Cinnamon (Shooting Stars 1)

"Iris Ainsley or one of her friends took that picture of my rehearsal with Miss Hamilton and put it up there with that stupid caption," I said nodding at the board.

He looked up at it, widened his eyes and glanced at me.

"Go to your homeroom before you're late," he ordered. Then he went off to get the custodian to bring a ladder and take the picture and the caption down.

Damage, however, was done. Mr. Kaplan called Miss Hamilton to the office and showed the picture to her. The blood that I was sure had drained from her face at the sight of the photo and its caption remained absent from her complexion most of the day. She looked pale and weak and in great anguish. I felt so sorry for her. but I was afraid to show too much affection and concern. Everyone's eyes were on us, just waiting for us to comfort each other. But she didn't speak to me or to anyone else until rehearsal began after school.

"Most of you are quite aware of what went on this morning. Some disgusting-minded person did a very nasty thing. Because of it, I've been asked not to hold any more weekend rehearsals at my home. I don't think it's going to hurt us. You're all too dedicated to this play to be set back, and I want you all to know how proud I am of the efforts you've made. We're going to show them," she declared.

Then she looked directly at me.

"If I've brought any of you any pain and trouble by not anticipating some of the disgusting things people can do. I apologize. I'll be a great deal more aware of the possibilities from now on, believe me.

"But I don't want this to color your enthusiasm with any play. Let's work harder. Let's make this a success. Okay?"

"Absolutely," Dell cried. The rest of us applauded and the rehearsal began. Every time Miss Hamilton approached me or touched my arm. I could feel the self-consciousness seeping in. How I hated Iris Ainsley and her buffoons for doing this to us, but I couldn't let her win. I couldn't fall apart now.

It was more difficult than I anticipated because the picture was just a start. When I arrived home that day. I found that someone had called the house and given Grandmother Beverly an anonymous nasty message, which she quickly passed on to Mommy. She used the opportunity to tell her about the scene between Clarence and me in the attic and what she had done about it, warning Mommy that I was degenerating quickly and blaming it on Mommy's permissive attitude when it came to supervising me. Mommy looked devastated, weakened and pale by the time I arrived.

She was in her bedroom sitting in her soft chair, just waiting for me. The moment I saw her face. I knew what had happened.

"Did the principal call here?" I immediately asked.

"No, why would he call, honey?"

I told her about the picture, how it had happened and what some nasty, jealous students had done. She nodded as she listened and then began to tell me about her conversation with Grandmother Beverly.

"Why didn't you tell me anything about Clarence Baron. Cinnamon?"

"It was over and I didn't see why I should trouble you. Especially since you had just come home from the clinic," I explained. She nodded.

"But you should have told me by now, don't you think?"

"Maybe. I'm sarry."

"Your father hasn't mentioned it either. I'm sure he knows too. right?" I looked up at her.

"No. I'm not so sure," I said. "Grandmother Beverly doesn't need reinforcements when she goes into battle,"

"He's never spoken to you about it?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"How odd." she muttered and looked

thoughtful. "Well, maybe you're right. She's such an overbearing woman. She thinks she's been ordained to run all our lives or something. But, I am troubled by all that's happened, honey. What did Miss Hamilton do today?"

"She ended our weekend rehearsals. I think the principal forced her to do that. She's really hurt. felt worse for her than I did for myself."

"Yes. Sometimes, innuendo is enough, too much." Mommy looked at me. "There's not a shred of truth to the ugly stories, is there?"

I shook my head slowly, the tears coming hot and heavy into my eyes.

"How could you even ask?" I said.

"You're right," she replied quickly, "but you see what the power of suggestion can be? Even I was worried for a moment. Cinnamon. I shouldn't have been, but it's only natural. I suppose. I'm your mother. I have to worry."

"I hate them. I hate them so much." I said. "I wish I did have spiritual powers and could put a curse on all of them."