Free Seeing Stars by Diane Hammond Page A

saw Bethany seek her out with a look of adoration. And Ruth knew exactly why, because she could feel it, too: here they were, in Los Angeles, making a movie that all Bethy’s friends were going to see, starring kids she revered, on an honest-to-God movie set. Any lingering disappointment from the Raven callback had been washed away by the awesome magic of Hollywood.

    D ICK F IORI WRAPPED THE MORNING SHOOT AT TWELVE o’clock exactly and announced that the actors had one hour for lunch. Everyone, including parents and set-sitters, was required to leave the set, so Ruth picked up her purse and headed outside to meet the girls. They’d already lined up in the theater parking lot, where two tents had been pitched, one for the union and the other for the nonunion extras. Reba had been right: from what Ruth could see, the extras got boxed lunches consisting of a thin and unadorned turkey sandwich, potato chips, and an apple. From the aroma wafting out of the other tent, the union actors were getting an assortment of Thai dishes with a salad bar and dessert buffet.
    Once they’d made it through the lunch line, which moved at roughly the same glacial speed as rush-hour traffic, Ruth found a spot of shade beneath a tired and spindly oak tree. There were no chairs anywhere, so she and the girls sat on the cement.
    “See?” Reba said balefully, poking around inside her lunch box. “I told you.”
    “Did you see Clara at all?” Ruth asked Bethany. “I sat with her mom this morning, up in the gallery.”
    “Was she the girl at the Raven callback? Yeah, she was in my classroom. She started out in a different room that was just for the actors with speaking parts, but the teacher had a nervous breakdown or something. Clara said she kept staring at her and asking how she was feeling and stuff, if she felt light-headed or weird or anything. Then she sent her to our room.”
    Ruth suppressed a smile. Bethany bit into her sandwich. “We talked a lot,” she said through a mouth full of gummy white bread and turkey. “I like her—she’s funny.”
    “I thought you were supposed to be doing schoolwork,” Ruth said.
    Bethany gave Ruth her duh look. “No one did schoolwork, Mom.”
    “Well, somebody must have.”
    Bethany shrugged. “Anyway, the teacher and this other woman just sat outside the room and let us do whatever we wanted.”
    Vindicated, Allison said, “I told you they don’t care.”
    Bethany started waving at someone. Ruth looked around and saw Clara emerge from the union tent with an overflowing plate. She came over and sat down beside Bethany.
    “Where’s your mom?” Ruth asked, looking for Vee.
    “She had to go pick up my little brother. You’re not supposed to leave a minor on the set unaccompanied, but she does it all the time when there are a ton of people. It’s not like anyone’s keeping track.”
    “Well, if anyone asks, you just say you’re with me,” Ruth offered. She stood up with effort—she really had to lose thirty pounds—and asked who wanted something to drink.
    “Diet Coke,” said Allison.
    “Milk,” said Bethany. “Chocolate. Please.”
    “Coke,” said Reba. “ Regular Coke.”
    “Orange juice,” Hillary said primly. “I haven’t had a fruit or a vegetable yet.”
    Clara just hoisted her can of soda and said, “I’m good.”
    Ruth threaded her way among the little camps of kids and parents and snuck in the wrong side of the nonunion tent, grabbing cans and cartons. When she got back the girls were deep in conversation.
    “My mom thinks I’m going to be famous,” she heard Bethany say.
    “Everyone’s mom thinks they’re going to be famous,” said Hillary.
    “Not mine,” Clara said cheerfully. “My mom thinks me and my brother are going to get little piddly-ass jobs until high school and then tank.”
    Ruth sat down with a grunt. “What do you mean, tank?”
    “Stop booking. Which it pretty much doesn’t take a genius to figure out, because everyone stops