Acting Out

  “This looks great,” Brenna says. “I like the pictures of Sherlock and the kittens. We might want to load a few more graphics up on it. I have a lot of wildlife images on my computer at home that we can use.”

  Josh leans in to look. “I like the puppy pictures on the home page.”

  Jules says, “We should take a picture of Cuddles for the site, too.”

  “And Rover,” David chimes in.

  “Yes, all great ideas,” I say. “Now let’s start the PSAs! The first one shoots in the backyard. Let’s go.”

  We trample out to Gran’s backyard. I give Maggie, Sunita, and Brenna one script to read over and Jules, Josh, and David the other. I should have made more copies. Oh well.

  I scan the backyard for possible locations to film. Let’s see. We could do it over by the tall evergreens, or maybe right beside the porch. And the lighting is really good down by the kennel runs. We’ll try them all and pick the best ones to upload to the website. If we can at least get one done today, I can tell my mom to check it out. If all goes well, maybe I’ll even get a response from her before I go to bed tonight.

  “David, do you know how to use this?” I wave my camera.

  “Yep. I used Brian’s once when he didn’t know. Took a video of him flexing his muscles in the mirror. Not much to look at.”

  “Did he find out?” Josh asks.

  “Oh yeah. I got into some real trouble for that. But I know how to film.” David turns back to me and reaches for my camera.

  “Okay, well, let’s start over by the trees. It’ll make a nice background. Come on, everybody!” I lead the way to the farthest section of Gran’s property.

  To begin, I read the first line of the PSA in front of everyone as an example. I try to sound as natural as possible, while adding a little dramatic flair. I think it works, but the Vet Volunteers just kind of stare at me.

  But that’s ok. It’s a simple PSA. Each of us has just one line of our own, and then we’ll all read the last line in unison. Except for David, of course, since he’s filming. Easy, right?

  Except we can’t seem to speak in unison.

  And then David and Josh get a case of the giggles and Josh can’t say his line at all, and David can’t hold the camera straight while he laughs at Josh.

  “I’m not so sure that this is working,” Maggie says. “How many more times do we have to do it?”

  “Should we have some kind of rehearsal?” Jules asks.

  “I didn’t think this would be too difficult,” I say. “David, let me see what you’ve got so far.”

  David hands me my camera and I replay our attempts. The sound isn’t great. We should shoot closer. The last take is too shaky to even consider, but even the first two tries seem jittery somehow. Then I see why.

  “Sunita! You’re wearing stripes,” I say.

  “Um, yeah,” Sunita replies, looking down at her shirt.

  “Stripes dance all over and shimmer on camera.”

  Sunita looks at me like she’s never seen me before.

  “You can’t wear stripes on camera,” I say. “Oh, and everybody, for the next time we shoot, wear solid colors, but not white or black. White draws too much attention, and black is hard to light. Jewel tones like ruby and emerald are the best. Stripes are out.” I look over at Sunita. She shrugs.

  “Also,” I continue, “small and intricate designs are hard for the camera to read. Pastel shirts are fine, and the color blue is always good on TV. Don’t wear jewelry that moves or makes noise. The microphone might pick it up. Dress simply. Oh, and no words or logos on your shirts. We don’t want people reading your shirt instead of paying attention to our message!”

  “Who knew when we got dressed today that we had to dress for the camera?” Maggie sighs. I make a mental note to help her pick out an outfit for next time. I’ll probably have to lend her some of my clothes.

  Gran calls to us from the back porch. “Do you kids want some lemonade?” She jiggles the glass in her hand. “I have a pitcher inside.”

  “We don’t have time for a break!” I yell back. “We’ll lose the light.”

  “Actually, Josh and I really have to get going,” Jules says hesitantly.

  “Me too,” Brenna agrees. “We’ve had a long day.”

  “But what a great day!” Sunita says. “We found the antifreeze spill.”

  “But we don’t have a single take that we can use yet. We need to go through it a few more times.” I look at my friends. I can’t believe that everyone is giving up so soon. The public needs to see these PSAs. And my mother needs to see them. She needs to see that what I’m doing is interesting, too.

  “We’ll get it right, Zoe. Let us know what time you want us next Saturday,” Brenna says, tugging on her jacket.

  “Next Saturday?”

  “Spring break is over. We all have school tomorrow,” Brenna explains. “Saturday is the soonest I can work on this again.”

  “Me too,” Sunita says. “There’s always extra homework when we get back from vacation.”

  Everyone is leaving, and we hardly got anywhere. Maggie walks with Brenna and pretends to dribble and shoot an imaginary basketball as she goes. Josh, Jules, David, and Sunita start heading back to the house, too. I feel miserable. I thought the PSAs were such a great idea, but everything is going wrong, and now we can’t work on them for almost a whole week.

  “David,” Gran calls, “we should talk before you go.” Her voice doesn’t give much away, but she certainly didn’t sound cheery. She turns and goes back into the house and—most likely—through to the clinic.

  I look over at David. He is pale.

  “Want me to come with you?” I ask. I am relieved when he nods. I don’t know what Gran is about to tell him, but I think he could use a friend right now.

  We walk back to the house in near silence. David usually tells a joke a minute, and he never just walks. David is a stone-kicker, a runner, a jump-around-like-a-baboon kind of guy. The fact that he’s quietly walking tells me he is really nervous about Rover.

  Maggie catches up with us in the house after saying good-bye to the others. She gently punches David in the shoulder. I know it’s her way of telling him that she is there for him, too. The three of us enter the clinic together.

  Gran is sitting on one of the high stools beside the cages in the recovery room and motions for David to do the same. Maggie and I stay standing. Gran’s mouth is a straight line, but her eyes look soft. I am so nervous. What must David feel?

  Finally, she begins. “I called your mom while you were all filming out back. I wanted to explain Rover’s situation to her first and get some permissions.”

  Gran clears her throat. “David, Rover is a sick cat. He does not have antifreeze poisoning. But his condition is serious.”

  David tries to ask a question but does not get it out. Gran patiently waits, but then David just closes his mouth and looks out through his shaggy hair. She continues. “Rover has acute feline pancreatitis. I am treating him with plasma and I believe he will get better. But this is life-threatening, and we won’t know how well he will respond to the treatment for a few more days.”

  David swallows. “How did he get it?” he manages to ask.

  “It’s hard to say,” Gran answers. “Rover was a stray. There is so much that could have happened to him before you adopted him. Infection, insecticide exposure, a high-fat diet, trauma—a big fall, perhaps. It’s likely we’ll never know how he contracted this.”

  David nods.

  Gran opens Rover’s cage. Rover is hooked up to tubes and bags. “This is the plasma,” she says, pointing to a large plastic IV bag. “I have him on a sedative because I need to give him the plasma without him pulling out the IV lines—as you all well know.” She looks around at us. “And because feline pancreatitis is painful. Rover will heal faster if he is not in so much pain.”

  “Is that why he wasn’t frisky anymore?” David asks.

  “That’s one reason. The other reason is th
at his organs were not working properly and he could not convert his food to energy.” Gran rubs a finger along Rover’s forehead and looks at David. “You know we’ll take good care of him,” she says. “Come over before school in the morning and help me with his lines. We’ll know soon how he’s going to do.”

  David nods again. “Thanks, Dr. Mac. See you in the morning.” He waves good-bye to Maggie and me and crosses the recovery room floor. I’ve never seen him walk so slowly. The clinic feels much emptier as the door swings shut behind him.

  “I’m going back in the house,” I tell Maggie and Gran.

  Gran wheels the full dirty linen cans toward the big washing machine. “Sure, Zoe, go on ahead. I won’t be long.”

  “I’ll help Gran get the laundry going,” Maggie says. “Can you feed Sherlock for me?”

  “No problem.”

  I walk down the hall and back into Gran’s house. Oh. I suppose I should start thinking of it as my house, too. Sherlock gets to his feet when he sees me reach in the cupboard for his food. Scooping out the kibble makes me miss Sneakers even more. Sneakers thinks everything is a game, and he always gets so excited when it is time for his dinner. His tail wags like crazy and he jumps up and down and barks. Sherlock is much lazier. I watch as the basset hound wolfs his food down and then laps up his water, his tags jingling against the side of his bowl. For some reason, those jingling tags make me so sad. I wish I was listening to Sneakers’s jingling tags with my mom in my home in California.

  I decide to go to my room to see if Mom sent me an email.

  She has, but it’s another short one.

  Zoe, the weather continues its harassment of us. I have to imagine that this will extend our shooting time. Luckily, James keeps us all in high spirits. I hope your weather is better in Pennsylvania. You must be starting school tomorrow. Have a great time!

  Talk soon, Mom

  Still no real conversation. No real news. Nothing even vaguely personal. She could have given that weather report as a tidbit to People magazine. And hasn’t it even occurred to her that starting at another school midyear might be something other than fun? She knows that I’m apprehensive about being back here. I don’t know how long I sit there looking at the screen, or how long I’ve been crying. I only know that at some point Gran is beside me with tissues and hugs, and soon I’m closing my eyes in bed, feeling like I’ve cried out every drop of water in my body.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning, Maggie walks with me to the school office but waits outside. My stomach feels a little wobbly and my forehead feels a little tight. I take a deep breath and walk inside.

  In the office, the school secretary truly looks happy to see me.

  “It’s just wonderful to have you back with us, Zoe!” she says. “And I see you’re as stylish as always.”

  “Thank you,” I say. I’m wearing my new black-and-white polka-dot dress with my favorite pair of black suede cowboy boots. If Mom can’t make me feel better, at least my shoes can.

  The secretary flips open a folder and hands me a large white-lined card and a class schedule. “Have your teachers sign the card as you go along, dear. Then just turn it in at the end of the day. Your mother and Dr. MacKenzie have you all re-registered, so I don’t need anything else from you right now.”

  “Thank you,” I say again and turn to leave.

  “Zoe, you’ll find we put you in Maggie’s homeroom and a few other classes, too. Enjoy!” The secretary closes the folder and swivels her chair away as I leave the office.

  “Cool!” Maggie says when she sees my schedule. “It’ll be easier for you to help me with my homework if we’re in the same classes.”

  That could be a good thing or a bad thing. I guess we’re going to find out.

  As we walk through the hallways, I hear lots of people call my name to say hello. There are more familiar faces than I expected. A couple of girls from my math class last year stop and excitedly ask me questions about Hollywood and where I got my boots. Maggie rolls her eyes, but I feel my shoulders relax a little. My stomach and head are already returning to normal. Maybe this won’t be so bad. I’m good at school and I make friends pretty easily, and people seem happy to have me back. After all, I was worried about rejoining the Vet Volunteers, and that seems to be working out fine.

  After school, Maggie and I sit at Gran’s kitchen table with Sherlock between us. We snack on apples and chunks of cheddar cheese. I look at a message that Gran has left for us.

  Girls, I’m assisting Dr. Gabe on a stable call. I should be back before 5. Get your homework done. And Zoe, your mom called. She got the time zone difference mixed up again. She said she’ll try to reach you later. Love, Gran

  This goes on for another two weeks. I leave phone messages for Mom, she leaves them for me. Mom sends me super short emails and I have a hard time replying to them. What can I say to her? School is school. She knows how the Vet Volunteers work. I could tell her about the antifreeze problem, but I want to wait until the PSAs are finished before I say anything. Nothing else is different, and I don’t think anything will seem very interesting to her. Not when she’s on a movie set with famous stars.

  And our PSAs aren’t any closer to being done. We haven’t even been able to finish one about antifreeze, even though I have ideas for lots of others, like shelter adoption and spaying and neutering. Everyone is so busy, and when some of us do manage to get together to film one, something always goes wrong. Jules gets stage fright or David’s jokes put everyone in stitches or the camera’s battery is dead. I keep bugging David to see if we can use Brian’s camera, but he shrugs me off. The videos aren’t good enough to post, and they definitely aren’t good enough for my mother to see.

  Finally one night, Mom calls when I’m home. I’ve already gone to bed. Gran knocks on my door to see if I’m awake enough to take her call.

  “Yes!” I say, throwing back the covers. Gran hands me the phone and leaves my room.

  “Mom?” I’m so eager to hear her voice, but I’m also a little mad at her.

  “Zoe! We’re finally talking! This has been crazy, hasn’t it?”

  “It sure has. Don’t they have clocks in Vancouver?”

  Mom doesn’t say anything for a moment. I only meant to tease a little. I think. But maybe I did want to hurt her a little as well.

  “Mom?”

  “Zoe, I’m doing my best here. Our shooting schedule has been crazy. The weather is making it very hard to plan. We sit around for hours waiting to film only to have it called off for the day. And then we’ll get a call to get to set with only a few minutes’ notice. I have to stay in makeup all day just in case.”

  I hear her take a deep breath, and then she rushes on.

  “Zoe, you know very well that some of these are remote location days. We talked about that before we left California. We don’t have phone or Internet connections up there. It’s very frustrating. James walks around with his iPhone out all day, hoping to get service, but it’s just a lost cause.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “D-do you even miss me?” I stammer before my voice cracks with tears.

  “Of course, baby, of course. I miss you terribly. How could I not? You’re my only child. You’re everything to me. But, sweetheart, you haven’t exactly filled me in on things, either. You don’t always reply to my emails.”

  “That’s because I don’t know what to say. Nothing about my life seems interesting enough to share when you’re out making a movie,” I choke out.

  “Zoe, that’s ridiculous. Everything about your life is interesting to me.”

  I guess I snort a little because she sighs and says, “Really, Zoe. You’re my daughter. And I know you’ve heard it before, and you won’t entirely believe it until you have a child of your own, but you are the most interesting, most important thing in my life. And you always will be.”

  “Even more interesting than this movie? Or your career? Or your new friend James?”


  “Absolutely more interesting than all those things. Zoe, I love you fiercely,” Mom says. And I believe her. Mostly.

  “I love you too, Mom,” I reply. I feel a little better.

  “Now, baby, tell me what’s going on in good old Ambler, Pennsylvania.”

  I fill Mom in on Maggie and Gran, on school and the Vet Volunteers. And then I bring up the PSAs. I wanted it to be a surprise, but at the rate we’re going, who knows if we’ll ever get them done. I may as well just tell her about them.

  “I wanted to make these to help people understand. I wanted to help lots of animals,” I explain.

  I wonder if I should tell her the rest of it. I probably should. Mom has been honest with me; it’s time I open up completely with her.

  I fidget with the edge of my bedspread and say hesitantly, “I also wanted to have something important to show you so that you would want to be in touch with me more, to ask about how it was going. And so you would be proud of me. Kind of selfish, I know,” I admit.

  “Oh, Zoe.” Mom sounds a little teary. “All of your reasons for those PSAs are good ones, and it sounds like a wonderful idea. But you don’t have to try so hard to catch my attention. I’m sorry I haven’t been good at showing you that I’m interested in your life, but I promise that I’m proud of you, no matter what. I’ll talk to your grandmother and we’ll set up a plan so we can keep in better touch, okay?”

  Mom and I talk for another hour before she has to go back to work. It’s after eleven here. I’m exhausted but also energized. I’m still uneasy about being in Ambler without Mom, but catching up with her has made me feel much better.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two days later, when I arrive home from school, Gran takes my shoulders and ushers me into my room. On my desk is my computer with a small camera clipped to the top. And on the screen is my mother!

  We start to talk but have a little trouble. The screen freezes up when Mom begins to talk, and it takes a couple of tries before our connection works properly. But now it’s running smoothly. Mom looks great. She’s in full movie makeup. But I’m sure the sweater she is wearing is part of her costume. She’d never wear anything so dreary in real life.