Calli Be Gold by Michele Weber Hurwitz Read Free Book Online Page A

once,’ I know.”
    “Hey, you could move to Hollywood, Cal,” Alex offers, grinning at me. “Ride around in a limo and go to lots of cool parties.”
    Becca snorts again.
    “Look,” Dad says. “All I’m asking is that you give it a shot. You know, your aunt Marjorie had a little stint in the theater … before she went crazy and ran off to New Zealand, that is.”
    “She did?” Aunt Marjorie is my dad’s younger sister. I’ve never met her. She lives farther away than Uncle Joel. Grandma Gold says something went wrong with her but it certainly isn’t
her
fault that Marjorie turned out to be a lunatic.
    “She acted in college,” Dad says, nodding. “Even had the lead in one of the big plays. Had such a bright futureahead of her. Agents were calling. I never could understand why she did what she did.” He raises his eyebrows. “Maybe you take after her.”
    “Okay, Dad, I’ll think about it,” I say. Then it dawns on me that he is comparing me to the relative in our family who is known as offbeat and bizarre, the one who everyone says marches to a different drummer. The one who wants nothing to do with anyone else.
    “Good girl. You give it some thought.” Dad reaches into his shirt pocket. “Here’s a little brochure you can read over.” He claps a hand to his forehead. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.”
    I glance at the title of the brochure, which asks:
Have you always wanted to be on the stage?
and my immediate reaction is no. Never. Not even once.
    Dad bolts up from his chair, sticks one arm out and puts the other hand across his chest. “ ‘To be, or not to be,’ ” he croons with a British accent. “ ‘That is the question.’ ”
    “What are you doing?” Becca says, rolling her eyes.
    “I’m demonstrating a little Shakespeare for my soon-to-be-actress daughter.” He beams at me. Then he closes one eye, stretches his arms forward, and positions his hands into a frame. “I can picture the Academy Award now.”
    I look back at the brochure, which shows a group of people wearing black turtlenecks.
Let us bring out your inner muse,
it states.
    All I can think is what is a muse? And do I want to bring mine out?
    I slide the brochure into the back pocket of my jeans as Dad sits down in his chair and winks at me. “This could be it,” he says, nodding. “This could be your passion.”
    My passion, I think.
    Improv?
    Maybe …
    Mom is starting to clear the dinner dishes when I see that Alex and Becca have conveniently left the kitchen again. With one more wink at me, Dad grabs his phone from the counter and says he needs to pick up his messages.
    I look at Mom. “I have homework,” I inform her. “I didn’t get it done after school because Grandma Gold was here. She made me play Scrabble with her.”
    “Oh, fine,” she sighs, pushing her hair back from her forehead. “I guess it’s just me and this big mess.”
    I feel bad when I see the pile of dirty dishes stacked by the sink. “Do you want me to help you?” I ask.
    She doesn’t answer right away. She looks a little sad. Then her voice comes out kind of dreamy-sounding. “I read somewhere that the average mother washes something like one hundred thousand dishes in her life,” she says. “Or was it three hundred thousand?” Her shoulders sag. “I can’t remember.”
    “Wow,” I say. “Either way, that’s a lot of dishes.… Mom, I’ll help you. I don’t have that much homework.”
    “No, no, it’s okay.” She gives me a weak smile. “Go on. I’m fine.” She looks away from me and turns on the water at the sink.
    I take a last glance at her, drag my backpack up to my room, park it on the floor, and pull out the sheet of math problems due tomorrow. Before I start, I look around my room. You could say that it is in a state of transition right now. I have Becca’s old furniture, because she is redoing her room so it can be a teenage hangout kind of place. Mom is letting her order