Cinnamon (Shooting Stars 1)

"Saturday! That's only two days away!"

"Don't worry, We'll practice plenty." she declared. Then she added. "Tell Miss Hamilton and ask her for any suggestions. too.'

Meanwhile. Mommy and I began that evening. She thought it would be so right for me to practice in our attic room where my dramatic life had really had its beginning,

"Besides." she said almost in a whisper. "the spirits will be with us as they were with you on that stage."

Who was I to doubt it? I thought.

We went up right after dinner. Daddy came to see what we were doing because we were there so long. He listened a little and then he left, shaking his head and smiling. At dinner Friday night,

Grandmother Beverly gave voice to her disapproval.

"Why shouldn't she be chosen?" she asked. "Don't believe all that business about it being very competitive. I saw that paper. I saw how expensive it is to attend that so-called school of dramatics. It's a waste of good money-- and while she should be at a proper school learning something useful,"

"It is expensive," Mommy ageed. I looked up quickly. Daddy stopped eating. too. "I was going to ask you to release some of the trust fund that Grandfather Carlson and you established for her."

"She's not to touch that until she's twenty-one." Grandmother Beverly declared.

"I know, but that wasn't well thought out. Young people need college money and they need that before they're twenty-one."

"But this isn't a college. It's... it's... a foolish indulgence. I won't agree to waste a cent on such nonsense."

"It is a hefty tuition," Daddy said softly.

"Yes, but it includes everything. She lives at the school, is taken under wing by Madame Senetsky."

"Lives at the school." Grandmother Beverly practically spit. "It's just some old New York house. She's running this scam to meet her expenses because she was probably a great failure."

"That's a lie," I cried. "I read all about her. She was a very famous actress and people from

everywhere try to get into her school. I probably won't even have a chance."

"Lucky for you," Grandmother Beverly said.

Mommy looked like she was going to burst a blood vessel.

"Yes," I said calmly, softly, almost sweetly, "if I don't make it, it's probably lucky because I won't chase a foolish dream. You're so right. Grandmother Beverly."

Mommy's eyebrows went up and then she looked at me and I at her and we both burst into a fit of laughter that surprised Daddy and drove

Grandmother Beverly from the table mumbling to herself.

Daddy woke up with a terrible sinus headache on Saturday morning. He had said he was going with us and would take us all to a nice lunch in Greenwich Village. but Mommy told him to stay home and nurse his head cold instead,

"You'll only be uncomfortable and take Cinnamon's attention from her work." Mommy added.

He didn't put up a neat deal of resistance and, of course. Grandmother Beverly agreed.

"You should all stay home," she said.

"You don't want to come then?" Mommy asked her. "We could have a nice day in the city."

"Me? I hate the city." she replied, but she looked unsure of Mommy's motives, almost as if she wanted to believe we really hoped she would come. For the first time I wondered if Mommy was right about her: she was just a very lonely old woman we should pity.

We left and picked up Miss Hamilton. On the way in she talked about the auditions she had undergone during her acting days.

"Everyone is nervous. If you're not, you just don't care enough." she said.