Mrs. Cooper, holding baby Megan in her arms, watched silently as her husband
exchanged harsh murmurs with Mr. Crosswire in the study. She dared not
interrupt the two men. Neither did any of the other Cooper family members, or
Muffy, or the two cameramen. Minutes passed. Finally the two stopped scowling
at each other, and a few seconds later, they actually shook hands.
Quinn, Logan, Van, Dallin, Odette, and their mother felt a wave of relief pass over them. Had an agreement finally been reached? They stood motionless as Mr. Crosswire and Mr. Cooper strolled out of the study and into the living room.
Mr. Cooper cleared his throat. "Believe it or not, Ed Crosswire said something reasonable," he announced. His children gasped in unison. Visions of large houses, spacious bedrooms, backyard swimming pools, and college diplomas danced in their heads. He motioned toward Van. "Since Van was responsible for bringing Muffy safely home, he will decide whether or not to accept the reward money."
Van's mother and siblings all turned to face him in astonishment. Fear seized his heart. Rivulets of sweat began to form on his brow. He hated to sweat--the sweat always pooled on his beak, and had been known to run up his nose when he opened his mouth too wide.
"Me?" he thought frantically. "I get to decide? A quarter of a million dollars? How can I say no? I'm just a kid!"
The stares of his family members felt like a thousand sunlamps. "I know you won't disappoint me, son," his father said, but it sounded more like an order than an expression of confidence.
"What would my dad want?" Van pondered anxiously and silently. "What would Muffy want?"
"Take the money, Van," Odette urged him. "Take it. Say yes."
"Dude, it's a lot of money," Logan remarked.
"Um...uh..." Van stammered. The two cameramen took direct aim at his face, and it seemed for a moment that everyone in the universe was watching him, and that they would live or die depending on what he chose to do.
"Give the boy a break," said Mr. Crosswire as he waved the cameras away. "He doesn't have to decide right away. I'll give him a few days to think about it."
Van sighed with elation while his brothers and sisters groaned.
"You earned it, Van," Quinn pressured him. "No one will think less of you for accepting the money."
"That's what you think," said Muffy to herself as she gazed raptly at the nervous duck boy. If Van took the money--and how could he not--then it would confirm what she suspected about him, and her just wrath would be pulled down upon his head...
"Uh, I'm not sure," Van finally spoke. "It is a lot of money, but we've gotten along fine before, and...oh, I can't make up my mind!"
"Take your time, Van," said Mr. Crosswire comfortingly. "Take your time. I'll come back tomorrow." He put a hand on Muffy's shoulder and began to lead her toward the front door, the two cameramen following.
As she looked over her shoulder at the perplexed Van, Muffy suddenly considered the possibility that she had misjudged the boy. Was there any chance he might decide not to accept the reward? Or was he simply trying to avoid the appearance of ambition, like Caesar turning down the crown?
----
"Hey ho, the boatmen row, floating down the river, the Ohio..."
By holding up her ear and pressing it to the wall, Fern was able to make out Wyatt Holberg's golden voice as he belted out an old folk song. He was good--very good--and a nice boy, too. Not like the aardvark girl who had done nothing but belittle her competitors until she was called in. To be fair, her rendition of "Un bel di" from "Madame Butterfly" had been untouchable, but how many kids would tune in to watch an opera-singing cow?
The door opened, and the monkey man stuck out his head again. "Fern Walters."
Fern leaped to her feet, leaving behind the children who had come in after her as she followed the man into the audition room, clutching her musical score.
It was a small room with bare walls. An upright piano sat in the center, and a young, dark-haired rat woman was seated in front of it. She smiled at Fern and wiggled her head, signaling for the girl to come closer.
Fern dodged several music stands as she walked up to the piano and handed her sheet music to the woman. She took a brief glance at it, then laid it on the top of the piano, saying, "I know it." Then, without hesitation or warning, she laid her fingers on the ivories and started to play the familiar tune.
Fern didn't miss a beat. "The way you wear your hat...the way you sip your tea...the memory of all that...no, they can't take that away from me..."
When she reached the end of the song, the rat woman seemed on the verge of tears. She gazed at Fern with amazement and took a deep breath. "You are incredible! The richness of your voice...the maturity... How old are you?"
"I'm nine," Fern replied.
The rat woman made a fist and thumped on Fern's chest. "What do you have in there, an acoustic chamber? A diva like you shouldn't be wasting her time working on a kid's show."
"I'm still in elementary school," Fern pointed out. "What else can I do? I can't pursue a professional singing career yet. And there are other things I like to do, like acting."
"You'll get plenty of chances to sing and act on this show," said the rat woman. "The dancing is left to someone else. You won't actually wear the Mini Moo costume. You'll just provide the voice."
Fern shrugged. "Whatever." She didn't feel terribly disappointed, as she had entered the audition as a favor to Mrs. Stiles, and hadn't really expected to win.
Fifteen minutes later, Fern was standing in another waiting room with all of the children who had auditioned. They chatted excitedly with each other, impatiently expecting the announcement of who would be the voice of Mini Moo.
Fern had just handed a slip of paper with her phone number to Wyatt Holberg when she noticed that the snobbish aardvark girl was approaching her with a smirk on her face. Turning to the girl, she said, "I never did get your name."
"Michaela Chanel," came the reply. "I go by Mickie. Mickie Chanel. Remember that name, because someday you'll see it in lights."
"I don't doubt it," said Fern, trying her best to be friendly with the arrogant girl. "I listened to you through the wall. You're really good."
"I'm the best," said Mickie matter-of-factly.
"Maybe so." Fern felt her patience waning. "Maybe you can sing circles around the rest of us, but that doesn't mean you're a better person."
"Of course not." Mickie seemed to take the rebuke in stride. "I mean, look at all of you. You could have walked out of here sulking, but instead you've decided to stick around and share in my victory. I could never be that selfless."
Before Fern had a chance to turn away from Mickie in disgust, a door opened and the same monkey man appeared. The eyes of all the kids turned to him. The room became utterly silent.
"We have a winner," he announced. "Fern Walters, will you please come with me?"
Groans filled the room. Several of the kids clapped and cheered as they thronged the astounded Fern. She couldn't believe it...she hadn't set out to win, but she had nonetheless...
Overwhelmed by her triumph, she had to be pushed by her friends toward the door where the monkey man stood. "Good job, Fern," she heard Wyatt mutter in her ear.
As she started to follow the man into the corridor, she looked back over her shoulder at Mickie, who wore a miserable scowl. "Hey, Mickie!" she called out. "I'll see you at the Met."
"Here's where you meet the other stars of the show," the monkey man told Fern as he led her into a small dressing room. An oval-shaped full-length stood at one end of the room, with a wardrobe on one side and a bureau dresser on the other. In one corner lay the segments of a bulky, black-and-white cow costume, the head resting next to the remainder of the body. And in the middle of the dressing room, a woman in a gray sweatsuit stood with her back turned to Fern and her guide.
She turned around, revealing a polar bear-like face and an expression of pure delight. Fern gasped in disbelief.
"Mrs. Stiles!" she cried out. "It IS you!"
The woman stuck a finger over her mouth. "Not so loud. I don't want the whole city to know it."
Overjoyed, Fern threw her arms around her former teacher's waist. "I'm so glad it's you," she gushed. "I was afraid it would be some strange lady."
"Or even worse, a strange man," Mrs. Stiles responded.
"Nooo," said Fern incredulously. "Mary Moo Cow can't be a man."
The door to the dressing room suddenly opened, and an unusual creature wandered in. Fern turned away from Mrs. Stiles. She almost burst out laughing when she beheld the clownish aspect of what she assumed to be the costume of Mini Moo. For the most part it resembled a smaller version of Mary Moo Cow, but the facial features were more exaggerated. It had huge, soulful eyes, an inflated black nose, and a pair of oversized buck teeth. Over its eyes hung two spider-like plastic eyelashes, which appeared as if they could be detached if it were necessary to make Mini Moo look like a boy instead of a girl.
"Fern, I'd like you to meet Mini Moo," Mrs. Stiles announced. "We found a boy to fill the costume last week. He's an excellent dancer. I believe he's someone you know."
The boy in the Mini Moo suit pirouetted about gleefully for a few seconds, then did a somersault and came up directly in front of the amused Fern. Then he released a zipper on his neck and started to remove the cow head.
Fern's jaw dropped halfway to the floor. Nothing had prepared her for this...
(To be continued...)
Quinn, Logan, Van, Dallin, Odette, and their mother felt a wave of relief pass over them. Had an agreement finally been reached? They stood motionless as Mr. Crosswire and Mr. Cooper strolled out of the study and into the living room.
Mr. Cooper cleared his throat. "Believe it or not, Ed Crosswire said something reasonable," he announced. His children gasped in unison. Visions of large houses, spacious bedrooms, backyard swimming pools, and college diplomas danced in their heads. He motioned toward Van. "Since Van was responsible for bringing Muffy safely home, he will decide whether or not to accept the reward money."
Van's mother and siblings all turned to face him in astonishment. Fear seized his heart. Rivulets of sweat began to form on his brow. He hated to sweat--the sweat always pooled on his beak, and had been known to run up his nose when he opened his mouth too wide.
"Me?" he thought frantically. "I get to decide? A quarter of a million dollars? How can I say no? I'm just a kid!"
The stares of his family members felt like a thousand sunlamps. "I know you won't disappoint me, son," his father said, but it sounded more like an order than an expression of confidence.
"What would my dad want?" Van pondered anxiously and silently. "What would Muffy want?"
"Take the money, Van," Odette urged him. "Take it. Say yes."
"Dude, it's a lot of money," Logan remarked.
"Um...uh..." Van stammered. The two cameramen took direct aim at his face, and it seemed for a moment that everyone in the universe was watching him, and that they would live or die depending on what he chose to do.
"Give the boy a break," said Mr. Crosswire as he waved the cameras away. "He doesn't have to decide right away. I'll give him a few days to think about it."
Van sighed with elation while his brothers and sisters groaned.
"You earned it, Van," Quinn pressured him. "No one will think less of you for accepting the money."
"That's what you think," said Muffy to herself as she gazed raptly at the nervous duck boy. If Van took the money--and how could he not--then it would confirm what she suspected about him, and her just wrath would be pulled down upon his head...
"Uh, I'm not sure," Van finally spoke. "It is a lot of money, but we've gotten along fine before, and...oh, I can't make up my mind!"
"Take your time, Van," said Mr. Crosswire comfortingly. "Take your time. I'll come back tomorrow." He put a hand on Muffy's shoulder and began to lead her toward the front door, the two cameramen following.
As she looked over her shoulder at the perplexed Van, Muffy suddenly considered the possibility that she had misjudged the boy. Was there any chance he might decide not to accept the reward? Or was he simply trying to avoid the appearance of ambition, like Caesar turning down the crown?
----
"Hey ho, the boatmen row, floating down the river, the Ohio..."
By holding up her ear and pressing it to the wall, Fern was able to make out Wyatt Holberg's golden voice as he belted out an old folk song. He was good--very good--and a nice boy, too. Not like the aardvark girl who had done nothing but belittle her competitors until she was called in. To be fair, her rendition of "Un bel di" from "Madame Butterfly" had been untouchable, but how many kids would tune in to watch an opera-singing cow?
The door opened, and the monkey man stuck out his head again. "Fern Walters."
Fern leaped to her feet, leaving behind the children who had come in after her as she followed the man into the audition room, clutching her musical score.
It was a small room with bare walls. An upright piano sat in the center, and a young, dark-haired rat woman was seated in front of it. She smiled at Fern and wiggled her head, signaling for the girl to come closer.
Fern dodged several music stands as she walked up to the piano and handed her sheet music to the woman. She took a brief glance at it, then laid it on the top of the piano, saying, "I know it." Then, without hesitation or warning, she laid her fingers on the ivories and started to play the familiar tune.
Fern didn't miss a beat. "The way you wear your hat...the way you sip your tea...the memory of all that...no, they can't take that away from me..."
When she reached the end of the song, the rat woman seemed on the verge of tears. She gazed at Fern with amazement and took a deep breath. "You are incredible! The richness of your voice...the maturity... How old are you?"
"I'm nine," Fern replied.
The rat woman made a fist and thumped on Fern's chest. "What do you have in there, an acoustic chamber? A diva like you shouldn't be wasting her time working on a kid's show."
"I'm still in elementary school," Fern pointed out. "What else can I do? I can't pursue a professional singing career yet. And there are other things I like to do, like acting."
"You'll get plenty of chances to sing and act on this show," said the rat woman. "The dancing is left to someone else. You won't actually wear the Mini Moo costume. You'll just provide the voice."
Fern shrugged. "Whatever." She didn't feel terribly disappointed, as she had entered the audition as a favor to Mrs. Stiles, and hadn't really expected to win.
Fifteen minutes later, Fern was standing in another waiting room with all of the children who had auditioned. They chatted excitedly with each other, impatiently expecting the announcement of who would be the voice of Mini Moo.
Fern had just handed a slip of paper with her phone number to Wyatt Holberg when she noticed that the snobbish aardvark girl was approaching her with a smirk on her face. Turning to the girl, she said, "I never did get your name."
"Michaela Chanel," came the reply. "I go by Mickie. Mickie Chanel. Remember that name, because someday you'll see it in lights."
"I don't doubt it," said Fern, trying her best to be friendly with the arrogant girl. "I listened to you through the wall. You're really good."
"I'm the best," said Mickie matter-of-factly.
"Maybe so." Fern felt her patience waning. "Maybe you can sing circles around the rest of us, but that doesn't mean you're a better person."
"Of course not." Mickie seemed to take the rebuke in stride. "I mean, look at all of you. You could have walked out of here sulking, but instead you've decided to stick around and share in my victory. I could never be that selfless."
Before Fern had a chance to turn away from Mickie in disgust, a door opened and the same monkey man appeared. The eyes of all the kids turned to him. The room became utterly silent.
"We have a winner," he announced. "Fern Walters, will you please come with me?"
Groans filled the room. Several of the kids clapped and cheered as they thronged the astounded Fern. She couldn't believe it...she hadn't set out to win, but she had nonetheless...
Overwhelmed by her triumph, she had to be pushed by her friends toward the door where the monkey man stood. "Good job, Fern," she heard Wyatt mutter in her ear.
As she started to follow the man into the corridor, she looked back over her shoulder at Mickie, who wore a miserable scowl. "Hey, Mickie!" she called out. "I'll see you at the Met."
"Here's where you meet the other stars of the show," the monkey man told Fern as he led her into a small dressing room. An oval-shaped full-length stood at one end of the room, with a wardrobe on one side and a bureau dresser on the other. In one corner lay the segments of a bulky, black-and-white cow costume, the head resting next to the remainder of the body. And in the middle of the dressing room, a woman in a gray sweatsuit stood with her back turned to Fern and her guide.
She turned around, revealing a polar bear-like face and an expression of pure delight. Fern gasped in disbelief.
"Mrs. Stiles!" she cried out. "It IS you!"
The woman stuck a finger over her mouth. "Not so loud. I don't want the whole city to know it."
Overjoyed, Fern threw her arms around her former teacher's waist. "I'm so glad it's you," she gushed. "I was afraid it would be some strange lady."
"Or even worse, a strange man," Mrs. Stiles responded.
"Nooo," said Fern incredulously. "Mary Moo Cow can't be a man."
The door to the dressing room suddenly opened, and an unusual creature wandered in. Fern turned away from Mrs. Stiles. She almost burst out laughing when she beheld the clownish aspect of what she assumed to be the costume of Mini Moo. For the most part it resembled a smaller version of Mary Moo Cow, but the facial features were more exaggerated. It had huge, soulful eyes, an inflated black nose, and a pair of oversized buck teeth. Over its eyes hung two spider-like plastic eyelashes, which appeared as if they could be detached if it were necessary to make Mini Moo look like a boy instead of a girl.
"Fern, I'd like you to meet Mini Moo," Mrs. Stiles announced. "We found a boy to fill the costume last week. He's an excellent dancer. I believe he's someone you know."
The boy in the Mini Moo suit pirouetted about gleefully for a few seconds, then did a somersault and came up directly in front of the amused Fern. Then he released a zipper on his neck and started to remove the cow head.
Fern's jaw dropped halfway to the floor. Nothing had prepared her for this...
(To be continued...)
