opinions, that her feelings would become Janie's.
They had stuck her need for a home in the script, right along with all her secret feelings about Eric Dillon, although how they'd figured that out, she had no idea, since she certainly hadn't come out and told them. Maybe it wouldn't have been quite so humiliating if they had made Janie a mature, self-sufficient sixteen-year-old like herself, but instead they had turned her into a puny little thirteen-year-old retard.
She still got indignant whenever she thought about it.
As the director ended his conversation with his assistant, she approached him.
"Mr. Swackhammer—"
"Please, Honey. Call me Jack. We're all family here."
But they weren't her family. What should have been the most exciting time of her life was being ruined because Sophie refused to leave the park to come to California and Gordon Delaweese spent all his time at the new apartment she and Chantal had moved into. With Chantal paying so much attention to Gordon and with Sophie still in South Carolina, Honey was feeling all jangly, as if she didn't belong anywhere.
Working on the television show wasn't like she'd imagined it, either. After having been so nice to her the day they had met, Dash Coogan had gradually changed. He'd been real helpful to her at first, but then it seemed the friendlier she got, the more he backed off. Now he barely spoke to her unless they were on-camera together. And the only time Eric Dillon had sought her out was to ask her if Chantal would be coming around.
The director looked back down at his clipboard. She remembered her most pressing grievance. "I've got to talk to you about this haircut."
"Shoot."
"It's embarrassing."
"What do you mean?"
"It looks like somebody put a dog's dish on top of my head and cut right around it." The sides were cut high over her ears and the back formed a straight line two inches above her nape. Her bangs fell long
and fine past her eyebrows, making the whole thing look off balance.
"It's great, Honey. Perfect for the part."
"I'm going to be seventeen in December. What kind of haircut is this for a girl who's almost seventeen?"
"Janie's thirteen. You have to get used to thinking younger."
"That's another thing. I saw that press kit you sent out, and it gives my real age as thirteen."
"That was Ross's idea. Audiences don't like it when they find out kid actors are lots older than the part they're playing. You're small, and you're an unknown.
Ross wants to keep you away from the press for
a while until you get your bearings, so it doesn't really make much difference, now, does it?"
Not to him, maybe. But it certainly did to her.
"Jacko! Honey! You're doing great, sweetheart. Just great."
One of the older network executives, a nervous-looking man in his late fifties, popped a little white pill
in his mouth as he came up to them. She stepped back before he could chuck her under the chin as he'd done that morning.
"I think we've got a hit in the making here," he said with too much heartiness.
Even without his eyelid twitching, she would have known that he didn't believe a word he was saying. The network was nervous because they said the new concept for The Dash Coogan Show wasn't really situation comedy but it wasn't quite drama either, and they were worried about confusing the audience.
Honey didn't see what the big deal was. The show was funny in some parts, sad in other parts, and pretty sentimental a lot of the time. What was so hard to understand about that? The American people might be getting ready to vote another Republican into the White House, but that didn't mean they were stupid about everything.
He smiled at her, displaying teeth too big and white to be real. "You've got star written all over you, sweetheart. She's the real thing, isn't she, Jacko?"
"Uh— Thanks, Mr. Evans."
"Call me Jeffrey, sweetheart. And I mean it. Really. You're going to be another Gary Coleman."
He started raving about all her natural talent and
They had stuck her need for a home in the script, right along with all her secret feelings about Eric Dillon, although how they'd figured that out, she had no idea, since she certainly hadn't come out and told them. Maybe it wouldn't have been quite so humiliating if they had made Janie a mature, self-sufficient sixteen-year-old like herself, but instead they had turned her into a puny little thirteen-year-old retard.
She still got indignant whenever she thought about it.
As the director ended his conversation with his assistant, she approached him.
"Mr. Swackhammer—"
"Please, Honey. Call me Jack. We're all family here."
But they weren't her family. What should have been the most exciting time of her life was being ruined because Sophie refused to leave the park to come to California and Gordon Delaweese spent all his time at the new apartment she and Chantal had moved into. With Chantal paying so much attention to Gordon and with Sophie still in South Carolina, Honey was feeling all jangly, as if she didn't belong anywhere.
Working on the television show wasn't like she'd imagined it, either. After having been so nice to her the day they had met, Dash Coogan had gradually changed. He'd been real helpful to her at first, but then it seemed the friendlier she got, the more he backed off. Now he barely spoke to her unless they were on-camera together. And the only time Eric Dillon had sought her out was to ask her if Chantal would be coming around.
The director looked back down at his clipboard. She remembered her most pressing grievance. "I've got to talk to you about this haircut."
"Shoot."
"It's embarrassing."
"What do you mean?"
"It looks like somebody put a dog's dish on top of my head and cut right around it." The sides were cut high over her ears and the back formed a straight line two inches above her nape. Her bangs fell long
and fine past her eyebrows, making the whole thing look off balance.
"It's great, Honey. Perfect for the part."
"I'm going to be seventeen in December. What kind of haircut is this for a girl who's almost seventeen?"
"Janie's thirteen. You have to get used to thinking younger."
"That's another thing. I saw that press kit you sent out, and it gives my real age as thirteen."
"That was Ross's idea. Audiences don't like it when they find out kid actors are lots older than the part they're playing. You're small, and you're an unknown.
Ross wants to keep you away from the press for
a while until you get your bearings, so it doesn't really make much difference, now, does it?"
Not to him, maybe. But it certainly did to her.
"Jacko! Honey! You're doing great, sweetheart. Just great."
One of the older network executives, a nervous-looking man in his late fifties, popped a little white pill
in his mouth as he came up to them. She stepped back before he could chuck her under the chin as he'd done that morning.
"I think we've got a hit in the making here," he said with too much heartiness.
Even without his eyelid twitching, she would have known that he didn't believe a word he was saying. The network was nervous because they said the new concept for The Dash Coogan Show wasn't really situation comedy but it wasn't quite drama either, and they were worried about confusing the audience.
Honey didn't see what the big deal was. The show was funny in some parts, sad in other parts, and pretty sentimental a lot of the time. What was so hard to understand about that? The American people might be getting ready to vote another Republican into the White House, but that didn't mean they were stupid about everything.
He smiled at her, displaying teeth too big and white to be real. "You've got star written all over you, sweetheart. She's the real thing, isn't she, Jacko?"
"Uh— Thanks, Mr. Evans."
"Call me Jeffrey, sweetheart. And I mean it. Really. You're going to be another Gary Coleman."
He started raving about all her natural talent and
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