Pride and Princesses chapter three

Chapter 3

Girl History

     Now before I let you in on the game plan for boy-dating and rating, I should really give you some historical information.     

    Mouche and I met in first grade which is why, although we don’t condone the Princesses” prickly behaviour, we do understand the bond fused between them.

    There was also a subtle but competitive bond between me and Mouche.

    You can really trace the competition between us back to our first day of nursery school when Mouche turned up in the same pink-spotted smock and leggings and immediately noticed a usurper for most fashionable. We ended up having a painting competition that morning. Most of the paint landed on me and we spent the afternoon sitting in opposite “time out” corners.

     We bonded after the shared punishment. Then we found out we liked the same things (reading, painting and performing), until Mouche, who didn’t even want to be on Broadway, stole my agent. Well, I suppose you could say my agent (and his Simon Cowell accent) stole her. Anyway, it worked out for the best since Mouche and I started to attend acting auditions after Thom (pronounced Tom) saw us in a school play.

      We rarely secured the jobs from those auditions, but travelling into Los Angeles, we still managed to share a laugh and a cab ride back home. Our mothers, Mrs Mouche and Trish, took it in turns to accompany us. They were willing moms but unwilling stage mothers. We literally had to drag them along because we were legally required to have guardians. They just didn’t get the whole acting thing and were wary of their children “being exploited.” Pl-lease. We totally wanted to be exploited (because back then, we didn’t even know what the word meant).    

     That’s sort of how Mrs Mouche and my mom, Trish, met. After our Daddies ran off together they became slummy mommies and mommies who drink. Incidentally, the other neighborhood mommies were probably a lot more badly behaved than our mothers. In fact, the Sunrise Golf Club was recently revealed to be a hot bed of suburban lunchtime affairs. But Mrs Mouche and Trish were under the microscope because their men had run off together. Sunrise thrives on low-level gossip and scandal but absent fathering is no reason to brand us as the underprivileged offspring of dysfunctional parenting.

     It’s funny how you need “more” community support when something goes awry in your family but people, in our case, gave us less. It takes a village... For example, each of our fathers let our mothers know that “education was wasted on girls who would just grow up and get married like they did” – well, not quite the way they did. Our Daddies might be gay but it doesn’t mean they’re not just as chauvinistic as other men. I mean, what century are we in people, the eighteenth? However, if both our Daddies hadn’t stopped paying our school fees by the time we turned fifteen, we would not have transferred to Sunrise and junior year may never have happened as it did.

     Unfortunately, our plans for boy dating and rating were heading for dust once the Princesses arrived at Sunrise High. Although their mere presence inspired us to take notice of the way boys behaved around them, the truth is, even they were shocked by how much the boys seemed to ignore them after their initial surprise. They thought a co-ed school would be different and “the cute girls” would be worshipped by every boy who crossed their paths. But so far, they were wrong. They were being overshadowed by the newbies. 

    By the third day of the new semester, Mark and Jet made a re-appearance, late, at exactly three minutes past nine in our combined home room class.

     The Princesses were sitting in a pack towards the front and Mouche and I were sitting in the corner. I was staring through the window wondering how I’d ever get out of Sunrise when Mark brushed d past me to hand a late slip to Miss Tartt who was obviously taken with him. You could tell she thought he was good-looking by the way she fluttered her eye-lashes s. 

   “You’re late,” she said, looking up at him from beneath her spectacles. She was clearly appreciating his masculine energy when I noticed the edges of her mouth turn up in a slight smile. You could almost hear her thinking, “if only I were sixteen again...”

    Mark was quite apologetic.

    “Yes, please excuse me...Miss Tartt. I’m Mark Knightly...”

    “And you are?” She peered at Jet.

    “Jet Campbell,” Jet said affably. “We had to re-check our schedules.”

     Miss Tartt was smiling sweetly by this point. She gestured to the boys to take a seat after she’d ticked the roll.   

    Mr Sparks was team-teaching with her that morning and in the process of announcing his plans for the play of the year, an updated version of Romeo and Juliet called Rocco and Julie.

   “Oh help us all,” Mouche mouthed as she rolled her eyes and pulled her beret over her ears.

    I glanced at Mark when he wasn’t looking in our direction, wondering if I’d ever have the courage to speak to him. I also considered the possibility that in all the romantic literature Mouche and I had ever read, good intentions were surer if the boy made the first move.

   “My fellow Thespians, this is a story about true love. All the best stories are. Auditions will be held at 3pm, Thursday. I want you all there and not just the drama majors – we need the boys for extra credit please. This, our combined junior class production, is sure to be a masterpiece...”

    Jet laughed out loud.

   “Any more of that negativity and I’ll see you in detention,” Mr Sparks said pointedly. 

   Mr Sparks really believed he could improve on the original script using modern language. Since Shakespeare wasn’t around to tell him otherwise, his word was law. Mr Sparks was our combined home room teacher (and a seriously hard marker) so it paid to find a way to at least pretend to like him.

    “Phoebe Harris?” Mr Sparks called out my name as I chewed my pencil and looked outside at the fallen orange leaves. I was wondering how in the world Mouche and I could make this year the best ever before the drama of college applications and everything else took over our lives. I raised my hand and noticed Mark glancing in my direction.

    It’s true; I subsequently discovered that Mark’s late arrival on his third day as a transfer student was not his fault. His family couldn’t have been thrilled that he was attending Sunrise (he’d applied too late for any private school acceptance), but perhaps the superior tone he used when he spoke again could have been avoided. 

    “And what is your name be, Sir?” Mr Sparks said in a most theatrical manner as Mark started to leave the room.

    “Ah, Mark Knightly,” he replied, sounding ridiculously uncomfortable. Mark had a rich voice. He spoke like a boy with a lot of money who has been told a few too many times he is extra good-looking. I could tell by his tone that he was not exactly thrilled to be repeating junior year in a different time zone. He’d almost graduated high school in England where they even have a separate school for senior year.

     I had the opportunity to consider him once more in repose now that he was engaged in conversation with Mr Sparks. Mark was tall and wore his dark hair slightly long and swept across his forehead. He had cobalt blue eyes and a smile that Mouche would later describe as, “kind of dangerous.”  He also looked very embarrassed to have been singled out and ignored Mr Sparks when he asked him another question about whether he would sign up for the play. This made Mr Sparks go completely ballistic and he immediately signed up Mark to be stage manager of the new Romeo and Juliet. Mark just cringed in his seat and was the first person to escape when the bell rang.

   “He’s totally hot, what a Franco,” Teegan said as she flicked her cherry hair in my face on her way to acting class. I was yet to publicize my new phrase in The Sunrise News and already the Princesses were coining the term as their own. C’est la vie. Perhaps copying a trend really is the highest form of flattery.

    “I’m definitely going to get the lead role in this,” Tory added as she pulled down the freshly printed poster announcing the auditions for Rocco and Julie out in the hallway.

   “Just the name sounds totally sad,” Mouche said, “but we are so going to audition because I know one Princess who could do with a little competition.”

   “You said it, Mouche,” I added, under my breath.   

   “The lead role will definitely go to Tory. She is perfect for the part,” Teegan quipped, smoothing her lustrous locks.

   “Don’t be so sure,” Mouche added. “Phoebe is auditioning as well.”

    “But Tory’s been working professionally all summer,” Teegan countered. Tory looked a little bit surprised and very annoyed since I’d been the star of the HSYL freshman showcase, when all the agents from Los Angeles came to the school to see if there was anyone who would interest them. That’s kind of how Wednesday (Mouche’s baby sister) and Mouche and I signed with an agency called Thom’s Kidz (but more on him later, I promise).

   “You know everyone is invited to audition, Tory. May the best actress win!” Mouche replied.

    Tory stuck her nose in the air and checked her lipstick a third time before walking down the hall with Freya, Teegan and Brooke. That clique of juniors managed to look down on everyone and anyone and may have even convinced us all (including the teachers who they were super nice to) that they walked on air.

      At lunchtime, Brooke, spaniel curls hanging perilously close to her food, could be heard moaning over her Jell-O, “I just don’t know why there are so few hot guys in our town, even if the population is small. Mark Knightly is so cute he could start a riot around here.”

     Freya, who was flicking through the images of her pony club trip via cell, looked up and said as an afterthought, “I agree.”

     Tory smiled a big, toothy, insincere smile as she checked her gloss.

    “And... he wants to major in pre-med at Yale or Harvard,” Teegan said, crossing her Barbie legs in agreement.

    “I heard his uncle owns a huge castle in Scotland and his family harbors a very dark secret...” Tory added, tying her sweaty locks in a ponytail.

    “Shh,” Brooke said, “Mark and Jet are coming over right now.”

     The boys gave us wicked little grins.

    “Spreading the love,” Mouche said under her breath.

      Mark slid over onto one of the side tables and pulled out his study notes while Jet started playing some computer game then passed a basketball with his feet back and forth under the table towards Mark while they ate.   

     They looked over at me once when I was reading. Then, as soon as Mark and Jet had finished d eating they ran out onto the playing fields, laughing at all the performing arts girls (us) as they slid out of the room. It was as if they had their own private joke, ignoring us. Well, ignoring almost everyone. Mark walked over to speak as he left, but turned, thought better of it, then glanced at Mouche and me and walked away. Peter was walking across the courtyard at that moment giving Mouche a cheeky grin. They had arranged to rehearse some dance moves.

      “Later, Pheebs,” Mouche ran outside to greet Peter, who relayed to her a snippet of conversation he overheard as he was doing up his shoes.

     “It’s always the same for me,” Jet said, as they walked outside.

     “What do you mean?” Mark asked.

     “Always a feast or a famine.”

     “Petra thinks you’re conceited; now I know why.”

     “Your sister is kind of spacey, so I won’t take that too seriously. I mean, can I help it if a bunch of man-starved hot chicks throw themselves in my path? Have you checked out that cute little blonde girl we spoke to this morning?”

    “Not really. I’m too busy noticing we’re practically in Hicksville. All this culture is really overwhelming. I’d forgotten how much I dislike Los Angeles.” Mark said.

    “LA is not so bad. C’mon, it’s the City of Angels. Besides, what’s so great about London at 6am? Parts of the city are seriously unclean. I mean, people spit on the streets there, and worse.”

    “Yeah, I guess, but outside of Beverly Hills, we barely walk on the streets here.”

    “I love being home. I love the air and I missed the food.”

    “I guess. There’s no place like home. I’m just kind of worried about my sister. Since our parents died, my aunt and uncle have insisted on sending her to that girl’s school. I just know she’s going to hate it.”  

    “It’s kind of a bummer... your sister’s so...”

    “What? Weird?”

    “No, I was going to say, shy. Special.”

     Mark rolled his eyes. He knew Jet was being sarcastic.

     The boys had moved to the basketball court and began to shoot hoops.

     “After our parents died she stopped eating and became so introverted. I think she needs friends.”

    “From what I hear, she’s not going to find them at the Young Ladies Academy.”

     Jet shot a near perfect hoop.

    “Great, that’s what I thought.”

     Mark took over and bounced the ball, keeping it from Jet with his right palm.

     “I mean, we just saw the results. Did you see the way those girls were all “jostling each other for the last diet soda at lunch? Apparently they got expelled from The High School for Young Ladies.”

      “Shouldn’t hold that against them, we got thrown out of Loratio Academy, remember?”  “Yeah, but those women are vicious, man. If you’re considering introducing them to Petra, I’d think again. The Queen Bee...”

     “Which one’s that?” Mark was yet to learn girl-speak and found the language faintly irritating.

     “I think her name’s Teegan.”

     “Oh,” Mark said contemplatively.

     “Like I said, I’d think again...”

      Peter continued, “then the newbies went back to the basketball court; more physicality, less conversation. Guys are comfortable relating via sporting analogies. Jet was probably shocked that Mark had even mentioned his sister. Men don’t reveal their emotions easily...” Peter told us dramatically, I’d joined them both outside and listened intently.

      Mouche was taking it all in.

     “Thanks Peter. Your take on the situation has been enlightening...” Mouche said as she jotted down a few notes to expand her love theories later. 

      I looked around at a bunch of students weaving through the courtyard.

     “Are all of these students going to grow up to become adults and what will they take with them into the big wide world?” I mused quietly.

     “The same bigoted, self-centered personalities they’ve displayed here,” Peter said.

      Mouche smiled. I laughed in agreement. It seemed most of the sixteen year olds I knew had personalities designed to last a lifetime. They certainly hadn’t changed in the twelve months I’d known them - some of them hadn’t changed since first grade.

       Last year we’d heard snippets of love conversation flying past us in the halls. That was when we were the semi-anonymous newbies and nobody seemed to care if we heard their scurrilous talk.

    Boy talk.

    “Didn’t those two hook up?”

    “Yeah, that’s what I heard”

    “So, did he get some?”

    “Yeah, I think so.”

    “The new student teacher is totally hot...”

     Ah, hello, the new student teacher is male but drama boys can always be relied upon to be somewhat artistic in their choices.

    “Did he get some? The new student teacher? Are they dreaming? I mean, there’s romance combined with delusion for you there, right there.” Mouche said.

    “Obviously, we are focused on our career plans with good reason.” I replied.

    There’s also another reason. When we first arrived for sophomore year, our cousins, Ella and Katie (who are slightly younger than us) had been here since freshman year. They’re not our besties but we are still blood relations and that means something. Our cousins were actually asked out on a sort-of double date with Alex Miller and one of his friends, Tom Allen.

    Prior to last year, we’d never really spent much time with our cousins. Ella and Katie (who’d started to call themselves Elle and Kate) preferred to hang out with each other which suited Mouche and me because they were super-giggly and boy-crazy. Not so boy-crazy that they’d do anything illegal in the back of the Sunrise bowling alley, though.

    The day after their ‘big date’ my cousin Ella and Mouche’s  cousin Katie told us that Alex and Tom spent most of the evening trying to outdo each other and Tom even “forgot” his wallet and made them pay for everything.

     Ella continued, “Then, after ignoring us for an hour and conversing with each other, they tried to get on us in their car so Katie and I mutually decided to end the ‘date.’ The girls had been learning karate and had apparently had to get tough with those badly behaved boastful pre-men.

     “So I guess you could say we double dated at the bowling alley. It was kind of fun, but not as much fun as Alex Miller and Tom Allen say they’d had.” Katie added.

      We were surprised to learn via the Alex-Allen web site that “hanging out” with Ella and Katie had evolved into a full on scandal the following week. Even the Princesses got to add their ten cents worth. Ella and Katie had morphed from nice to seriously heinous and slutty. Then, because the words of males seemed to hold more value than the words of females, the students in general believed the boy’s version of the story.

    “People need to learn a lesson,” Mouche mused, “a lesson in social etiquette.”

    “And we are just the ones to teach them,” I realized. We wanted to challenge ourselves to motivate these pre-men and women; to interest them in the romantic trysts of another era; without them realizing they were part of our game - a game we could turn into fun with quotes and helpful hints and even a treasure hunt.

     That’s how the plan for the Boy-Rating Diaries came into existence and was ultimately turned into a dare. 

    Mouche once said, “Sometimes I think we belong in a Jane Austen film or a Bronte novel.  When I was little, like twelve, I thought my first great love affair would be exactly like Wuthering Heights.”

    “Except you don’t need to die at the end,” I replied. 

    “Of course not,” Mouche said, “but not all the best stories have happy endings.”

   

 

THE GOOD WIFE

I'm really enjoying The Good Wife on television at the moment. The new season is completely brilliant on every level:) I'm playing catch up with a few episodes but I've been on the edge of my seat since Alicia decided to start her own law firm... amazing television.

WHAT I'M READING: MORRISSEY MEMOIR AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Though I've published a lot of teen type stories on my blog, my taste in writing and reading is ecclectic and varied. I'm currently reading something that's not exactly mainstream:)

Morrissey's memoir: pretentiously titled, Autobiography by Morrissey is so brilliantly written it makes me want to holler, "This is Ah-mazing" - all auto-biographies should be written this lyrically and visually; few are. You have the sense that he really lived this and wrote it without 'help' and burnt the paper after he wrote it and re-wrote it again a thousand times or once until it was just as close to Morrissey-deemed-perfection as possible. Unusual phrasing, interesting subject matter, completely, uniquely, ah-mazing. IF you're into reading about music and people who've lived non-traditional lives and see the glass as half empty instead of half full this (*warning Morrissey is almost *unrelentingly depressing and sees the worst in almost everything around him) is gonna rock your world. Even if you are an optimist, this autobiography is illuminating. Morrissey writes candidly and caustically about people in the public eye or behind the scenes in the music biz. The same people who'd mostly be read about via PR damage-control press releases. So we see his world through his eyes. Everything about it is unusual even when it's ordinary (ie. his horrendous sounding school days in Manchester). The prose is out of this world, though, which elevates this and places Autobiography up there on my list of great reads:) I'm only part-way through it but I wanted to write something about it here. I'm returning to my Kindle to finish it now!

PRIDE AND PRINCESSES by Summer Day

Pride & Princesses is set more than a decade before The Hotness and Popular.  The Hotness is a bridging story between Pride & Princesses and Popular. It is largely unedited. I wrote it for the readers who asked why Pride & Princesses couldn’t be more like Pride and Prejudice and complained about the ending of Pride & Princesses (&while Popular was in the process of a copy edit!) You might want to check it out if you've read Pride & Princesses, but remember, it's unedited... (so The Hotness is probably just for ma tweeps, lovelies).

PRIDE & PRINCESSES:

When Mouche and Phoebe (BFFs) invent a high school dating game which seems very successful, a group of mean girls called 'The Princesses' want 'in' on the game. The prize? The hottest guy in school - Mark Knightly... (but first, the girls might have to learn a few lessons about dating, friendship and true romance).

The Sunrise stories I have written should be read as follows:

#1 Pride & Princesses, #2The Hotness, #3Popular (or you might just like to skip The Hotness (if you are familiar with Pride and Prejudice) and read Popular:) as The Hotness was uploaded onto my blog as a draft. It’s up to you, lovelies. Popular is a nod to Emma, but then again, it also brings full circle some of the characters that began in Pride & Princesses… 

And now? I’m finishing the final draft of a novel I’ve been working on since 2008, finally. It’s about a group of empowered teens and the action takes place over two hundred years on two continents…  At the moment, some of it is written in Latin so get ready.

Readers, writers & friends are welcome to contact me here:

summerdaylight99@hotmail.com I try to reply to everyone personally but sometimes it’s not immediate! Thank you for joining my blog and twitter (@summerdaylight) & I've just started another blog here: http://summerdaylight99.wordpress.com I'm also on wattpad (SummerDay9) and Goodreads. (If you enjoy my stories please show my blogs some luv by joining and asking your friends to do so as well.  I’m aiming to reach one hundred thousand views and I’m more than half way there; love to all & thankyou MWAHoxo:)

POPULAR BY SUMMER DAY (BLURB)

POPULAR by Summer Day (BLURB):

Honey Woodhouse thinks she knows everything, especially everyone’s perfect match. Honey is without a doubt, the most popular girl at Sunrise High School. Ethan Knightly is her hottie next door neighbor – and he might just know a little bit more. This high school story, inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma, tells you everything you need to know about how to be… (un) popular.

POPULAR by Summer Day is on: http://summerdaylight.blogspot.com/

and http://summerdaylight99.wordpress.com

POPULAR by SUMMER DAY (Prologue by Phoebe Knightly)

POPULAR by Summer Day

Prologue by Phoebe Knightly: Former babysitter to Miss Honey Woodhouse

It is said in our street - the laneway that leads from Sunrise Drive all the way up the hill to Beverly Hills - that when Miss Honey Woodhouse was born, fairy princesses attended her every whim. Dressed in pink tulle, they ascended from the waterfalls that surrounded the infinity pool at the base of Honey’s perfectly manicured garden. These fairy princesses granted her every wish and bestowed upon her those qualities - beauty, kindness, intelligence and the comforts of wealth (in fairy dust), which wise people will assure you are rarely bestowed simultaneously and never on one person.

    Of course, I’m not saying that beautiful, blonde, popular Honey did not become both slightly conceited and even a little bit annoying by the time she reached her teens, but this is her story and I should never tell the ending just because I have the advantage of knowing it.    

   Honey’s brother-in-law, Ethan Knightly was the much younger cousin of the equally handsome and extremely sought after Mark Knightly. Ethan was staying with us that year, the year Emily Mouche Knightly (my daughter) was born. But I’m jumping ahead of myself as usual.

    I’m Phoebe Harris Knightly. I trained to be a lawyer and before that, when I was a teenager, I was Honey’s babysitter. Presently, I’m her next door neighbor. My husband’s cousin Ethan is staying with us while his parents are in Europe. Ethan is close to Honey’s age. I think they’re perfect for each other.

   Other children in the wickedly expensive enclave known as Bel Air, where Honey Woodhouse and the Knightly family grew up, were attended by baby nurses but Honey had a whole team of experts as well: her tutor and babysitter (that was me during the summer I spent at home before I went to college) a nanny, a swimming instructor, a tennis coach and even a riding instructor.

    Most of these people came into Honey’s world when she was just eighteen months old.

    I grew up in a slightly less expensive enclave known as Sunrise a few streets and an entire social divide away.  After my best friend was killed in New York and her husband and daughter stayed in New York City, I wondered what my life’s purpose was. I wanted to help people, but I was also just so over, everything.  Finishing law school was more of a chore than a pleasure, and afterwards I returned to Sunrise and resumed my teenage job for a few months over summer. This time I became more of a tutor and friend, less of a babysitter to Honey.    

    Honey’s mother wasn’t at home very much when she was growing up. Her parents separated, then intermittently got back together, until they agreed they were happier apart. This allowed Honey to consider herself, from the age of six, in charge of her father. This was a job she enjoyed. While Honey’s mother vacationed at various clinics in Europe (treating ailments that changed every winter from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder to water retention to an overdose of Botox necessitating her thrice yearly trips to Europe and Switzerland), we grew into our own family. It was often just us in the house. Honey’s older sister, Maya, who was far more retiring than the boisterous and decorative Honey was soon away at boarding school. Maya got married soon after college and we saw little of her in Sunrise given that she now resided in New York. 

   Honey took her role as family organizer very seriously.

   After some success, she decided to organize her entire school, her neighborhood, her family and my husband’s younger cousin, Ethan Knightly – a dedicated athlete and high school student who was smart enough to have Honey’s measure since her celebrated birth. Ethan was also nine months Honey’s senior. Honey, at six, had conspired to make Ethan her pram pusher, sunglass straightener and swimming pool life guard – roles from which he had barely recovered.

    Elementary school Honey was very self-sufficient; nowhere near as bossy as the fashionable and wise twelve year old she became.

    Since I have lived near Honey most of my life, when I reached my teens and Honey needed a babysitter, her parents often called on me. By the time Honey was six and I was eighteen, Honey’s mother had checked into a spa in the Maldives for a two week ‘vacation’. It was decided Honey needed me to stay on as her tutor for the rest of summer. I’d just returned from a vacation in Europe and was undecided about which college I should attend or, in fact, which career path to take. I babysat Honey that fortnight and we’ve remained close ever since. When I lost my best friend in the world, Honey’s laughter got me up in the morning. So I have her to thank for showing me the way forward in order to make the best life possible.

    In Honey’s mind, I was her first great triumph. You see, Honey Woodhouse, at the ripe old age of six, had identified my future husband, Mark Knightly and conjured opportunities for us to continue to meet.

    All did not go smoothly between Mark and me. But that is a whole other story and belongs in a memoir somewhere between the high school story I wrote, Pride & Princesses and this. Let’s just say, without Honey’s matchmaking skills over the years, I’m not sure our marriage would ever have happened.

    I was well into my twenties by the time Mark and I finally got it together in New York City. Honey had decided that after ‘practically raising her’ what I now needed was true love and romance, and I found it. Of course I’d always known Mark Knightly was ‘the one’, but we were both stubborn and took a while to make our relationship official.  When I was Honey’s age I was never as sure of myself as her.

    Honey started her first matchmaking enterprise between two classmates when she was in first grade at elementary school. Her new friends, Tyler and Jessica, were holding hands a week after meeting but it took a decade to progress beyond that! 

    Honey agreed a match made in haste could be regretted at leisure.

    Wise people say your first success at something tends to make you more enthusiastic to repeat the enterprise.

     Honey attracted lots of friends. I’d taught her everything I’d learned in my years of besting the Princesses (a legendary mean girl clique at my old high school) and running my own popularity show as a junior. Honey was always first to remember birthdays, gifts and cards and always ready to give ‘helpful advice,’ both asked (and sometimes unasked).

     It’s the unasked part that got Honey into hot water.

     By freshman year at Sunrise High School, Honey Woodhouse was already developing her lists, cliques and bossy, pretty girl ways from her bedroom ‘office’ with the full scale canopy bed decked out in princess pink.

    She enlisted her computer whiz neighbor, Ethan Knightly, (who was staying with Mark and me that summer while his parents were based in Belgium on business), to develop a computer matchmaking program with her.

    Ethan thought it was all a bit of a joke and went along with it, until he realized Honey was taking her game from cyberspace to reality.

    I would often read a text or email from her asking me for advice about what to do in various social situations but usually she had those covered. By her sophomore year at Sunrise, she fielded at least a dozen calls every morning (including Saturdays), was constantly texting from her ‘social media platform’ as Miss Matchmaker Teen and was already bossing Ethan around, like a puppy dog.

     Tall, dark haired, smart and wickedly handsome Ethan was as bemused and adoring of the precocious Honey as her father (who indulged her every whim), was. Plus, Ethan seemed to have a new girlfriend every week and according to Honey, ‘needed a lot of help to sort out his relationships.’

     My husband Mark was a busy partner in his own law firm and on the boards of various companies and was admittedly, ‘not an expert in teen behavior ’ so I was left to counsel Ethan myself.

     Ethan’s girlfriends bore Honey’s intrusions and questionnaires only because Ethan assured them that Honey was his best friend. They quickly realized if they weren’t ‘in’ with Honey, they weren’t in with Ethan. 

    Here is an example of Honey’s first questionnaire – she has definitely refined it over the years:

   

    Terms of Agreement

     I, as ‘the matchmaker’ agree to introduce you to up to six favorable matches; ones I deem ‘suitable’. In exchange for this I require feedback in the form of an anonymous questionnaire (no parties shall be named) and information shall not be disclosed to a third party.

   

    Anonymous questionnaire as follows* (all answers must be G rated please!):

    Age range:

    Likes:

    Dislikes:

    Favorite activities: (G rated please)

    Dreams:

    Ambitions:

    Do you believe in marriage, dating or just ‘hooking up?’

    Ideal boyfriend / girlfriend:

    Deal breakers:

   

     As she grew up, Honey would refer ‘hesitant matches’ to her sample questionnaires.

     By the time she reached her mid-teens, Honey was set in her matchmaking ways. Honey felt ‘matchmaking’ in this age of ‘busy teens’ was the way of the future. Her style was more personal than the internet and far more subtle. Honey’s father and cousins merely laughed at Honey’s suggestions.

     She had tons of ‘helpful’ advice even for Mark and me – and I think the way she conjured excuses for us to ‘run into each other’ when we were both in New York definitely sped up our romance, which as I said, had its ups and downs in the beginning.

    For example, I remember Honey advising me one day in Farmers Markets when she was in elementary school, “Oh Phoebe, it’s very clear Mark’s workaholic personality would not be a deal breaker if he actually liked you, which he so obviously does. I mean, I may only be a kid but I know a thing or two about both love and people,” she assured me.

     “Well, we dated when we were teenagers,” I explained, “but then…real life got in the way. We went to separate colleges and… stuff happens. Perhaps we weren’t meant to be. Mark always acted snobbish and boring. He even snubbed me at our first high school dance. Mouche and I dressed up to the nines to impress Mark and his friend Jet and it all… went wrong,” I added.

     “Why?”

     “Mark insulted me. He told his friend I wasn’t pretty enough to dance with.”

     “I’m sure it was a misunderstanding, c’mon,” Honey tugged my hand as we went to buy strawberries dipped in chocolate at the fruit stall.

      “Oh look! There he is. I think you and Mark are both a perfect match,” she whispered.

       Honey was an adorable child and could not be ignored. Mark was with Ethan and Honey started talking to him, creating an excuse to bring Mark and I together.

     

     When my husband and I returned from our honeymoon on the Greek Island of Paros, Ethan came to stay with us and Mark became his guardian. Business interests had forced his parents to relocate to England for the year and because Ethan wanted to attend a summer program at UCLA and stay in the Bel Air school district, we were happy to have him.

     He spent most of his time at Honey’s house (next door) just ‘hanging out’ as he put it. By then, Honey was a sophomore. Ethan was about to transfer to Sunrise High where Mark and I attended school, so long ago. It was kind of a coincidence because the boys, like Honey, were from one of the richest families in Bel Air, but you’d never have known it.

     Neither of them were particularly interested in money, as it turned out.  Mark helped out as an advocate at an environmental law firm and with my former clients who were, for the most part, ‘at risk’ teenagers. His values were one of the many things I cherished about my husband.

     In fact, Mark and I were far more compatible than we realized.

     It just took Honey to prove it.

     The story of the matchmaker of Bel Air really did begin at the Farmers Markets… and I think, it’s probably time for Honey to tell you what happened next.

POPULAR by SUMMER DAY (chapter one: How to be Popular / finding a match )

How to be Popular by Honey Woodhouse

Chapter One

Finding a match

My entirely wonderful matchmaking plans were born in Beverly Hills although Phoebe is sure to tell you they were born at Farmer’s markets.

    The sun shone through the stained glass windows of the Church of Beverly Hills on Phoebe’s and Mark’s wedding day, inspiring me along with their spoken vows.

    It had taken ten years but I’d made it happen. I had created plenty of ‘opportunities’ for them to date and told one how highly the other person thought of them and vice versa even when they’d told me no such thing. I’d even written a list of compliments in the form of a dialogue that Ethan observed me writing over my shoulder once, but that’s a whole other story.

    “Honey, what are you doing?” Ethan had asked.

    “Nothing you need to know about,” I replied (quite huffily, I admit). It’s rude to read over the shoulders of others.

    Ethan raised his eyebrow.

    He and Wednesday (the younger half-sister of Mouche - who was Phoebe’s best friend) often came over to swim at my place when we were little kids. Then Wednesday’s career as an actress really took off. She started by doing commercials but now she spends part of the year in Wilmington filming a teen television series. She enrolls at Sunrise when she’s back home.

    Without a doubt, the marriage between Ethan’s hot older cousin and my babysitter was my greatest matchmaking moment.   

    

   Phoebe and Mark were exchanging vows one week before I was due to start at Sunrise High. Wednesday was filming in Georgia so I was mentally preparing exactly how I’d establish myself in my freshman year – alone, without my best friend - and even the outfit I’d wear to my new school on my first day. I’d left The High School for Young Ladies after sixth grade. It was way snobbish there. I needed a new scene and Phoebe suggested Sunrise. Sunrise was like a breath of fresh air and I quickly became friends and part of a group of girls (generationly known as ‘the princesses’). I couldn’t wait for sophomore year to start. I had so many plans. But first of all, I had to decide what to wear.

    Hair braided at the side? Too Amish? I’m not saying that’s a bad thing but I am not Amish, obviously.

    Sailor suit top tailored over jeans? Too Glee? Too Sound of Music? Maybe. Again, not necessarily a bad thing.  

    Gloss or pale lipstick? Both make a statement. Both say, I made an effort but I don’t think looks are more important than developing a personality. Sure, I know most girls don’t get rewarded for having a personality but trust me, one day it will pay to have one.

    Now, shoes or boots? Shoes say “here I am, and I’m a conformist.” This is probably a good thing to be on your first day at a new school. Boots say, “I’m making a statement!” Especially my adorable just over the knee ones. They’re saying, “Here I am, a fashion diva, ready to friend but don’t mess with me.”

    I was very eager to consolidate my group of BFFs with a new member or two. It takes an army to make a village… or does it take a village to make an army? Whatever it is, it takes more than one person to appear popular and without popularity, you have no influence. Influence is how the world – especially my teenage world, turns.

    Now, if I can’t influence someone like Ethan – how could I possibly influence anyone else? Look at him on my group photo screensaver. Pitiful, huh? He’s cute, obviously, but he has no style. He needs my help but he won’t ask for it.

    Ethan is probably a bad example of me wielding my power, eager as he is to listen intently to everything I have to say, laugh and inevitably do the opposite. Not only does he disregard both my feelings and my opinions but he ignores almost totally my fashion sense. That flaw is the hardest to accept.

     For example, I put on a new skirt to show Maria (our housekeeper) the other day. Ethan just happened to be indulging in one of her chocolate cakes (he eats like a horse and maintains an athlete’s muscle tone) and he just ignores my style completely.

     “Was it too far above the knee?” I asked Phoebe. Phoebe smiled and shook her head.

      Ethan didn’t even glance in my direction. It’s so offensive when ignorance breeds that kind of superiority complex. Generally, if I’m being obnoxious my father sends me back to my room while Ethan just sits in the study with Daddy going over the latest stock reports or whatever, once again paying me scant attention.

   Oh, there he is now. 

    Maria hands him an extra piece of cake.

    I’m reminded… of Phoebe’s wedding…

    

   At Phoebe’s wedding reception, I was seated alone admiring the gorgeousness of the wedding cake, the venue and the cleverness of my matchmaking handiwork – the house with the fairy lights lit up the garden as all of the guests (including Wednesday who had managed to get the day off from filming Teen Daze – the television show she’s in) were huddled together. I had encouraged my two best friends to dance with two juniors I’d invited without realizing I’d be left at the table for the first ten minutes of the evening.

    That’s when Ethan, dressed from head to toe in exactly the suit I recommended he wear, came up to say hello. His dance partner (who knew he even danced?) was hanging onto his hand like her life depended on it. I always encourage women not to appear so needy, but whatever. I’m not sure what I’d encourage Ethan’s potential girlfriends to do since they had the dubious taste to set their sights on Ethan in the first place.

     Ethan is barely twelve months older than me but he already thinks he knows everything. He’s seriously not the wisest of men where girls are concerned. I mean, I’m so much more mature. He just has no idea. For example, most women are not interested in the robotics and engineering elective he’s considering taking at UCLA alongside his political science major.

    Tonight, he seems to barely notice the girl he’s with, so I’m sure she’ll wise up soon. He’s way too busy talking to the group of little ones surrounding him. The whole room is lit up like a fairy castle (again, my influence, the real wedding planner wanted to go tribal!)

    Ethan is seated with the youngest bridesmaids who are listening rapturously to his magical story.  

    He’s hidden the final treasure hunt prize in his jacket and the whole room looks at him as if to say, “aww,” except me.  

    “Honey!” He says as he looks up.

    He was pleased to see me, I could tell, but he’s already about to give me some advice about my ‘matchmaking’ activities because he clearly disapproves of them.  I pretend to be extremely engrossed in my conversation with Phoebe’s former teacher Ms Dash (wearing a dress two seasons out of date), before he can catch my eye again.  Ms Dash could definitely use my fashion advice but she’s far too interested in encouraging me to ‘excel’ in art class, which is admirable, but she shouldn’t neglect her manicure.

    I was trapped between a rock and a hard place as Ethan introduced his new girlfriend to me.

    “Honey,” he said, “I’d like to introduce you to Gigi.”

    “Nice to meet you, Gigi,” I said and I meant it even though Gigi’s smile was unwelcoming, a few of her parts looked fake (isn’t sixteen too young for plastic surgery?) and her fashion sense was completely underwhelming.  

    Ethan whispered, ‘be nice,’ behind her shoulder.

    “How could you imagine I wouldn’t be?” I asked as he touched Gigi’s arm and she dragged his uncoordinated feet onto the dance floor.   

    At least Phoebe, Mark and Wednesday seemed to be enjoying themselves as Wednesday, Ty and Jessica (my friends) pulled me onto the dance floor and we all started to dance in a circle around the happy couple. After the song ended, Phoebe and Wednesday were talking animatedly and admiring each other’s gowns. Wednesday had brought a yummy looking dude from the film set who at one point joined the band. Wednesday told me after, like most people he wanted to be something he wasn’t. He wanted to be a guitarist not an actor. 

   “Acting’s not all I thought it would be but I’m making a great college fund. Mouche would be proud,” Wednesday added. As I mentioned earlier, Mouche, Phoebe’s best friend, was Wednesday’s half-sister.

    I agreed. I vaguely remembered Mouche – I was only tiny, like Wednesday, when Mouche was killed. I’ve seen photos of her though and her beauty is legendary around here. Phoebe once told me what a fun and talented person Mouche was and I see that in her photographs and in Wednesday’s smile.   

    As I surveyed the world, my world, I noticed in that moment, all was right with it.

    Almost.

    I could never have known where my next social challenge would take me.