Page 11 of Mazywood

Scout growled.

“Scout, hush,” Mazelle said. “Sit.”

Scout dropped back down to all fours and sat, not making a peep.

“Will you watch me play?” Mazelle asked Dottie, turning so her sister could see her tears. Doris would only have called her a crybaby, but Dottie gave her a supportive smile.

“Yes, I’ll watch—for a while,” Dottie said. “Everyone makes mistakes. Okay?”

Mazelle nodded, accepting Dottie’s comfort. Mazelle wished Dottie would tell Aunt Ruby never to hit her again. Or that Mother wouldn’t stay shut in her room during her lessons, or would ask her about the bruises just once, even if Aunt Ruby was careful only to hit her in places that weren’t easy to spot. Mostly, she wished she could find her other talents faster, so she could have longevity and stop taking lessons from Aunt Ruby.

But she already knew those wishes wouldn’t come true.

Mazelle’s only magic was Scout.

Four

“WE LOVE YOU, MAZY!”

“Scout! Take a bow!”

The Monday crowd waiting for Mazelle near the black limousine at the curb was bigger than last week’s, spilling past Mr. Richardson’s yard on one side and the corner tree with beautiful purple blooms on the other. Most were colored children and their parents on their way to school, but two white men with Brownie cameras waited beyond the white picket fence with bright red cheeks and silly grins.

As usual, Mazelle and her parents would have to wade through the crowd to get to the car the studio had sent to pick her up. As she looked at the children’s faces—some only toddlers and some as old as Doris and Dottie—she remembered how hard it had been to make friends when her family was always traveling. Or in Gracetown, where she had never quite fit in. Not fitting in had driven her to spending so much time in the woods. And Scout.

Now she had so many children fighting to be her friend, but no time to play. She’d fallen and bruised herself playing stickball with neighbor boys soon after they moved to this house, so she wasn’t allowed to play outside—especially with her new contract.

“How about it?” one of the photographers called out. “Just one bow, huh?”

Mother scowled, sighing. She and Daddy were both coming with her today—not just Mother—because Mr. Lorenzo wanted to have a meeting with them at eight o’clock, before the day’s shoot. Daddy was nervous about the meeting, fidgeting with his church tie.

“We can hustle past,” he told Mazelle, steering her forward. “Grab Scout’s leash.”

“Just be sure you smile while you’re hustling,” Mother said, and smothered a cough.

Mazelle shook her shoulders to limber up the way she had seen Daddy do so many times to change his mood, and her smile came on its own. With a careful grip on the leash, Mazelle flung open the sunporch door with Scout trotting at her side. They walked halfway down the stone path in perfect step before she stopped to curtsy—and Scout bowed beside her. This was their signature pose, the one that ended every Li’l Gumshoes picture. She held the pose long enough for the photographers to get their pictures, her smile never wavering. Children in the crowd, and even adults, shrieked with joy. Scout tugged on his leash; crowds agitated him when they were loud. Or, maybe they agitated her, just a little. Especially when she was barely awake.

Daddy put his hand on her shoulder and said, “That’s enough, fellas, you know you’re supposed to go through the studio for photos,” and opened the gate, while the colored driver, Lenny, opened the car door for her.

As the car pulled away, Mazelle noticed Daddy still fussing with his tie. His face was slick with sweat despite the chill in the morning air.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” Mazelle asked.

He smiled for her, but his smile did not reach his eyes. Later, she would find out that her father had lost his job because he could not stand too long without excruciating pain in his back, his old stage injury haunting him. Mother still dutifully kept a share of her income aside in a trust fund, but for a month or longer, Mazelle’s income had been her family’s sole support.

Everyone knew except her.

“Mazy’s here! It’s Mazy!”

Her castmates on the dirt lot of Lorenzo Studios were as excited to see her as the children on her street—except none of them were colored. Her car often was the last to arrive, so they raced up to greet her and Scout as they climbed out. Every morning they all got a treat, and that day it was boxes of Cracker Jacks, which they were waving above their heads, eager to share.

Jake, who was eight and a half, wore large black eyeglasses and called himself “Professor.” “Puddin’ ”—whose real name was Stan—was seven and liked to play tough-guy parts, throwing his girth around. Davie, who was stick-thin, was only six and famous for blowing huge bubbles with his bubble gum, so of course they called him “Bubbles.” Amelia, who was also six, played “Sweetheart,” who mostly wore curls and pretty dresses and cried when things went wrong. The youngest was “Chong,” played by Danny Wu, who was so young that he was mostly just a tagalong, although he could make the funniest faces by blowing out his cheeks. Only Jake and Stan had already been in Li’l Gumshoes when Mazelle was first hired; three had gotten too old, and all the other children were new.

As they all crowded around to pet Scout, Jake held out a box of Cracker Jacks for Mazelle. He had a crush on her and didn’t care who knew it; he had invited Mazelle and her mother over for dinner at his house so persistently that Mother finally agreed despite her worries. Mother had been pleasantly surprised by his family’s hospitality, but they only went once. At dinner, Jake had proclaimed to his parents that he would marry Mazelle one day, so maybe that was why they had not been invited back.

“Saved this for you, Mazelle,” Jake said, grinning at her with his famous dimples. Mazelle knew she was too young to have a boyfriend, but those dimples sure were cute! Jake was four months younger, but he was a mature actor—he’d been in pictures since he was three.

“Thank you, Jake. You’re the sweetest!” she said.