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The Jem Sisters
As a kid, my mom would send me to Drama Camp every summer. It was a day camp set up much like school,
except instead of Gym, Social Studies, and the like, we had Drama, Art, and Choir. At the end of the summer, we'd put on
a big sloppy musical where everybody had a part and the whole audience was comprised solely of parents.
Naturally, the
lead roles were only given to the high school kids, but we were blissfully unaware. I thought for sure that when when my
whole class was cast as poppies in The Wizard of Oz, people in the audience would look at me and say, "Ooh look at that
girl in the little red flower mask! She sways in the breeze just like a real poppy would! I know a casting director who
just *has* to see her."
But the big sloppy musical and the classes weren't the fun part. The fun part was hanging
with kids your own age that weren't the bastards from school.
At lunchtime, we created our own superheroes, the Power
Sisters and the Power Cousins. Having invented the idea, I, of course, was a Power Sister. The highlight of the Power Sister
tales occurred when I staged a beautiful death scene. An evil fairy goblin had attacked the Power Tree, threatening the very
existence of the Power Girls. I jumped in front of his mighty death ray and sacrificed myself to save everyone. The great
Power Tree was so grateful, that, after being carried around the courtyard in a clumsy funeral procession and set at its roots,
it resurrected me -- but only to Power Cousin status. This totally unappreciated act of martyrdom allowed one of the Power
Cousins to step up to Power Sister status. I was always a bit miffed they never promoted me back to Sister status.
The
same summer, a high school boy caught the eye of all the Power Sisters and Cousins. His name was Brad and to us, he looked
like a god. Michael J. Fox couldn't even compete with Brad's Ken-doll-esque good looks.
We used to sneak around the
foliage in the courtyard at lunchtime and watch him eat and talk to the older girls. We'd giggle every time he passed us
in the hallways. We'd swoon when we heard him rehearsing his lines. Brad was the object of our total adoration. Even being
demoted to Power Cousin status didn't seem so bad when Brad was around.
One day, we decided to tell him how we felt.
We poured our hearts out in a letter, intricately folded and written in disguised handwriting with Power Cousin Darla's pink
pen. We wanted to be mysterious, so we decided to sign the letter with a fake name. After much consideration, we signed
it, "The Jem Sisters." He'd never catch on. As a further precaution, we decided not to hand deliver it. We wanted
to leave it on a park bench for him to find, but we couldn't risk an interception. Darla's older sister, who was friends
with Brad, was instructed to hand deliver it, claiming to have found it sitting on a bench. Darla assured us her sister was
trustworthy and even made her sister pinky promise never to breathe a word of it to anyone.
We hid behind the bushes and
watched the delivery take place. Darla's sister walked to a bench, pretended to pick up a letter, and approached Brad. The
courtyard was too noisy to hear what conversation transpired, but everything looked good.
We spent the rest of the summer
in terror, wondering if he was clever enough to suspect us. If he smiled in our direction, we'd look away and act nonchalant.
We made Darla hide her pink pen and promise never to disguise her handwriting again -- in case they brought in a handwriting
analyst. And we never again referenced the Jem cartoon in front of anyone.
At the end of the summer, the Power Girls
and I were cast as Indians in Peter Pan, and Brad was cast as the father. We didn't have any scenes together, but I was sure
he appreciated how authentic my Native American pow-wow dancing was.
FIN.
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