She left me wondering what all this meant. Most of my fellow students were already planning their futures and applying to colleges. Daddy wanted me to go to his alma mater. NYU, but I had vet to submit the application. I was anxious to see how Mommy reacted to Miss Hamilton's suggestion.
By the time I arrived in the lobby, there were only a few stragglers left. Mommy and Daddy and Grandmother Beverly, who looked impatient, were still talking with Miss Hamilton.
"Here's our little star," Daddy said and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "We're all very proud of vou. Cinnamon, very proud."
Miss Hamilton stood there. beaming. However. I saw how Grandmother Beverly was looking at her, her eyes fixed with accusations.
"I'm tired," I declared.
"Of course, you are. sweetheart." Mommy said. She put her arm around my shoulders. I said good night to Miss Hamilton and we left, my triumph hovering around me like an angelic light. Anyone left in the lobby and in the parking lot shouted their congratulations. I couldn't help but wonder where Iris Ainsely and her friends had gone to pout.
"Miss Hamilton told me about Edmond Senetsky," Mommy said after we started away. She and I sat in the rear and Grandmother Beverly sat up front because she hated sitting in the back. She said it made her feel like she was in a taxicab. I wondered why it didn't make her feel like she was in a limousine, but her answer was she hated that feeling. too.
"We'll have to learn more about this school," Daddy admonished.
"Ridiculous," Grandmother Beverly said. "What kind of an education will she get in a school run by an old woman?"
"She's not just an old woman. She's a famous international actress." I said.
"It sounds very exciting." Mommy declared.
"It's very competitive, Mommy. I don't see how I can get chosen."
"Of course you will." Mommy decided. "Look what you did tonight."
"We'll see. It does sound very, very
competitive," Daddy said, punctuating the air with a heavy note of caution. He glanced at Grandmother Beverly who simply shook her head and stared at the road.
I suddenly felt like the two of them were coconspirators, conspiring against Mommy's dreams and mine. My pride rose quickly up my spine like some flag of defiance.
"I'd like to try nevertheless," I announced, almost more out of spite than desire.
"Good," Mommy squealed and hugged me. "I'm so terribly proud of you, sweetheart, so very, very proud."
Dare I say I was proud of myself, too? Or was that being arrogant?
I didn't have to say it. Mommy could see it in my face. She was the only one who could, but that was enough. I thought. That was enough.
The next evening our second performance went as well as the first. During the curtain call, the president of the student government came up to present me with a bouquet of red and white roses. The audience was on its feet applauding. Mommy and Daddy had come again, but Grandmother Beverly had remained at home to watch one of her old movies.
When I arrived at school on Monday, the accolades continued. All of my teachers lavished so much praise on Inc, I felt myself in a constant blush. Iris Ainsley was never so quiet and in the background. She and her friends were chased off like mice into the corner of the cafeteria, whispering among themselves. They looked small and so insignificant. I chastised myself for ever taking them seriously enough to feel bad after anything they had said or dont.
The cast remained close. We ate lunch together and all of us basked in the continuing adulation. Then. on Wednesday. Miss Hamilton nave me the information about the audition. It was being held in a week at a small off-Broadway theater Madame Senetsky used every year for this purpose. I clutched the paper containing the details in my hand. My parents had to call to make the appointment.
"If you want me to go with you. I will," Miss Hamilton offered again. "But it might be something you and your parents should do together, a family thing," she added, "I don't mean to interfere."
"I'm sure my mother would want you to go if I do," I said.
"Give it a try, Cinnamon. If you don't, you'll always wonder. Believe me. Those kinds of questions haunt you for your whole life."
I nodded, but I was so nervous about it that I almost decided not to tell Mommy when I arrived home that afternoon. She was reading and listening to music in her room, but I could tell from the way she sat and from the tightness of the lines in her face that she was upset about something. Was it something Grandmother Beverly had done or said? I wondered. "Hi, honey," she said lowering her book.
"What's wrong, Mommy?" I asked
immediately. Her face was a book I could easily read.
She smiled at me.