Cinnamon (Shooting Stars 1)

Iris is pretty upset. She's already suggesting..." He

rolled his eyes.

"Suggesting what?"

"Dirty stuff." he said. "Between you and Miss

Hamilton." he added.

"She better not do it in front of me." I said. "Don't worry, she won't. She doesn't work that

way." He leaned toward me to add. "Just ignore them

all. Cinnamon. Concentrate on the play. You'll be

great," he said.

He sounded sincere. but I wondered if I could

trust him. It was the beginning. I thought, the

beginning of all the little intrigues that would

surround and invade every dramatic project with

which I would become involved. As always, the

hardest part was acting in real life and the easiest thing was doing the actual performance. The line between the real and the imagined was blurred. Once again, I understood that life itself was an ongoing play. Shakespeare was right: the world was a stage

and al

l of us merely players.

Well, it was my time to play and. I was now

determined. I would.

Mommy was so ecstatic over the news. I

thought she might get up, ask for her clothes and walk

out of the clinic with me right then and there. "I knew you would be chosen. Cinnamon. She

would have had to be a dullard not to see your

talents," Mammy told me.

"Sometimes, talent isn't what determines who

does and does not get the good roles. Mommy," I said.

"You taught me that."

She stared at me a moment. her eyes darkening. "Of course you're right, honey," she said. "But I

never meant to cause you to be cynical at so young an

age. We need our childhood faiths sometimes. We