poke her in the back. It was Davy. He grinned and raised his eyebrows. Then he turned away without saying anything, but that didn’t matter. Maryellen knew that Davy’s grin was a tiny, silent, split-second celebration just between the two of them. Davy was letting her know that he realized how the news about the polio vaccine meant even more to her than it did to most people, because when she was younger, she had had polio. She was all better now. Really, the only reminder was that one leg was a tiny bit weaker than the other, and her lungs were extra sensitive to cold.
But Maryellen remembered very well how much polio had hurt. Sometimes in her dreams she had polio again, and the heavy, dark, frightened feeling of being lost in pain and worry came back. With all her heart, she was glad that now, due to Dr. Salk, no one else—neither her friends, nor her sisters or brothers, nor children she’d never met—would ever have to know that terrible feeling. And she was glad that even though Davy didn’t seem to want to be her friend anymore, he understood how she felt.
“Well, I can’t say that I’m looking forward to getting a shot,” said Karen Stohlman as the girls filed out of the auditorium. “I hate shots.” She turned to Maryellen and said, “You’re a lucky duck, Ellie. You won’t have to get a shot because you already had polio.”
Maryellen didn’t exactly think she was a lucky duck. First of all, she wasn’t lucky at all to have had a terrible illness like polio. Second, she actually felt sort of left out because she wouldn’t be getting a shot like everybody else. She wanted to be part of something important and historic, something that was going to change the world for the better.
“I won’t be getting a shot, either,” said Carol Turner, another girl in their class. “My mother says vaccinations are dangerous.” Carol shivered. “You know, when you get a vaccination, they’re putting a dead virus in you.”
“Eww!” said Karen King. “I don’t want anybody to put viruses in me, dead or alive. Now I’m scared to get a shot!”
“Are you kidding?” Maryellen asked in horrified disbelief. “Finally there’s a shot to protect you from a really terrible disease, a disease that can cripple you or even kill you, and you’re afraid to get it?”
Carol Turner shrugged. “I bet a lot of people think the vaccine is dangerous like my mom does, so they won’t get a shot.”
“But—but—” Maryellen sputtered, stunned speechless with outrage. Just then, she had a brainstorm. She stopped still right in the middle of the hallway and announced to her friends, “I’ve decided about my birthday party.”
“It’s a movie-star party, right?” said Karen Stohlman.
“No,” said Maryellen. A movie-star party seemed self-indulgent and frivolous now. She had thought of a way that her birthday could Do Something Important. “We’re going to put on a show. And the point of the show will be to encourage people to get a polio shot. We’ll charge ten cents admission, and send the money to the March of Dimes to help pay for the polio vaccine for poor children.”
Angela hopped and clapped her hands in glee. “And I thought the movie-star idea was good!” she said. “A show is much better!”
Maryellen agreed. She was excited, pleased, and proud that she had thought of a way to help Dr. Salk fight polio. And she felt certain that she could figure out a way to wear her bridesmaid dress in her show, too.
Rock Around the Clock
All the performers—the two Karens and Angela, plus Maryellen’s sisters Carolyn and Beverly—were sitting on the driveway facing the carport, just the way the audience would be for the real show. Maryellen’s two little brothers, Tom and Mikey, were sitting on the driveway, too, with Scooter between them. The boys had begged and begged to be in “Maryellen’s Dr. Salt show,” which Tom kept on saying no matter how many times she told him the name was Salk, not Salt. Finally, Mom said that she should let the boys be in the show and keep them out of Mom’s hair while she sewed. So Maryellen gave in. She wanted to encourage Mom to sew because the deadline for her bridesmaid dress was drawing nearer and nearer.
“Look, everybody!” Maryellen sang out. “I made posters to advertise our show.” She held up two of her posters. One showed the heads and shoulders of rows and rows of smiling children and the other showed a giant dime. On the posters, Maryellen had printed, “Stop polio! Get a shot!” Across the bottom, she’d written, “You can help. Come to a show at the Larkins’ house on Saturday, May 7, at 3 p.m. 10 cents admission to be donated to the March of Dimes.”
“Ooooh,” everyone murmured appreciatively.
“The posters are swell,” said Karen King.
“I made three of each kind,” said Maryellen proudly.
“Great!” said Carolyn. “We’ll put them up all around the neighborhood.”
“Ellie, you are such a good artist!” added Angela. “You’re as good as Grandma Moses.”
“Thank you,” said Maryellen, pleased to be compared to one of the most famous artists of 1955. “Now, pretend there are sheets hanging behind me like theater curtains, hiding the garage part of the carport so that it’s backstage.”
“Okay,” giggled the girls.
Maryellen went on, “I’ll read the script out loud, and you can each decide what part you want to play.”
“Hurray!” everyone cheered in happy anticipation.
Before Maryellen had read one word, Davy and Wayne appeared from next door. Davy was being pushed from behind by his mother, who had her hands on his shoulders to propel him forward. “Davy wants to be in your little show, Ellie, sweetie,” said Mrs. Fenstermacher. “Your mother told me about it when she called for some sewing advice, and I thought it was the cutest idea. Just darling. And I said, ‘Davy, you are going to be in Ellie’s adorable birthday-party polio show.’ He’s shy, but he really wants to. Don’t you, hon?”
“I guess so,” said Davy, with about as much enthusiasm as he’d have for eating a bowl of worms. Maryellen knew he never would have come over on his own.
“Uh, all right,” she said. She didn’t mind Davy being in the show. In fact, she was glad—except that Wayne would tag along as always.
Mrs. Fenstermacher went inside to give Mrs. Larkin her sewing scissors, and Wayne flung himself onto the driveway. He smirked up at Maryellen, making it clear that he was not going anywhere. As usual, Wayne was wearing his propeller beanie hat. And as usual, she wished the propeller would lift Wayne up like a helicopter and carry him far, far away.
Maryellen ignored Wayne and began to read the script she had written. “Fighting Polio. Act One. In Dr. Jonas Salk’s laboratory.”
Maryellen was so proud of her script that she could practically burst! Her show was a musical. She had written different
