Pride and Princesses Twelve Go Dating

Chapter 22

Twelve Go Dating

     We met on the rotunda near the lake, not far from the riding stables in Sunrise Park. There were two swans paddling together in the water creating an unlikely picture in the foreground, a fantasy image of loving but docile harmony. Perhaps if they’d stayed in view for longer we might have witnessed their territorial animosity.

     Mouche and I were a rowdy pair that morning. All the items had been gathered apart from two disparate ones: the bracelet and a pair of shoes. We’d broken the rules by allowing ourselves to date Mark and Jet more than once, but since that rule was unspoken, we decided it was ours to navigate. Besides, a morning spent at the Sunrise Pony Club was something we all looked forward to and a group date was hardly the same as a one on one encounter. We’d decided another date with Mark would drive Teegan and Tory wild and Mouche was absolutely willing to go riding with Jet (“I can’t believe he is so literate,” Mouche said, “His sweet smile belies a formidable intellect!”) What we didn’t know, was, by the time we arrived, Brooke and Freya had invited Tory and Teegan and all their previous dates along as well. We joked about it in the Boy Rating Diary afterwards, “it was like pony club for teenagers...”

     We arrived at 8am at the Sunrise Stables. The Princesses were dressed in riding outfits from head to toe and had dragged along their unwilling partners. Mark and Jet seemed surprised but amused and Mouche and I were absolutely willing to go with the flow. I was paired up with Mark, because although I had refused to dance with him, I hadn’t refused to ride with him.  We’d since reached a point where, let’s face it, I was seriously interested in him and it was going to be hurtful to have to give him up to others to date. Still, he could always refuse other offers, but I have a feeling he won’t. Men like to be popular (almost) as much as girls, but that’s a whole other chapter.  

     Jet, of course, was very eager to ride with Mouche and make amends for the missed date. Mouche looked very good in her new outfit and she rode quite well. I wore my favorite blue jeans, no ridiculous riding britches for me.

     Teegan and Tory wore navy blue jodhpurs and made a beeline for Mark, simultaneously, ignoring their surprised dates, Jack Adams and Tom Allen.

     “After all,” Tory said, “we can go riding with them any weekend, but it’s not every Saturday that Petra joins us.”

     Petra was brushing her horse and looked up and smiled at us as Tory spoke.

      Mark looked pleased.

     “Is she coming along the trail with us?” Tory inquired.

     “No, Petra wants to finish grooming her horse, Hobbit.” (Hobbit had new shoes and was apparently having some difficulty trotting comfortably). Tory couldn’t resist a snigger when she thought no one was watching. “But, she’s going to meet us when we get back. Why don’t you both join us for lunch? Phoebe and Mouche are coming as well. The more the merrier,” Mark said amiably. He seemed to have channelled Jet’s personality recently.

      “Oh, that would be fabulous,” the girls said because they knew Mark went riding every  Saturday morning after soccer practice and it was important to befriend his sister in order to grow closer to him. They’d seen them both in the club house a few weekends ago. Of course, it’s also possible that self-interest wasn’t paramount in their thoughts. It could be that they just liked Petra and wanted to get to know her better. After all, if she teamed with Ella and Katie and their younger sisters, there would be a whole future generation of Princesses.

     “That would be lovely. We’d love to join you all,” Teegan said a little over-enthusiastically, I thought.

     Mark had already ridden off when Teegan said under her breath as she fixed the saddle, “wonder why she was late arriving this morning?”

     Petra had arrived after us, just as we were all about to set out on the trail ride. 

     “Probably busy barfing,” Tory added under her breath.

     The Princesses were returning to form again.

    “I happen to know Teegan was a functioning bulimic in ninth grade. It’s so typical for her to attack someone else over a problem she secretly has,” Mouche added as we trotted off.

    I rode up alongside Mouche who seemed surprised I could sit a horse, but I’d been going to pony club from the age of six, long after Mouche dropped out. My attendance had been less frequent since Daddy ran off with the family fortune.

   Mark’s Aunt had invited us all for lunch and I was excited that we’d get the chance to explore Mark’s house afterwards. It was sure to be very formal and opulent. 

    Ethan had agreed to accompany Teegan but was constantly ignoring her and glancing over at Mouche, flexing his fingers in between gallops. He’d been practicing “some concerto” for a competition the night before.

     “Honestly, I’m just surrounded by high-achieving talents. It’s making me quite insecure,” Teegan whispered sarcastically.

     Freya, who’d been pony clubbing since age three, invited us over to her place last week. We consolidated “date-notes” and admired her amazing walk-in closet and riding trophies.  There were hundreds of shoes and boots in the latest styles, all color co-ordinated along with her jackets, and we compared and contrasted fashion. Freya even allowed Brooke to try on her costumes from previous school musicals. Tory and Teegan tried on some of them as well. The rest of us sat on Brooke’s bed, beneath the crucifixes, adding extra notes to the Boy Rating Diary and that’s when Tory and Teegan told us they intended to go riding on Saturday.

     Mouche and I thought our wardrobes were quite extensive but, on the one night we babysat Wednesday last month, we had total access to Mrs Mouche’s closet which is way fancier. Mrs Mouche has loads of her mom’s vintage fashions and hundreds of pairs of vintage shoes.

     However, the walk-in closet to end all walk-in closets really belonged to a most unexpected individual: a girl none of us knew well, Mark’s sister, Petra.

    Petra surprised us all by meeting us half-way. She was an excellent rider and made Teegan and Tory look like amateurs.

    When we met, the boys, Jet (who was his normal charming self) and Mark (minus his usual scowl), had already been riding for half an hour to “warm up the race horses” as Tory put it. I don’t think he’d expected Mouche or me to be so good. We both knew something about riding, even if we didn’t  do perfect little canters and jumps like Brooke and Freya who were in the opposite paddock by now with Tory and Teegan cheering the boys on like homecoming queens.

    They were clapping out of time to the beat and if Jet so much as whispered, they took notes. They knew full well this was an arranged date and although we didn’t totally ignore them, it was a little uncomfortable having to pretend to be inclusive when they rode over to try to get the attention of Jet and Mark, under the guise of preparing for their respective trail rides.

    Mark seemed intent on helping Mouche handle the bridle properly and though Teegan yelled out, “look at this!” Mark only glanced up and seemed vaguely unimpressed. I felt sorry for the Princesses once we’d all actually gone for a gallop. Their behaviour had exposed them as desperate and slightly incompetent.

    At one point Jet was giddying up my horse and Mouche was trotting around the ring on a horse named Flame. Flame took off and Mark followed her. The animal was going faster and faster until Mark grabbed the reins off Mouche in a very timely and masculine way.

    “Whoa,” Mark said.

     He managed to slow down the horse and prevented the possible accident that may have occurred as the horse ran wild into the distance.

    “Here...take my hand,” he said, as Mark offered Mouche assistance.

     Mouche smiled at him gratefully as he helped her down onto solid ground to recover. I was trailing behind them slightly. Mark patted Flame, then looked at Mouche calmly and said in a protective fashion, “are you okay?” to which she replied, “I’m a little cold,” and he took off his own jacket and wrapped it around her.

    My heart beat skipped.

    Mark checked the horse, “Oh look, a rock under the saddle. That is sure to disturb the horse when weight is pressed up against it.”  Mark glanced at one Princess in particular.

    Teegan flushed guiltily.

    Mouche’s face had turned white. The Princesses and their dates had halted their horses behind us and pulled up looking shocked.

    Afterwards there was a bit of a truce as Mark and Jet invited everyone back to Mark’s aunt’s house.

    “I have a prior engagement,” Teegan said, because she couldn’t stand not being the centre of attention and everyone suspecting her of sabotage. 

   “Oh we can go to The Grove later,” Brooke replied to a withering stare from her sister. 

    The other girls seemed to have reverted to their former ways and wandered off with their original group. Tory said they had half the football team lined up for a “skate off” at Sunrise Roller Derby at 2pm anyway.

    At least, that’s what they told us, “trying to make all the boys jealous,” Mouche added under her breath.

    So in the end it was just me and Mouche and Mark and Jet and Petra.

    Because Mouche and I are like sisters, we telepathically knew this would be a great story for the Boy Rating Diary so we jumped straight into Mark’s new sports car. Though Mouche was crammed into the back seat, she said the view of the hills in the distance reminded her of some amazing foreign film, “like a scene from a Bond movie – the one set in the South of France.”

    There were huge gates outside Mark’s mansion which were even taller than the gates around Jet’s place. There was also a moat and a bridge we drove over to reach the house which was surrounded by manicured gardens and staff to open the door for us when we reached the entrance. There didn’t seem to be any other adults apart from the butler and housekeeper who helpfully took our jackets. 

    “All very gothic,” Mouche said.

    “The wing my sister and I share is really warm. We have a huge flat screen television and all the mod cons (Mark sounded seriously British when he said this). You should have seen where we went to boarding school in the South of England, originally.” Petra gave a shiver from the remembrances of previously cold times and I felt her pain. Mouche did also, although she noted in the Boy Rating Diary, that what she felt for Mark at that point was more of a sisterly, rather than future girlfriend, kind of feeling. 

    Mark was very tall and hot but, let’s face it, he wasn’t exactly spontaneous. Mouche didn’t seem to mind as she leaned forward from the back seat, paying intense interest while he spoke of his days playing “football” in the mud and wet of Windsor.

   “Hey, isn’t that where the Queen lives?” she asked.

   “Yes, but only on weekends. As a matter of fact you see Windsor Castle not far from my old school.”

    “Wow that’s almost like being related to royalty,” Mouche said sarcastically.  

    “Totally,” I agreed but I noticed when Jet tried to put his arm around her she moved apart from him.

    Mark’s sister took us on a tour of the indoor pool and library. We walked beyond the Knightly family crest and ancestral portraits on the wall. Petra was two years younger than Mouche and me but dressed with more fashion sense than we had at her age. She also seemed more mature. Perhaps it was her upbringing and early loss.

    “Are those jeans Vintage?” I asked.

    “Yep,” she said sweetly, “they were my mother’s. She ordered them off the internet.”

    Mark suddenly looked very sad and said, “Come and join us for a late lunch.” He was acting so polite it was hard to believe he was the same person. Jet suggested they go and play pool while lunch was being prepared “by the housekeeper.”

    “Okay, we’ll be down in a minute,” Petra called out.

    Mark said he’d give us a tour of the house. His uncle was, “away in Europe on business, but due back soon...hopefully after we’ve left.” Mouche laughed at his joke, perhaps a little louder than me.

    “I’m afraid my Uncle is...a bit different.”

    “You could say that,” Jet added bemusedly.

    Although the house was seriously ritzy, I got to tell you Mouche didn’t look very impressed. Her mood lifted when lunch arrived. We both loved food (although we tried not to eat too much junk) and this was delicious - platters of sandwiches and little silver trays of fruit salad and ice-cream for dessert.

    “Wow, this is wonderful,” I said.

    “Totally,” Mouche agreed.

    “As good as the Sunrise Diner?” Jet asked.

    “Definitely,” I replied.

    “Maybe even better,” Mouche said, smiling at Mark. I noticed he smiled right back at her.

    After lunch we had a tour of the huge house, “more like a mansion,” I whispered to Mouche.

    Mouche whispered back to me in the “library” as Mark was stoking up a real fire place,

   “Ethan and I went ice skating last night...”

   “You mean you went on a second date without telling me?”

    “I have learnt to keep my options open. Besides, he rang me a few days ago, obviously, because it says in Mrs Robinson’s guide never to ring a man. I texted him back. One thing led to another and before I knew it we were at Town Square Ice Rink.”

    “Did anything happen?”

    “Not really, well, we kissed...and I scored a pair of ice-skates to take to the Rockefeller Centre in the future...sh...Jet’s coming back.”

     I was starting to think Mouche was playing the field a little too well.

    Jet entered the room and smiled at Mouche. You could tell he really liked her. I wasn’t too bothered. I mean, I had other ideas. I wandered off to find Petra’s room which was located in an old converted ballroom. Petra had the most amazing bedroom I’d ever seen although the size of the room itself appeared to engulf her and she seemed happy to have company.

     Besides, leaving Jet and Mouche alone for a few minutes was, I thought, the right thing to do. 

    “Hey Petra, It’s nice to see you again.”

    “Hi Phoebe.”

     There was an extravagant doll’s house in the corner.

     “Mouche’s little sister would be wild about that,” I said.

     “It’s just for decoration. My aunt installed it. You should bring Mouche’s sister over sometime,” Petra said congenially.

    “Uh...Okay,” I replied.

Pride and Princesses Family Secrets chapter 23

Chapter 23

Family Secrets

    Petra looked really shy and very skinny, although not totally anorexic, as some might have said.

    She smiled up at me. Petra was sorting through her wardrobe, then she  spoke in a reserved way, becoming more animated as she  made her suggestion, “I was hoping we could all go down to the skating rink next Saturday. I was going to text you.”

    “That’d be great,” I agreed. I loved to skate even though I was less than perfect at it. I enjoyed getting all dressed up in wintery clothes although it was nowhere near winter weather.

    “I’m trying to find something nice to wear. We don’t often have visitors since I’ve been here and my aunt tends to sleep in the afternoons.”

    “Oh, really? Why?”

    “Pharmaceuticals.”

    “Right,” I said, not knowing whether to laugh or commiserate. Let’s face it, all did not seem entirely “normal” in the Knightly household and I was glad to be going home to my mom’s place and also to have Mrs Mouche’s warm and loving home as a refuge. If ever I get married and have kids, I’m going to remember love is more important than money.

    “I suppose they keep her happy,” Petra said this almost like a warning. “Anyway, take a look at my stuff; I’m trying to find this shirt I bought from Selfridges.”

    “Oh, you like to shop?”

    “Of course.”

    “Me too.”

     Petra continued, “But I got this in London. I love to go to Kings Road. I miss our old home.”

    “Wow, you have the most amazing closet.” Honestly, it was fit for a real Princess – well, maybe a young Queen.

    “Just like Hannah Montana,” she replied, with a hint of her brother’s wit.

    “I suppose.”

    “You’re right, I’m lucky. Come in, check it out.” Petra turned on all the lights and she had the sort of fashion haul to do those teen envy reality shows proud times a thousand.

     “You even have proper stage lights around your mirror. I love that.”

     I placed my hand on the right shirt and jeans for Petra in minutes; then I got an idea. I found some sort of vintage suit covered in plastic and said, “Hey, do you ever wear this?

     “Actually, I don’t. It’s too big for me. My aunt bought it for me to wear to a wedding I didn’t attend.”

     “Oh, you must really like it then.”

     “Not really, I’m thinking of giving it to Goodwill.”

     “No, don’t do that.”

     It really was the most perfect vintage suit I’d ever laid eyes on, exactly right for my character to wear in the final scene of the play, and also for our treasure haul.

   “Why don’t you have it,” Petra suggested.

    “Really?”

    “Sure.”

     I offered to reserve Petra a seat in the front row on opening night. It’s amazing how kind people become when you are working towards a common goal. It’s like the universe steps in to offer possibilities. One of our spiritual guide books to dating, Astral Planet Loving, elaborates on that.

    After giving Petra a make-over, we entered the dining room together only to find Jet inching closer to Mouche. When we arrived he let go of her hand and started to act really cool and Mouche glanced over to me with a, “I think It’s time to go,” look on her face.

     We noticed Mark’s uncle hovering over the drinks tray in the corner of the room wearing a business suit and tie. He must have arrived home early. Mark looked worried as he introduced us to him.

     “Hello, girls,” Mr Knightly said in a slightly too-friendly way.

     Mark’s aunt introduced herself with a dismissive, “and who are your little friends, Mark?” as if we couldn’t speak for ourselves. She also looked at our clothes with a distasteful expression on her face as if what we wore was shabby. We left just as she was asking us what our fathers did for a living, what kind of car they drove and if we summered in the Hamptons.

     Poor Mark. He had wanted to leave immediately after lunch but his relatives arrived early. He looked embarrassed as we gathered our jackets to leave.

     “My parents were never like this,” he said.

      Jet interjected, “oh, Phoebe...Mark forgot to tell you something...you should know about Joel.”

      I was in a hurry to leave. Mark’s uncle was creeping me out and Mark seemed hesitant to speak loudly, so I jokingly said, “you should put it on paper.”

     “Uh, okay,” Mark replied. He looked surprised that Jet had spoken on his behalf when usually it was the other way around.

      I knew guys didn’t usually write letters, but I thought this might prove added commitment.  Mark looked like he wanted to come with us but was forced to stay when his aunt told him his Latin tutor was due to arrive in ten minutes.

     Turns out Mark’s uncle had arrived back from Brussels and was pouring himself a drink. He actually asked us if we wanted one as we were leaving.

     Petra excused herself to “walk the dogs,” after giving me a “see you soon” smile. Mouche pinched another sandwich on the way out as Mark’s uncle gave both her and me a long glance from head to toe.

   “Eww.” Mouche said.

   “I know. Mark’s uncle is super lecherous.”

    “He must like younger women.”

    “Much younger.”

    “Gee, that’s original,” Mouche said.

    “I know, poor Mark. Do you think he even noticed?”

   “Definitely. Besides, he never would have invited us home if he realized his uncle was going to be there.” Mouche said. “What a sleaze.”

    “Totally.”

   “You can’t choose your relatives.”

   “Unless they’re your friends,” Mouche added. 

    Surrounded by lush grounds and with the majestic mansion framed by sunset falling, we finally understood why so few people had ever been to visit Mark’s place.

   

    The next day a letter was hand delivered to my house.

    Mark’s chauffeur embarked from the car and rang my doorbell. I sleepily answered in my pyjamas and robe, rubbing my eyes.

   “Miss Phoebe Harris?”

   “Yes.”

   “I have a letter for you, young lady.”

   Even the chauffeur sounded like he was from another country.

   I took the cream paper, sealed in a gold envelope with my name on it, and immediately thought of our treasures (letters from so many boys, growing daily), but only a few from Mark thus far.

   I read the letter with interest as I poured milk into my breakfast cereal. My mother arrived in the kitchen fully dressed in a suit and ready to start her realtor day with a showing in Mark Knightly’s gated community. I considered myself lucky to have such a good relationship with my mother and considered Mark and Petra’s situation in a reflective light.

    “Good morning sweetie,” my mom kissed me on the top of my head.

    “Hi mom.”

    I pulled out my cell and texted Mouche.

 

    You need to come over right now P.  

   

    Mouche arrived ten minutes before we were due in home room. She was breaking some cotton with her teeth (“I know, it’s totally not the done thing in your stupid Mrs Jones Etiquette tome, but I’ve just finished hemming our dance costumes. There.”)

   “Check this out,” I said. “It’s the longest letter He’s ever written!”

   Waving the letter in front of her I ripped it open and read aloud:

 

Dear Phoebe

 There is one subject that I should enlighten you about – the subject of Joel Goodman.

  Although he is from the very best of families and my father and mother were great friends with his parents, Joel was always economical with the truth, from the time we played together as small boys. When my father died, he left Joel (as his Godson) a sum of money for his college education and Joel managed to hoodwink his own family into letting him have access to this money which he then spent in a seriously disreputable manner. But this is only money, which I have never thought was something worth arguing over.

 

“Mmm...” Mouche raised her eyebrow, “a man with a good value system,”

“Finally!” I said, wickedly.

“Read on, I can’t wait to hear the rest. He has this haughty British tone on paper.”

“Not just on paper.”

“Keep going!”

 

What really led to our falling out was an incident that occurred during the summer holidays when he came home from the prep school he’d been sent to by his parents. This was the first time he tried to get close to my sister. He basically made an attempt to seduce her. They were both under age and my Uncle threw Joel out.  This has led to my sister being quite unsociable and at one stage she suffered from anorexia (thankfully recovered, but she is still quite fragile).

 

Mouche interjected, “actually his love for his sister is really quite touching!”

I looked at her incredulously.

 

As for Joel’s parents, when the company they ran was sold, they both received enough money to live on comfortably for the rest of their lives. It is Joel who is lying, not me, and I just wanted you to know this, so that we can be friends.

Mark K.

 

“No loving exclamation marks?” Mouche asked

“No,” I said, stating the obvious.

 “Maybe we have been way harsh on him. I’m sure he didn’t mean to separate me and Jet.”

“He’s certainly tried to make up for it since.”

“Well, I’m beginning to see how complicated relationships can be...”

“Mrs Jones always says good ones don’t need to be.”

“Well, I think, just this once, Mrs Jones is wrong.

Pride and Princesses Rocco and Julie

Chapter 24

Rocco and Julie

    It was opening night.

   “I just want to apologise for my crazy aunt and uncle,” Mark said from the shadows as I was about to enter the dressing room to apply my stage make-up.

   “That’s okay. The whole experience was...kind of fun.”

    “Just as long as they’re not your family, huh...” Mark said, master of the obvious.

    He had repeatedly apologised for his “unwelcoming family” even going so far as to tell me that he “can’t wait to turn eighteen so I can be out of there.” It was way harsh for him to have to live with such stuck up bores and you had to hand it to him for trying to overcome his circumstances. His personality had really improved too, or maybe he’d just finally revealed himself once we got to know him better. Perhaps we’d been too quick to pass judgement.

    The dating game had pretty much been played. We all had our favorite dates and an entire locker filled with “gifted” treasure as well as a subway map of New York and a trophy with a blank metal space ready to be engraved with the name of the winner. The yet-to-be-uploaded blog was designed and edited with out-takes, quotes and images from our many months of intense research. The research was all contained in the second Boy Rating Diary – the one we fully revealed amongst ourselves. The original diary was hidden. Mouche and I hadn’t glanced at it for days but we knew it contained early, unspoken secrets.

    We were all very proud of our game and busy acting like best friends. Teegan was still mildly in disgrace since all of us suspected her of the riding sabotage. She had apologised profusely, admitting that although she had groomed the horse, given him an extra brush, she had not noticed the pebble under the saddle and would never have let Mouche ride if she had.

    We kind of believed her.

    After all, we were besties now.

    Although, let’s face it, no two friends could ever be as close as Mouche and I.

    Everything changed on opening night.

    Gossip and chatter filled the backstage area along with tulle and denim jackets, the staples of the costume department. Nervous actors with parts both big and small gathered in the wings before the curtain came up. My costume was amazing for the last act but quite understated for the first two. I couldn’t  wait to get into it as I ran my hands over the pink tulle ball dress designed and made to fit perfectly (thanks to Mouche), and the vintage blue denim jacket and boots that would complement the tragic scene when Julie gives her life to be with Rocco in death.

    Conversations gathered in the air: talk of Act One moved on to the topic of Miss Love and Mr Frame’s upcoming wedding, Wednesday’s audition for a potentially lucrative baby commercial – these were all topics for discussion. Mouche and I are totally going to be Wednesday’s managers if she wins. Teegan even offered to put in a good word for Wednesday to get back on side with us.

    The Princesses were all acting so supportive, in pursuit of the greater good, like little Godmothers. The future Boy Rating Blog had taught us all a thing or two about female friendship.

    “Like,” Teegan repeated, “If girls truly supported one another, the way groups of boys seem to, the world would be a very powerful place for us.”

    “It’s like playing soccer,” Tory continued.

    “For example, last home game, when all the boys actually seemed to work together as a cogent team, the girls were jostling on the sidelines for the best view,” Brooke added.

    “Is it because the view is so hard to get?” Freya asked.

    “Wouldn’t we have had a better afternoon if we’d made space for everyone instead of trying to exclude some girls? Or better yet, shouldn’t we have worked to make our own team more athletic?” Mouche stated.

     “Who cares if no one wants to cheer us on. It’s time we stopped being happy just sitting on the sidelines!” I suddenly announced.

     “So true,” Tory said.

    “Yes,” Brooke added, “girls need to stand together. I’ve learnt so much about how boys behave just from comparing stories with everyone else.”

     Of course, it helped that by this stage, everyone had blown it with Mark, everyone except Mouche and me. Try as they might, they disregarded the rules and paid him far too much attention until he seemed completely fed up with being tailed by the Princesses and started directing all his energy towards me and Mouche.

      “Geez,” Freya said, “do you think He’s gay or what?”

      “He’s so not gay,” Brooke said.

      “Definitely not gay,” Teegan added.

      “I have it on good authority,” Tory concluded.

      “Whose?”

      “I kissed him in the rotunda but all he wanted to do was talk about Mouche and Phoebe. I don’t think he can make up his mind which of you is his favorite.”

       “Me too,” Teegan added, “I mean, I kissed him as well: another time, another place, of course. He has strong arms and for sure a big...”

       “...jacket?” Mouche finished the sentence for her.

       “That’s just what I was about to say,” Teegan said mischievously. 

       “He didn’t even try to kiss me. I think Jet told him I’m planning on becoming a nun,” Brooke said.

       “Are you?” Teegan asked.

       “No,” Brooke whined, like it was obvious that she was about to change image and lighten up for senior year.

       Well, he needn’t tax himself, I thought, because he is just the pawn in my game of chess.          

      “Funny how it’s always the men who think they control the game of love,” Mouche said.

     “The game of love is a game of chance,” I repeated as I was about to go on and pretend to only have eyes for Peter Williamson.

    And then the curtain and lights came up and there I was, front stage centre, saying my lines and pretending to be the most famous lovey-dovey teenager in history.

    It all went very well and we had a huge cheer after Act Two as the curtain came down. During interval I ran to the backstage dressing rooms to pick up a prop that Brooke had ‘forgotten’ to place onstage. I would have made do except the vial of poison was vital to the plot ( the part where Julie pretends to be dead so that she  and Rocco can run away together – except Rocco thinks she  actually has killed herself and stabs himself because he can’t live without Julie. Mr Sparks uses this plot point as a message about the futility of self-harm).     

    It was, however, Miss Tartt’s idea and Mouche and I were impressed to see her flicking through The Good Girlfriend Guide last rehearsal and insisting on being included in decision making as well as standing up for herself. We’ve noticed she’s nicer to girls and other women, and, she’s applying for a promotion.  Instead of just giving certain students an evil glare when Mr Sparks is speaking, she will stand there with an almost beatific smile on her face, spreading the mental love just like The Good Girlfriend Guide suggests.

     “Not exactly normal,” Mouche would comment, “but a step up from how she was before.”

     “Absolutely,” I agreed. That night Miss Tartt was being helpful, desperately searching with me for the poison prop vial. 

     It was the same week Teegan pretended to self-harm (feigning a mild overdose of her mother’s tranquilizers) to get Jet’s attention (it worked, but he still hadn’t asked her to the prom and she  was considering a pity date with Jack Adams, who’d bothered to visit her on the one day she  took off school (also to get Jet’s attention).

    “You are sure to get invited by Mark,” Mouche whispered backstage as she  was going over my lines as part of her jobs as prompt, dancer and now understudy. “Now might be the time to give him a little encouragement,” Mouche suggested and she was usually right.

    So I was pretty surprised when I ran up the backstage stairs yelling out, “I’ve got it” with the tiny clay prop in hand and stumbled upon Freya kissing Mark on the lips. Mark seemed to be really into it and how could I imagine Freya was not willing to do anything to win the game?

    Wasn’t he supposed to be making sure the stage was lit properly?

    I backed up straight away and tumbled into a pile of props that Brooke – who’d offered to help Mouche, had forgotten to put away. I fell splat on the floor. Having tripped over my own ankle, I then managed to fall flat onto Peter Williamson who was doing up the buttons on his Act Three trousers.

     I was mortified as my Rocco was carried off on a stretcher. What a disaster. Not only was my heart almost entirely broken but the people from Julliard had probably given up on me ever getting back on stage when Mark ran over to help me.

     “I’m so sorry Phoebe, she just grabbed me,” he said.

     “Yeah right,” I said softly.

      I backed off, pretending not to care about him and Freya. Freya gave me a smug smile and an insincere, “oh no, what can we do to help you Phoebe?”

    “You could get off my prize!” I wanted to snap but stopped myself just in time. The Good Girlfriend suggests, “Never reveal your jealousy. Sift through those issues by working on your self-esteem.”

    “That’s so true,” Teegan agreed when I told her. “It’s like, if I feel fat I should just work out more instead of coveting some other girl’s muscle tone.”

   “Exactly,” Brooke said. “We should try to be the ones who build the building instead of the ones who knock it down.”

    “It’s going to be okay,” Mouche suggested.  And I’m sure she meant it. 

     Empathy for me didn’t stop her from shining in my place.

    Of course, I realize a true friend would have been happy for her and I was. It’s just that when the final curtain fell I was registering the long and passionate kiss Mark had given Mouche. Both were understudying the leads by then and Mark had to carry his script onstage with him. It was hard to feel charitable as their lips touched.

     “What a man-slut,” Teegan whispered to me.

     “Bet he’s enjoying that, mwoah, mwoah...” Tory’s little sucking noise mocked my chagrin.

     Thankfully, Mouche was such a great performer; she managed to save the play. It was not just my imagination, looking on from the wings, that Mark particularly seemed to enjoy sucking Mouche’s rosy mouth before her character woke only to find Rocco lying still, poisoned. When the character of Julie (my character!) tastes the poison on Rocco’s lips, well that’s when self-doubt started to sink in.

    “Mouche does seem to be lingering unnecessarily,” Teegan stated.

     My ankle was throbbing. How had I managed to become such a cliché of my own life? The nurse had wrapped the bandage around my foot like a tourniquet. I tried so hard to feel happiness for my friends but I’d started to doubt the game, Mark, the Princesses and especially my friendship with Mouche. The Princesses were clapping wildly and whistling on the sidelines along with the standing ovation the audience gave (made up mostly of families but also the precious Julliard judges).

    Now that the Princesses had accepted Mouche, I was beginning to feel weird about her. I was unsure about everything to do with our stupid boy-rating idea. It was okay for us to round robin date in the beginning, but suddenly I was mad at my best friend.

    “Face it,” Tory whispered, “Mouche has “accidentally” stolen your man...”

    “Your part...” Teegan added.

    “And, quite possibly, your life,” Freya continued.

    “Not to mention the future,” Brooke added, fixing her nurse’s apron.

     Looking back, all the resentment came to a head during the final scene of Rocco and Julie.

     In this scene Julie speaks her soliloquy (rather dramatically) over Rocco’s body,

 

Julie

Farewell... God knows when we shall meet again. 

This, I have to do, alone.

Julie takes out bottle and drinks.

   

    Julie’s mother runs in (and here Mr Sparks copied the exact text) where the mother is played by a very smug Freya, (who’d demanded dual roles to show off her “versatility”). Freya is plastered in ageing make-up (with talcum powder in her hair to make it look grey and tries to shake Julie awake. Of course the talc began snowing all over the floor by this point and its lucky Mouche didn’t turn her ankle as well).

 

The scene continues:

Mother

Who has done this? A jealous hood! A jealous hood!

Quick, call for help.

Rocco hears Julie has been killed. He fights and kills Paris, runs to Julie who is lying on the floor.

Rocco

Oh my love, my wife.

Julie

Here’s to my love. The drugs are quick Thus with a kiss I... (Julie falls down)

Rocco kisses Julie, Julie starts to stir, and she wakes up as music starts. Julie shakes Rocco but he doesn’t stir, as the curtain falls and anti-suicide, smoking, drugs and drinking slogans are projected on the wall behind the slain lovers...

 

    “This was so not in the plan.” Teegan comforted me after the curtains had been lowered as the audience clapped madly and I was left waiting in the wings sans date even for the after-party. I figured I could safely kiss Julliard goodbye.

    “Gosh,” Brooke said, “I had no idea Mouche was such a wonderful actress. I knew she was a great dancer.”

    “Oh hush,” Teegan said, “can’t you see Phoebe is suffering terribly? Her one chance at college might be down the drain (now this made me angry, who were they kidding?) but what is worse, she had to witness Mark kissing Mouche. He’s obviously in lust with her – Mouche, I mean.”

   “It must have been so hard for you,” Brooke said patronizingly.

   “It was just a play!” I interjected. “Besides, no one owns anyone and we’re not even together. They were acting.”

    “Didn’t look like acting to me,” Teegan said.

    I must admit, they did seem to have some serious chemistry. I should’ve stalked and claimed my prey in Sunrise Park when I had the chance (according to Chapter Nine of Mrs Robinson’s Guide).

    Oh, I was ready to weep like a heroine from one of the old-fashioned movies Jack Adams and Teegan and Mouche and I had watched together. And, of course, the show had to go on, so it was not officially Mouche’s fault. She’d only reluctantly agreed to don my costume.

    And here I was back stage, freezing and miserable as my best friend took my place during the deserved standing ovation. All the plans I’d had for prom and even my post high-school life suddenly seemed ground into the dust.

    “You’re such a drama queen,” Trey had once said, when I was delegating roles in our neighborhood Christmas pageant almost ten years ago. I was only six but I liked to be in control almost as much as Mouche.

     Not quite as much. Mouche had outsmarted me. Here she was, acting up a storm in place of me, a shining star. I’d wept as I watched her perform her scenes.

    “I’m so sorry, Phoebe,” Mark said again later that night, “Freya was just helping me practice the scene. I know that sounds like a line but I really mean it.”

    “Well, it seems like she did her job so well, she forgot to tell her friend how to place the props correctly and ah...I can’t move my foot.”  

     “I’ll get the nurse,” Freya added helpfully. Don’t you just love that? That part where girls pretend to be nice in front of boys they are trying to impress? It makes me so annoyed.