Dear friend,

This is my first entry in this book. June 23, ’77. Today is my 14th birthday (yay). It’s not like anyone really cares, though. I mean, no one in my family has wished me "happy birthday" or anything, and my mom got this dumb journal for me. It’s covered in blue leather with my name inscribed in silver. It’s actually kind of cute, but what am I supposed to do with it? Write in it? Don’t think so. I haven’t seen any other presents, and today is almost over. No cake, either. I wanted a chocolate one, but I guess no one remembered. Mom’s calling me downstairs now. Guess I'll go . . . bye.
 -Isobel

I stood up from my desk and went to the top of the stairs. “What?” I called down.

“Just come down, sweetie! Your dad and I have something to tell you!” I sneered on the inside, wondering what could be so important. Hadn’t they ruined my day enough by NOT telling me anything? I trudged down the hall to the staircase. “Coming!” I growled.
Wow, don’t get too harsh, I thought.
Well if they were offended, they deserve it! I argued back with . . . myself.

As I rounded the corner to the kitchen, I’d fixed my face into the perfect scowl. Maybe they’d feel guilty enough to-
“Happy birthday, honey!”
-Wait, what?! 
My mother, a tall, slender woman with sparkling brown eyes that matched my own, handed me a box tied with a red ribbon. I (awkwardly) felt my face melt out of the scowl into a smile. They did remember. Inside the box was a beautiful emerald green dress with matching heels. This definitely outranked anything I owned in the “actual girl clothing” category. I'm normally in t-shirts and jeans while my friends doll it up in skirts and bulky jewelry.

“I hope you don’t mind not getting any other presents,” my dad began, “but we saved up for this and dinner at that new restaurant your mother’s been raving about.”

I gasped. “Not ‘Il giardino dell ‘Eden’?” My parents nodded.
“Now go get changed!” I ran back up the stairs, ecstatic about what was to come. I made a stop by my desk and quickly wrote:

"Scratch everything I just said. This is the best birthday ever!"  

I soon stood terribly corrected.
Sure, ‘Il giardino dell ‘Eden’ had a pianist in the corner, marvelously painted murals on the ceiling (although you couldn’t tell because the entire place was lit by candlelight), and the best Italian food in all of Albany, but it took forever just to make it through the line into the building. It was taking even longer for the food to come. For once, I actually missed that journal. My family didn’t have any trouble staying busy. Damon and Cay, my eighteen and sixteen year old brother and sister, were in the midst of their tenth thumb wrestling match. My mom and dad were talking about their marketing business. For a night that was supposed to be all about me, I sure was feeling left out. I noticed that the waitress had forgotten to pick up my menu. I propped it up on the table and began to observe the darkness around me. It was pretty boring. Nothing caught my interest, until, two tables over, I saw him. It was hard to pick out any facial features with only a few candles helping my vision, but I could tell that he was rather handsome. His eyes, especially. They were so big and warm. I could hear his quiet laugh from where I sat. Beautiful. Then he turned toward me.
He saw me staring.
He smiled.
I became rigid with embarrassment. For the first time, I actually became concerned about how I looked. I hardly looked like a normal girl to begin with. My face wasn't caked up in makeup, and My hair wasn't straight and blonde. Then I remembered: he could hardly see me!

I waved slightly, careful not to knock over the menu. He waved back. Suddenly he did the weirdest thing: he started making faces at me. I thought he was being rude, but then he motioned for me to try. I thought for a second, and I made the most ridiculous look I could. I could see him holding back laughter. I grinned wildly. Finally, some excitement! We kept it going for almost five minutes. Soon we got tired of it and began making our own sign language.
"You’re really funny."
"Thanks." He made a sweeping gesture at me and added, "you look beautiful." I smirked and shook my head.
"Really!"  
 "Well, thanks."
He looked around at his table and mine. Nobody had seemed to notice our earlier conversations. "Do you want to go outside and talk?" Again, I became stiff. I was really shy. Talking across tables, sure, but going face to face with a stranger? I’d never even dreamed of being so brave. I mentally slapped myself. Isa, man up and talk to the guy! I nod to him. "Yeah, let’s go." I rose out of my chair, wobbling as I struggled to stand. My feet had fallen asleep. And if you think trying to walk in normal shoes when your foot’s lost blood circulation, don’t ever try it in heels of any kind. I took one step. The wrong step. The step that led me into the server carrying our food. I tumble down, bringing the maître d' and our dinner down with me.

SPLAT!

A steaming bowl of spaghetti and meatballs fell on my head. I felt a meatball slip into my dress while the rest either remained in my hair or fell to the floor. I was covered in sauce and cheese. I was momentarily frozen. I didn’t care who was watching, who saw me. Not even the stranger across the room. I just wanted out of there. I tore off my shoes and ran barefoot all the way to the car, crying.

/~~~~~`````~~~~~`````~~~~~/

I couldn’t believe it. The first time I’m that bold and straightforward with a girl, and she gets humiliated in front of so many people. I ease back into my seat, my hopes of ever meeting that charming girl crushed forever.

“Poor child,” I hear Diana whisper next to me.

“Yeah, poor her,” I mumble. All because of me.

It took a lot of convincing to get me out of bed the next day.

I finally gave in to my mom's pleas to "please wake up, sweetie!" and went to take a shower. Looking in the mirror, I saw a red-eyed monster, complete with puffy lids and sticky tear stains on her cheeks. I took a long shower, wishing last night didn't happen at all. I ran a hand through my wet hair, wishing that the stress and depression could wash away as easily as the spaghetti sauce lingering in my curly locks. Stepping out, I called out from behind the door, "Mom, can I stay home today? It's the last day of school and it's a half day."

"Alright, Isobel." I put back on my pajamas and climbed under my sheets again. It just felt awfuly traumatic, having my dignity taken on the same night as my heart. I fell asleep, completley worn out.

RIIIIIIIIIIING!!!

I nearly fell out of bed at the sound. I grabbed a handset off my bedside table, fumbling with the chord. "hello?"

"Hey, girl!"

"Kelly? I thought you were at school-"

"Uh, do you know what time it is?" I shook my head, then remembered that she couldn't see me. "It's 4:30!"

"Wow, I slept through the entire day?"

"Yup!"

"Wow. . ."

"So why weren't you at school today? You missed out on sooo much fun!" I reluctantly told her the entire story. "Ooooh, that does suck," she agreed. Sensing my embarassment, she quickly changed to telling me everything I missed that day. About half an hour later we hung up.

"'What's up, brat?"

I turned to see Damon leaning in my doorway. He invited himself in and sat next to me on my bed, as usual. Me and my brother had always been close. We'd always come to each other with problems or news or to just talk. It was normal for either of us to just walts into the other's rooms for some company. "Guess what?"

"You've finally got a girlfriend?"

"No, I-"

"Loser!"

He shoved me into my pillows. "No, I've got a job! I'm going to be an assistant to  the props manager of The Wiz."

I was suddenly interested. The Wiz was my favorite stage production, and I'd heard there was going to be a movie version. "So why are you telling me? And isn't the shooting all the way in Harlem?" I asked cooly, trying to hide my obvious excitement.

He laughed and stood up to face me. "C'mon, kid, don't act like you're not totally psyched about this! Just think, you could come with me every day to see it all come together!"

"Wait, i get to go with you?!!"

Damon then threw all 190 pounds of teenager onto my bed again and began jumping up and down. I had to get off before our weight broke the frame. Again.

"Didn't they tell you? You and me are going up to Grandma's this summer instead of Cay!"

I frowned. "But why isn't she going?"

"I convinced her to stay home. She hates it over there anyway."

I stroked an imaginary beard, pretending to think about it long and hard. Honestly, there wasn't anything to think about. I loved Grandma Opal, and I'd get to see my favorite play turn film. "Weeeeeell, it would be pretty cool. . ."

He mussed up my hair. "Don't say I never did anything for ya."

"Thanks, Dae."

Isobel's POV

Damon drove the entire 3 hours to Harlem. We got into the city limits around noon, so we went straight to the set. We'd go to grandma's house afterwards.

"Alright, people, we're picking up right before You Can't Win and going straight through to Ease On Down The Road! Ready, guys? Action!" I sat down in the dirt next to a cameraman. He didn't pay me any attention and continued to position his camera.

"Fellas, I did not forget the crow commandments, PLEASE!"

"Alright run 'em by me, run 'em by me!"

"Thou shall honor all crows!"

"Right on, right on!"

"Proceed!"

"Thou shall stop reading all bits of paper and literature!"

"Trash! Tra-ash!"

"And the most important one?"

"Thou shall NEVER get down off of this here pole!"

"YOU GOT IT, CLYDE!"

I couldn't believe I was actually watching this happen. This was my favorite scene in the entire play, and I got to see it be filmed in an actual garden with actual "crows" and, my favorite: the actual Scarecrow! I loved this actor's interpretation of him, better than any of the others I'd seen on stage. He must've been a real professional.

"And the crow anthem?" the four "crows" squaked in unison.

"I gotta sing that thing again?"

The music started up, a funky tune with an awesome bass line.

"You gotta libretti it till you get it!"

"Eludicate!"

"Reiterate!"

"And syncopate!"

This was it: time to see if this guy earned my respect as playing my favorite lead character.

"You can't win," he belted soulfully, "You can't break even and you can't get out of the game!"

"Oh God, yes. . ." I thought to myself.

"People keep sayin' things are gonna change, but they look just like they're staying the same!"

I was practically in a hypnotic trance listening to this guy. I had to get his name. His voice was beautiful, though awfully familiar. I closed my eyes to take it all in. The spell his voice held over me didn't break until the song ended. The last line echoed in my head. My brain was full of his wonderful rifts and notes.

I watched the rest of the scene play out. Basically Dorothy had been watching the crows bully the scarecrow and helps him down. Soon he's on board with the Yellow Brick Road Journey, and they move on over to the giant yellow path that seemed to stretch for miles.

"Come on and ease on down, ease on down the road!"

His dancing looked hauntingly like someone else's, too. . . I knew I'd remember after I stopped thinking about it, though.

"Pick your left foot up when your right one's-"

Just then Scarecrow jumped and was supposed to go into a 360 spin, but instead the toe of his shoe caught on his heel and he fell. Hard.

I stood up, not knowing exactly why, because I couldn't go and help him anyways.

"CUT!!! everyone take five!"

The stage crew moved things back in place to do the scene over again, but I saw him walk away, almost looking. . . was that embarassment? I felt myself get up to comfort him, I just wanted him to look happier, like he was a few minutes ago. I followed him farther and farther away from where anyone was. 

I saw him disappear between one of the vacant buildings and the garden. I hid behind some sunflowers to see what he'd do.

He started working the routine again, the one he'd just messed up. He tried the sequence over and over, occasionaly getting it right once in a while, but I guessed he was a perfectionist and needed it correct every time.

I almost forgotten where I was and was too slow to cover my mouth, so a huge sneeze exploded out of me.

ACHOOOOOOO!!!!!

I fell back into the plants.. The Scarecrow fell again. Through the dust I stirred up he came over to me and helped me up.

"You okay?" he asked, sounding real concerned.

I dusted myself off and smiled. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

I could feel his eyes searching mine, then a broad smile broke across his made-up face. "Hey, hey it's you!"

I was confused. "Me who?"

"From the restauraunt! I recognize you!"

I looked at him like he was out of his mind, but then again, his eyes were familiar looking. And the smile. . . My hands"You're that guy?" He nodded, still smiling. "Funny, I thought no one's recognize me without a plate of pasta on my head."

Michael's POV

I couldn't believe it. Fate had definately brought her here. I was glad I had layers and layers of makeup on then, because I was blushing like crazy. Maybe I hadn't lost my chances with her. . .

"God, that was awful," she continued. "Worst birthday of my life."

"Oh really? How old?"

"14."

I could almost feel my heart sink. 14? She was at least 5 years younger than me, meaning it would be illegal to go out with her anyway.

I forced a smile anyway. "Oh, then happy belaed birthday-"

"Isobel." she held her hand out to shake mine. "My name's Isobel."

"Then happy belated birthday, Isobel. I'm Michael."

Dear readers,

Sorry I haven't been able to update this story yet. It's been over a month, and I just haven't had the right inspiration for a chapter 4. Instead, I am starting a new story until I can continue this one. It is called "Sing Out". It's kind of a High School Musical playoff. So please bear with me, and thanks again for being patient ;D

Dear friend,

Happy almost fourth of July! Wow, I can't believe we've only been here a couple of weeks. It seems like so much longer. Then again, time flies when you're having fun, right? Wrong. Damon's the one having fun right now. He's everywhere, meeting people, exploring the studio, doing what he loves. While I am stuck here, in the same old spot for hours on end. Doing nothing. Why not just stay home, you ask? I love Grandma dearly, but she's not all summertime fun 24/7; she's either sleeping, knitting on the porch, or hogging the TV set. So I come here with Damon every day except on Mondays and Saturdays.

**********

Isobel's POV

I look up to find my big brother. He was over behind a small wall with the props manager he was helping. The were probably going over what went where and when in the show, or whatever props people do. I looked back down at my journal and began writing again.

**********

Yeah, me and Dae are pretty diverse in so many ways. For one thing, our looks. Our mother is white and our dad is black, so all 3 of us Headley kids are mulatto. But Damon and Cay look more white than black, and I'm the exact opposite. Both of them have light brunette-blonde hair that always seems to fall perfectly in place, although Damon keeps his spiked up front. He's even begun to grow stubble, but it's nothing more than a little bit of golden fuzz on his chin and above his lips. He has these cloudy green eyes that he's not afraid to look into yours with when he's talking. He and my sister share my mother's fair olive complexion.
I look like I'm not even related to them. I have dark brown hair that I have to comb multiple knots and snarles out of daily. When it's all brushed it falls in shoulder-length curls around my face. My skin is an in-between shade of olive-brown. I also share my dad's brown eyes.
My personality is much different than Damon's too. While he's out with his friends, I'm normally inside reading. He's not afraid to speak out or be loud, but I can't even look at people when I talk. I'm super shy. It's crazy. It might partly be because he's a guy and I'm a girl, but we are nothing alike. Our differences don't get in the way of our friendship, though; Damon is the best big brother you could ever want. When I'm too shy to talk, he is always my translator. if I've got a project due, he'll stay up all night and work with me. He's really protective, too. Once when I was 8 I rode my bike down to a friend's and he followed me all the way there and back (even though she was only half a block away). He never minds hanging out with me instead of the guys, he's always supportive, and I know he loves me. He cared enough to let me tag along here all summer. I need to thank him again before I forget.
-Isobel

**********

Isobel's POV

I set my pencil down with the rest of my belongings on the floor underneath my chair. I was in the hallway between the storage closet and the makeup rooms. I didn't like being around all that hustle and bustle in the main part of the studio. Plus, it was one of the only continually air conditioned parts of the studio, which made it an ideal retreat.

I tucked a stray curl behind my ear, a habit I had when I was bored. I wore my hair up in a high ponytail today to keep it off of my shoulders. I was wearing a pink tanktop and a pair of Damon's khakis (Grandma doesn't do laundry often) that went past my knees. I fidgeted in my seat a little; this was getting insanely boring. I walked up to a dressing room door and opeded it slightly.

"Hey, girl, come on inside!" Kristi, one of my only friends in the entire building (the others were the B camera man and the snack lady) called out to me from her work station. Kristi was a young makeup artist whom I adored. She was in her mid-20's, tall, and had that beautiful hispanic complexion every girl envies. Her hair always stuck out at crazy angles, like a black fountian from her scrunchie. Whatever she wore always showed off her beautiful figure and was bright and flowery.

Right now she was touching up an actor's facial makeup. As I walked around the chair I saw that it was Michael.

"Hey" he smiled up at me

"H-hey, Michael."

Kristi playfully slapped his hand. "No smiling, Mr. Scarecrow, or else you'll ruin your face!"

"First time I've heard that before," he chuckled through closed lips. I sat down in my usual corner in her room, the one with a beanbag and throw pillows. I breathed in the fresh smell of foundation and hairspray. Closing my eyes, it made me think of home, in Cay's room. Oh, how she was missing out! When I opened my eyes I saw Michael staring at me. Quickly I re-tucked a curl and looked away, but I found my eyes drifting toward him every once in a while. Sometimes meeting his.

**********

Michael's POV

"Dammit, why?!" I screamed inside. Why is it every time I find myself looking at her, she's looking back? I was grateful for the layers of makeup Kristi had applied, because I was blushing like crazy underneath. Why does she keep looking at me with those eyes? Those beautful, chocolate brown, underaged eyes. . .

**********

Isobel's POV

I never tired of watching Kristi at work. She was so dedicated to making people look beautiful. Her tounge would even show out of the side of her mouth when she was really working hard. Someday, i thought, I want to be that dedicated to something.

"Alright, Mike, you're through!" She lavishly tore his bib from around his neck ad bowed. "The actor," she said with a strange accent, making me giggle, "may now return to his stage!"

He laughed, careful not to move his face too much. "Thanks, Kristi."

She waved after him with the bib as if he were a warrior leaving for battle. "Have fun! Hasta la vista! Bon voyage!"

She returned to her work table and started cleaning up. "Hey, Isa, you've got nothing to do, right?"

I shook my head. "No, why?"

"Let me do your makeup! Please?"

I stared at her. My dad practically threatened to kill us girls if we so much as wore nail polish at the house. I readily accepted.

"Yeah, sure!" I climbed into the big black leather chair. It's still warm from where he sat. . . I felt the unexpected color rush to my cheeks.

"I've never done a teenager's makeup before," she started as she threw a fresh bib around me. "It's always been monsters or animals, scarecrows or older women. i want to try someone younger for a change."

I didn't know half of the stuff she put on my face, but it felt nice. I had a little trouble with the eyeliner, though, so she used a little bit of liquid liner and mascara. She made my cheeks rosey with a nice red blush and put pale pink lipstic with gloss on my mouth.

"There! I'd say you look fabulous!" She held a mirror up for me to see: I looked almost 5 years older.

I grinned. "Thank you, Kirsti! It's great!" I looked at my watch: 5:30. "It's almost time to go, so I'd better find Damon. See you tomorrow!" I started off to leave, but she grabbed my arm and brought me back. 

"Hold on, there's something I want to give you." she reached into her wallet and pulled out 2 tickets to the block party/fireworks display the following night. "My fiance bought two too many tickets. I think you should ask Michael to go with you."

I gulped and looked at her blankly. Me? Ask someone on a. . . a date?!

"Oh, it wouldn't be a date," she added, practically reading my mind, "You two kids should really get to know each other! And I have a feeling he'd like to go somewhere like a normal guy for once." She placed the tickets in my hands and hurried me out the door. "Now, scoot, scoot, go home! And don't forget about what I said!"

"Like a normal guy"? What did that mean? Couldn't he go by himself anyway? I shrugged, not giving it any more thought. I put the tickets in my pocket, grabbed my stuff and left for the main studio. I'd ask him there.