Dummy & Me!

By Sydell Lowell Voeller

Sixteen-year-old Deanna Lambert is miserable. She can't find her niche with the popular kids at school and she believes she is ugly. Then, too, after her mother deserted the family to pursue an acting career, Deanna's father has grown distant and embittered. Now Deanna is saddled with most of the chores at home--and she and her dad barely communicate. Yet Deanna's one happy escape is her volunteer work at the nearby children's hospital. There the activities director convinces her to get back into her ventriloquism, a creative skill her grandfather had taught her years earlier. Deanna and her puppet, Ramblin' Rosie, entertain and delight the young hospital patients, but Deanna is worried. What if the kids at school discover what she's doing? Will they think she's just "a baby" who still plays with dolls? Deanna takes the risk, but one problem soon leads to another. Can she ever gain acceptance at school, especially from Jason, a guy she has a major crush on? And most of all, can Deanna come to terms with her ventriloquism, and in so doing, come to terms with her mother's leaving?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sydell Voeller
• Release date: Mar 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224036226

Sydell Lowell Voeller

Sydell Lowell Voeller grew up in Edmonds, Washington, and has lived in Forest Grove, Oregon for many years.  Her family consists of a husband, two grown sons and their wives, and four grandchildren.  Sydell  has been a violinist in semiprofessional orchestras, a registered nurse, and a writing instructor for the LongRidge Writer's Institute. Her interests include reading, camping, astronomy, crafting, and playing with her two cats.

Book preview

Chapter One

That stupid old feeling was haunting me again. I knew it was time to strike head-on. Flopping down on my bed, I closed my eyes and for the hundredth time and called forth a picture in my mind. There I was in the school cafeteria with a bunch of kids clustered around me, talking and joking like it was the easiest thing I'd ever done.

My long hair was no longer a dull brown color, but shone with rich auburn highlights. My too-large nose was perfectly formed with just a hint of a ski-jump tip like Sally Murdock's, the most popular girl in the eleventh grade. I wore cool looking clothes with the latest designer labels—not the stuff I’d bought at Goodwill. But the best part of all, I knew exactly what to say at exactly the right times. Even Jason Brennan, the class clown, laughed at my jokes. I had a major crush on him!

The vision suddenly vanished. Negative vibes, the eternal culprit. It happened every time. As soon as I'd managed to concentrate on even a hint of my innermost dreams, there were those vibes, reminding me it was all impossible. My hopes faded as quickly as snowflakes striking a sun-warmed windowpane. During the past week I'd been reading a book about improving one's self-confidence. In it, the author said you had to imagine yourself the way you wanted to be, tell yourself you'd already accomplished your goal, and then live as if you really believed it. Pretty soon you'd discover you were closer to your dream than you ever imagined possible.

I sighed, then shook my head. I'd tried it time and time again. Was it really possible for a sixteen-year-old like me?

Oh, it's not that I lacked friends totally. Tammy Haddon and I'd been best friends ever since second grade. And Delia Zeigler, my locker partner, sometimes joined Tammy and me when we walked to school.

Yet now at Meadow View High School, I wanted to stretch my wings and fibelong to a special crowd.

The sound of my dad's angry voice jerked me from my thoughts. Dede, how many times have I told you to start dinner before I get home?

Springing up from the bed, I groaned. Coming, Dad!

A couple of years ago, Mom divorced Dad and took off for New York City to become an actress. They had always been so different from each other. My father was contented to keep working at the cannery where he'd landed a job the day he'd graduated from high school. But my mother, who’d majored in drama and graduated from college with honors, was a dreamer.

I know Mom loved my older brother, Bryon, and me. I’ll never forget the look on her face that horrible day she told us good-bye, nor my own helpless feelings raging inside. How could she just walk off and desert us?

Still, she was restless, just like her grandfather, a famous ventriloquist in the fifties who traveled with the vaudeville. I could never change her restlessness.

I hurried out to the kitchen, nearly bumping into my father. Sorry, I guess the time got away from me.

Deanna, Deanna, he scolded, shaking his bald head. The time always gets away from you. What were you doing? Lying in that room of yours and day-dreaming again?

Sort of. I reached into the lower cupboard and grabbed a handful of potatoes. How could I ever explain to him about my latest attempts at positive action?

I suppose your brother is working down at the greasy spoon again.

Dad, it isn't a greasy spoon. It's McDonald's. You know, a cherished American institution like motherhood and apple pie. I'd borrowed those words from a commercial on TV.

He glanced up from the front page of The Oregon Reporter. Though his gray eyes looked weary, I could tell my dramatic proclamation had caught him by surprise. Or was it what I said, not how I said it? I wondered a split second later. Why had I mentioned motherhood and cherished institutions? I was only trying to get my point across, not open old wounds.

Little do you know about motherhood, Dad grumbled. Certainly nothing your mother ever taught you.

I sighed, saying nothing. It seemed he was always complaining about her.

Before she left, Mom had longed to go to the East Coast. Dad insisted on staying in Oregon. They disagreed about it constantly.

Yet secretly I couldn't blame him for complaining. Why couldn't she have been contented with her teacher's aide job at Blakely Elementary? Wasn't it enough to direct the annual school play and audition for roles at the community theater?

Dad snapped open a can of beer. Better watch that day-dreaming, Dede. You'll end up just like your mother.

So? There are worse things than being a dreamer.

I refused to tolerate his criticism any longer and rallied to Mom's defense. Funny how mixed up inside you could feel about someone you love. But Dad would never understand that. He was much too wrapped up in earning a living and hanging out at the Elks Club on weekends to care about me.

Dad clunked his lunch box down on the counter. Did you get an e-mail from your mother today? he asked.

I told him I had.

What's she up to now?

"She's still stuck in that little rooming house, but she's hoping to find