Danielle Roberts, who was listening to me talk, bright-eyed with interest. When Jessi had been working with the club, she told us how Danielle had been diagnosed with leukemia the summer after third grade. She returned to the club in fourth grade, after spending a lot of time in the hospital and undergoing chemotherapy.

Chemotherapy is a way of fighting cancer (leukemia is cancer of the blood) with powerful drugs. The drugs are so powerful that they can make some people nauseated, and even make their hair fall out. Both of those things had happened to Danielle.

When Danielle returned to school she was thin from being sick and wore a scarf to hide her bald head. She had dark circles under her eyes, and looked generally run-down.

Claudia was able to identify Danielle because not long ago, Jessi told us Danielle's leukemia had come back and she was again undergoing chemotherapy. Claudia could tell, just by looking, that she wasn't well. Still, Claudia admired the way Danielle didn't spend time feeling sorry for herself. Despite her own serious problem, she was there at the KCDAC meeting, thinking about how she could help others.

Once I started my speech, I found that it was easier than I'd expected. I got so excited about the subject that I forgot my nervousness. The words just flowed out of me. "I'd love for you to help me with my play," I concluded. "And thanks for listening." The club members applauded again, which made me feel good. "Now you kids have a decision to make," Ms. Simon told them. "You can either work with Mallory and Claudia on a play, or with Mr. Katz and me on making holiday decorations. We've decided that when we take our play to hospitals and nursing homes, we'll also take a holiday party, and leave behind some decorations to brighten the places." "What a great idea!" Claudia spoke up impulsively. Later that afternoon, Claudia told me that the notion of working on holiday crafts projects had appealed to her immediately. But, at the time, I didn't realize I was in danger of losing my assistant to the crafts half of the room.

"Who wants to work on decorations?" Ms. Simon asked. About half of the club members did. "Then the rest of these guys are yours, Mallory," said Ms. Simon. "Why don't you meet with them in the back of the class." Claudia and I moved to the back. "Pull your chairs into a circle," Claudia instructed them. As they did, I surveyed my cast. I had Haley, Becca, Char, and Danielle. Sara Hill, another of our baby-sitting charges was there. So was Buddy Barrett, whom we sit for pretty often. Three boys and a girl I didn't know at all had also joined the group. That made ten kids, which seemed like a good, manageable number for a first-time playwright (and now director) like myself.

"I haven't written my play yet," I told them. "But I want to get a sense of how you read." I took a small stack of yellow paperback playscripts from my pack. The middle school library keeps a number of copies of certain plays, in case a class or club wants to put on a production.

The scripts were for a play called Ain't Life Grand, written by - Henrietta Hayes! It was the second play she'd published. I'd read it through in one night. Like Alice Anderson, it was very funny, and left you with a warm, happy feeling when it was done.

Claudia passed the books out and I assigned each kid a role. Slowly, we went through the script, with each kid reading his or her part.

Sara Hill was good, and so were Becca and Char, especially considering how shy they are. Buddy Barret was good, too. Claudia reminded me that he'd been great when the BSC was involved in a school production of "Peter Pan." Haley and the rest of the kids were somewhere in the middle. But Danielle really shone. She read well, with lots of expression.

The time flew by. Before we were done with the first act, the meeting was over. "I may not have my play written by next week," I told the kids. "If I don't, we'll do some acting exercises." Along with the plays, I'd found a book on acting in the library. It was full of fun ways to practice acting, such as improvising skits, pretending to be someone's image in a mirror, and stuff like that.

Claudia collected the scripts and said good43 bye to the kids. Ms. Simon and Mr. Katz thanked us as we left the room. "What did you think?" I asked Claudia when we were in the hall.

"Your speech was great. And the kids should be good. What will your play be about, though?" "Good question," I replied. "I think writers usually write about things they know, about their lives." "You mean, you think most writing is autobiographical?" asked Claudia.

"I do," I said, warming to my subject. "I really do. Take Henrietta Hayes for example. I have now read almost half of her books. I'm nearly positive that she must be either Alice Anderson or Alice Anderson's mother. Her characters are so real they have to be from her life." "At the meeting last Monday, when you were telling about how you changed your project, you said you'd written to Henrietta Hayes. Has she written back to you yet?" Claudia asked.

"Yes, but she hasn't answered my second letter." After my brainstorm, I'd written to her in care of her publishing company again. This time I'd explained that I lived close to her and needed her help with a school project. I said I'd be willing to go to her house and interview her if that was possible. Considering how quickly she'd returned my letter the last time, I expected to hear from her soon.