Taking Off. Valerie Tripp

to be part of something important and historic, something that was going to change the world for the better.

      “I won’t be getting a shot, either,” said Carol Turner, another girl in their class. “My mother says vaccinations are dangerous.” Carol shivered. “You know, when you get a vaccination, they’re putting a dead virus in you.”

      “Eww!” said Karen King. “I don’t want anybody to put viruses in me, dead or alive. Now I’m scared to get a shot!”

      “Are you kidding?” Maryellen asked in horrified disbelief. “Finally there’s a shot to protect you from a really terrible disease, a disease that can cripple you or even kill you, and you’re afraid to get it?”

      Carol Turner shrugged. “I bet a lot of people think the vaccine is dangerous like my mom does, so they won’t get a shot.”

      “But—but—” Maryellen sputtered, stunned speechless with outrage. Just then, she had a brainstorm. She stopped still right in the middle of the hallway and announced to her friends, “I’ve decided about my birthday party.”

      “It’s a movie-star party, right?” said Karen Stohlman.

      “No,” said Maryellen. A movie-star party seemed self-indulgent and frivolous now. She had thought of a way that her birthday could Do Something Important. “We’re going to put on a show. And the point of the show will be to encourage people to get a polio shot. We’ll charge ten cents admission, and send the money to the March of Dimes to help pay for the polio vaccine for poor children.”

      Angela hopped and clapped her hands in glee. “And I thought the movie-star idea was good!” she said. “A show is much better!”

      Maryellen agreed. She was excited, pleased, and proud that she had thought of a way to help Dr. Salk fight polio. And she felt certain that she could figure out a way to wear her bridesmaid dress in her show, too.

      Rock Around the Clock

       CHAPTER TWO

      his was it! Maryellen was so excited that her heart felt fluttery. Today was the day of the first rehearsal of her show.

      All the performers—the two Karens and Angela, plus Maryellen’s sisters Carolyn and Beverly—were sitting on the driveway facing the carport, just the way the audience would be for the real show. Maryellen’s two little brothers, Tom and Mikey, were sitting on the driveway, too, with Scooter between them. The boys had begged and begged to be in “Maryellen’s Dr. Salt show,” which Tom kept on saying no matter how many times she told him the name was Salk, not Salt. Finally, Mom said that she should let the boys be in the show and keep them out of Mom’s hair while she sewed. So Maryellen gave in. She wanted to encourage Mom to sew because the deadline for her bridesmaid dress was drawing nearer and nearer.

      “Look, everybody!” Maryellen sang out. “I made posters to advertise our show.” She held up two of her posters. One showed the heads and shoulders of rows and rows of smiling children and the other showed a giant dime. On the posters, Maryellen had printed, “Stop polio! Get a shot!” Across the bottom, she’d written, “You can help. Come to a show at the Larkins’ house on Saturday, May 7, at 3 p.m. 10 cents admission to be donated to the March of Dimes.”

      “Ooooh,” everyone murmured appreciatively.

      “The posters are swell,” said Karen King.

      “I made three of each kind,” said Maryellen proudly.

      “Great!” said Carolyn. “We’ll put them up all around the neighborhood.”

      “Ellie, you are such a good artist!” added Angela. “You’re as good as Grandma Moses.”

      “Thank you,” said Maryellen, pleased to be compared to one of the most famous artists of 1955. “Now, pretend there are sheets hanging behind me like theater curtains, hiding the garage part of the carport so that it’s backstage.”

      “Okay,” giggled the girls.

      Maryellen went on, “I’ll read the script out loud, and you can each decide what part you want to play.”

      “Hurray!” everyone cheered in happy anticipation.

      Before Maryellen had read one word, Davy and Wayne appeared from next door. Davy was being pushed from behind by his mother, who had her hands on his shoulders to propel him forward. “Davy wants to be in your little show, Ellie, sweetie,” said Mrs. Fenstermacher. “Your mother told me about it when she called for some sewing advice, and I thought it was the cutest idea. Just darling. And I said, ‘Davy, you are going to be in Ellie’s adorable birthday-party polio show.’ He’s shy, but he really wants to. Don’t you, hon?”

      “I guess so,” said Davy, with about as much enthusiasm as he’d have for eating a bowl of worms. Maryellen knew he never would have come over on his own.

      “Uh, all right,” she said. She didn’t mind Davy being in the show. In fact, she was glad—except that Wayne would tag along as always.

      Mrs. Fenstermacher went inside to give Mrs. Larkin her sewing scissors, and Wayne flung himself onto the driveway. He smirked up at Maryellen, making it clear that he was not going anywhere. As usual, Wayne was wearing his propeller beanie hat. And as usual, she wished the propeller would lift Wayne up like a helicopter and carry him far, far away.

      Maryellen ignored Wayne and began to read the script she had written. “Fighting Polio. Act One. In Dr. Jonas Salk’s laboratory.”

      Maryellen was so proud of her script that she could practically burst! Her show was a musical. She had written different words to tunes that everyone knew, inspired by the way Angela had changed the words to the Davy Crockett theme song. For example, to the tune of “There Was a Farmer Had a Dog, and Bingo Was His Name-o,” she had written:

       There was a very bad disease

       And polio was its name-o,

       P-O-L-I-O, P-O-L-I-O, P-O-L-I-O

       And polio was its name-o.

      That song was in the first act, which was about polio and Dr. Salk discovering the vaccine. The second act was all about encouraging people to get a polio vaccine shot. To the tune of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm,” Maryellen had written:

       Get a shot so you won’t catch

       Poh-lee, oh-lee, oh!

      In both acts, the narrator did all the talking while actors silently acted out what the narrator was saying. Maryellen was planning to be the narrator herself, of course, so that she could wear her bridesmaid dress.

      As she read her script aloud, she couldn’t help noticing that everyone’s enthusiasm was fading. Before she had finished reading the first act, Karen King was playing jacks with Beverly, Carolyn and Angela were comparing toenail polish, Wayne was putting grass on Karen Stohlman’s hair, and Tom and Mikey looked dazed and glazed. It was impossible to tell how Davy felt because he was lying with his head on Scooter’s back, looking up at the clouds. But Maryellen plowed on, believing that every word she had written was essential. When she finally said, “The End,” everyone clapped halfheartedly. Only Wayne clapped hard.

      “I’m clapping because I’m so relieved that it’s finally over!” Wayne said. “For cryin’ out loud! Listening to that show is about as much fun as getting a shot for poh-lee, oh-lee, oh.”

      “No comments from the peanut gallery, Wayne,” said Carolyn. She turned to Maryellen and said kindly, “The show feels too long, but I think it’s just that the driveway is too hard to sit on.