Leading Ladies #2 by Elizabeth Cody Kimmel Page A

of watered-down gruel and a rind of cheese dinner, then I guess I have,” Tally responded. “That’s all she would give me, and I was lucky to get that much. How I loathe her.”
    Whoa.
What had I walked into? I knew of girls who had terrible relationships with their mothers and lived in a constant state of warfare at home—I just never figured Tally for one of them. But really, I didn’t know much at all about Tally other than what I saw at school. I started to feel uncomfortable. Was her mom really that awful? I didn’t want to pry . . . but Tally’s exhausted tone kind of concerned me.
    â€œDoes she know you’re still hungry?” I asked quietly. For all I knew, the woman was lurking in the hallway, waiting to pounce.
    â€œOf course she knows,” Tally answered. “It’s one of the ways she controls me. She is pure evil! I was up before dawn this morning scrubbing out the toilets, and when I was done she called me a lazy, monstrous little creature and told me to scrub them all out again. With bleach! My hands are practically bleeding!”
    Now I was really worried.
    â€œThis is . . . maybe we could ask my mother how to . . . I mean, can’t you explain that the bleach hurt your hands?”
    Tally’s lower lip quivered, and she stared at me with her huge, blue eyes.
    â€œIf I complain . . . ,” she began, dropping her voice to a whisper, “I’ll be
beaten
.”
    My mouth dropped. “Your mother . . . beats you?” I whispered.
    Tally looked in the direction of the doorway to make sure no one was standing there. Then she leaned in toward me. “Not my mother,” she whispered. “Miss Hannigan.”
    Wait a minute.
    Miss Hannigan? Wasn’t that the woman in
Annie
who ran the orphanage?
    â€œUm, Tally, are you practicing for auditions right now?”
    Tally flopped back in the chair, tucking her feet up under her.
    â€œNot practicing,” she said in her normal voice. “
Rehearsing
. It’s called method acting. I’m going to completely immerse myself in the character of Annie until auditions on Monday. Every chance I get I’m going to be Annie. Her thoughts are mine. Her
life
is mine. And right now, my frail and bony little body is dangerously close to giving out from sheer exhaustion and starvation!”
    Well,
THAT
was a relief. Not the starvation part. The acting part.
    â€œI haven’t had a proper meal in months,” Tally told me. “I dream about—”
    â€œDarlin’, here are your Twinkies,” I heard as a box came sailing through the air. Tally leaped out of her chair and caught it.
    â€œOh yummy. Thanks, Mom.”
    I turned and saw Tally’s mother in the doorway. She looked a lot like Tally, with the same open face and expressive eyes. Her hair was curly, too, but the blond was mixed with gray, and it was cut much shorter. She wore black sweatpants and a striped sweater.
    â€œAnd you must be the famous Paulina M. Barbosa,” Tally’s mother said. “Welcome to our crazy house.”
    â€œThanks,” I said with a smile. Inside, I was laughing at the idea that mere minutes ago, I believed this woman forced Tally out of bed before sunrise to clean bathrooms on an empty stomach.
    A second person appeared in the doorway, an older girl with thick-rimmed glasses and her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.
    â€œTallulah, this book is my property, and you cannot violate me by removing it from my desk without my knowledge and treating it with disrespect.”
    Who is Tallulah?
I wondered.
    â€œPaulina, this is Tally’s big sister, Marlene,” Mrs. Janeway said. Neither of her daughters appeared to hear her.
    â€œI was using it for research,” Tally said. “You should be flattered anyone wanted to borrow that boring, old thing.”
    I could see the title of the book in question:
German