laughed.
âWhat about the third option then?â Marigold said, quickly changing the subject. âWith Berta.â
âMy idea,â Lily said.
âIt makes sense, Mom,â Zinnie added.
âHer mother isnât able to leave Mexico. Sheâs very sick,â Mom said. âBesides, you guys are going to love Aunt Sunny. She taught science to kids for twenty years. She knows everything about everything.â
âHow old is she?â Zinnie asked.
âWhat color is her hair?â Lily wanted to know.
âDoes she know Iâm allergic to strawberries?â Zinnie asked.
But Marigold raised a hand to silence them. âMom, I need to talk to you alone.â
9. The Great Opportunity
M om left a trail of damp footprints on the carpet as she headed toward her closet and changed into her pajamas.
âMom, how could you do this to me? Do you even know what a big deal getting an agent is? Do you care?â Marigold asked, following her.
âSheâll still be your agent in August. Youâll only be gone for three weeks,â Mom said, smoothing some lotion on her face. âAnd of course I care. I care about you .â
âBut theyâre auditioning for Night Sprites on July seventh. Remember? Itâs just one day, and Jill told me she might be able to get me an audition.â
âThose books are not exactly literature,â Mom said, taking a seat on her bed.
âTheyâre literature to me,â Marigold said, and sat next to her mother. âMom, have you ever wanted somethingso badly that it was all you could think about?â
âYes,â she said. âWhen I was your age, I wanted a perm.â
âReally?â Marigold asked. Momâs straight, shiny blond hair was her crowning glory. People sometimes stopped her on the street to tell her what beautiful hair she had. Marigold couldnât imagine her wanting to change it in any way.
âOh, yes, all the girls in my class were getting them, but Grammy said no way. She said the other girls looked like theyâd stuck their finger in a socket, and why would I do that to myself?â Marigold laughed. Mom continued. âI begged, I pleaded, I cried, but Grammy wouldnât budge until finally I threatened to let Joanie MacDonald, my best friendâs older sister, give me one herself. She was in beauty school and needed someone to experiment on.â
âDid Grammy finally let you do it?â Marigold leaned in a little closer. This was getting good.
âNope. Instead, she took me to her hairdresser, who set my hair in rollers and made me sit under one of those big dryers to show me what I would look like if I went through with it.â
âHow did it look?â Marigold asked.
âIt was awful,â Mom said, laughing as she remembered. âI washed it out as soon as I got home, and I was so glad my mother had saved me from months of terrible, embarrassing hair.â
âI guess that this audition is like my perm,â Marigold said, trying to refocus the conversation. âOnly imagine if that perm was the best thing that ever happened to you.â
âLook,â Mom said, âthe truth is, your dad and I donât want you to get too swept up in this whole acting thing. We know how excited you are that you have an agent, and we want to support your dreams, but we have a job as your parents to do what we think is best for you. We think itâs more important that you have this experience with your great-aunt and your sisters. You only get to be a kid once.â
âBut I want to be like Amanda Mills.â
âNo, you donât,â Mom said. âDo you have any idea how messed up her life is? Poor girl didnât even know her mom until she was nine years old, And remember how late her mom was picking her up from Jillâs office? I think Amanda is probably very troubled.â
Dad wandered into the room, carrying a