Falling Stars

  "It sounds more like a war than a career." Ice muttered.

  Madame Senetsky smiled coldly, her lips lifting slightly at the corners of her mouth.

  "Precisely. Competition is a battle in and of itself. And remember this forever, my precious novices: you will always be in competition, whether you are simply taking a publicity photo, participating. in an interview, or at a party or reception such as the one you will be at tonight.

  "The people who will be observing you will be comparing you to other potential actors and actresses, dancers and musicians. In their minds you are always competing, so be sure it is in your mind as well Does everyone understand?"

  "Sure," Howard said, looking like a race horse chafing at the bit.

  "Good," she said. "Relax for the remainder of the day. Entertain your friends at luncheon and then be sure you all have a good hour or so of rest, quiet, and meditation. Ms. Fairchild will have the program and schedule of performances for you just after lunch."

  She paused and looked at us all very hard again.

  "I do not wish people in the theater luck. This is not a matter of luck anymore. There might have been some luck involved in getting you here, but once you're on the stage, luck takes a seat at the rear of the theater and your skills, talents, and dedication determine whether you are successful or whether you fail.

  "The curtain goes up. It is then entirely in your own hands, each and every one of you. However, I will say, do not disappoint me."

  She smiled, almost a genuinely warm smile.

  "It's almost as bad as disappointing yourselves," she added and tapped her cane. No one spoke as she walked out.

  "If I wasn't nervous before." Cinnamon quipped. "I am now."

  It brought some smiles and laughter, even to Howard's normally overconfident face.

  An hour later Evan arrived, and Rose showed him about the house. Barry came a little after that, and the three of them visited in the parlor. I was getting nervous about Chandler because it was almost lunch time and he had still not appeared. Finally, twenty minutes before we were all to enjoy the buffet that had been prepared. Chandler arrived, and I introduced him to everyone.

  "He is a very handsome boy," Ice whispered in my ear.

  We all sat in the parlor and talked. The boys told of their college experiences and we described the work we were doing. Steven and Chandler seemed to get along really well. After lunch, he and Chandler went into the studio and played for each other and we all followed. Cinnamon and Ice taking turns pushing Evan in his wheelchair. When Steven and Chandler began, it was like watching two tap dancers showing each other new steps. Howard didn't like the fact that he was not the center of attention. I could see he quickly became bored and drifted away,

  "Steven's amazing," Chandler told me immediately after their impromptu concert ended. "Pie's going places I haven't even dreamed of yet."

  "Everyone's impressed with you. too." I assured him.

  Since it was a very nice day, we decided to walk the grounds. On the way out. Barry and Rose caught up with Chandler and me and Barry blurted another apology for the other day. I tried to cut him short, but he kept explaining how he didn't know Tony that well and should never have brought him along. He ended it by saving they were no longer friends and he didn't miss him a bit.

  Chandler heard it all, but didn't say anything until we were alone.

  "What was that all about?" he asked with a small but disturbed smile.

  "We joined Rose when she met Barry on our first free afternoon. We were going to the zoo in Central Park and Barry brought some friends," I explained.

  "Uh-huh," Chandler said. "And?"

  "I let one of them talk me into listening to his stereo at what was supposed to be his uncle's apartment, and it turned out badly," I said, hoping somehow to leave it at that.

  "Badly? How badly?"

  "Very badly. He tried to take advantage of me by getting me drunk," I said.

  Chandler was very quiet.

  "I was just very stupid," I added. "I believed he was really interested in showing me how good the stereo was. I deserve to be called naive. I guess."

  "I haven't gone on any dates with anyone else since we left Ohio," he said.

  "It really wasn't a date. I was on my way home and I let him talk me into..."

  "It's all right. Honey. You don't have to defend yourself. We're not engaged or anything."

  "I wish we were." I blurted and he stopped and turned to me.

  "Do you? Already? You don't want to experience this city, all the exciting people you will meet, many of them handsome men?"

  "No," I said definitively.

  He smiled, chuckling to himself.

  "I don't!" I insisted.

  "Okay. okay. But look how easily you were drawn into something you thought was just going to be an innocent experience. That's all I'm saving. Let's not make promises we can't keep."

  "I can keep my promises. Chandler Maxwell. I always have and I always will," I said. steaming.

  He laughed.

  "I mean it!" I said and stomped away from him. He had to run to catch up.

  "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'm certainly not upset about it. Honey.

  I wouldn't want anyone else to make such a promise to me."

  I stood there fuming a moment. and then turned my head slightly to look at him.

  "And what about you and your promises?" I asked.

  He stared at me a moment, dug into his pocket, and then opened his hand to reveal a white gold friendship ring with a small diamond at the center.

  "It's close to an engagement ring." he said. "Maybe a step or two away. I wasn't sure if I should give it to you so soon. but..."

  "Oh. Chandler. yes." I cried. "Yes."

  He took my hand and slipped the ring on my finger, "It fits perfectly!"

  "I found out your ring size from your mother. She was funny, questioning me to see if I was going to offer you an engagement ring, When I told her what it was, she sounded relieved. I don't think it was because she doesn't like me." he added quickly. "Nothing like that. But I know she would feel it's a bit too soon to plan on a marriage. especially when you're planning a wonderful career for yourself and you have all this opportunity," he added. gesturing at the school.

  I thought about Madame Senetsky, the things Evan had discovered and told us: her dedicated life, not marrying until she was in her thirties and not having her first child until she was nearly forty. Now who knew what family problems she had?

  A part of me wanted to burst out and say, "Oh, Chandler. I don't want anything more than a good husband, a good home, and a family. I don't want to travel from city to city performing, living out of hotels, holding my breath every time a critic appears, worrying about the audiences, competing and competing as Madame Senetsky described.'"

  But I didn't say those things.

  Another part of me stood up and cast a shadow over the words.

  "You would be dishonest with yourself," it said. "if you denied I was here inside you, too,"

  "This means a great deal to me. Chandler,' I said, running my finger over and over the ring. "Thank you."

  He shook his head.

  "Thank you. Honey, for wanting it."

  He leaned forward to kiss me.

  "Hey," we heard Steven call from behind us. He walked our way. "You're not supposed to rile up the performers before the show."

  Chandler and I laughed.

  But up in a window on the third floor, someone stood watching us,

  It looked like the young woman we had seen. A moment later, she was gone.

  It put a dark shadow over me.

  I embraced myself quickly. seized Chandler's hand, and continued on. with Steven chattering beside us like some bird enjoying an hour out of its cage.

  10 Performance light

  Ms. Fairchild gave us the program and schedule of performances for the evening. Steven was to be first, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. Maybe it was better to be as nonchalant
and uncaring as he appeared to be. I thought, I was third. after Ice. Rose was scheduled to dance before Howard and Cinnamon were to end the evening. with their scenes.

  We had another light dinner, as Madame Senetsky had ordered, and then we all went up to dress for our performances. Just before eight, the six of us marched down the stairs and gathered with Ms. Fairchild in the little theater. The first row had been reserved for our teachers.

  Evan was already there and set up in an area to the right of the last row when we all arrived. It was the only place where he could fit with his wheelchair because Madame Senetsky wouldn't permit him to sit in an aisle, even down front.

  Ms. Fairchild had the audacity to tell Rose that this was a private school and not required to make accommodations for handicapped people. Rose was upset. but Evan assured her, in such a small theater, there was no problem where anyone sat.

  Before anyone else arrived. Madame Senetsky ushered us backstage. She was angry about us being out front talking with Evan.

  "Never, never mingle with your audience before a performance," she lectured us offstage. "You will destroy that illusion, that magical way in which the people see you as special, as larger than life, sparkling in the spotlights."

  "He's only my brother," Rose protested. "When you're on the stage, you are no longer anyone's sister, anyone's brother, son, or daughter."

  "Or mother," Cinnamon muttered loud enough for her to hear. She glared at her a moment and then nodded.

  "Precisely, or mother or father. Now let's all attend to our business at hand." she said. "I have to greet our guests."

  Ice and Rose went into an antechamber to go through their warm-ups. Steven didn't want to do anything, and I was afraid to touch my violin before my appointed time. Howard wanted Cinnamon to review their lines, but she didn't want to. saying, "If we don't now it by now, Howard, five more minutes isn't going to matter very much."

  Still, he went off on his own and carried on as if she was there with him behind the curtains, reciting her lines as well as his own,

  "What happened to our confident. stomachnever-full-of-butterflies Howard Rockwell the Third?" Cinnamon quipped.

  Everyone who heard her smiled, but we didn't seem to have the strength to overcome our jitters and laugh.

  People were arriving! We could hear the low murmur of their voices as they filled the little theater.

  Why this should be any more unnerving and frightening to me than the times I played before much larger audiences in Ohio, I didn't know, but it certainly was. I felt tingling and buzzing in places I had never felt them. My throat kept getting so dry. my tongue scratched the roof of my mouth as harshly as it would had a piece of sandpaper been stuck on it.

  "Don't drink so much water," Ms. Fairchild snapped at me. "You'll have to pee while you're performing and it will ruin your concentration."

  I spit out what was in my mouth. What a horrible image, I thought.

  Madame Senetsky came backstage to look us all over one more time before the Performance Evening was to begin. She, herself, was going to do the introductory speech, greeting her audience and explaining the program. Before she stepped onto the stage, she looked so hard at each and every one of us. I was sure she would spot a strand of hair out of place. She nodded approvingly at the others, but paused in front of me, her eyes seeming to shrink in her shill. What was wrong? Did I have something on my face, a button undone?

  "Before you go into the reception, come back here and wait for me," she ordered.

  "Why?"

  She didn't reply. She turned, nodded at Laura Fairchild, and then stepped into the wing of the little theater's stage. She paused, sucked in her breath. which lifted her shoulders, and then walked out. There was loud applause.

  "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you all for attending the first Senetsky School Performing Night," we heard her begin.

  I inched closer to Cinnamon.

  "Did you hear what she said to me?" I asked.

  Cinnamon shook her head and stared at the stage. Suddenly, she looked terrified, her face whiter, her eyes glazed. In fact, they all. including Howard, looked like they were holding their collective breaths.

  "I wonder what she wants." I muttered to myself. realizing Cinnamon either couldn't or wouldn't hear me.

  "I can assure you. as I have in the past," I heard Madame Senetsky concluding. "that these are very special students. My creme de la creme," she finished.

  Howard smiled at us and nodded.

  Steven was standing there with his hands in his pockets, his head down.

  Each of our teachers was to introduce his student. Mr. Bergman introduced Steven as one of his most promising prodigies. He explained the piece Steven would play and then announced his name. Steven strutted out to a polite round of applause, took his piano seat, and began as if he was in the practice room and there was no one but Mr. Bergman present. I thought he played better than anyone I had ever heard, even professionals, and apparently so did the audience. When he was finished, there was rousing applause. He took his bows the way he had been instructed to do them and then marched off the stage, looking as if he had done this a thousand times, unfazed, nonchalant, even a little bored.

  Ice was introduced next. Mr. Littleton accompanied her on the piano. She sang ''Green Finch and Linnet Bird" from Sweeney Todd and concluded with "Memory" from Cats. The applause for her seemed to last nearly twice as long as the applause for Steven had lasted, thundering in the rafters.

  They'll hate me, I thought.I'll make mistake after mistake and look so foolish they wonder how I was admitted to this school. How can I compete with that level of talent?

  Mr. Bergman introduced me and my Mozart pieces. I feared my legs wouldn't obey the order I sent down to them when I was called onto the stage. I felt as if I was literally floating from the wings, my feet never touching the floor, When I took my place. I saw Chandler gazing up at me with a soft smile of wonder and excitement in his eyes. I was never so happy to see him as I was at that moment. The sight of a friendly face, the face of someone who reminded me of home, helped put me at ease. I closed my eyes and began.

  I never looked at the audience again. I felt myself being lifted by my own music. I thought about what it meant to me, just as Mr. Bergman advised me to do, and when I was finished. I lowered the violin and started off the stage, thinking there was only silence, but that was because of the way the applause cracked in my tars, exploded, deafening me for a moment.

  "Wonderful, wonderful,'" Ms. Fairchild said, applauding from the wings.

  "Thanks a lot." Rose moaned. "Now I have to top that. too."

  Cameron Demetrius stepped out and spoke about Rose and what she would perform. He concluded by saying she was a breath of fresh air in the world of dance, just when he thought there would never be another, jokingly adding, like himself.

  That brought a titter of laughter, but not enough to relax Rose.

  The stage lights were adjusted for her interpretive dance and, moments later, the music began. She seemed to fly out and sail above the stage floor. Never was she more graceful and beautiful to watch.

  "We should have been first," Howard complained when the audience lauded her

  performance with the same explosive clapping. It sounded more like hundreds of firecrackers.

  "How are we supposed to fire them up after all this music?" Howard continued. "It would have made more sense to have us in the middle. Who decided on the order of our performances?" he demanded from Ms. Fairchild.

  She stared at him a moment and then, with a small, cold smile on her lips, replied, "Why, Madame Senetsky decided. Who else?"

  He swallowed back whatever else he had planned to say and turned to Cinnamon.

  "Just don't upstage me. Howard," she warned.

  In a wonderfully deep and dramatic voice. Mr. Marlowe set up their scene and stepped back into the wings. The stage went dark and then the lights were brought up slowly on Howard and Cinnamon. Despite his protestation
s, he projected and spoke beautifully. Cinnamon was exciting to watch. The way she moved, held her head, and turned her hands made every part of her body part of her performance. When she and Howard finished, the audience was as appreciative as it had been for any of us, but they rose to a standing ovation when Madame Senetsky took the stage again to conclude the show,

  "Thank you, thank you. You're all very generous. We have work to do. We know. But we are proud of our students and what they have

  accomplished in so short a time. Please join us in the ballroom for a small reception. Thank you for coming."

  People began to file out. Ms. Fairchild told us to wait a moment, and then she instructed everyone to follow her.

  "Except you," she told me. "Madame Senetsky will be with you in a moment."

  Cinnamon finally remembered what I had said earlier and what had been said to me.

  "What is it all about?" she asked.

  I shook my head.

  "I have no idea."

  She thought a moment, pressing her lips together.

  "Be like a witness in court. Don't say any more than you have to," she advised. "Especially if it has anything to do with you-know-what."

  I nodded, my heart now pumping like Daddy's submersible well.

  When everyone was gone, the room felt so cold and dark. I wrapped my arms around myself and paced with my head down. Then I paused and I watched the doorway and waited. Where was she? What did she want? Finally, she appeared. It was more like she swelled in the doorway.

  "Quickly," she said, gesturing for me to come closer. "I haven't much time."

  More curious than afraid. I stepped up to her and she reached down and seized my hand with surprising force, turning up my finger to look closely at the ring Chandler had given me. I cried out as she twisted my wrist and squeezed my fingers.

  "What is this?'

  "A friendship ring." I said.