finished it last night. It's so good! I can't wait for you to read it and tell me what you think."
"It's pretty long," Sarah said. "How long until I have to have all this memorized?"
"Can you do it by Saturday?"
"That's only five days away!"
"You don't have that many lines," Marjorie said. "Joey has to say more lines than you."
Sarah had to admit that getting to meet Joey Hooper was part of the reason she was still even slightly interested in being in Marjorie's movie. She really wanted to see what kind of boy would work on a project with Marjorie without asking the teacher to move him to another group.
"You mainly just grunt and squeak a lot," Marjorie said.
"Well, I have to know when to grunt and squeak," Sarah said, scanning the parking lot for Mom's beat-up Subaru station wagon. "And I have chorus practice on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday after school. And Cotillion on Tuesday nights. And homework." Just thinking about everything she had to do made her a little sick. "I need more time."
"Well, not too much more time," Marjorie said. "It's almost Thanksgiving."
Actually, it was still the beginning of November. Halloween had come and gone. Marjorie had mentioned something about trick-or-treating, but Sarah decided that she was too old for pretending to be scared of ghosts and playing along with Roxie's five-pieces-of-candy rule. On Halloween she was at her mom's. They never got any trick-or-treaters there, because kids didn't go to apartments, only houses. Mom put out the plastic pumpkin with the light bulb inside to remind
Sarah of Halloweens when she was a kid, but it just made Sarah sad. After dinner she went into her room and stood at the window watching little bands of dressed-up kids and their parents walk down the sidewalk, heading over to the part of town where the houses were. She was glad for them that it wasn't raining.
Now, though, the clouds were thickening in the sky over the parking lot. A few drops of rain spattered on the cement sidewalk. A flock of seagulls was circling the schoolyard. They were at least thirty miles from the ocean. Grandpa always said the seagulls were a sure sign that a storm was coming. Sarah wished her mom would hurry before she got completely drenched.
"I need at least another week," she said. "I can't even read this until tomorrow. I have too much math."
"Here," Marjorie said, grabbing the script from her hands and turning her around. She unzipped Sarah's backpack. "Put it in here so it doesn't get wet."
Sarah could tell that it was really important to her.
"I'll try to look at it tonight," she said. One of the moms had double-parked her SUV and run into the school office. A bunch of cars behind her were honking. It was giving Sarah a headache.
"Maybe we could just do a walk-through on Saturday," Marjorie said.
"No. I have too much to do. I already said."
"I won't film anything. I just want to seeâ"
"Marjorie!" Sarah said, shouting a little to be heard over all the horns. "Stop being so pushy!"
Marjorie smiled, the way she always did when someone said something mean to her. But in the split second before she smiled, she looked shocked, as though Sarah had thrown cold water on her or slapped her cheek.
It was just a split second. But Sarah saw it.
"Sorry," she said. "I have a headache."
"That's okay," Marjorie said.
"I always get them in the rain after school," Sarah said. "Especially when all the moms are honking."
"Me, too," Marjorie said, still smiling, but looking a little vague, as though she were really paying attention to something else.
Finally Sarah saw her mom.
"I'll call you tonight," she said, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders and pulling her hoodie over her hair.
She didn't know what made her look back at Marjorie just as she was shoving her backpack into the back seat of Mom's car.
Marjorie was still smiling. But because she stood alone, not talking to anyone in the vast throng of kids waiting for rides, she looked sadder than
"It's pretty long," Sarah said. "How long until I have to have all this memorized?"
"Can you do it by Saturday?"
"That's only five days away!"
"You don't have that many lines," Marjorie said. "Joey has to say more lines than you."
Sarah had to admit that getting to meet Joey Hooper was part of the reason she was still even slightly interested in being in Marjorie's movie. She really wanted to see what kind of boy would work on a project with Marjorie without asking the teacher to move him to another group.
"You mainly just grunt and squeak a lot," Marjorie said.
"Well, I have to know when to grunt and squeak," Sarah said, scanning the parking lot for Mom's beat-up Subaru station wagon. "And I have chorus practice on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday after school. And Cotillion on Tuesday nights. And homework." Just thinking about everything she had to do made her a little sick. "I need more time."
"Well, not too much more time," Marjorie said. "It's almost Thanksgiving."
Actually, it was still the beginning of November. Halloween had come and gone. Marjorie had mentioned something about trick-or-treating, but Sarah decided that she was too old for pretending to be scared of ghosts and playing along with Roxie's five-pieces-of-candy rule. On Halloween she was at her mom's. They never got any trick-or-treaters there, because kids didn't go to apartments, only houses. Mom put out the plastic pumpkin with the light bulb inside to remind
Sarah of Halloweens when she was a kid, but it just made Sarah sad. After dinner she went into her room and stood at the window watching little bands of dressed-up kids and their parents walk down the sidewalk, heading over to the part of town where the houses were. She was glad for them that it wasn't raining.
Now, though, the clouds were thickening in the sky over the parking lot. A few drops of rain spattered on the cement sidewalk. A flock of seagulls was circling the schoolyard. They were at least thirty miles from the ocean. Grandpa always said the seagulls were a sure sign that a storm was coming. Sarah wished her mom would hurry before she got completely drenched.
"I need at least another week," she said. "I can't even read this until tomorrow. I have too much math."
"Here," Marjorie said, grabbing the script from her hands and turning her around. She unzipped Sarah's backpack. "Put it in here so it doesn't get wet."
Sarah could tell that it was really important to her.
"I'll try to look at it tonight," she said. One of the moms had double-parked her SUV and run into the school office. A bunch of cars behind her were honking. It was giving Sarah a headache.
"Maybe we could just do a walk-through on Saturday," Marjorie said.
"No. I have too much to do. I already said."
"I won't film anything. I just want to seeâ"
"Marjorie!" Sarah said, shouting a little to be heard over all the horns. "Stop being so pushy!"
Marjorie smiled, the way she always did when someone said something mean to her. But in the split second before she smiled, she looked shocked, as though Sarah had thrown cold water on her or slapped her cheek.
It was just a split second. But Sarah saw it.
"Sorry," she said. "I have a headache."
"That's okay," Marjorie said.
"I always get them in the rain after school," Sarah said. "Especially when all the moms are honking."
"Me, too," Marjorie said, still smiling, but looking a little vague, as though she were really paying attention to something else.
Finally Sarah saw her mom.
"I'll call you tonight," she said, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders and pulling her hoodie over her hair.
She didn't know what made her look back at Marjorie just as she was shoving her backpack into the back seat of Mom's car.
Marjorie was still smiling. But because she stood alone, not talking to anyone in the vast throng of kids waiting for rides, she looked sadder than
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