in the corner all by myself because there were no eggplants at Thanksgiving dinner, and I started to cry.
Me: And all your purple face paint got washed away.
Stevie: And you tried to convince everyone you were a giant grape!
Joey: That kid’s in my same class in third grade and he still calls me Eggplant.
Stevie: No way!
Me: Stevie, remember that time you wore your pajamas to school by mistake?
Stevie: It was pajama day!
Me: Was not! OK, then, remember when you stole that blue marble from the Ben Franklin store, and . . .
Joey: What? You stole ?
Me: Don’t worry. Stevie felt so bad, she went and turned herself in. All they did was make her put it back.
Stevie: OK. My turn. Remember when Joey begged Mom and Dad to see the elephants at the zoo, and then as soon as she saw them, she threw up ?
Me: That’s the best!
Joey: How come all the throwing-up stories are about me?
Me: They just are. We never throw up. OK, I have one about me. How about the time I convinced you to put marshmallows between your toes?
Joey: I don’t remember that.
Stevie: Me neither.
Me: Good. Because we haven’t done it yet. We’re going to do it right now.
Stevie: No way am I putting marshmallows in my toes.
Joey: Toe jam!
Me: It’s a Health and Beauty Tip. I read it in a magazine. Put marshmallows between your toes, and it makes it easier to paint your toenails.
Joey: Glitter toenails — cool!
Stevie: Like I really care about toenails. And just one time I’d like to see one of these famous magazine articles you’re always quoting. Like how to eat pizza without smearing your lip gloss.
Me: Check my locker. They’re there.
Stevie: You just say it’s in a magazine to make it sound important.
Joey: C’mon, Stevie. It sounds like fun. And we can remember it later.
Stevie: What about the Sisters Club? Marshmallow feet are not in the charter. There are rules.
Me: New rule. Joey, write this down. “All members of the Sisters Club must try putting marshmallows between their toes if they want to be in the club.”
Our Town
Starring Alex
I come from a family of actors. Not just Mom and Dad, but a long line.
I love, love, love living in Acton, because we have a one-hundred-year-old theater and this town has had plays 4-ever (as Joey would say).
It all started with our great-great-grandmother, Hepzibiah McNutty Reel. Yep, that’s her name, for real. My dad has the family tree to prove it.
When I star in a play, people say, “That’s Hezzy’s girl,” like she’s my real-life grandma living down the street or something, even though she’d be like a million years old.
Stevie says how can I be happy about being descended from anybody with the name Hepzibiah? She thinks our whole family is Mc-Nutty!
I think old Hezzy is cool. They say she rode a horse for thirteen hours through so much snow that her feet froze right to the stirrups. Bugs and bears and stuff didn’t stop her. Not one bit. But the coolest thing? She wore bloomers so she could look like a lady but ride horses like a man.
Hey, maybe that’s where I get my fashion sense.
Acton wasn’t anything but a wide spot in the road back then, so Hezzy put on plays at the old Raven Theater just to give people around here something to do.
Mom wants a real house someday, which means a new one. But this house has history. I mean, Hezzy’s ghost could be hanging around in the rafters with the spiderwebs, watching over me. I like thinking Hezzy might have looked out the same window I do, practicing lines for a play.
How could I not love acting, right? As Dad says, “You’re a Reel. It’s in the blood.”
My whole family is crazy about acting, but I hate standing up in front of an audience. I once told my dad I was missing the Reel acting gene.
“Hogwash!” (He actually said that.) “Everybody likes a good story. Just because you don’t want to perform in front of people, like Alex, doesn’t mean you don’t have
Me: And all your purple face paint got washed away.
Stevie: And you tried to convince everyone you were a giant grape!
Joey: That kid’s in my same class in third grade and he still calls me Eggplant.
Stevie: No way!
Me: Stevie, remember that time you wore your pajamas to school by mistake?
Stevie: It was pajama day!
Me: Was not! OK, then, remember when you stole that blue marble from the Ben Franklin store, and . . .
Joey: What? You stole ?
Me: Don’t worry. Stevie felt so bad, she went and turned herself in. All they did was make her put it back.
Stevie: OK. My turn. Remember when Joey begged Mom and Dad to see the elephants at the zoo, and then as soon as she saw them, she threw up ?
Me: That’s the best!
Joey: How come all the throwing-up stories are about me?
Me: They just are. We never throw up. OK, I have one about me. How about the time I convinced you to put marshmallows between your toes?
Joey: I don’t remember that.
Stevie: Me neither.
Me: Good. Because we haven’t done it yet. We’re going to do it right now.
Stevie: No way am I putting marshmallows in my toes.
Joey: Toe jam!
Me: It’s a Health and Beauty Tip. I read it in a magazine. Put marshmallows between your toes, and it makes it easier to paint your toenails.
Joey: Glitter toenails — cool!
Stevie: Like I really care about toenails. And just one time I’d like to see one of these famous magazine articles you’re always quoting. Like how to eat pizza without smearing your lip gloss.
Me: Check my locker. They’re there.
Stevie: You just say it’s in a magazine to make it sound important.
Joey: C’mon, Stevie. It sounds like fun. And we can remember it later.
Stevie: What about the Sisters Club? Marshmallow feet are not in the charter. There are rules.
Me: New rule. Joey, write this down. “All members of the Sisters Club must try putting marshmallows between their toes if they want to be in the club.”
Our Town
Starring Alex
I come from a family of actors. Not just Mom and Dad, but a long line.
I love, love, love living in Acton, because we have a one-hundred-year-old theater and this town has had plays 4-ever (as Joey would say).
It all started with our great-great-grandmother, Hepzibiah McNutty Reel. Yep, that’s her name, for real. My dad has the family tree to prove it.
When I star in a play, people say, “That’s Hezzy’s girl,” like she’s my real-life grandma living down the street or something, even though she’d be like a million years old.
Stevie says how can I be happy about being descended from anybody with the name Hepzibiah? She thinks our whole family is Mc-Nutty!
I think old Hezzy is cool. They say she rode a horse for thirteen hours through so much snow that her feet froze right to the stirrups. Bugs and bears and stuff didn’t stop her. Not one bit. But the coolest thing? She wore bloomers so she could look like a lady but ride horses like a man.
Hey, maybe that’s where I get my fashion sense.
Acton wasn’t anything but a wide spot in the road back then, so Hezzy put on plays at the old Raven Theater just to give people around here something to do.
Mom wants a real house someday, which means a new one. But this house has history. I mean, Hezzy’s ghost could be hanging around in the rafters with the spiderwebs, watching over me. I like thinking Hezzy might have looked out the same window I do, practicing lines for a play.
How could I not love acting, right? As Dad says, “You’re a Reel. It’s in the blood.”
My whole family is crazy about acting, but I hate standing up in front of an audience. I once told my dad I was missing the Reel acting gene.
“Hogwash!” (He actually said that.) “Everybody likes a good story. Just because you don’t want to perform in front of people, like Alex, doesn’t mean you don’t have
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