Pride and Princesses The Lake House chapter 20

Chapter 20

The Lake House

When I arrived at Mouche’s  house an hour later, Trey was fixing his car. He had his head under the bonnet. The sleek sports car was kind of like Trey – long, old-fashioned and lean.

    “Where’s Mouche?” I asked. I knew Mrs Mouche had either taken the weekend shift (rare) or decided to take Wednesday shopping.

     “She went out, with some guy...better be careful, Mouche is starting to get more than a little big for her boots...”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Well I’m not completely stupid, watching you two girls play whatever dumb little popularity game you’ve got going...you better be careful you don’t hurt too many feelings in the process...kids can be cruel.”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, and started to walk back to my place, reluctantly, to finish my paper.

    “Oh, by the way, Mouche has gone hiking or to play tennis or something with some guy...named after a plane....Jet. Yeah, that was his name: blonde hair, dorky smile...”

    “Thanks,” I said.

    I texted Mouche: need 2 talk now

    She  texted back immediately and I was shocked when she  sent me Jet’s address and also the words can’t talk, come over @ midday, bring swimsuit pls.

    I ran back to Mouche’s  house and ran upstairs to her room. Trey arrived and stood in the doorway going all big brother on me: “where are you guys going?” and “what are you doing?” and “be back before ten pm because you know what your mom’s will say if you are not...”

   “Oh, I’m so not twelve years old anymore Trey.”

   “Then maybe you should stop acting like you are...”

    He wandered off.  

   As I sorted through Mouche’s  belongings I was kind of shocked to discover a few pages of notes where the name Mark featured prominently, notes that Mouche hadn’t  yet added to the diary. At first I resisted reading them because I assumed that Mouche would tell me whatever she  had to say, whenever she  was ready. Then I changed my mind and took a quick snap of the loose pages, to read later. I felt like a spy. Help me. Was the Boy-Rating Diary encouraging me to become a person I may not like? I was certainly more pro-active than I’d ever been and that was surely a good thing.   

   Did I not trust Mouche to tell me about her date with Jet because I still hadn’t  told her about Ethan? Maybe she  just hadn’t  gotten around to it. Was it because Mouche was beautiful that the girls (I noticed the Princesses were trying to be more cosy with me than Mouche) had started to distance themselves from her as we began to integrate the game?

    It really wasn’t fair. Most of the game had been Mouche’s  idea. When I thought about the dates and how the Princesses had secretly been divvying up the spoils and giving me pages on the sly and adding to the locker, I felt Mouche had been somewhat excluded. After all she  was the engine behind the fun. Even though we’d changed the rules slightly to involve the Princesses, which we had once so disliked, it wasn’t fair to exclude Mouche from information and spy on her. It seemed like the Princesses were taking over. Where did my loyalties lie? Mouche, of course, had way more going for her than just looks and charm.

    I pulled out Mouche’s  favorite swimsuit – ice blue with a ruffle across the top and like something from a 1920”s silent film. I figured Jet had already witnessed the bikini reveal and Mouche would now benefit from something more demure. Then I ran downstairs, past Trey and across the pathway between our houses and back to my room to get mine. Once again, all I could find in my wardrobe was my old navy school swimsuit. I reluctantly grabbed it. It wasn’t very exciting, but after all, it would just be Jet and I wasn’t planning on seriously dating him.

     I paused in my girly bedroom. Mouche’s  was more neutral creams but mine was a lot of pink. I read somewhere that pink turns boys off. Suddenly, I decided to look at Mouche’s  recent notes. After all, they were sure to be pasted into the Boy Rating Diary that night.

 

    This is what the first page said:

    

    The Princesses have joined the game. Yay! I have no idea why Jet Campbell rang me this morning but I found this in the letter box. I will text Phoebe later. She will be so surprised:

 

 Dear Mouche

   I am writing to apologize for cancelling our date and not inviting you on the skiing trip. My family had made the reservations weeks ago and didn’t explain that they couldn’t be cancelled. Please accept my apologies. I’d like to invite you and Phoebe to a barbeque at my place this afternoon. You know the address, midday, Hope to see you there. Please forgive me.

 Jet

 

     Jet was quite the author. Although I suspected Mark had encouraged him to put pen to paper, Jet should at least have requested Mouche’s cell by now. The Good Girlfriend guide suggests offering your cell number but Mouche and I discussed this. On the subject of “who should request details,” we are sticking by the old-fashioned advice. Boys should be forced to do some work if they really want to date you.

     I was surprised to read such a humble note that I dropped my cell on the carpet as I ran out to check my own letterbox. It seemed old-fashioned but possible.

   

    A letter was also there (I was beginning to like that he had the hang of this writing habit):

   

Dear Phoebe

    Jet has sent a note to Mouche by way of apology. I hope you will forgive me for everything we discussed. I know you may not wish to come but please do. BBQ, this afternoon, at Jet’s place.  

   PS. I didn’t realize Jet was so into your friend or I never would have encouraged him to break the date. On the subject of your family and the things I said about you at the dance, please accept my apologies once again. Joel, however, is another story and best left to another day. I know He’s out of town so that information can wait. Till later,

Mark

 

     My head was swimming. The diary entries, which Mouche had held back, were written before we’d joined forces with the Princesses. Mouche had walked in on Teegan and Tory gossiping about me in the cafeteria. Mouche relayed the conversation thus:

   

    “Phoebe only got the part of Julie because Miss Tartt thinks she’s good enough, but not so good she’ll be competition for her.”

    “I believe,” Tory said to Mark, “when you came over last weekend that you thought she was quite pretty.”

    “Which one?” Mark said, seemingly not caring if anyone around them was listening even though a group of emos actually looked up from divvying up their play lists, “the blonde one?

    “Yes, Mouche Macintosh.”

    “I did,” Mark announced in his deep voice.

    “You also said her friend Phoebe wasn’t much of an actress...”

    “That is true,” he admitted.

    “You seemed to think her less talented, perhaps, than us?

    “Yes, I thought so.”

 

    My heart was racing, my face almost red with anger. So this is why Mouche had kept these notes secret from me.

 

    Then, Mark said very loudly so even the mathletes looked up, “but that was before we all went to the dance together...”

    “Yes?” Teegan said gleefully with a knowing glance at Tory.

    “Jet told us how inappropriately Phoebe’s family behaved, when you went to pick them up. I’m sure that must’ve put you off her,” Tory added impishly.

    “It did, almost totally.”

    “So,” Teegan pushed, “do you still think she’s a bad actress?”

    The girls sniggered again then looked up, surprised, as he spoke, offering the immortal words, “not at all...”

    “Really?” Teegan looked less than amused.

   “That was before I got to know her. Now I think Phoebe is one of the cleverest, most talented and prettiest girls I’ve ever met...”

    “As pretty as Mouche Macintosh?” Tory added.

    “Different.”

    “I heard Ethan tried to hit on Phoebe so there could be a dent in the friendship right there,” Tory added triumphantly.

 

    I read this outraged. Was Tory subverting the rules herself? Surely she wasn’t clever enough for that.

   

    High praise indeed!!! Mouche wrote. I’m not sure if the three exclamation marks were necessary.

  

    I will pass this to Phoebe this afternoon, she added, her ears must be burning - I can’t wait to tell her. Even though all these “compliments” are backhanded, Mark Knightly is really not the man we thought he was. And Jet? Perhaps I have already forgiven him. As for Ethan? I’m still waiting for Phoebe to tell me about that one...but it is only a game after all and I’d never lose a best friend over some boy. Perhaps Ethan said some mean things that Phoebe wants to spare me from hearing.  I should definitely re-type this and delete a few of the more hurtful phrases...

    

    I hurriedly put the notes away. I couldn’t wait to tell Mouche what I knew and apologize for not telling her what I didn’t. Does that make sense? I think you know what I mean. I piled the diary and our swimsuits into the car.    

    As I backed out of the driveway in trepidation, Trey wandered over. He had another pre-med exam to study for and thought there would be less distraction off-campus with the house all to himself. Little did he know. He came strolling out just before I nearly flattened the fence with my under-utilized driving skills.

     “Hey, you can’t do that,” he said.

     “Excuse me?” I replied in mock outrage.

     “Drive...” he said.

      Suddenly, I was nervous. I was so eager to check out Jet’s place and socialize it had only just occurred to me that Mark might be there. I’d run off and left him standing there alone in the park. Perhaps it was time to make amends at the barbeque.

      Trey walked alongside me, opened the door and jumped in the car. “Drive,” he instructed, “and wherever you’re going I will come and pick you and Mouche up later.”

     It was only twenty minutes away, but I must admit, even with smudge on his face, Trey looked seriously hot and was obviously dedicated to the wellbeing of his sister. I wasn’t about to argue.

     Trey burst out laughing when I got stuck with the gear shift at the lights, but when the car rolled back he jumped out and opened my door and said, “okay, I’m going to drive...”

     Then, I got this feeling (like I said, I’m a bit telepathic), I could read his mind and he was more worried about my safety than his. Was Trey crushing on me? It was too much. So many boys, so little time to date them all (I had arranged to meet Peter tomorrow although there was no chance of my becoming romantically attached to him!). Besides, if Mark was out of my league, so was Trey, being even older and more experienced than Mark Knightly.

     Trey stopped at the house on the hill, with a sigh.

    “Do you and Mouche know this guy well?”

    “Of course, chill out. He’s friendly with the Princesses. They’re all neighbors.”

    “The older one, what was her name? Melissa?”

    “Missy...she’s seriously conniving...”After all it had been Missy who’d conspired to help me lose my Teen Alien audition.

   “Oh,” he said.

   “Why do you ask?”

   “I went to school with her,” Trey said.

   “Really?” I said, suddenly more interested than I should’ve been.

   He looked at me with a knowing smile and said, “Yeah, her family seemed okay.”

   “You met them?”

   “Sure,” Trey changed the subject. “So, look, I will be back to pick you up at six.”

    He drove off, very fast, breaking his own speed limit which was way more dangerous than any of my driving if you ask me.

    The path between the driveway and the actual house was long, and although the house was quite garish, the grounds were nice, although not as nice as those surrounding Mark’s house. The porch overlooked the lakes, which is why the surrounding homes were known as Lake Houses. Jet’s house also had a swimming pool, quite a large one with a waterfall and a spa overlooking the woods beyond. The house below his, which just happened to belong to Brooke, glowed in the foreground. The house opposite belonged to Teegan and Missy. There was a lot of loud music blazing out across the driveway. I wondered if the whole school had been invited to what was morphing into more of a pool party than a barbeque. 

    I stared at the largeness of Jet’s place, past security gates, towards the house. The ground was damp, muddying my shoes as I hiked to the entrance. Mud splashed the edges of my jeans and my hair was wild. I looked like fright night. I’d have to clean up in the bathroom when I went inside.

    Then, as I rounded the corner, to my horror, Mark Knightly, climbed out of the pool. Steam misted atop the heated water. Mark looked up, saw me, grabbed a towel and walked off towards the changing room.

    Just as I’d decided he was going to ignore me, he came running out half-dressed, drying his hair. 

   “Hey, Phoebe, I wasn’t sure you’d come...” he said.

   “I...brought Mouche’s swimsuit...” It sounded stupid and it was all I could think of to say, because Mrs Jones always said not to look too eager. Of course, another guide totally contradicted that (the one Tory was following) so who knew what was what until we consolidated strategies later in the week.

    As if he could read my thoughts, he seemed surprised and genial as he took the towel off his head and pulled on his long-sleeved cotton shirt.

  “Right this way,” Mark said amiably.

   I followed his lead, navigating manicured gardens.

  “We didn’t actually realize we were going to have a barbeque until this morning, but I would’ve invited you in the park, if I’d known.”

   Even after I’d insulted you? I thought.

   “You got my note?” he said suddenly.

   “Ah...yes,” I admitted.

   Then something happened that was rare. He smiled. One of the most beautiful, sincere smiles I’d ever seen and I was suddenly very happy. I smiled in return, and it might have been the start of something save for Teegan and Tory running down the lane and yelling out, “Phoebe! Phoebe! Did you bring your swimsuit?”

    Honestly, those girls acted like I was their new best friend. The dating game was bringing us closer together.

    We shared secrets.

    Neither of them had, so far as I knew, manoeuvred “the” date with Mark – but we all had our social diaries full up for most of the next month. There was also the wedding between Mr Frames and Miss Love coming up. Oh, my head was just filled with possible social complications.

    “C’mon”, Mark said, “I want to introduce you to my sister”.

    Together we all walked up the garden path towards Jet’s house which seemed less garish in the afternoon sun. Jet met us at the door with a welcoming smile.

    Nobody’s parents were there and it seemed like Jet’s neighbors were on their best behaviour, though I was a little surprised they’d been asked. Although I’d only taken piano lessons for a few years before turning to dance, I was impressed by the beautiful (and tasteful) Steinway in the corner of the lounge room overlooking the garden.

   “Do you play?” Jet asked in a friendly manner, whilst leading me through the living room to meet Petra.

    “Not very well.”

     Mark’s younger sister seemed to appear from the shadows. She was standing in a cream, summer dress with a sweater draped over her shoulders, like a beautiful ghost. Her skin was pale but she was not as thin as I’d been led to believe. She smiled at me from the stairs she walked down, and glanced with relief at the face of her brother.

   “Oh, Phoebe, I wanted to introduce you to my sister, Petra.”

   I liked the way he said my name. Mark’s sister smiled shyly and said “hello” in a neutral voice. 

   I felt like I should take the lead in any conversation between us as her shyness was obvious and Mark seemed so concerned that we would like each other.

    “My brother,” she hesitated, “told me that you play piano Phoebe.”

    “I took some lessons once, but I play quite badly.”

    “Yes,” Jet said, “she’s a much better actress.”

    Mark frowned at Jet.

    “Well, my brother said you play and sing beautifully.”

     My cheeks flushed. I smiled.

    Mark and Jet had gone to organize lunch by then. I looked over at the boys, surprised. 

    Then Mouche walked in with Teegan and Freya. As Mark looked up along with Jet and Petra, I must admit I think I saw his eyes flicker slightly at the stunning sight of Mouche and her “back-up” singers wrapped in the sarongs Teegan’s mother had brought back from Hawaii. They all looked like cover girls and the edges of my jeans were thick with mud. Was it just me or did anyone else notice Teegan sniggering?

   I excused myself to change into my swimming costume and Mouche gave me an excited smile when Jet and Mark had turned their backs to ready the lunches.

   “A man who can cook,” Tory said, looking at Mark in the kitchen, “now that’s a rare find...”

  

     Petra sat on the edge of the pool, wrapped in a huge towel, sipping a drink and smiling, looking very glad to be in company. She had offered to play “something special” on the piano for me before I left and I was looking forward to it. I suddenly wished I’d kept up my lessons, although it doesn’t pay, according to Mrs Jones” advice, to “best everyone else around you at everything. This can be overwhelming to a man, and galling for other girlfriends.”

     Teegan whispered something, then giggled as we observed Mark and Jet flirting with Brooke and Freya who had just arrived to join Jet’s neighbors. This didn’t make us feel special, so Mouche sent a quick text out and before we knew it two new boys from our acting class showed up with towels and soda and a bag of pretzels.

     Mark and Jet looked surprised. Mouche said, “I hope you don’t mind, we thought it would be nice to add some more people to the mix, since you guys don’t know everyone yet at Sunrise.”

    Jet seemed mildly put out, but then reverted to his usual friendly self. He made sure everyone had soda and snacks and talked soccer with the boys. Mark socialized as well and before we knew it, the barbeque evolved into a full on party that Teegan and Freya would write up in their diaries and turn into another social scandal that wasn’t.

    After we’d finished swimming and eating the delicious food Jet made, I showered and dried off. When I entered the sitting room Petra was playing the piano, a tune slightly more advanced than I’d been used to hearing, Allegretto.

    It was beautiful. When I looked up, Mark was watching me listen to the music. Suddenly I felt embarrassed to be feeling more than I had resolved to feel. It was hard to admit, but perhaps the boys deserved another chance. Mark seemed too proud until he let his guard down and Jet was so amiable as to risk being used for his innate hospitality.

    We were more than happy to let Teegan or Tory or Brooke or Freya reel them in, using all the scheming dating methods of bygone eras. We only had to get one of them to take us to the ball. 

    The game of love was a game of chance and ours to manipulate, or so we thought.

    I felt stupid and a little bit mean; almost like Teegan, except I was sincerely crushing on Mark and he couldn’t understand why my interest ran hot and cold.

    “I know it would be a foolish guy who thought that a simple apology was enough,” he started, “but you know, before I spoke to you I didn’t realize how wonderful you were.” He said this just as we were about to leave. I was so flattered I could barely speak and almost fell out the door after Mouche went off to say goodbye to Jet who offered to drive us home. But that wasn’t necessary. Teegan’s older sister Missy made an appearance just as Trey buzzed the gate and after speaking to all of us girls quite rudely about not forgetting to shut the pool fence, was all niceness and politeness to Trey, who seemed quite taken with a made-up Missy in her bikini top.

    “Oh, Trey, isn’t it?” Missy betrayed the recognition in her face.

    “Hi Missy, I’ve just come to collect Mouche and Phoebe.”

    “So, weren’t we sophomores together?”

    “Yes, before you left to go to HSYL.”

    “School wasn’t the same without you. We should catch up sometime,” Missy said, not even trying to play hard to get. Missy was one of those girls who sucked up to boys but was mean to other women. Even the Princesses noted this and thought her behaviour completely unnecessary.

    “That’d be great,” Trey replied.

     Mouche looked at me with an exasperated expression and said, “well, must fly, study awaits,” and dragged Trey unwillingly by the hand as I said “thank you” and “goodbye,” on my way out the door. Mark lounged in the window seat with Freya as I was leaving but got up and stopped me as I walked along the cobbled path to Trey’s car.

    “Listen, just an idea, but I thought you and Mouche might want to come horse riding with me and Jet next week.” Before I could say, “I am otherwise engaged,” as per an old Ladies Journal of Dating circa 1926 (what to do with disagreeable men) I’d almost changed my former opinion of Mark and stumbled into the car, as Mouche said, “we’d love to.”

    In the car, Mouche giggled.

   “Mark’s not as big a Tool as I thought,” she said, and we sped off.

Pride and Princesses Etiquette chapter 21

Chapter 21

Etiquette

    After the final dates that night, we consolidated the diary, even adding Trey’s interlude with the snooty Missy. Both Mouche and I made a note that we had broken one of our vital rules regarding last minute invites, “always make sure the boy gives you advance notice of a date, otherwise he will just take you for granted. Plus, you need at least a few days to get ready, be prepared and look your best.”

   That was one rule, even if it was in the interests of spontaneity, that wouldn’t be easily broken again. 

   The next day, all the girls gathered after dress rehearsal. The run of Rocco and Julie was terrible; everything that could possibly go wrong did go wrong and I was beginning to think Thom shouldn’t even bother sending a representative from Julliard. Of course, he insisted. (Sometimes you have to let others believe in you even more than you believe in yourself or so it says in “A Girls Guide to Etiquette” - although Mouche disagrees on that one).

    “Besides, a bad dress rehearsal always means a great show,” Peter enthused.

    Backstage, during the run, Mark was mouthing the words as I said them. He’d heard them all more than once and I have to admit I was impressed with the gusto and good humor he suddenly displayed. Mark actually seemed humble in this new light.

    “Almost like Jesus when he was a carpenter,” Brooke noted.

     Even Miss Tartt was a fan (well, obviously, Miss Tartt was a fan). The scene he was lighting for the tech run went something like this:

 

Julie to the Priest (in confession)

I am in love with someone...so different from me. I just don’t know what to do. I have this...potion that will put me to sleep, I’m thinking of pretending to be asleep...forever. When we’ve fooled our families Rocco and I can run away together.

Priest

That could create major complications.

Paris walks in

Paris

Julie? Why are you crying? Why is my love in tears?

Paris takes Julie aside (stage whisper)

We are to be married on Thursday. Then, all of your father’s money will be mine.

Julie

I am so not in love with you.

Paris

Is that all you have to confess?

Julie

Also, that I love...someone else.

Julie starts to leave, Paris tries to stop her and she slaps him

Paris

Ah, shrewish...all that will change after Thursday. Where are you going?

Julie

To find Rocco

Paris

 Are you on drugs?

 

    Mark could be heard laughing from the top of the lighting cable at this oh so serious high point in Act Three as Mr Sparks looked on unimpressed. Then I started laughing too. I mean, Mr Sparks was really losing it. The entire third act was laced with lessons about life choices, teen marriage and the perils of alcoholism and drug taking.

    I’m not sure whether the school censors would be letting Mr Sparks get away with it but you had to hand it to him for trying. And, of course, there was Miss Tartt enabling him, glancing lovingly his way and cheering him on. Why is it women help males shine then end up waving on the sidelines like fans? Is that enough for them? Don’t they want to be the driving forces behind their own lives? Or is it just easier to let boys steer the way? The Good Girlfriend Guide states, “Never be jealous of other women. Anger and jealousy are wasted emotions. Find the love in everything and focus on it.

     Always strive to do what’s  right for you without being mean to others – especially other women (because by dividing to conquer, women are busy devaluing other women while men climb the career ladder and let other members of the boys” club in with them).

    If the worst happens and another woman ‘steals’ your man consider placing equal blame on both the man and the woman. Ask yourself why your instinct dictates that you should cut the woman out of your life but consider taking the man back? Is the female somehow more culpable than the male...or is she just less valuable?

    I would never consider men more valuable than women just because the world sometimes views the status quo this way.

    “Phoebe Harris, if you break out of character again I will consider asking Mr Sparks to replace you!” Miss Tartt snapped from the sidelines. She’s working as the prompt today because Jet and Mark are fulfilling other duties.

     Miss Tartt has been unduly mean to me and sometimes even Mouche (her favorite apart from Mark). It has to be said, though, that the woman works hard for Mr Spark’s. Perhaps she needs someone to set her straight. The Mrs Jones Guide wouldn’t do her any harm. I could leave it in her bag anonymously. I will highlight the parts about “not allowing men to use your smarts to make themselves look and sound smarter than they are” and the part about “not feeling so threatened by other females that you have to make life extra hard for them.” After all, helping others has to be good karma.

     When everyone was finishing rehearsals, and after I’d surreptitiously left the Guide just under the flap of Miss Tartt’s faux leather handbag and Mr Sparks had given us “the talk” about how “we have to mean what we say and feel what we mean,” and Mouche and Ethan had found some kind of equilibrium playing a delicate tune in tandem on the upright piano, much to Jet’s obvious displeasure, we all dispersed.

     I saw Miss Love and Mr Frames walking hand in hand towards their car park in the distance from the auditorium windows.

     “That’s true love,” Tory said wistfully as Miss Tartt delegated all the carrying of props to the minions to take backstage. Mouche had gone on ahead with a car stuffed with final costume adjustments. I was the last to lock up. Or so I thought.

    I was thinking about Mrs Robinson’s guide (my favorite) suggesting that “those who can laugh together are made for each other,” Does this mean I could be made for Mark? Or was it Joel or even Trey I laughed with more? I had to admit, even though Joel had been busy dating Ella and Mouche’s cousin in tandem; we did have some amusing moments together.  It was all becoming very confusing as I raced back from my recently fixed car to get the last pages of the Boy-Rating Diary that I’d stupidly left in my make-up box in the dressing rooms.

     Mark was still packing away a lighting cable. I was shocked that he seemed to enjoy his rustic but lonely “menial tasks.”

     We met as I was racing down the stairs and he was walking up them.

     We had to turn on our sides to pass each other, but our bodies touched. It was kind of uncomfortable, but in a good way.

     “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?” Mark said sarcastically, when we had about one inch of space between us.

     “You wish,” I said, mortified he may have discovered my Boy Rating Diary where I had highlighted the “why girls should stop treating boys like Princes and other girls like minions,” page for Teegan.

    As the secret and real versions had started to merge, along with our animosities, we had all become more curious about each other’s experiences and more willing to share. The more we shared, the more we learnt about the way boys think and the games they play and the more we stopped being total frenemies and embraced what could (almost) be described as “friendship.” Why couldn’t girls be more supportive in real life? Perhaps we just needed a common goal (the greater good) in order to work together.  Imagine how much we’d missed when we were unsupportive of each other. Everything was changing. Boys like Mark and Jet and Joel and Ethan were in for a wild ride.  

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.