Viola in the Spotlight

  “I’ll miss you at Prefect,” Suzanne says.

  “You’re going back?”

  “It’s what my dad wanted. And I love it there.” She smiles.

  “I understand.” And I do. Once I got to know my roommates, I loved Prefect. And I’ll never forget it.

  I run down the walkway from the Santrys’ porch to the street. Their street looks like a used car lot, double-parked all the way down, with people visiting after the funeral. Dad taps on the horn. I climb into our car. I look back at the Santry house, full of people, full of love.

  Dad and I have a running joke about Mom. All she has to do is sit in a car, and she instantly falls asleep. I lean forward between Dad, who is driving, and Mom, who occasionally snores.

  We are going through the blackest portion of Pennsylvania—aka farm country—on our way back home to Brooklyn.

  “You did a wonderful thing, Vi. Your movie made the funeral.”

  “Not really. I just make movies of everything.”

  “That was really special.”

  “He was a good man, Dad.”

  “I know,” Dad says. A truck blows past us, filling the car with bright light, and speeds down the highway.

  “I was thinking, Dad.”

  “What?”

  “Would it hurt your feelings if I went back to boarding school?”

  “Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.” I take a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about it since Grand said she would send me anywhere I wanted to go. She’s making good money now.”

  “Thank goodness for rent control,” Dad says wryly.

  “Grand believes in education. Says it’s the best place to put your money.”

  Dad adjusts the rearview mirror so he can see my face. “She’s right. But you have a place at LaGuardia.”

  “I know.”

  “You know, you shouldn’t go back because you feel bad for Suzanne. You should go back because it’s the right place for you at the right time in your life.”

  “It’ll kill Mom, won’t it?”

  “The way things are going, she’ll sleep through it.”

  “You’re hilarious, Dad.”

  “Marry a funny guy, Viola. We age well.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  “We’ll have to check if Prefect still has a spot for you.”

  “I know.”

  “You won’t be disappointed if they can’t take you?”

  “They’ll take me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Dad, I’m getting intuitive.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Grand says you have to look at the patterns in your life.”

  “Fifteen years isn’t really long enough for a pattern to develop.”

  “It already has. Things happen to me out of the blue.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “You took a job with Mom in Afghanistan, and that led me to Prefect. And then I met my roommates, and now I can’t imagine my life without them. See? Fate. And it’s a pattern. I don’t ask for change, it just comes to me.”

  “I get it.”

  “I knew you would.”

  “So, I’m going to lose you to Indiana?”

  “I’ll be home on holidays.”

  “Right.” Dad smiles. “What are you going to tell Andrew?”

  “Andrew’s my BFFAAPK.”

  “PK?”

  “Post-kiss,” I explain. “But don’t worry. It was just one kiss, over and out.”

  “Okay.” Dad adjusts his glasses. “I get it.”

  “Are you sure that you do, Dad?”

  “Oh yeah. Team Adam is on your side.”

  I throw my arms around Dad and kiss him on the cheek. Mom stirs and wakes up. She sits up in her seat. “What’d I miss?”

  “Viola made a big decision,” Dad says.

  Mr. Pullapilly opens the door to the apartment. “Come on in, Viola,” he says. “Caitlin!”

  Caitlin comes out of her bedroom and waves for me to join her. I enter her room, neat as a pin, with a simple twin bed and a giant mirror over it. I sit down on the edge of it.

  “Have you heard from Maurice?” I ask.

  Caitlin smiles and goes to a small box, embroidered with metallic stars. She opens it. There, nestled in the satin, is a stack of letters from Maurice.

  “Wow.”

  “He writes beautiful letters about school and his friends. Mr. Longfellow just got a new job. He’s directing a revival of a Harold Pinter play.”

  “Good for him!”

  “It’s all perfect. If only Maurice lived here.” Caitlin’s dark brown eyes fill with sadness. “Oh well. Someday. Right?”

  “Absolutely,” I assure her. “I don’t want to make things worse, but I’ve made a decision. I have something to tell you.”

  Caitlin closes the letter box and looks at me.

  “I’m going back to Prefect.”

  “Suzanne needs you?”

  “Yes, but that’s not why I’m going. I’m going back because I like it. And I belong there. I think I have more to learn about myself.”

  “I wish you would stay and learn about yourself here.”

  I laugh, and then Caitlin laughs too.

  “I will always be your friend, Viola. Wherever you go. Wherever I go. I hope you know that.”

  “I count on it.” I give Caitlin a hug.

  “Have you told Andrew?”

  I shake my head that I haven’t. “I hope he understands.”

  “It won’t be easy. But he always wants what is best for you.”

  Andrew sits in the backyard under the grape arbor, checking his BlackBerry. It took Mom and me longer to get back from Target than we expected. Back-to-school at Target is, like, a zoo. And I needed a lot of stuff to go back to Prefect.

  Mrs. Zidar pulled, like, a million strings to put our quad back together intact. We played the grief card, which maybe we shouldn’t have, but I made the point that Suzanne is going to be going through enough change, could we please keep our living situation consistent?

  “Here.” I toss Andrew a bag of cotton candy from Target.

  “My favorite,” he says.

  “I know.”

  “Are you going back to boarding school so you don’t have to go out with me?”

  “Who told you?”

  “Your dad. He figured you told me already.”

  “I meant to.”

  “Well, is it true? You’re running away? Sort of? Kind of?”

  “Andrew.”

  “That’s a no.” He looks off.

  “That’s a big no. I can’t even tell you what you mean to me. You mean more to me than any boyfriend ever would.”

  “Seriously?” Andrew looks at me. He shoves his BlackBerry into his pocket and turns to face me.

  “Totally seriously. You know, Andrew, you can be awfully rigid.”

  “I am not.”

  “You get an idea in your head and that’s it. It’s like Cleo with a tube sock. You just grip with your teeth and you don’t let go.”

  “I know what I want.” He rips into the bag of cotton candy.

  “And I don’t.”

  “You know you want to go to Prefect.”

  “That I know for sure. But it’s the rest of it I’m not so sure about.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, the cotton candy is just okay. It’s better on Coney Island when it’s fresh.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m kidding.”

  “I know,” I tell him. And I do know. I know Andrew Bozelli. Inside and out.

  Dad is not happy to have to get back in the car with Mom and me and drive out to the Midwest. But the truth is, he’d drive anywhere to make me happy, or Mom happy. He’s just that kind of a guy.

  My duffels are stacked by the doorway of my room. The box with my computer stuff is neatly placed. My
clothes for the drive back are laid out on my chair.

  I turn off my laptop. As I go to shut it off, the wallpaper is a picture of Romy, Suzanne, Marisol, and me at the fountain in Central Park. We are sitting there in a row, like a quartet of dorks. It’s summer in the park, it’s hot out, and we’re all sweaty. Our hair is stringy and gross, but we’re smiling. Soon, we’ll all be back together again.

  Even Mrs. Pullapilly had to admit that every chance meeting leads a person to make a decision that becomes part of a grand plan, a plan that creates the forward motion of your life.

  New York will always be here, the trains, the rooftops, the skyline, and the people, and any road I take will get me where I’m going, and then, when I’ve learned all I need to know, those same roads will lead me home.

  The cloudless periwinkle sky of Indiana has become as nurturing to me as the waves of the East River, and the fields of green, square and perfect, like patches on a handmade quilt, have become as majestic to me as the skyline of Manhattan lit from within like a constellation of silver stars.

  Mr. Santry died, and that makes me want to never ever leave my parents, but that is not good for them, or for me.

  I have to learn to walk in this world alone, but my destination must always be into the arms of those who really love me. Friendship has opened up my life. It’s taught me how to be in the world. It’s shown me what I like and don’t, what I will stand up for and what I won’t. I can’t imagine my life without my friends.

  It’s a brave thing to go back to school in Indiana, because it scares me. A higher goal is always reached by overcoming fear.

  Only you know for sure what is right for you. Grand calls it “honoring your inner voice,” my mom calls it “keeping your own counsel,” and Caitlin’s aunt Naira calls it the “wise whispering wind.” Well, whatever it is, and however it can be defined in Brooklyn, South Bend, or India, something is calling me to go back to Prefect and finish what I started.

  And while my heart breaks to leave those I love and return to Indiana, New York City will always be here.

  I know that Grand has George and Cleo and a long run in a good play, Andrew has Caitlin, and Mom and Dad have each other and their work, and no matter where I go, I have all of them forever. There’s email, telephone, and breaks.

  I am so lucky. I have the family I was born into, and the family I chose.

  Romy, Suzanne, and Marisol would’ve been just fine without me, but now we don’t have to find out. We’ll be together again.

  This school year, there are going to be some changes. I’m taking the top bunk. I want to be closer to the sky. Closer to the pink moon. And closer to the stars that shine over South Bend, which turn out to be the very same ones that twinkle over Brooklyn.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I dedicate this book to my holy trinity of librarians who were instrumental in guiding my reading choices as a girl. James Varner, the Wise County Bookmobile Librarian, introduced me to Pippi Longstocking by Astrid Lindgren, as well as other books about high-spirited girls on a mission to live on their own terms.

  Ernestine Roller encouraged me to read all of the American patriots series by various authors under the Bobbs-Merrill banner, as well as everything written by the great Beverly Cleary and brilliant Madeleine L’Engle. Mrs. Roller also recommended Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh, which shaped my desire to become a writer and to someday live in New York City. Mrs. Roller was more than my Big Stone Gap Elementary School librarian, she was also a dream maker.

  Perhaps the greatest influence on me as a teenage reader was Ms. Billie Jean Scott, the Powell Valley High School librarian who encouraged me to push the boundaries of my reading. When I read Jane Eyre, she gave me Wide Sargasso Sea to show me how stories can be told from various points of view by the same characters in the hands of different authors. Ms. Scott hooked me on the Transcendentalist movement. To this day, I turn to Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and the Alcott sisters for inspiration.

  Ms. Scott kept a portable blackboard in the library. Each week she would (in perfect Palmer penmanship!) select one thought from a great book and write it on that board. Day after day during study period, I would look up at the sentence she chose and think about why she selected it—and how one sentence is the building block of a good book. Ms. Scott’s influence upon my work is incalculable.

  I owe all three librarians a great debt as they were artful professionals, who made the library (including one on wheels) sacred spaces to be shared by a community hungry to learn. They could not have been happier when Big Stone Gap opened The Slemp Memorial Library in the 1970s. They knew that a town with a library was not only lucky, but committed to the greater good. Our public libraries are our national treasures.

  My evermore thanks to the great team at HarperTeen. I am lucky to work with a fabulous editor, Tara Weikum. Thank you also to the sensational Susan Katz, Kate Jackson, Elise Howard, Melissa Miller, Barb Fitzsimmons, Alison Donalty, Ray Shappell, Diane Naughton, Christina Colangelo, Kristina Radke, Colleen O’Connell, Sandee Roston, Cindy Hamilton, Laura Lutz, Andrea Pappenheimer, Kerry Moynagh, Kathy Faber, Liz Frew, Jessica Abel, Josh Weiss, Gwen Morton, and Melinda Weigel.

  My thanks and admiration to my UK team: the great Ian Chapman, my fabulous editor Suzanne Baboneau, and the irreplaceable Nigel Stoneman.

  Love and unending gratitude to my William Morris Endeavor Team: Suzanne Gluck, Caroline Donofrio, Mina Shaghaghi, Eugenie Furniss, Claudia Webb, Tracy Fisher, Laura Bonner, Covey Crolius, Alicia Gordon, Stephanie Ward, Cara Stein, Amanda Krentzman, and Nancy Josephson.

  I am grateful to Jean Morrissey for her eagle eyes.

  Larry Sanitsky is my favorite producer, thank you also to Claude Chung at the Sanitsky Company.

  Thank you to the world’s best assistant, Kelly Meehan. Thank you also to: the world’s best intern, Allison Von Groesbeck, our summer intern, Emma Morrissey, and our swing helper, Molly McGuire.

  When it comes to all things theatrical, thank you to the great talents that encouraged me: director Ed Stern, Charles Randolph Wright, Daryl Roth, George Keathley, Theo Barnes, Jerry Fargo, Donna De Matteo, Rosemary DeAngelis, and in loving memory of Vincent Gugleotti and Ruth Goetz.

  When we were photographing the cover of this book on a sunny day in Greenwich Village, Cay Blau was walking her King Charles Spaniel, Cleo, in Greenwich Village. Cleo was so adorable she posed for the cover and became a character in this novel. It just goes to show you—life is full of surprises, and sometimes all you have to do is show up.

  About the Author

  ADRIANA TRIGIANI is an award-winning playwright, television writer, and documentary filmmaker. Her first novel for teens was VIOLA IN REEL LIFE, and she is also the author of the bestselling Big Stone Gap series and the bestselling novels LUCIA, LUCIA; THE QUEEN OF THE BIG TIME; ROCOCO; VERY VALENTINE; and BRAVA, VALENTINE. She lives in New York City with her husband and daughter. You can visit her online at www.adrianatrigiani.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  Other Books by Adriana Trigiani

  YOUNG ADULT FICTION

  Viola in Reel Life

  FICTION

  Brava, Valentine

  Very Valentine

  Home to Big Stone Gap

  Rococo

  The Queen of the Big Time

  Lucia, Lucia

  Milk Glass Moon

  Big Cherry Holler

  Big Stone Gap

  NONFICTION

  Don’t Sing at the Table: Life Lesson from My Grandmothers

  Cooking with My Sisters (co-author)

  Credits

  Jacket art © 2011 by Gustavo Marx/MergeLeft Reps, Inc.

  Jacket design by Ray Shappell

  Copyright

  VIOLA IN THE SPOTLIGHT. Copyright © 2011 by The Glory of Everything Company. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been gr
anted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Trigiani, Adriana.

  Viola in the spotlight / Adriana Trigiani.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Sequel to: Viola in reel life.

  Summary: Back home in Brooklyn, fifteen-year-old Viola has big summer plans but with one best friend going to camp and the other not only working but experiencing her first crush, Viola is glad to be overworked as an unpaid lighting intern when her grandmother’s play goes to Broadway.

  ISBN 978-0-06-145105-8

  [1. Theater—Fiction. 2. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 3. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 4. Family life—New York (State)—Brooklyn—Fiction. 5. Brooklyn (New York, N.Y.)—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.T73512Vje 2011 2010045553

  [Fic]—dc22 CIP

  AC

  FIRST EDITION

  EPub Edition © MARCH 2011 ISBN: 978-0-06-200795-7

  11 12 13 14 15

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