dark-haired girl who had been staring at her lap jumped. She looked up nervously. "Me?" she whispered.
"Yep. Tell us your name. I have it written on my list, of course, but the other kids don't know you yet."
The girl whispered something. Anastasia couldn't hear what she said.
"Sweetie," Aunt Vera said, "try speaking up a little louder."
"Helen Margaret Howell," the girl said, blushing.
"Good. How old are you, Helen?" asked Aunt Vera.
"Helen Margaret," the girl whispered.
"Oh. Well, Helen Margaret, how old are you?"
"Twelve," Helen Margaret whispered.
"And what would you like to tell us about yourself?"
Helen Margaret shook her head. "I don't know."
"Well," Aunt Vera said, "what interesting things have happened in your life lately?"
Helen Margaret said nothing. She stared at the floor.
Aunt Vera nodded cheerfully. "You're a little nervous, honey. You'll get over that. Next? You?" She pointed to the redheaded girl.
"My name's Bambi, like the deer, but it's spelled with an "e"—Bambie," the girl said in a loud voice. "Bambie Browne—the Browne has an V too. I'm fourteen, and I'm planning a career in the entertainment field. I was on
Community Auditions
last year. I did a monologue. And I do a lot of beauty pageants. My coach said I ought to take this course to pick up some pointers. I won Miss Cranberry Bog when I was ten. My dress was made-to-order and it was the only one in the contest that wasn't cranberry-colored. I had green, see, because of my hair. My hair color's natural. And—"
"Thank you. Next?" Aunt Vera looked toward Henry.
"My name's Henry Peabody and I'm thirteen and I came because I wanted to learn something about maybe being a model. My aunt—that's my real aunt, not no fake aunt—said maybe I could be a model because I'm tall and thin. And if I could be a model I could earn enough money to go to college." She paused. Then she added, "My hair color's natural, too. So's my skin." She grinned.
Anastasia squirmed in her chair. She knew it was her turn next and she didn't know what to say. Aunt Vera smiled at her.
"Well, ah, my name's Anastasia Krupnik. I'm thirteen, same as Henry. And I'm tall and thin, too, same as Henry, but I guess I wasn't really thinking about actually being a model. I think I'm going to be a bookstore owner. I was just sort of hoping to, I don't know, maybe get more self-confidence."
"Good. Bobby?"
Robert Giannini stood up.
Typical,
Anastasia thought. Nobody else stood up, but Robert Giannini stood up. "That's Robert," he said, "not Bobby. I've never been called Bobby. I'm thirteen but I haven't achieved my full growth yet so I appear younger. I'm expecting a growth spurt anytime."
Anastasia put her head in her hands.
Growth spurt.
What a Robert Giannini-like thing to say.
"I enrolled," Robert went on, "just out of general interest. I haven't chosen a career yet. I'm considering metallurgy. I don't think of myself as a potential entertainer or anything, although there are several magic tricks that I do quite well. But I like to explore all kinds of possibilities. If I find that I photograph well, then of course television would be one of my options—"
Anastasia could tell that he was going to go on and on. Apparently Uncle Charley could tell that, too, because he interrupted Robert.
"Good," said Uncle Charley. "Now that we know each other, let's get started."
"You wanta go to McDonald's for lunch?" asked Henry."Or do you want to just walk over to the park and throw up?"
Anastasia giggled. They had just left Studio Charmante for their lunch break and were standing together on the windy street corner. Back at the studio, Robert Giannini had cornered Uncle Charley to discuss camera angles. Bambie Browne had disappeared someplace, probably to the ladies' room to repair her mascara, and Helen Margaret was sitting all alone in the waiting room, opening a paper bag of sandwiches that she had brought with her.
"I can't," Anastasia told Henry apologetically. "I have to
"Yep. Tell us your name. I have it written on my list, of course, but the other kids don't know you yet."
The girl whispered something. Anastasia couldn't hear what she said.
"Sweetie," Aunt Vera said, "try speaking up a little louder."
"Helen Margaret Howell," the girl said, blushing.
"Good. How old are you, Helen?" asked Aunt Vera.
"Helen Margaret," the girl whispered.
"Oh. Well, Helen Margaret, how old are you?"
"Twelve," Helen Margaret whispered.
"And what would you like to tell us about yourself?"
Helen Margaret shook her head. "I don't know."
"Well," Aunt Vera said, "what interesting things have happened in your life lately?"
Helen Margaret said nothing. She stared at the floor.
Aunt Vera nodded cheerfully. "You're a little nervous, honey. You'll get over that. Next? You?" She pointed to the redheaded girl.
"My name's Bambi, like the deer, but it's spelled with an "e"—Bambie," the girl said in a loud voice. "Bambie Browne—the Browne has an V too. I'm fourteen, and I'm planning a career in the entertainment field. I was on
Community Auditions
last year. I did a monologue. And I do a lot of beauty pageants. My coach said I ought to take this course to pick up some pointers. I won Miss Cranberry Bog when I was ten. My dress was made-to-order and it was the only one in the contest that wasn't cranberry-colored. I had green, see, because of my hair. My hair color's natural. And—"
"Thank you. Next?" Aunt Vera looked toward Henry.
"My name's Henry Peabody and I'm thirteen and I came because I wanted to learn something about maybe being a model. My aunt—that's my real aunt, not no fake aunt—said maybe I could be a model because I'm tall and thin. And if I could be a model I could earn enough money to go to college." She paused. Then she added, "My hair color's natural, too. So's my skin." She grinned.
Anastasia squirmed in her chair. She knew it was her turn next and she didn't know what to say. Aunt Vera smiled at her.
"Well, ah, my name's Anastasia Krupnik. I'm thirteen, same as Henry. And I'm tall and thin, too, same as Henry, but I guess I wasn't really thinking about actually being a model. I think I'm going to be a bookstore owner. I was just sort of hoping to, I don't know, maybe get more self-confidence."
"Good. Bobby?"
Robert Giannini stood up.
Typical,
Anastasia thought. Nobody else stood up, but Robert Giannini stood up. "That's Robert," he said, "not Bobby. I've never been called Bobby. I'm thirteen but I haven't achieved my full growth yet so I appear younger. I'm expecting a growth spurt anytime."
Anastasia put her head in her hands.
Growth spurt.
What a Robert Giannini-like thing to say.
"I enrolled," Robert went on, "just out of general interest. I haven't chosen a career yet. I'm considering metallurgy. I don't think of myself as a potential entertainer or anything, although there are several magic tricks that I do quite well. But I like to explore all kinds of possibilities. If I find that I photograph well, then of course television would be one of my options—"
Anastasia could tell that he was going to go on and on. Apparently Uncle Charley could tell that, too, because he interrupted Robert.
"Good," said Uncle Charley. "Now that we know each other, let's get started."
"You wanta go to McDonald's for lunch?" asked Henry."Or do you want to just walk over to the park and throw up?"
Anastasia giggled. They had just left Studio Charmante for their lunch break and were standing together on the windy street corner. Back at the studio, Robert Giannini had cornered Uncle Charley to discuss camera angles. Bambie Browne had disappeared someplace, probably to the ladies' room to repair her mascara, and Helen Margaret was sitting all alone in the waiting room, opening a paper bag of sandwiches that she had brought with her.
"I can't," Anastasia told Henry apologetically. "I have to
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