Falling Stars (Shooting Stars 5)

Ice smiled and put her other hand over Cinnamon's. So did Rose, and then so did I. We held onto each other and for a long, wonderful moment, it seemed very possible, very much within our grasp, to do what she prayed for: to enjoy life.

The lecture that night at the library was very interesting. We were surprised by the special guest, who turned out to be one of Broadway's most famous producers. He had wonderful stories about

productions, stars, critics, and people like ourselves on the verge of attempting to break into the world of entertainment. On the way home in the van. Howard picked up where the producer's talk had ended as if he had already known it all and had the experiences to confirm the lessons we were given.

"I'm surprised you even bother to come to this school. Howard." Cinnamon said with feigned softness, dressing her face in a small, gentle smile. "Why?"

"Why? Because you know everything there is to know about the theater. It must be terribly boring for you being around people like us."

There was a heavy silence for a moment.

"Well," Howard said, incredibly or deliberately missing her sarcasm, "you must be willing to be generous on the stage, especially when you're performing with others and your rhythm is so dependent on someone else being on cue, in sync, so to speak.

"The truth is. Cinnamon, the better you are, the better I'm going to look, especially next weekend:. he replied, so satisfied in his response, he looked absolutely invulnerable, like some prince sitting on a throne miles above his peasant followers.

"Oh. I'm so happy I will be able to help you win the Academy Award. Howard,"

"Go on, laugh, but in your heart of hearts, you want that Oscar in your hands almost as much as I do. You can pretend to be unaffected and uncaring about the glory, but in your heart, you're just as ruthless."

"Don't tell me what's in my heart. who I am and what I want. Howard Rockwell the Third. Fourth. and Fifth. You don't know anything about me. Anything, Understand? Well?"

"Very well," he finally replied.

Cinnamon had looked ready to leap over her seat and claw out his eyes if he didn't respond. How were these two able to get on stage and perform their dialogues from Romeo and Juliet? I wondered. They must be great actors if they can convince an audience they are in love.

Later. I asked Cinnamon about it. She said she used the advice her high school drama coach, Miss Hamilton, gave her.

"Pretend the other person is someone you really like, if you have to like his character on the stage, or someone you really hate, if that's the character. You fill your mind with those people and not the actual actor."

"That seems like good advice."

"It works. I can tell you I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Miss Hamilton," she added. "Getting me on stage practically saved my life.

"And," she added, "nearly ruined hers."

"Why?"

She told me how she and Miss Hamilton spent some time alone together rehearsing, and how a jealous student spread ugly rumors about them that almost cost Miss Hamilton her job.

"Someone took a picture of us through a window while we were rehearsing and she was pretending to be the male lead."

"How mean!"

"Don't believe all the glorious things we're told about the stage and performing. Howard makes it sound like a new version of heaven, but just like the real world, it has its sharks swimming at your feet." she advised.

Listening to Cinnamon, and to Ice. especially. I often wondered if my isolated life on the corn farm in Ohio was really a blessing after all. It was all right to be like I am if I would never leave the farm. I thought, but if I was going to be in The World. as Steven liked to refer to what was going on just outside our gates here. I needed to be more cautious, more distrusting, more aware of the demons.

"Innocence." Cinnamon once quipped, "was only an asset in the Garden of Eden. and there's no chance we're getting back into that."

The play we saw Saturday afternoon was wonderful and later that evening Madame Butterfly tore my heart-strings. I never thought I would cry at an opera, of all things. The aria "Un Bel Di," "One Fine Day," was planted forever and ever in my mind. I heard it in my sleep and couldn't wait to play it on my violin.

We girls were in a good mood Sunday at breakfast. Howard and Steven realized we were going off to meet some boys. They threatened to follow until Cinnamon made it a point of pride for Howard.

"You can't find yourselves girls? You've got to depend on us?"

"I was just joking," Howard quickly replied. "I happen to have a friend who's already fixed me up with someone for dinner and a movie."

"I thought we were going to dinner and a movie," Steven complained.