meet someone for lunch. I'm sorry."
Henry's eyes lit up. "Some guy?"
"No, nobody interesting. A woman. But I'll see you back here at one o'clock, okay?"
"Okay. I'm going to get me a Big Mac and then I want to hang out at the record store. Maybe I'll listen to a little Shakespeare for this afternoon," Henry said, laughing. "I'll practice a few gestures."
Anastasia laughed too, said goodbye, and headed off in the opposite direction.
It had been a weird morning. So far, Uncle Charley had videotaped three of the kids—all but Henry and Anastasia; he would do them after lunch.
"Now, try to be natural," he had said. "This is just for the 'Before' part. At the end of the week, we'll do the 'After,' and you'll see what a difference has taken place. Let's start with you, Helen Margaret. I want you to stand up here in front and simply talk about yourself a little. Look toward the camera."
Helen Margaret walked to the front of the room as if she were made of wood. She stood in the place Uncle Charley indicated, looked at the floor, and was silent.
"Okay, sweetie," Aunt Vera said, "the camera's rolling. Tell us about yourself. Look up. We won't bite."
Helen Margaret, with her head still down, peered up through her straggly dark bangs. "I don't know what to say," she mumbled.
"You got any hobbies?" Uncle Charley called from behind the camera.
Helen Margaret bit her lip and shook her head. "No," she whispered.
"How about a boyfriend?" asked Aunt Vera.
"No."
Anastasia wanted to point out to Aunt Vera that she wasn't asking open-ended questions. But she decided that maybe it was a little early in the course to start correcting the head person. So she kept quiet.
The interview—or lack of interview—went on for ten minutes, with Helen Margaret mumbling one-word answers to questions while she looked at the floor. Anastasia felt sorry for her. I'm not going to
like
it when it's my turn, she thought, but at least I can stand up straight and say something. I can tell about my family and stuff.
Bambie went next. She posed in the front of the room and began her performance before Uncle Charley got the camera started. "Hold it," he called. "Start again."
Bambie tossed her head, smoothed her hair, and waited until the camera was on. "I'm doing the monologue that I did for
Community Auditions,
" she announced. "This is Juliet's death scene."
Next to Anastasia, Henry groaned quietly. Anastasia squirmed in embarrassment as Bambie gestured with her hands, holding up an imaginary vial of poison. "'Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, to whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,'" she intoned dramatically, "'and there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?'" She pretended to drink from the imaginary poison and began to sink to the floor. Mid-sink, she called to Uncle Charley, "Is the camera getting this? I don't have to go all the way to the floor. I could collapse across a chair. I practice it both ways."
Uncle Charley turned the camera off. "We got enough, sweetheart," he said.
"Robert?" Aunt Vera suggested. "How about you next?"
Robert Giannini picked up his briefcase and carried it to the front of the room. I wonder what he
keeps
in that briefcase, Anastasia thought.
I wonder what he's going to
say.
If he makes his speech on Human Reproduction, I'm leaving. I'll forfeit my whole $119 if I have to, but I will never again in my life sit still and listen to Robert Giannini say, "Out of ten million sperm, only one will reach the ovum."
Robert cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and began, "I am going to speak about the United States Space Program."
"Zzzzzzzzz." Henry faked a snore.
Anastasia sighed, remembering the morning, as she headed across the Boston Common toward Beacon Hill. Modeling school wasn't really what she had anticipated. Henry Peabody was the only good thing about it.
Walking, she tried to think of some open-ended questions for the bookstore owner. But her mind kept wandering instead, revising her paper
Henry's eyes lit up. "Some guy?"
"No, nobody interesting. A woman. But I'll see you back here at one o'clock, okay?"
"Okay. I'm going to get me a Big Mac and then I want to hang out at the record store. Maybe I'll listen to a little Shakespeare for this afternoon," Henry said, laughing. "I'll practice a few gestures."
Anastasia laughed too, said goodbye, and headed off in the opposite direction.
It had been a weird morning. So far, Uncle Charley had videotaped three of the kids—all but Henry and Anastasia; he would do them after lunch.
"Now, try to be natural," he had said. "This is just for the 'Before' part. At the end of the week, we'll do the 'After,' and you'll see what a difference has taken place. Let's start with you, Helen Margaret. I want you to stand up here in front and simply talk about yourself a little. Look toward the camera."
Helen Margaret walked to the front of the room as if she were made of wood. She stood in the place Uncle Charley indicated, looked at the floor, and was silent.
"Okay, sweetie," Aunt Vera said, "the camera's rolling. Tell us about yourself. Look up. We won't bite."
Helen Margaret, with her head still down, peered up through her straggly dark bangs. "I don't know what to say," she mumbled.
"You got any hobbies?" Uncle Charley called from behind the camera.
Helen Margaret bit her lip and shook her head. "No," she whispered.
"How about a boyfriend?" asked Aunt Vera.
"No."
Anastasia wanted to point out to Aunt Vera that she wasn't asking open-ended questions. But she decided that maybe it was a little early in the course to start correcting the head person. So she kept quiet.
The interview—or lack of interview—went on for ten minutes, with Helen Margaret mumbling one-word answers to questions while she looked at the floor. Anastasia felt sorry for her. I'm not going to
like
it when it's my turn, she thought, but at least I can stand up straight and say something. I can tell about my family and stuff.
Bambie went next. She posed in the front of the room and began her performance before Uncle Charley got the camera started. "Hold it," he called. "Start again."
Bambie tossed her head, smoothed her hair, and waited until the camera was on. "I'm doing the monologue that I did for
Community Auditions,
" she announced. "This is Juliet's death scene."
Next to Anastasia, Henry groaned quietly. Anastasia squirmed in embarrassment as Bambie gestured with her hands, holding up an imaginary vial of poison. "'Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, to whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,'" she intoned dramatically, "'and there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?'" She pretended to drink from the imaginary poison and began to sink to the floor. Mid-sink, she called to Uncle Charley, "Is the camera getting this? I don't have to go all the way to the floor. I could collapse across a chair. I practice it both ways."
Uncle Charley turned the camera off. "We got enough, sweetheart," he said.
"Robert?" Aunt Vera suggested. "How about you next?"
Robert Giannini picked up his briefcase and carried it to the front of the room. I wonder what he
keeps
in that briefcase, Anastasia thought.
I wonder what he's going to
say.
If he makes his speech on Human Reproduction, I'm leaving. I'll forfeit my whole $119 if I have to, but I will never again in my life sit still and listen to Robert Giannini say, "Out of ten million sperm, only one will reach the ovum."
Robert cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and began, "I am going to speak about the United States Space Program."
"Zzzzzzzzz." Henry faked a snore.
Anastasia sighed, remembering the morning, as she headed across the Boston Common toward Beacon Hill. Modeling school wasn't really what she had anticipated. Henry Peabody was the only good thing about it.
Walking, she tried to think of some open-ended questions for the bookstore owner. But her mind kept wandering instead, revising her paper
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