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Authors: Deborah Gregory
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’em call back!” she always insists. She refuses to get call waiting on her phone, and sometimes it takes us hours to reach her!
“This is Mrs. Walk—um, Junifred speaking,” Ma says to someone on the other line. She still seems confused about what to call herself, now that she and Daddy are dee-vorced. “Could you hang on a second please?” Ma says to the person on the phone, then clicks to the other line, “Momma, a lady is calling for the girls on the other line. Hmm. Hmm. Call me as soon as you hear something. Hmm. Hmm. What? Yes, I’ll tell them.”
Ma clicks the line and hands us the phone, chuckling. “Big Momma says Porgy and Bess have worn out their welcome. She said it’ll take her two years to replant the strawberry patch they trampled to death!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say quickly, hardly even paying attention. I grab the receiver from her and greet the person on the line. “Hello?”
“Yes, this is Mrs. Fenilworth, from the ‘Houston Helps Its Own’ Committee?”
“Hi, Mrs. Fenilworth! This is Aquanette Walker,” I say, suddenly getting a jittery feeling in my stomach.
“Well, Miss Walker—we had a really hard time narrowing down all the candidates for the benefit concert,” Mrs. Fenilworth says, very slowly.
Oh, no—we didn’t get it! I let out a big sigh. Oh, well, at least she was nice enough to call and let us know.
“There were just so many wonderful performers from our fine city,” Mrs. Fenilworth rambles on, “but we had to think about what would be, um, the best complement for Karma’s Children—and that’s how we finally decided on picking you girls.”
Did she say what I thought she said
? “Do you mean you picked us out of all those people?” I ask, holding my breath.
“Well, we have narrowed it down to five groups, but yes, we thought your group—the, um, Cheetah Girls—would be a nice addition. That is, if you’re still interested. We understand that there is no money involved, so it could be difficult—”
I just start screaming my head off.
“Miss Walker?”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Fenilworth, but you have no idea what this means to the Cheetah Girls!” Then I suddenly realize—what about the rest of the Cheetah Girls? We can’t perform onstage without the others—that just wouldn’t be right!
Angie grabs the receiver from me. “Hi, Mrs. Fenilworth, this is Anginette Walker—did you say
all
the Cheetah Girls could come? No, they live in New York—but if you paid for their plane tickets, they’d be here tomorrow!”
I look at Angie in disbelief. Has she lost her mind? I turn to Ma, who is just sitting there, smiling and shaking her head.
“No, no. We have plenty of room for them to stay at our house. Hmm. Hmm. Okay. Bye.”
“Mrs. Fenilworth is gonna let us know if they’ll pay to fly the Cheetah Girls from New York to Houston!” Angie screams.
“That’s real good, Angie,” Ma says, delighted. “And good for you for having the courage to ask!”
“Angie, what if they change their minds about using us because of what you just did?” I ask my sister, stunned.
“If Fish ’N’ Chips can stick together for thirty-five years, then so can the Cheetah Girls—all
five
of us!” Angie insists proudly.
The phone rings, and all three of us jump up. Ma is first to grab it. “Hello?” she says. “Yes, this is their mother. Oh, that’s wonderful news! The girls will be so pleased! Uh-huh. Let me get a pen. Well, the girls do have a manager—I’ll tell her to call you and make the travel arrangements. Uh-huh …” Ma continues writing furiously on a notepad.
I motion to her to give me the phone. “That’s real good news, Mrs. Fenilworth!” I exclaim.
“Well, it’s the least we could do, since you girls are giving your time and talent for such a good cause,” Mrs. Fenilworth says.
“Um, Mrs. Fenilworth, what are some of the other groups you’ve picked?”
“Let me get the list,” Mrs. Fenilworth says. I can hear her
“This is Mrs. Walk—um, Junifred speaking,” Ma says to someone on the other line. She still seems confused about what to call herself, now that she and Daddy are dee-vorced. “Could you hang on a second please?” Ma says to the person on the phone, then clicks to the other line, “Momma, a lady is calling for the girls on the other line. Hmm. Hmm. Call me as soon as you hear something. Hmm. Hmm. What? Yes, I’ll tell them.”
Ma clicks the line and hands us the phone, chuckling. “Big Momma says Porgy and Bess have worn out their welcome. She said it’ll take her two years to replant the strawberry patch they trampled to death!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say quickly, hardly even paying attention. I grab the receiver from her and greet the person on the line. “Hello?”
“Yes, this is Mrs. Fenilworth, from the ‘Houston Helps Its Own’ Committee?”
“Hi, Mrs. Fenilworth! This is Aquanette Walker,” I say, suddenly getting a jittery feeling in my stomach.
“Well, Miss Walker—we had a really hard time narrowing down all the candidates for the benefit concert,” Mrs. Fenilworth says, very slowly.
Oh, no—we didn’t get it! I let out a big sigh. Oh, well, at least she was nice enough to call and let us know.
“There were just so many wonderful performers from our fine city,” Mrs. Fenilworth rambles on, “but we had to think about what would be, um, the best complement for Karma’s Children—and that’s how we finally decided on picking you girls.”
Did she say what I thought she said
? “Do you mean you picked us out of all those people?” I ask, holding my breath.
“Well, we have narrowed it down to five groups, but yes, we thought your group—the, um, Cheetah Girls—would be a nice addition. That is, if you’re still interested. We understand that there is no money involved, so it could be difficult—”
I just start screaming my head off.
“Miss Walker?”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Fenilworth, but you have no idea what this means to the Cheetah Girls!” Then I suddenly realize—what about the rest of the Cheetah Girls? We can’t perform onstage without the others—that just wouldn’t be right!
Angie grabs the receiver from me. “Hi, Mrs. Fenilworth, this is Anginette Walker—did you say
all
the Cheetah Girls could come? No, they live in New York—but if you paid for their plane tickets, they’d be here tomorrow!”
I look at Angie in disbelief. Has she lost her mind? I turn to Ma, who is just sitting there, smiling and shaking her head.
“No, no. We have plenty of room for them to stay at our house. Hmm. Hmm. Okay. Bye.”
“Mrs. Fenilworth is gonna let us know if they’ll pay to fly the Cheetah Girls from New York to Houston!” Angie screams.
“That’s real good, Angie,” Ma says, delighted. “And good for you for having the courage to ask!”
“Angie, what if they change their minds about using us because of what you just did?” I ask my sister, stunned.
“If Fish ’N’ Chips can stick together for thirty-five years, then so can the Cheetah Girls—all
five
of us!” Angie insists proudly.
The phone rings, and all three of us jump up. Ma is first to grab it. “Hello?” she says. “Yes, this is their mother. Oh, that’s wonderful news! The girls will be so pleased! Uh-huh. Let me get a pen. Well, the girls do have a manager—I’ll tell her to call you and make the travel arrangements. Uh-huh …” Ma continues writing furiously on a notepad.
I motion to her to give me the phone. “That’s real good news, Mrs. Fenilworth!” I exclaim.
“Well, it’s the least we could do, since you girls are giving your time and talent for such a good cause,” Mrs. Fenilworth says.
“Um, Mrs. Fenilworth, what are some of the other groups you’ve picked?”
“Let me get the list,” Mrs. Fenilworth says. I can hear her
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