side, Ellie. Your act will make people appreciate all the other acts more!” But Maryellen didn’t feel cheered; she felt worried.
“Fighting Polio,” Maryellen began again. She was surprised and gratified that this time, as she was making her speech and singing her song, everyone was watching for a change. They were even nodding and smiling. They seemed to be really enjoying her act. Maybe I’m getting better at it, she thought. Or maybe they’re just finally beginning to appreciate the important things I’m saying.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, Maryellen caught a movement. She whirled around and found Wayne right behind her. He’d turned his eyeglasses upside down and made his hair stick out all over his head so that he looked like a mad scientist from a science-fiction comic book. He had helped himself to two test tubes from her chemistry set, which Mom allowed her to use only in the carport because of the rotten-egg smells the chemicals made. Wayne had squirted water from his squirt gun into one test tube and then poured the water from that test tube into another, as if he were Dr. Salk inventing the polio vaccine. With a sinking heart and a flash of indignation, Maryellen realized that Wayne had been behind her hamming it up the whole time, pretending to be Jonas Salk and miming the actions she’d described Dr. Salk doing in her speech.
As Maryellen watched, speechless, Wayne began shooting his squirt gun straight up in the air so that water flew up like a fountain as he sang,
Get a shot so you won’t catch
Poh-lee, oh-lee, oh!
“Cut it out, Wayne!” Maryellen ordered. But her voice was lost in the claps and cheers of the other kids.
“Wayne, that was hilarious!” said Karen Stohlman. “You should do that in the real show tomorrow.”
“Yes!” said Karen King. “It’s a riot! The audience will love it.”
“No!” exploded Maryellen. “I don’t even want Wayne to come to the show, much less to be in it and ruin my act by making fun of it.”
“Oh, come on, Ellie,” coaxed Angela. “Wayne’s funny.”
“It’s my show and my act and my idea and my party and my birthday,” Maryellen said furiously, “so I get to say if Wayne can be in it or not. And I say, he cannot. And that’s final.”
Everyone was stunned into silence. Even Wayne had nothing to say. An odd expression crossed his face as he replaced the test tubes, and Maryellen realized that she’d hurt Wayne’s feelings. Good! she thought. Now he sees how it feels.
“Listen, Ellie, people aren’t puppets,” said Karen King. “You can’t just boss us around and make us do what you want us to do.”
“All right then,” said Maryellen. She was fed up. “Do what you want. And I will do what I want. I quit.”
“But you can’t quit,” wailed Carolyn. “It’s your party.”
“We can’t do the show without you,” said Davy.
Maryellen shrugged. “You should have thought of that before,” she said. “It’s too late now.” And she flounced off into the house, slamming the screen door behind her.
Show Biz
Maryellen just toyed with her food. The minute dinner was over, she went outside, even though Mom had set up tray tables in the living room so that everyone could have dessert in front of the TV while they watched The Lone Ranger. Hearing her brothers and sisters all shout “Hi-yo, Silver!” along with the Lone Ranger as he called out to his horse made Maryellen feel as lone as the Ranger—and lonely and lonesome, too.
So she was glad when, after a little while, Dad and Scooter came outside. “Hi, sport,” Dad said to her. “Want to help Scooter and me wash the car?”
“Yes!” said Maryellen. She loved getting the car—and herself—wet and sudsy. Dad handed her a bucket and a sponge, and she went to work washing the taillights. They were her favorite parts of the station wagon to wash because they reminded her of giant eyes, and the big tail fins reminded her of enormous, arching silver eyebrows.
“Rather a chilly atmosphere at dinner tonight, I thought,” said Dad as he untangled the hose. “What’s going on?”
“I had a big fight with everybody at rehearsal today,” Maryellen said, “and I quit the show. Since it’s my show, they can’t really do it without me, so the whole thing is off.”
“Hmm,” said Dad. “That’s too bad. I guess that means that your birthday party is off, too.”
“Yes!” said Maryellen, indignant. “It’s so unfair. It’s terrible. I’m getting cheated out of my party, and none of it was my fault. Wayne ruined everything. I wanted the show to say something serious and important about polio, and he just made fun of it.” She sighed. “I guess maybe it was a silly idea, anyway. I mean that my show could really do any good.”
Dad squirted the car with the hose for a minute or two, and then he said, “You know, your show sort of reminds me of our bomb shelter.”
“It does?” asked Maryellen. She wrung out her soapy sponge so that the water fell on her flip-flops to cool off her feet. “How?” She knew that bomb shelters were places for people to go to in case an atomic bomb fell. At school, there was no bomb shelter, so during air-raid drills, the students sat under their desks or crouched in the hallways with their arms crossed over their heads. At home, Dad had made a bomb shelter in a dug-out area underneath their house. Sometimes, she and Beverly played in the bomb shelter. Dad didn’t mind as long as they didn’t drink up the water, eat up the food, or use up the batteries in the flashlights he’d put there in case of emergency. Maryellen couldn’t see how the bomb shelter was like her polio show at all.
“If an atomic bomb fell on Daytona Beach, it would wipe out everything here,” said Dad. He nodded toward the bomb shelter as he swooshed a rag in the bucket of soapy water. “Our bomb shelter would probably be useless. But it’s the most I can do to try to protect us. It’s all I can do, so it’s worth my effort. And your polio show is worth your effort, Ellie, because even if it isn’t much, it’s something that you can do. Something is always better than nothing. Trying is always better than giving up, right?”
“So you think I shouldn’t cancel the show?” said Maryellen. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not exactly,” said Dad, wringing out his rag. “I’m asking you if the real reason you’re canceling the show is that you think it won’t do any good.”
“Well, partly I’m
