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And once Evan came and we learned what he had discovered through his computer searches, maybe not ever again, if we continued to sleep here.

7 Stepping Out

As if there was a concerted plan to challenge us or drive us to the very limits of our stamina and determination, our teachers bore down on us in the days that followed, keeping us in sessions longer, demanding we practice our various talents more, criticizing us continually. The warm, encouraging beginnings were turned into distant memories by the long hours, the constant repetition, and practical disappearance of compliments. Everyone but Howard began to wonder if we were now seen as potential failures, and this was Madame Senetsky's way of ending the struggle. Perhaps she hoped to drive us out or cause one or more of us to quit.

Cinnamon especially began to have those suspicions. She and Howard were practically hoarse every morning. They were working with Mr. Marlowe on stage now, and he was after them to project, project, project. He no sooner had them memorize one scene from one play when he handed them another and told them they were to do it without scripts the following morning. Their evenings were absorbed by their rehearsals. That and the regular voice and diction classes kept their vocal cords very busy.

Madame Senetsky began sitting in on all our sessions, pounding her cane after each criticism and complaint as if to put a dramatic period or

exclamation mark at the end. She rarely smiled. All of us felt her eyes on us. They were like two pinpointed lights searching for weaknesses, mistakes, and signs of discouragement.

She lived up to her promise about the makeup artist. too. Each of us was analyzed and then redesigned, so to speak. Ice was infuriated about the cutting of her hair. Cinnamon hated her makeup, the new lipstick and nail polish that were brighter than her usual colors. Ironically. Rose thought she was being neglected because the consensus was that she should be left "natural." except for a little lipstick. Her hair was tied in either a pony tail or a bun when she danced in rehearsal. I was given some highlights, but my hair was only trimmed at the bangs. I was directed to use a different shampoo and conditioner and made to feel like an absolute country bumpkin when it came to taking care of myself.

"Stop this griping and whining! Experts are necessary to handle you when you are in the theater or on the stage," Ms. Fairchild lectured when she overheard Ice mumble a complaint. It was as if she was lingering just around corners or behind a door. She pounced on us.

"You need people not only to advise you on how you should look and dress, but publicists to handle your public appearances and relationships. It is the price you pay to be famous. The trade-off is you become a public commodity. In other words, your life isn't your own, not the same way it is for so-called everyday people.'

"You mean, like you?" Cinnamon fired back at her, her eyes taking on that small, dark, darting look she often had.

"No." Ms. Fairchild said, barely skipping a beat. "I'm one of the experts Madame Senetsky depends upon when it comes to her students.

"And as one of those experts. I would advise all of you to contain your negative comments and show more appreciation. There is literally a line of candidates just chafing at the bit outside this very door. Why, the wind stirred up by your exit won't even die down before one of them takes your place."

She glared at us and left. Despite her comments. Steven was vocal about his displeasure concerning what they asked him to do with his long hair. He could keep it long. but they wanted him to have it more styled, neater.

"I'm a pianist, not a male model. Can you imagine someone telling Beethoven how to wear his hair?"

Howard, on the other hand, acted as if he was comfortable with every suggestion, soaking up the criticism and comments like some medical patient who had turned his whole life over to a specialist.

He infuriated us all by saying. "Ms. Fairchild is right. She's not my favorite person, but what she's telling you is correct."

"Like we need to be reminded every day by her and now by you," Cinnamon retorted. "'And if I hear one more time about the line of candidates just outside this door..."

"Do you doubt it?" Howard asked her. "I'm beginning to." she said, which took him by surprise.

Soon after our makeovers, Madame Senetsky began to pop up everywhere, and not only in our classes and sessions. Just like Laura Fairchild, she seemed to lie in wait, ready to swoop down on each of us, criticizing the way we walked, held our shoulders and heads, dressed, ate. and. I began to think, even slept. It wasn't long before we were all turning somewhat paranoid.

"Every once in a while. I have this tingling at the back of my neck and turn around looking for someone." Ice revealed. "It's like someone's there, someone's always watching."

"I could swear the shadows in this house move when I move," Rose added.

I had to admit having the same feelings often.

"Maybe we really are being observed every single moment of the day," Cinnamon conjectured. 'Maybe spying on us through windows is just the tip of the iceberg. Who knows? Our phones might be tapped. There might even be cameras secretly placed in our rooms."

"ThenI'm glad Evan didn't tell me anything over the phone," Rose said.

He had informed her that he was coming in ten days, which would be in time for what we learned was to be our first Performance Night. For this. Madame Senetsky relented and, through Laura Fairchild, informed us we could each invite two guests. Naturally, it was expected we would invite our own parents, if possible, but friends were permitted.

My mother and father wanted to come. but Daddy was pressured with the fall harvest. I called Chandler, and he said he would try to be there. He had a friend at Columbia University who could arrange for him to stay at his place. Cinnamon was tying to get her parents to come, but her father had to have some adjustments made on his pacemaker and would be in the hospital and under observation that weekend. Her mother wasn't sure she would come without him.

Rose revealed that her mother was coming into New York this week specifically to have lunch with her. She worked up the courage to go to Madame Senetsky to ask for the day off. and Madame Senetsky approved of the schedule changes so Rose could meet and spend time with her mother.

Ice was quiet about her parents. Whenever we asked her. She said. "I'm not sure yet."

Then. on Wednesday, she joined Cinnamon and me in Rose's room and told us her parents were getting a divorce.

"I told you how my daddy had been shot on his security job and how long his recuperation has been. Mama's lost patience with him and. I just found out, she has moved out of the house,"