Read Online Missing Sisters -SA by Gregory Maguire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gregory Maguire
Tags: Fiction, General, Family & Relationships, Social Science, Historical, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Social Issues, Orphans, Twins, Siblings, Adoption, Handicapped, Sisters, People With Disabilities, Orphans & Foster Homes, Special Needs
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perfectly good gray skirt for Alice’s costume, which was nice of her, Alice had to admit, but the sacrifice locked Alice into having to go through with the performance. Sally cut holes in the skirt with a Swiss army knife and smeared ashes from the campfire all over it. “You look like a perfect wreck!” she exclaimed when Alice did herself up in shawl, skirt, and basket.
It was a bit harder finding ball gown material for Eliza, as played by Naomi. Wendy Beasley suggested a nun’s habit, but that was out of the question. In the end they rigged up something with a sheet from the infirmary and a gold belt that was really Sally’s necklace. Alice thought Naomi looked like the bride of Frankenstein with all that hair, but then Sally fussed over it with pins and hair spray, and it all stood on top of her head like a flock of birds densely packed together with glue, soft and hard at the same time.
“You know I hate this,” said Alice as they stood in the pantry, waiting for their turn.
“Twenty bucks,” said Naomi inspiringly. “Think what you can do with your share of the first prize. Twenty bucks.”
“And now Alice Colossus to perform My Fair Lady , as the Cockney flower girl Eliza Doolittle!” screeched Sally through the ancient PA system.
Wendy Beasley lurched over the keyboard as if she were having stomach cramps and battered the opening chords loud enough for Alice to catch the musical cue. She sang while squatting like an Iroquois and pretending to rub her hands before a fire. Actually my voice is pretty good, she thought. Nobody was laughing, which was an improvement over the time she’d done it with the boys from Saint Mary’s of Albany. “And life could be so heavenly!” Ruth Peters came up to the edge of the stage. “Alice!” she cooed. “Hi, Alice!” Everyone laughed.
Alice just went on with the next line. Ruth remembered the words, too, and sang along as she scrambled up the steps. She held Alice’s hand, and they sang to the end of the song. The little dance Alice had planned was ruined, but it was okay. Ruth was having such a good time.
When she finished, the girls began to shout and cheer. They were a very enthusiastic audience. They hammered their feet on the floor and called in rhythm, “NA-O-MI! NA-O-MI!” Alice would have preferred their calling “AL-ICE, AL-ICE,” but as long as her part was done she didn’t care. She swept off stage and Sally intoned, “Eliza Doolittle makes friends with a speech therapist named Henry Higgins, who teaches her how to speak clearly and then takes her to a fancy ball. Naomi Matthews as Eliza coming home from the ball.” So her last name was still Matthews. Hmmm. Alice wondered why. She watched Naomi twirl in from the dark shadows in her silly-looking bedsheet. The audience oohed and aahed.
Wendy Beasley slaved away at the crisp runs of the introduction, and Naomi began to shrill out her part. When she got to the final line, she improvised a cancan kick by picking up her sheets and jackknifing her legs out like a single demented Rockette. The crowd shrieked—praising, rejoicing, and being glad. Naomi warbled out her last note, squeezing every second she could out of it, and even Alice in the mercy of her deafness could tell Naomi was a half-tone sharp. The girls of the 1968 second summer session of Camp Saint Theresa weren’t, on the whole, as discriminating as Alice. They went wild.
They stamped. They wolf-whistled. They called, “NA-O-MI! NA-O-MI!” Naomi beckoned Alice back on stage for another bow. Alice and Ruth Peters came out. Ruth bowed more times than anyone.
Third prize went to Cabin Saint Dymphna, for singing “Puff the Magic Dragon” in harmony. Third prize had no money attached. Naomi and Alice got second prize, which was worth only twenty-five bucks—ten bucks each and five for Wendy Beasley. Then Wendy Beasley walked off with the first prize of fifty dollars. Without so much as a word of friendly warning, she
It was a bit harder finding ball gown material for Eliza, as played by Naomi. Wendy Beasley suggested a nun’s habit, but that was out of the question. In the end they rigged up something with a sheet from the infirmary and a gold belt that was really Sally’s necklace. Alice thought Naomi looked like the bride of Frankenstein with all that hair, but then Sally fussed over it with pins and hair spray, and it all stood on top of her head like a flock of birds densely packed together with glue, soft and hard at the same time.
“You know I hate this,” said Alice as they stood in the pantry, waiting for their turn.
“Twenty bucks,” said Naomi inspiringly. “Think what you can do with your share of the first prize. Twenty bucks.”
“And now Alice Colossus to perform My Fair Lady , as the Cockney flower girl Eliza Doolittle!” screeched Sally through the ancient PA system.
Wendy Beasley lurched over the keyboard as if she were having stomach cramps and battered the opening chords loud enough for Alice to catch the musical cue. She sang while squatting like an Iroquois and pretending to rub her hands before a fire. Actually my voice is pretty good, she thought. Nobody was laughing, which was an improvement over the time she’d done it with the boys from Saint Mary’s of Albany. “And life could be so heavenly!” Ruth Peters came up to the edge of the stage. “Alice!” she cooed. “Hi, Alice!” Everyone laughed.
Alice just went on with the next line. Ruth remembered the words, too, and sang along as she scrambled up the steps. She held Alice’s hand, and they sang to the end of the song. The little dance Alice had planned was ruined, but it was okay. Ruth was having such a good time.
When she finished, the girls began to shout and cheer. They were a very enthusiastic audience. They hammered their feet on the floor and called in rhythm, “NA-O-MI! NA-O-MI!” Alice would have preferred their calling “AL-ICE, AL-ICE,” but as long as her part was done she didn’t care. She swept off stage and Sally intoned, “Eliza Doolittle makes friends with a speech therapist named Henry Higgins, who teaches her how to speak clearly and then takes her to a fancy ball. Naomi Matthews as Eliza coming home from the ball.” So her last name was still Matthews. Hmmm. Alice wondered why. She watched Naomi twirl in from the dark shadows in her silly-looking bedsheet. The audience oohed and aahed.
Wendy Beasley slaved away at the crisp runs of the introduction, and Naomi began to shrill out her part. When she got to the final line, she improvised a cancan kick by picking up her sheets and jackknifing her legs out like a single demented Rockette. The crowd shrieked—praising, rejoicing, and being glad. Naomi warbled out her last note, squeezing every second she could out of it, and even Alice in the mercy of her deafness could tell Naomi was a half-tone sharp. The girls of the 1968 second summer session of Camp Saint Theresa weren’t, on the whole, as discriminating as Alice. They went wild.
They stamped. They wolf-whistled. They called, “NA-O-MI! NA-O-MI!” Naomi beckoned Alice back on stage for another bow. Alice and Ruth Peters came out. Ruth bowed more times than anyone.
Third prize went to Cabin Saint Dymphna, for singing “Puff the Magic Dragon” in harmony. Third prize had no money attached. Naomi and Alice got second prize, which was worth only twenty-five bucks—ten bucks each and five for Wendy Beasley. Then Wendy Beasley walked off with the first prize of fifty dollars. Without so much as a word of friendly warning, she
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