Ollie nodded.
“Will you do it for me one more time? Just that part. Just the smile.”
Ollie did not hesitate. He brought his flat hand up his chest, and his face bloomed—wide, goofy, full-bodied, the cheap-seats grin Jason had taught him.
Mary beamed through the camera. “That is you, Ollie. You’re that happy face.”
She held up her hand. Made an O with her fingers—the same shape Ollie had been making, except hers was confident and practiced. She brought her hand to her chest and brushed it upward in the same arc as the sign for happy. “This is your name. O-happy. Because that’s who you are.”
She did it again, slowly. O-happy.
Ollie watched. He did not move for a moment.
Then he lifted his own hand, and made his own O, and brushed it up his small chest, mirroring her.
“Yes,” Mary said. “That’s it. That’s you. O-happy.”
He did it again. Then again, faster, more sure. Finally, he turned to Jason and did it, pointing at himself afterward. Me. O-happy. Me.
Jason swallowed the lump in his throat before signing it back to him. “It’s perfect for you.”
Mary let him sit with it for a moment. Then she leaned forward.
“All right, O-happy. We worked hard for that name. Now let’s see if we can learn the next part of the song. You ready to keep going?”
Ollie nodded, suddenly all business.
“Let’s work on the second verse together,” Mary said.
Ollie lifted his hands and started in on the second verse. “There must have been some magic in that old silk hat they found.” He moved through it carefully, eyebrows up, mouth shaping along with each sign. He stumbled on magic —his fingers fumbled the opening shape—and stopped, looking down.
“Good catch,” Mary said. “You knew it wasn’t right. That’s important. That’s what good actors do when they feel when something’s off. They stop to think it through.” She held up her own hands. “Watch me. Magic. Both hands in closed fists with your thumbs tucked, then they open up like a big pop. Like sparks coming out. Magic.”
She did it twice, slowly. Ollie copied her. The second time, his hands popped open the way she’d shown him.
“There it is. Do it three more times. Just that one sign.”
He did. Each one a little crisper. By the third, it looked like a sign someone had been making for years.
“Good. Now put it back in the line. From ‘There must have been.’”
He went again. The line flowed all the way through. “There must have been some magic in that old silk hat they found.”
“Beautiful. Now, just one note. When you said ‘old silk hat,’ you brought your face down a little, like you were tired. Why?”
Ollie thought. He shrugged.
“Was it because the line is about an old hat? Did old feel sleepy to you?”
A nod.
“Okay. That’s smart. But this song is about a jolly happy soul. So even when the words are about something old or sleepy,your face stays bright. Because it’s a happy song about a magical thing. Does that make sense?”
Another nod.
“Try again. Same line. Keep your face bright the whole way through.”
He did. His face stayed up, making the line lighter and more wondrous.
