CHAPTER FOUR

CAMERA TESTS

Whit begged me to invite him to dinner the night Mara arrived. Luckily, Mom had a standing rule that forbade visitors on the first day of a new arrival, so I could tell my friend that I didn't have a choice. Dinner would be strange enough without a perv in a wheelchair.

I had three days to prepare. First, I slyly solicited Mom for a haircut, claiming the three inches of shag was making my head sweat in the summer heat. Next, I “accidentally” dropped my Fraggle Rock toothbrush in the toilet. Dad told me to boil it in water... but Mom saved the day and replaced it with a plain toothbrush from her bottomless bin of backup toiletries. My room was gagging on Star Wars memorabilia, Jurassic Park dinosaurs, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures, and posters of Harrison Ford, but I couldn't hide the trove without stirring my family's suspicions. I searched out the most embarrassing aliens and the largest dinosaurs and shoved them under my bed. Mr. Ford could stay.

Last winter, Mom snagged a pamphlet on child obesity from the YMCA and suggested that I use it as a guide to earning my Super Nintendo. Annoyed, I shoved it in my junk drawer and forgot about it. But now... I was motivated! I retrieved the pamphlet, studied the charts, and determined my goal weight to be one hundred and twenty-five pounds. I borrowed Mom’s scale and stepped up. Twenty pounds to go.

A NordicTrack ski machine sat beside the laundry-room door in the basement. One of the cords was tangled around the wooden base, and a row of newly-pressed shirts hung from the extension bar. The rest of the exercise equipment fit easily inside a wicker basket: a knotted jumprope, mismatched barbells, a Thigh Master, a Walkman with earphones, Livy's hot-pink headband, and a series of Jane Fonda workout tapes. Dad called Ms. Fonda a “horses ass”--the only time I heard him swear--but Mom claimed she only liked the woman for her motivating exercise routines. While the family slept, I hooked a VCR into my six-inch bedroom TV and danced like a baboon with the aging actress as my guide.

For three nights I slept in a pool of my own sweat. I dreamt of Mara again, but I woke up nervous instead of wet. Did she know that I was the reason she was taken from her home? What if she was mad at me? What if she really loved her pseudo-aunt? Surely she would be grateful; after all, I saved her life. Right?

Although I was never stinky fat like Trent Rainwater, I hedged my bets and borrowed Dad's deodorant for the big night. I combed my hair just enough to look nice, but not enough to encourage Livy's jokes. I wore a simple red tee and my baggiest pair of jeans. I brushed my teeth three times.

Mom was scheduled to arrive with Mara at five-thirty. While she was out, Dad watched kids instead of birds and “cooked dinner” with a phone call to Domino's. As usual, the delivery boy couldn't find our hidden drive, but Dad accounted for the extra twenty minutes and the pizza arrived with the ladies.

The foyer door opened and slammed. I cupped my mouth, huffed my breath--not too bad!--then ran to meet them at the top of the stairs. Mom was talking but I didn't care; my attention was with Mara.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi,” she replied in that delectable voice I'd been savoring for days. Her irises mirrored her cute tan dress. Screen-print daisies rose from the hem and twirled her ankles as she sauntered up the stairs. I studied her expression for any sign of hatred or thankfulness, but in a heartbeat I had forgotten my mission, abandoned for the midnight center of her perfect eye.

Before I could utter a better greeting, Mom swept Mara into a tour of the parlor, bedrooms and library. They plopped her suitcase on Livy's second twin bed, then ended the tour in the kitchen with plans to see the ballroom after dinner.

Mom's place settings were fancier than usual for a Friday night. She removed the crystal from the buffet and adorned the table with forest-green place mats that matched the seat cushions and walls. “Sorry about the mess,” she said and offered Mara a chair between Bobby and herself.

“Your home is beautiful, Mrs. Parker,” said the girl, more somber than I expected from the nymph who once scurried a homemade rope. “Is it a real castle?”

Dad sat at the head of the table, then opened the pizza boxes. Jake lunged for the first piece of plain cheese.

“How rude,” Livy muttered and took her own slice.

“The castle is totally real,” I replied (my first words to Mara since “Hey” at the top of the steps). “It's real old too. It was built eighty years ago by a guy named John Alabaster Rhodes.”

“Cool,” she said, then looked at me and smiled.

I maintained my scholarly façade. Inside, I was beaming.

Dad served a slice of supreme to Jake, then tore off the biggest pieces and slid them on my plate. “Two slices of supreme for the famous director.”

“Just one,” I said, then pulled them apart and placed the larger piece back in the box.

Dad and Mom exchanged a glance; for the first time, I knew what it meant.

“So Mara,” Mom said, “what do you do for fun?”

She scanned our faces. “Well, I really like school. I miss it a lot.”

“I'm sure you do. A year without friends is a long time.”

“Sometimes I see kids at church.”

Livy wrinkled her nose. “Church sounds lame.” She poured herself Diet Coke from a two-liter, then looked to Mara, “You want pop, apple juice, milk or water? Friday night is kid's choice.”

“Water, please.” Mara extended her crystal glass and Livy filled it from the pitcher. “Thanks.”

Mom looked at Livy. “Mara brought some special candles with her. I told her we could find a table to display them on in your room.”

“I thought we weren't allowed to burn candles in our rooms,” Livy said.

“Well, as much as it breaks a mother's heart, my children are growing up. You're allowed to burn candles, but if I see one lit when you're in another room... dishes for a week.”

Livy nodded. “Sweet.”

“I have a bronze statue of St. Michael too.” Mara added, then flinched suddenly and nearly knocked over her glass.

Before I could ask what happened, Livy cut me off. “Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?”

Mara nodded. “Sure.”

“James'll be playing pogs with Whitney or working on his stupid movie--”

“I don't play with pogs!” I blurted. “I gave half my collection to Sean Bullard! You can ask anybody!”

Livy looked at me like I was three, then slowly turned back to Mara. “Anyway... I'll introduce you to Kimmy and Haley tomorrow morning. Kimmy's grandma bought her a tie-dye set for her birthday, and Haley's bringing her bedazzler and some t-shirts.”

Mara's smile was genuine.

I tried not to whine. “I was gonna show her the woods tomorrow!”

Livy rolled her eyes. “I thought your woods were a 'girl-free zone?'”

“Just girls who are dumb enough to get poison ivy,” I snapped.

“Whatever, doofus.” She looked at Mara. “For real, you don't wanna go in those woods.”

Mara washed down a bite of pizza with water. “We had trees behind my house too, but I never really--”

“Your hair's wicked cute,” Livy said. “I'd do anything to have hair that soft.”

“Thanks.”

Mom patted Livy's hand. “When Livy was a little girl--”

“Aw, Mom,” she groaned. “Not this story!”

“--all of her friends had either blonde or light-brown hair, but hers was so coarse and nappy that we had to get it professionally braided or she'd look like a member of the Jackson Five.”

Mara laughed.

“And braids are expensive! So whenever I gave her a bath I would tell her, 'Olivia Jean, do not take out those braids!'”

“For real,” Livy said, “I was like, four.”

“But if I ever left her alone for more than a minute, I'd come back to a pile of rubber bands on the rug and the braids would be gone. I watched her once from the doorway. She had conditioner in her palms, then dunked her whole head under water and slowly pulled her fingers through her hair. She noticed me watching. And all she said was, 'It feels like silk, Mom.'” She squeezed Livy's hand. “How could I be mad at that?”

“That's a great story,” Mara said.

I leaned forward. “One time, I convinced Livy that her real Dad was the guy from Reading Rainbow.”

“James,”Mom said with a clear undertone of watch it mister.

Livy rolled her eyes. “Such a nerd.”

“Hey,” I said, poking my sister in the side. “Did you talk to Ryan yet?”

She glanced around the table sheepishly. “No, James, I didn't talk to Ryan.”

“Will you ask him soon. Please? For me?”

“He doesn't wanna be in your little-kid movie. He's too mature.”

“But I need an evil prince. You know that Whit can't sword fight!”

“Ryan's in high school now. It's not gonna happen.”

“Pleeease! If he does it,” I finished in a sing-song voice, “you'll get to do his maaakeup!”

She kicked my shin under the table.

I looked at Mara and leaned forward. “Livy's in love with Ryan Brosh.”

“Am not!”

“They passed notes back and forth in Algebra last year. He's a whole grade older, but he got held back in math.”

“Uhg!” Livy said. “You're such a baby!”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“Good comeback, dork. Mom!”

“James...” Mom said, “Cool it.”

I snickered and looked to Mara for a reaction, but she was silent, unfocused, circling her index finger around the rim of her glass.

“Hey Mara,” Livy said, “Do you use face cream?”

“I--”

“You do, I can totally tell. Your skin is seriously gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

She reached across the table and grabbed Mara's hand. “I can't believe how soft you feel--”

“Olivia Jean,” Mom said. “Pass the apple juice, please?”

“Ugh.” She released Mara's hand, grabbed the juice and unscrewed the cap. “I was just telling our guest that I like her makeup.”

Bobby piped up. “If you like it so much, why don't you marry it?”

Mom held out her glass as Livy poured the juice. “Have you ever been to the Grand Harbor Art Show, Mara?”

“No, Ma'am. What is it?” (She flinched again but no one seemed to notice.)

“James will be showing his movie there.”

I nodded. “It's gonna be sweet! It's a contest and anyone can enter. It's part of The Lakeshore Celebration. Have you heard of it? There's an art show, a firework display, a farmer's market, and a huge carnival with elephant ears--”

“Oh, I've seen that!” Mara said. “With the colored lights and all the kids?”

Livy and I looked at each other. “A carnival,” I repeated. “Right.”

“We drove past it last year. It looked like so much fun. Are we... allowed to go?”

“Of course,” I said. “We can buy a wristband that’ll get us on every ride for the whole night. But Lakeshore Celebration isn't 'til the end of August.”

“James,” Mom said, “maybe Mara would like to help with your fairytale.”

“It's not a fairytale, Mother... it's just a movie.”

“Do you like to act, Mara?” she asked.

“Oh!” I said before the girl could reply, “Mara was in a radio commercial for Great Lakes Family Diner!”

“Really?” Livy asked.

“Whoa!” Jake said.

“Hey Mara, tell 'em what you say!”

Her eyes flicked from person to person. “I don't--”

“Say your line!” I implored. “You know, Great Lakes--”

The twins chimed in, “Faaaaamily Diner!”

Her cheeks flushed. “I really don't--”

“Pleeease? Come on!”

“James!” Mom said. “If Mara doesn't want to do it, she doesn't have to.”

“It's not a big deal!” I said. “Mara, come on. Just show 'em how you--”

“James Parker!” Mom glared at me, head cocked in apparent disbelief. “What has gotten into you kids?”

Mara flinched again and Bobby giggled. The table fell silent as the children avoided Mama Bear's burning gaze.

“I like to act,” Mara said quietly. “If you need help... I think it'd be fun.”

I nodded and chewed my pizza with a satisfied smirk. “Cool.”

With the tension relieved, Livy, Mara and Mom began discussing the intricacies of the new living situation. 

The pizza box was whispering my name, so I pushed away my plate and forced my attention on Dad. He was unusually quiet since Mara's arrival. He was staring at her.

Mara flinched again and cut my musings short. This time, her knee thunked the table and everybody noticed.

“Are you okay, hon?” Mom asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Parker,” she said, then cleared her throat. “I think Bobby just likes pinching the new kid.”

Bobby's eyes lit up like a frightened pinball machine. “Nu-uh!” he exclaimed. “Ms. Mara's a liar!”

“Bobby!” Mom shouted. “Are you pinching our guest?”

Fantasia wailed from her basket and Mama Bear rose to her hind legs.

“It's really okay, Mrs. Parker--”

Bobby blubbered his tongue at Mara, then pushed back his chair and zipped away with Mom at his heels.

Livy and Jake snickered. Mara looked terrified.

From the parlor to the dining room, Mom's anger echoed against the painted brick as she sentenced Bobby to a time-out.

Through all the commotion, Dad never took his eyes off Mara.