Mary Anne and Miss Priss Read online

  “Jen?” he asked, flashing Jenny a smile. “You ready?”

  Jenny snapped to attention. “Yes I am.”

  “Call me Bob,” he said, as he steered her toward the dressing room. “Now let’s take a look at your wardrobe.”

  I followed them and was very impressed at how professional Jenny acted. She unzipped the garment bag and Bob mm-hmmed over her dresses. Finally he turned to Jenny, and took a long look at her face, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

  “I think the dress you’re wearing is a very good choice,” Bob declared. “We’ll start with that.”

  I introduced myself to Bob as we followed him into the studio, explaining that I was Jenny’s baby-sitter.

  “Jen doesn’t need a sitter, do you?” Bob teased as he gestured for Jenny to sit on a big black laminated cube. “You’re much too grown up.”

  Bob’s studio had white walls, with huge lights hanging from the ceiling and smaller ones set on tripods. Sheets of shiny thin metal, for reflecting more light, I figured, surrounded what was clearly the modeling area. Bob spent the next few minutes trying out different backdrops. First he lowered a sheet of blue wrinkled canvas to the floor.

  Bob studied it for a few minutes and finally said, “Nope. All wrong.” Eventually he settled on a pale gray canvas drop that was spotted with black and white globs of paint. “Yes!”

  Jenny tried to sit patiently as he adjusted the lights and reflectors, but this took a lot of time. Without thinking, she started kicking her heels against the cube in a thud-thud, thud-thud rhythm.

  “Jen.” Bob raised an eyebrow at her and said, “That’s a lovely beat you’ve got there, but perhaps we could continue it later.”

  Jenny’s eyes widened. “Sorry,” she said in a timid voice.

  He took lots of shots of her, some with a handheld camera and some with a big camera on a tripod. After a while he changed the backdrop. Otherwise, every shot seemed pretty much the same.

  “Tilt your chin down. Thatta girl. Look over here. Can you give us a smile?”

  Jenny tried to follow directions, but even I felt a little confused with all of the chin down, eyes up, straight back, and look over here stuff.

  “All right,” Bob said at last. “Let’s take a break. I think it’s time for a different outfit. Why don’t you change into the lavender one. And maybe we’ll use a prop this time.”

  The minute Jenny and I were in the dressing room, she turned to me and whispered, “Am I doing okay?”

  I hugged her, making sure not to touch her hair. “You’re doing more than okay, you’re doing great. You look like a real model up there.”

  Jenny changed quickly into her lavender outfit. We retouched her hair and then grabbed the bag of props and brought them with us. Bob was drinking a can of Coke and talking on his portable phone when we returned.

  “No,” we heard him say. “The fifteenth is out. I’m completely booked till the twentieth and then it’s back to the Bahamas for those cruise shots.” (Hmm. So that’s where he got the tan.)

  While Jenny and I waited for him to finish his call, she stifled a yawn. Being a model was tiring.

  Suddenly, Bob appeared beside us, wearing a silly black hat with long, floppy dog ears dangling from either side. “Okay, Jen,” he said in a Goofy voice. “We’re going to have some fun now!”

  Bob really was being funny, and Jenny tried her best to be lively and cute, first cuddling the teddy bear for the camera, then posing with her doll. After that, Bob decided he wanted pictures of Jenny and the bear and doll having a tea party. He lowered a backdrop painted to look like the interior of a wonderful old house, with flowered wallpaper and a window with a spotted geranium on the sill.

  It took quite a while to set up the tea party. And even though Bob was chatting and joking all the while, it was starting to look as though the bear and the doll were having a much better time than Jenny was. She was starting to droop.

  “How you doing, Jen?” Bob asked as he reloaded his camera.

  “I’m fine, Mr. Gautier,” she replied. “I mean, Mr. Bob — I mean …” Her voice trailed off and I saw her chin start to quiver.

  That’s when I stepped forward. “I think Jenny could use something to drink.”

  Bob gestured to the refrigerator at the far end of the room. “Help yourself to some juice or soda,” he said, with a sympathetic smile. “I know she’s getting a little tired, but we’re almost through.” He turned to Jenny. “Can you hold out a little longer?”

  Jenny nodded solemnly. I found a can of apple juice in the refrigerator and Jenny took a couple of sips, being careful (of course) not to spill anything on herself.

  “For the final series,” Bob said, “let’s play a game I call The Robot. I’ll give you instructions, and you do exactly what I say. Sound like fun?”

  I thought it sounded terrible, but Jenny tried to look enthusiastic. For this shot, Bob raised all of the curtain drops and posed Jenny in front of the bare white walls.

  “Ready?” He put the camera up to his eye and aimed it at Jenny. “Now walk. That’s good. Now stop. Turn. Look at me. Smile. Cock your head. Turn and walk. Look up. Stop. Look at me.”

  It was like a giant game of Simon Says. Jenny did her best to obey his commands, but unfortunately she looked too much like a robot, stopping stiffly, and grimacing as she concentrated on making every turn.

  “All right, Jen,” Bob said, arranging her on the pedestal one last time. “I want you to face the camera and say —”

  Bob whispered something in her ear and the biggest and brightest smile of the afternoon spread across Jenny’s face. She looked directly into the camera and shouted gleefully, “The end!”

  Boy, was she glad that was over! Me, too. That afternoon, I realized something that I had not known before. Modeling is very hard work.

  Jenny’s pictures came out great. But guess which shot was the very best? The one Bob snapped when Jenny shouted, “The end!”

  Mrs. Prezzioso wasted no time. She had copies printed up right away, and rushed them over to the Tip-Top Talent Agency, who started sending the photos out. Exactly one week later, Jenny landed an audition for Karbergers department store in Hartford. They were starting a new television campaign, and planned to run related ads in the newspapers. Karbergers wanted children of all ages, so Andrea was called, too. The audition was scheduled for a Thursday, one of my regular sitting days, so I went along to help Mrs. Prezzioso out.

  The auditions were being held at the offices of the department store, on the eighth floor of their building. Andrea was still napping when we got out of the car in the parking garage. We decided to leave her in her car seat and take it to the audition.

  What a zoo! At least fifty people were crammed into a small waiting room outside the marketing director’s office. With that many bodies in such a small space, the temperature had skyrocketed. People were cranky. Babies were crying. Kids pleaded with their parents to leave, while the mothers and fathers complained to each other, loudly.

  “This is no way to run an audition,” one woman was saying. “You can’t call this many children at once and expect a good performance. The kids will get squirrelly.”

  “The kids?” a man repeated. He was wedged into a corner with his two-year-old son. “It’s the parents I’m concerned about. I’ve only been here fifteen minutes and already I’ve heard two mothers completely lose it.”

  Mrs. Prezzioso picked up copies of the script at the desk, then made her way through the crowd to the small patch of floor space Jenny and I had staked out.

  “Shall we go over your part, angel?” Mrs. Prezzioso asked Jenny.

  “I can’t read,” she said in dismay.

  Mrs. Prezzioso laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you the words and you can memorize them.”

  The door to the hall outside swung open just then, and another group of children and parents crowded into the office. The noise level rose a few notches.

  “Why don’t we wait in the hall?” I su
ggested to Mrs. Prezzioso.

  She shook her head emphatically. “If we wait out there, we could get passed over. The casting director likes to see the talent. We need to be right here, in front of her face.”

  With that, Mrs. Prezzioso dropped to her knees and gestured for me to hand her Andrea, who was still snoozing in her car seat. Jenny and I wedged ourselves between a woman with one-year-old twins and a grandmother and her five-year-old grandson, who looked like a miniature baseball player. He wore a uniform and even carried a small bat and glove.

  “Now, Jenny, the first spot is a happy one. All you have to do is smile and say, ‘Mommy, let’s always go to Karbergers. They’re the best!’ Can you do that?”

  Jenny nodded. “I think so.”

  “Then try it.”

  Jenny took a deep breath, didn’t smile, and said “Mommy I want to go to Kar … um, Kar … Kar …”

  She’d forgotten the name of the store. The boy in the baseball outfit leaned over and said, in a matter-of-fact voice, “The store’s name is Karbergers — like hamburger, with a car in front of it.”

  Mrs. Prezzioso smiled. “That young man is right. And, honey, you need to pronounce the name of the store correctly. Keep repeating it: Karbergers, Karbergers, Karbergers.”

  Jenny scowled as she concentrated. “Karbergers, Karberg —”

  “Don’t frown,” Mrs. Prezzioso coached Jenny. “You’re supposed to be happy. Remember? Karbergers makes you happy.”

  “It does?” Jenny asked vaguely. She was definitely losing interest in the happy Karbergers spot. And starting to get the fidgets.

  Mrs. Prezzioso made a decision. “Okay. Forget the happy commercial. Let’s just concentrate on the second one. In this spot you’re supposed to be very sad and pout and say, ‘I want to go to Karbergers.’ ”

  “Do you still want me to smile?” Jenny asked.

  Mrs. Prezzioso blew a strand of hair off her forehead in frustration. “No, you’re sad now. What do you do when you’re sad?”

  “Cry?”

  “Exactly!”

  Jenny and I stared at Mrs. Prezzioso.

  “You want Jenny to cry?” I asked in amazement.

  “I don’t,” Mrs. Prezzioso replied. “The department store people do. When the little girl in this commercial sees what an inferior product the competitor has provided, she bursts into tears and begs her mommy to take her to Karbergers.”

  Jenny squeezed her face into an ugly grimace but nothing happened. “Do you see any tears?” she whispered to me out of the side of her mouth.

  “Not yet,” I whispered back. “But I’m sure you can manage to squeeze out a few. Why don’t you try saying the line at the same time? Maybe it will make you feel sad.”

  “I forgot it,” Jenny said miserably. “What is it, Mommy?”

  “I want to go to Karbergers!” a little girl across the room wailed at the top of her lungs.

  The room instantly fell silent as everybody, parents and children, realized that was the way the line should be read. Lots of urgent whispering followed. Soon, “I want to go to Karbergers!” was being bellowed from every corner of the room. Jenny tried to join in, but her effort wasn’t very convincing.

  Eventually, several of the babies in the room got scared and added some real crying to the din. The place sounded like an out-of-control nursery. Here’s what’s amazing — Andrea slept peacefully through it all.

  Jenny covered her ears with her hands. “Mommy, my ears hurt. Tell them to be quiet.”

  “I can’t, darling,” Mrs. Prezzioso said, raising her voice to be heard over the wailing. “They’re practicing, which is what you should do if you want to get that part.”

  A woman stuck her head out of the inner office and shouted, “Quiet, please! We can’t hear ourselves think!”

  That shut everyone up — except the babies. The waiting seemed endless. Jenny got the fidgets again. She couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. First she knelt. Then she sat cross-legged. Then she stood. Then she wanted to go to the bathroom, so I took her. Just as we returned, the casting director came out of the inner office and asked for everyone’s attention.

  She was very different from the woman at the last audition. Her name tag read Carolyn DeVries. Ms. DeVries wore a navy blue linen suit with navy blue heels. Her collar-length blonde hair seemed to be glued in place like a helmet. Ms. DeVries glanced at her watch and announced, “We’re running behind.”

  “No kidding!” a sarcastic voice muttered from the couch. I didn’t turn around but I had a feeling it was the lady who had been complaining when we first arrived.

  “We’ve decided to line up the talent for the crying spot and videotape them all at once. We’ll do individual reads in callbacks.”

  “Oh, great,” the man in the corner groaned. “It’s a free for all.”

  “All right,” Ms. DeVries said. “All children reading for the ‘I want to go to Karbergers’ spot,’ line up here.” She drew an imaginary line on the carpet with the toe of her high heel.

  It seemed as though everyone in the room stood up. Ms. DeVries held up her hands. “No parents, please! There’s just no room for you.”

  “But my son is shy when he meets strangers,” one father said, hugging his little boy. “Couldn’t I please come in with him?”

  Ms. DeVries was polite but firm. “I’m sorry, sir, but the room is just too small. It’s also very important for us to cast children who can handle being alone.”

  Mrs. Prezzioso whispered to Jenny, “How do you feel? Can you do this by yourself?”

  Jenny nodded tensely.

  “Good. Then line up with the other children. And remember, the store’s name is Karbergers.”

  Jenny stared straight ahead and mumbled, “Karbergers. Karbergers.”

  Ms. DeVries smiled at the row of waiting kids. “All right, children, follow me.”

  As I watched Jenny and the other kids file into the marketing director’s office, I felt butterflies in my stomach, as if I were auditioning, too. It was a horrible feeling.

  “What happens to Jenny now?” I asked Mrs. Prezzioso.

  “They’re lining the children up in front of the director and clients,” she explained. “Then one by one they’ll ask each child to state her name and her agent’s name for the camera. That’s called slating your name. After that, they’ll ask the children to cry.”

  “Are there really kids who can cry on cue?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Prezzioso said. “That little girl in the corner was quite good, but one of the best of them was sitting right next to us. The little boy in the baseball uniform? He’s a great crier and laugher. He’s always booked.”

  I shook my head. “What a strange way to make a living.”

  “Actually it’s not usually a living,” Mrs. Prezzioso replied. “The money our girls make from these commercials will go directly into their college fund. The same is true for many of the other children here.”

  The door to the office opened and the children paraded back into the room. Jenny knelt beside me and stared down at the carpet. She didn’t say a word.

  “We’re looking at babies now,” Ms. DeVries announced.

  “Waaaa!” A very grouchy baby behind us started to cry and Ms. DeVries arched one eyebrow. “Happy babies, please. We don’t need tears for this spot.”

  “Well, what do you expect?” the baby’s mother snapped. “We’re crammed into this stuffy room and forced to wait forever. It would be a miracle if the children didn’t cry.”

  Ms. DeVries ignored the lady’s remark and quickly scanned the room. “I’ll see you, and you, and you.” She pointed at several mothers holding babies in their arms. “And this little sleepyhead here.” She smiled at Andrea, who was still snoozing in her car seat.

  Mrs. Prezzioso stood up. “You and Jenny wait here and we’ll be back soon.”

  When Mrs. Prezzioso and Andrea had left, I asked Jenny gently, “How’d it go?”

  Jenny still didn’
t look up from the carpet. Her lower lip trembled as she said, “Not very good. I forgot the store’s name. I said Hamburgers.”

  “Oh, Jenny!” I swallowed a laugh and gave her a great big hug. “I’ve been calling them Hamburgers for years. It’s okay. Everybody does it.”

  Jenny looked at me in surprise. “Really?”

  I crossed my heart and held up one hand. “I promise.”

  The babies’ audition was much shorter than the one with older kids. Andrea was awake and smiling when they reappeared.

  “You were wonderful!” Mrs. Prezzioso was nuzzling Andrea’s cheek. “You let everyone hold you and you didn’t cry once!”

  The casting director, who had followed them through the door, put her hand on Mrs. Prezzioso’s shoulder and said, “This one is a perfect darling. We’ll see her again on Saturday.”

  “What about me?” Jenny spoke up. “Would you like me to come, too?”

  Ms. DeVries looked at Jenny. “No, dear. We won’t need to see you again. But thank you for coming.”

  Jenny’s shoulders slumped and I could see that she was struggling to hold back tears.

  We rode to Stoneybrook in silence. Neither Mrs. Prezzioso nor I could get Jenny to sing one song. I didn’t blame her for feeling so glum. I would have felt miserable, too.

  Shannon is a stickler for rules. Watching the kids trying to work out the guidelines for their kickball team must have made her crazy. It was Monday, and I was with the Prezziosos at an audition for a toy commercial. The Pikes’ kickball game was scheduled to take place at Brenner Field at exactly four o’clock. Most of the BSC was in attendance. Claudia was in charge of the Braddock kids, Jessi was watching her sister Becca, and Mallory (who had to promise she’d sit quietly) and Stacey were Pike-sitting.

  “We’re going to divide the team into two groups,” Adam announced as Shannon and the Barretts arrived.

  “I want to be on Buddy’s team,” Nicky Pike shouted.

  “Me, too,” Suzi Barrett cried.