Pride and Princesses Perfume chapter 17

Chapter 17

Perfume    

    We’d all arranged to gather the day after we received Teegan’s note. The Princesses waited for us in the park next to the mall near the picnic alcove opposite Sunrise High. It was as good a place as any, with a picturesque view of the town, not far from the lakes. In the distance you could see the gated community where Jet and Mark and the Princesses lived. The house of Mark’s relatives (he resided with his aunt and uncle) was famous for its secluded opulence; it’s tall, winding security fence. Instead of a duck pond, it was rumored his uncle, who was a wealthy businessman, had even installed a moat.

     “A moat, like in one of those old fairy tales?” Brooke asked Jet.

    “I guess,” Jet told Brooke who told Teegan who told me.

    “I heard there are two swans that swim around in it all day and sometimes they disappear for minutes at a time under the drawbridge!”

     “The drawbridge?”

     “It hides the dark and eerie swampland that inhabits the backyard! It’s even rumoured that the actual house is haunted,” Brooke said.

    “I bet it’s for security purposes,” Freya added.

    “The rumor?”

    “No, the moat.”

    The house (“more like a mansion”, Mouche commented, the first time she  saw it) was quite the most opulent in Sunrise. It was built high in the Sunrise Hills, about a half-hour drive from the cul-de-sac Mouche and I inhabited. Of course, Jet lived next door to Mark but his house wasn’t quite as lavish. Jet only had a pool and a tennis court but it was huge and grand and garish because his mother was a fashion designer and his dad a major shareholder of Sunrise Bank.

     This possibly accounted for Jet’s elevated status in his own mind, according to Teegan.

     The first meeting had begun.

     It was the second last day of the week and we didn’t  have rehearsals for Rocco and Julie so nobody was actively squabbling. Mouche arrived with the hem of a costume hanging out of her tote; Teegan was not far behind, talking on her cell with her notes jutting out of her antique jeans. Freya paused by the gate to check her lip gloss. Brooke turned up a few minutes later painting her fingernails and Tory arrived...help us...with an open guide: the one we had discarded, the one Mouche and I loathed, The Good Girl’s Guide: Behave Like A Man and Get What You Want

     Mouche looked worried, “Tory is not supposed to be seeking out her own subversive dating literature,” she whispered to me under her breath.

     Tory just smiled pleasantly and said, “I’m re-educating myself. I’ve  seen what’s  happening with you two and I want to be knowledgeable as well...”

    Mouche leaned over and said, “Well, there’s no need for that, Tory. We’ve done the reading and we can tell you everything you need to know about our system...”

    Teegan and Freya and Brooke and Tory all smiled and looked very relieved as we nibbled the delicious food in front of us.

     A truce had been grudgingly entered into and we were all acting sisterly.

Freya even offered to help with the costumes and passed a skirt to Brooke who was attempting to gather a ruffle. Brooke held the hem and waited with baited breath on every word Mouche said. Mouche really had a way with monologues. When she  spoke, people listened.

     If we’d been of the generation that went to Girl Scouts when they were little, I’d say it was kind of like what I imagine a Girl Scout meeting to be like. Everyone brought something extra, apart from the obvious attitude; we brought extra food and extra smiles and extra humility to make the late afternoon seem more like a suburban picnic than a gossipy teenage girl fest.

     Mouche brought cookies she ’d  baked the previous night; I offered muffins in a pink cake tin that I’d made with pink frosting and white chocolate; Teegan brought a bag of non-fat chips (“because I don’t cook, my mother says it’s a waste of time, a woman needs to develop real skills”) Tory laughed as she  placed her basket of fruit on the table because she  knew ‘real skills’ meant ‘other skills’ which meant ‘bedroom skills’.

    Mouche rolled her eyes because she was the chair of the meeting and it took a while for everyone to stop chatting.

    Mouche began:

    “I’d like to announce that Tory (who raised her hand) will be taking the minutes of this official meeting between us; a group of girls now to be known officially as the ex-HSYLs. Freya will be responsible for passing out snacks. And I would ask everyone to be as polite as possible whilst attending our official meeting. After that, I guess, all bets are off.”

    Brooke giggled. Tory chewed gum. Teegan rolled her eyes and Brooke searched for her misplaced contact lens and Bible just in case she needed to swear on something (in a good way). I’d noticed Brooke had become way more religious this week.

   “Firstly, I’d just like to say, Mouche and I have been forced to unleash upon our small society, The Plan. And since we’ve had more secret dates this month than you all have had hot dinners, the plan obviously works.

    But we are not evil girls and since we are all pre-women the time has come to declare a truce and forget past wrongs all of us may have caused each other...”

     Teegan and Brooke looked magnanimously at me and Mouche, but Mouche understood the importance of straight-talking in the sales pitch and continued on...

    “The Plan is essentially a secret and if you (you meaning Phoebe, Teegan, Freya, Brooke and Tory) tell anyone else, it will be less of a girls club and all out war. Besides, I have to warn you, our plan for dangerous dating is so good that if you tell anyone else, everyone will want to do it and there will be anarchy...”

     Freya looked quite alarmed and Teegan mouthed, “What’s anarchy?”

     Brooke mouthed back with her cupie doll mouth, “chaos, famine, destruction, the end of the world, dummy...”

     Mouche continued to talk whilst I flexed my ankles and pretended to look serious, “before we start on the topic of...Teegan’s discovery... (Teegan beamed with pride) I’d like to thank everyone for arriving promptly...”

 

The meeting continued and everyone’s face lit up after grievances about school, boys and clothes had been aired:

 

“I would now like to officially ask you all to join our Plan for The Year of Dating Dangerously. Please take the time to read it well and hide it even better. The meeting place is here; the guide book (Teegan presented a large blank faux-leather bound pink diary – empty – our original one was hidden safely). This diary will be kept at all times, in a common place; a group locker ostensibly used for sports and other sundry items but which shall now be referred to as “the secret locker” – spoilage (i.e. treasured gifts) from the dates can be kept there (we weren’t too worried because we didn’t think a new plan would bring any but of course, we’d underestimated the resolve of the overindulged, who would make it their mission to outdo us and especially each other...)

 

The girls in “our group” took the paper in silence and read it wistfully. This is what it said:

   

RULES FOR THE YEAR OF DATING DANGEROUSLY

 

1.     A kiss is meaningless, remember the higher prize and use what you can to get it. Let everyone know you’ve staked your claim, including the object of your affection.

2.     Romance is so yesterday, a date today is so different from a date in the sixties. Pre-men expect a casual hook up. So why should we care? Act like a guy and care as little as they do.

3.     For the secret rules of this game “a date/ hook up” must consist of a beginning middle and end and all details have to be written up in the Boy-Rating diary which is kept in a mutually hidden place. All secrets must be revealed in this guide. All secrets to all of us, all the time. At the end of the school year, if we all agree to go public with an edited version, it can be uploaded onto a shared blog.

4.     Proof:  there needs to be proof of the date in the form of photographs for our treasure chest, gifts, love tokens (and especially red roses) as these are indicative of true love.

5.     The girl needs to make every effort to impress the boy; after all, around here, any decent guy is a wanted commodity.

6.     The ultimate love token comes in the form of a love letter. Whoever gets the most love letters and gets Mark Knightly to take her to the prom, wins the competition.

7.     All details must be shared; contributions to be made by all parties, with an overview and progress report due on the last Friday of every month; meeting to re-convene here.

8.     Any previously dated man must not enter our mutual place of work.

9.     All resources have to be combined in our secret box (AKA “the Treasure Chest”) to be bestowed upon the winner.

10.  The Game shall remain a SECRET between the ex HSYLs even if and when we decide to involve other people in our game.

 

     Brooke was the first to look up in awe.

    “Uh, I’m not sure whether or not I agree with Rule One.”

    “Each to their own,” Mouche replied. “Now, can we leave the discussion of the Rules for later. This second sheet is vital...”

    At that point we gave them a list of the original boyzamples but subverted the descriptions. So, for example, we said a boy without integrity (eg. Alex Miller) actually had loads of it and other boys who were total man sluts (eg. Ethan Mandel) were actually extremely gentlemanly on a date. You can imagine the rest.

   The jaws of the Princesses dropped open when we handed them the list of collectible treasure hunt items (we’d made some more refined and others more general to account for the extra size of the “new” group).

   “Isn’t this a bit morally dubious?” Brooke asked. She ’d  given up on her contacts and had begun cleaning her glasses with a napkin.

   “Yes, isn’t this like, Diary of a Teenage Callgirl?” Freya responded, her mouth twisting slightly in anticipation.

    “Only if you think prostitution is wrong,” Tory replied, her pretty but vacant face searching for the up side.

    “I think it’s definitely wrong...unless you love them,” Teegan said, hinting at hidden depths previously unrevealed. “But I guess, shared knowledge of all these boy dates would really enhance our romantic futures...”

    “Diary of a Teenage Callgirl...mmm...that’s  a really good title for a blog,” Freya added with more creativity than I’d given her credit for. 

     “Listen up, girls. Here are the lists of items we want to gather in our treasure chest,” Mouche handed out the sheets of printed paper with a sweet smile.

 

Treasure Hunt Items

A pen (for writing up the guide)

Designer clothing

Designer perfume

The Perfect interview Shoes or boots in two sizes since we are all one of two sizes (convenient)

A golden bracelet (preferably eighteen carat or over)

A pair of Chanel sunglasses

A cashmere coat

A winter scarf

A diamond ring

 

    “How are we supposed to get all of this?” Brooke asked.

    “That’s  the game,” I said, “for those of us who don’t have objections.”

     “Well, I think It’s materialistic and wrong,” Brooke added.

     “Then don’t play,” Teegan said.

     Brooke looked crushed until Mouche relented. After all Brooke now knew a version of the Plan so it seemed sensible to include her or she  might spill the beans to the rest of the school and ruin everything. 

     “Okay, Brooke, you can still play just leave out the kissing and gathering of items...” Mouche said.

    Teegan rolled her eyes, “geez Brooke, you’ve become so uptight. Like that’s  going to be any fun.”

    Brooke simply shrugged, “well, it’s nice to be included.” 

    “Fine. You work it out,” Mouche replied.

    “Since you’re  so smart, why don’t you just tell us,” Teegan suggested.

    “It’s all in there, read the fine print...we need to rely on our personal attributes to become self-made women.” Tory added.

    We also handed them a list of “helpful” dating quotes from discarded guides...

    “It’s all in the list,” Freya replied, “....wow...you guys are way knowledgeable.”

“Meeting to re-convene at the end of next month. Be here or... be somewhere else,” Mouche said in her offhand, jokey way; as if she  was saying be here or beware...

    Teegan, Freya, Brooke and Tory were delegated Adam, Alex, Tobias and Scott. They didn’t  seem too happy about it but each was prepared to try for specific research, love letters and possible items. We all decided after we’d had one more date a piece, to share items gained and lessons learned, then all bets were off to date Mark and bring him to the prom. Because both Mouche and I had decided he was a pretty disagreeable sort of fellow, we had no emotional investment in the dating process whatsoever; everything to win and nothing to lose. The Princesses, being even more materialistic (save perhaps Brooke) than ourselves, were sure to be better at scamming gifts from our prospective boyzamples and then we could just swoop in, and divvy up the spoils.

   “Mmm...I have a question,” Tory asked. “Would it be possible to change the bracelet to a charm bracelet? It might be easier to gather charms...”

   The Princesses were already thinking on an entrepreneurial level. Perhaps their business minds were even keener than ours. We hadn’t  really planned on that. It seemed obvious that we would outsmart them, having access as it were, to prior information.

   “Good idea,” Teegan said.  I must admit Mouche and I agreed. Our designated “dates” were Ethan and Josh, then all the boys on the list would have been “dated” and “rated”. We could (in theory) swap them around and consolidate “items” and “love letters”.

    By the end of the school year we would announce the “winner.” The winner, being in possession of better rules and extensive guides to dating, would of course be Mouche or myself (we could also halve the gifts – but the Princesses weren’t aware of that fact. They thought we were all in it for ourselves after the initial date and rate).

Pride and Princesses Dating and Rating chapter 18

Chapter 18   

Dating and Rating

    We had never seen such previously non-studious girls open a guide to algebra, let alone a guide to dating. Suddenly they dispersed, armed with a list of personal targets and one defective (in my opinion) dating guide to source and memorize in the hope that greater knowledge could also lead to an embarrassment of riches for one very smart girl.

    In the weeks that followed, Mouche and I and the Princesses conspired to date all the guys on the list. We consolidated pages of notes about those dates, and the Princesses were compelled to write “truthful stuff” (including updates and asides at the end of each chapter).   Some of their ideas really needed to be shared and could only be more helpful than not. We modified our ideas to form, as well as the Boy Rating Diary, a box of “items useful in New York,” which we called our “treasure chest.” We also decided to form an online site for teenage girls that could well open us up to litigation (according to Mouche); but in the interests of free-speech would become known as the anonymous “buyer beware site” – how and what to avoid dating pre, post and during teen world – using our Sunrise High pre-men as prototypes. This final version of the jointly authored diary would be titled, “The Boy-Rating Blog.”

    If we were in love with any of the boys this expose might be a conflict of interest, as presumably none of them would ever want to speak to us again, but currently we were not concerned with love.

    It was no secret that although I was yet to date Mark, he seemed to like Mouche. Jet seemed suddenly a little interested in me when Mouche all but ignored him and the Princesses were “otherwise engaged” writing bragaholic messages about all the guys on the list.

    After a few days, the Princesses were making fools of themselves all over town and we had to amend the “kiss on the first date rule” because some of the Princesses were overly enthusiastic. We decided to intervene, call another meeting, and reveal the truth about rule one.

    Teegan said, “What?”

    Mouche said, “look, the truth is, we didn’t expect you to take that one seriously. Of course you shouldn’t  be all over these guys the first time you go out. It’s like introductory dating for pity’s sake. Hey, for all we care, don’t sleep with them until you’re  married – it might teach them a lesson.”

   “Yes, think how powerful women would be if they all kept their legs crossed until then,” Brooke added, taking the concept to its righteous extreme.

   “A lesson?” Freya said in awe and wonder.

   “Yes,” I repeated. “A lesson in who holds the power. If we all agree to not sleep with them, then they all have to do some serious wooing and smarten up their act!”

    I say this like an English teacher and later Mouche commended me on my possible mooting and oratory skills.

   “I couldn’t  have said it better myself,” Mouche added. Meanwhile Jet was glancing longingly at her during rehearsal, but she  seemed to be avoiding him again.

    “November meeting is adjourned until after the play,” Freya noted.

    “All in favour say I.”

    We all said “I”.

    We re-convened to Teegan’s  family Lake House where everyone started discussing possible junior prom outfits. After the extra cupcakes had been stored in cake tins and a location for treasure finalized (a spare locker would be used until items could be transferred to our actual ‘treasure chest’), Mouche and I made ourselves scarce.

    Outside in Mouche’s  car, Mouche and I re-commenced the conversation started months ago, just between us, about the rules.

  “When should we let them know about the rest of the rules?”

   “Honestly? Let them learn themselves...make them do some research for a change.”

   “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

   “Besides, we’re not the “make out” police. We can’t stop them from behaving like little tarts if they want to. We can only advise them. I feel our, let’s just say somewhat incorrect original advice in that regard, was a little beneath us.”

    “It could possibly undermine the plan.”

    “True, the plan was a little hazy.”

    It was going to be interesting. They had one of the major rules and we wanted to watch the power in the school halls and shop malls turn from the boys to the girls; for the second half of the year. Boys would have to do the running if they wanted any attention from the girls at all. And once all the girls had given them a good dose of their own medicine, the boys would have to make more of an effort.  

    Later that day Mouche met Ethan Mandel at the Sunrise cinema on the corner of Eighth and Ninth Avenues and took me along for the “date.”  Ethan brought along his friend Josh Klein (the artist) and everything started off well enough, although Ethan said hardly anything and his friend even less leaving us to sound either garrulous or stupid which is totally against our planned rules. But we got the business matters of the evening out of the way early when Mouche suggested a slight chill and both boys offered a scarf – very sweet and one just happened to be cherry cashmere and in perfect condition. Mouche said she ’d  give it back at the end of the night but Ethan just said shyly, “oh, that’s  okay, it looks better on you anyway.”

    Top marks for generosity and another item for the treasure box found. Items gained thus far included:

 

A pen

A lucky sweater

Vintage jeans

Gloves

A velvet beret

A scarf

And so many more yet to come...

 

   “C’est la vie,” I said, practicing my French.

    “Any extra items can be donated to the LA homeless shelter,” Mouche added.

    We walked into this tiny ramshackle cinema called; what a surprise, Sunrise Cinema. But it had the best popcorn and candy and Ethan bought loads for everyone which I thought was way generous of him.

    Our first double date seemed to be going smoothly.

    Money and generosity aren’t everything although I suppose they’re a start.

   At one stage Ethan and I decided to go get more popcorn and snacks and we started talking (I’d offered to be the errand runner because I could tell the movie was becoming really scary). I was surprised when Ethan agreed to walk with me to the candy bar. He seemed to think it chivalrous to pay. Since making a good impression is particularly important on the first date, I let him. Boy-rating can be ruthless and boyzamples may not get second chances.

   The weirdest thing was that he made mention of the “new guy at school,” Mark, who just happened to be a distant cousin of his. “Oh, but our side of the family doesn’t  really speak to his. It’s just that we do soccer practice together and we got talking last week,” he said.

   “Oh, really?” I replied.

   Well, what about? I wanted to ask, but bit my tongue instead, sensing that Ethan, with his retro haircut and dark under-eye circles but bright eyes (from all the extra DVD watching) would offer any further information of his own volition.   

    He continued, “After team practice, we all went out and Mark and I talked for the first time since we were children. He was really nice...although loads of people think he rates himself too highly.”

   “Mmm,” I mused, he didn’t have to tell me which people.

   “Girls can be like that,” I said amiably.

    Mouche and I are both very good at getting strangers to open up verbally. I could sense Ethan wanted to spill the beans. He continued, “Anyway, Mark seemed particularly pleased with himself that evening. I mean, he was really happy, the opposite of his friend, Jet, who is usually the easy going one.”

    Ethan said this like he was in some kind of 1990”s movie and I noticed his shirt was quite paisley. Brooke had told me once that his parents had been groovy hippies who’d had Ethan late and worked for some record company. Apparently, they sat around talking about San Francisco thirty years ago and drinking herbal tea a lot.

   “What do you mean?”

   “Well, it seemed that Mark was congratulating himself on having convinced Jet to stay away from a particular girl who Jet was kind of into.”

  “Did he...mention the name of the girl?”

  “No, only that she was a pretty blonde who went to our school...”

   I immediately guessed it was Mouche.

   Ethan was looking at me kind of quizzically. Smoothing my hands over my hair (I’d used the straightening iron on it before we came out), I instantly said, “Oh, my hair is really dark brown underneath the caramel highlights.”

    Did I say that? It’s so not in any guide to discuss details of a girl’s grooming habits. As Mrs Robinson says, “keep a little mystery...no man wants to hear how the portrait got painted...” But at least Ethan is not actually my date.

    I resumed my line of questioning...

   “Did Mark say why Jet stopped liking this girl?”  

   “He seemed to think it would be a bad idea for Jet to involve himself with the one person, limit his options so to speak, and maybe her family...didn’t  have any money.”

  “Well, maybe Mark should mind his own business.”

  “Maybe.” Ethan said quizzically. He seemed to like the fact that he’d  obviously got me on my high horse.

   “And did the girl have any say in this?”

   “It seems like the girl had to find out the hard way. Jet stood her up...oh, I mean, he and Mark went skiing or something...”

   I was livid, so angry I insisted on paying for my own popcorn, wondering if dating guys was really the answer to any of our teenage girl problems. I soon got over this worry of course.

   Seated, I felt slightly numb and in a state of panic.   

   The film we were watching had some cute older-man candy. The leading actor was spending the whole movie trying to protect his girlfriend from these creepy people, way out in the woods. It was the scariest movie I’ve  ever seen and Josh snuggled close which was kind of funny because I think he was more scared than I was during the scene where the strangers try to bash down the front door.

   Ultimately, it was the most terrifying movie I’ve ever sat through and a good excuse for Josh to squeeze my hand; except, when I looked over in the dark, it wasn’t Josh squeezing my hand, it was Ethan. Yikes.

   Meanwhile, Mouche had gone to “take a call” on her cell.

   Things were getting complicated.

   I pulled my hand away. Ethan may be playing most of my solos but I had no idea he was this much of a cheater. Even if he had given me vital information about Mark I was still seething over when and how I might use it. He hardly made Jet and Mark seem like “ideal men,” least of all himself, because he now seemed untrustworthy.

    Mrs Robinson’s  guide would say, some boys are strong in the wrong places and weak at the wrong times. Why hadn’t  Jet stood up for Mouche and why was Mark such a snob? What a hateful individual. I didn’t  think, even if he was so rich or so handsome, I could suffer another minute in his company.

    That night I was too smart to write about what happened at the movies in the shared Boy-Rating Guide. But I did jot it down in the original, hidden one. I would explain to Mouche before she  read it, after I’d let the news about Mark’s  duplicity sink in. In retrospect, I think this part of the story might have driven a wedge between me and Mouche before other events did. I hoped Josh didn’t  notice how annoyed I was after I’d spoken to Ethan. Josh was kind of a nice date.

    Oh, I forgot to tell you, he heard (via Mouche) that we liked a particular brand of perfume that his mother sold called Junior Miss18 (it was faux French) and he presented me with a bottle of it as a welcome gift! I think Ethan thought it was funny because, although he offered to pay for the popcorn, he wasn’t really that chivalrous.

    Later at rehearsal the next week he told Mouche (who told me she “hadn’t even kissed him”) that he “wasn’t a one woman man.” I didn’t  have to warn Mouche because she ’d  already gone off him with her eye on a bigger prize: winning the competition, and to do that, she ’d  have to date more people than Ethan Mandel.  She’d have to date Mark.

Pride and Princesses A Proposal chapter 19

Chapter 19

A proposal

    The next day, I woke up, plugged in my headphones and started on the one physical activity I tried to do a few times a week, alone, jogging. To clear my head, I ran the track along the path that led from my house to the Sunrise lakes.

    The main lake divided our neighborhood from the hidden homes of Jet and Mark and the Princesses who lived high on the hill overlooking the town of Sunrise itself. It was a Saturday and I was up early, preparing for my babysitting duties that afternoon. I still had half of Act Two to memorize and a paper to write for English on the traditional text of Romeo and Juliet, a prospect I wasn’t joyfully anticipating. 

   I’d woken up feeling extremely angry, although I realized anger was a wasted emotion and I knew I should share my feelings with Mouche but my anger seemed to go beyond all articulation. I was going faster and faster (breaking a sweat known only to me during dance classes) when I rounded a corner. As the music blared loudly in my ears I ran face first into Mark Knightly, almost knocking myself out. He seemed to scoop me up very swiftly in his arms.

     “Mark must have been very strong from all the swimming and riding and hunting...” Mouche said avidly as I relayed the story to her much later.  “I hear back in England they kill animals for sport!”

     “Not just in England,” I said as I read Mouche’s brochures for her charity of the week, the local Animal Protection Society. She was considering talking her mom into taking home a rescue dog which I thought was a very good idea.

     But I continued, “Mark sat me down under one of the many oak trees that lined the path of the gardens that led down to the lakes....”

    When I came to, he was leaning over me intently and my soon to be enraged eyes stared straight into his remarkably blue, surprisingly honest-looking ones. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater and jeans, even though I thought the day had been hotter than usual for this time of year. Too hot in fact. I edged apart from him very quickly, dazed and irate.

    “Eww. Get off me,” I said, when I collected my wits, even though he was only patting my shoulder as I was sitting hunched, against a tree.”

    “I’m sorry...we collided.”

     Always saying sorry went against everything I knew about males.

    “I didn’t  expect anyone to be...”

    “Here?”

    “Blocking my path,” I replied.

    “Actually I came out here to look for you. I got your number from your cousin, Ella. Then I rang your home and asked your mother where you might be. I...wanted to speak to you...alone.” My mind was in overdrive while I watched his perfect lips move. Mrs Robinson states, “...never be desperate to fling a man your number, let him do the work. If he wants you, he’ll find you. After all, men do traditionally like to hunt and gather...”

     I snapped out of my reverie. I didn’t like where the conversation was heading.

    “I see you don’t have your entourage in tow?

    “What do you mean?

     “Your fan club, Teegan and Tory and whoever else...”

     “Are you...jealous?

     “No. I only went with you to Fall Fling because it was Mouche and Jet’s idea.”

     “Actually, it was just as much my idea.”

     “Oh please, you could have fooled me...”

     I brushed d the autumn leaves off my track pants and stood up.

     “Wait,” he said (so manly).

     “I sort of want to finish my jog before my muscles go cold.” Along with my heart I wanted to add. Mark had a cute little dimple in his chin that I’m told from reading one of those ancient Chinese tomes on face reading, is a sign of great beauty. Face it, I was out of my league and who would want to be with a boy-man as much of an arrogant nightmare as this one.

    “I was...well, I never get the chance to talk to you in rehearsals and I was just wondering if I could introduce you to my sister, Petra, sometime. She’s a bit shy, and she  goes to HSYL but no one speaks to her there because she’s  the new girl. I’d like her to have some friends her own age, or a bit older because she only mixes with adults twice her age and I’m a bit worried about her. I think she would like you...you’re creative and interesting and...”

    I was shocked and surprised.

   “You mean my manners aren’t too “shopgirl”, my connections to the social life of Sunrise High not too “common”?”

    “What? I didn’t  mean, well, I said some things at the time that were honestly meant...”

    I was fuming.

   “But that was before I knew you...before I knew better... I didn’t  know how...lovely you...”

   “Oh, and as if your remarks at the Fall Fling weren’t  enough, do you really think I’d forgive you for ruining the social happiness of my best friend forever Mouche Macintosh?”

    “...I don’t know what you mean. I know I was unforgivably rude to you at the dance but my sister had just come out of...this place where she was sent for ...well, I was worried about her and I know I behaved badly and....I...”

    I couldn’t  believe all the apologies that were rolling off his tongue. It was as if the Mrs Jones Guide was completely wrong about men never apologizing and my head was really more messed up with our boy rating games than ever before. This was not supposed to happen. My mind should have been clearer than ever by now and I really needed some head space to make sense of Mark’s outburst.

    I looked towards the lake mist and the water’s edge to clear my mind.  

    Mark seemed more confused than ever. Before he could say another word, I turned on my heel and ran back the way I’d arrived. I determined that Mouche should know the whole story. It was time to share all the information I had gathered. 

     I returned home and showered. I made some lunch – a bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon from a packet where I had to check the use-by date. I texted Mouche, then I remembered she was doing her Saturday shift at the shelter. I suppose I should’ve joined her as it is, according to Mrs Robinson, “very good indeed to help others.” I fully intended to just as soon as I finished all my extra-curricular activities for the year (dating, essays and the play). 

    After lunch, I sat at my desk and wrote a first draft of my English paper. I wrote about the role of women in Shakespearean tragedy and reached the conclusion that Juliet was somehow a younger version of some even stronger females that Shakespeare wrote who were also played, originally, by male actors (young boys). I wondered why it was often men who wrote female characters and when I decided to add my ‘meeting in the park with Mark’ to the shared Boy Rating Diary I was very happy that the angry words infused in the pages were written by real girls, not just boys pretending to know what girls think.

     Sentences and phrases like, ‘He’s  a complete and utter moron’ and ‘I don’t find him that good-looking anymore’ and ‘...so conceited he couldn’t  be as clever as he thinks he is’ and ‘his poor sister, fancy having to put up with a brother like that; a hyper-intense bore, a stuck-up  snob..’ I wrote the worst words I could think of under the heading ‘Mark Knightly’ (we were up to page 88 by then) but let’s face it, those words were way harsh because I still didn’t  really know him. But if hatred was just the inverse of love, then I hated him an awful lot.

 

     I flicked through the combined Boy Rating Diary thus far, every section had a different girl’s name and then every boy, a different rating with comments etc.

      For example:

     Phoebe Harris:

     After the first meeting, Teegan, Freya, Brooke and Tory were certainly getting noticed - almost as noticed as we were. Perhaps more. They were following our guide to the letter and it was only due to their extreme narcissism that they didn’t  question the logic in say, part six, where we’d added, “always wear sexy, furry clothes and show a little skin - men love this,” when it was so obvious that Mouche and I were doing the exact opposite and covering up in cool jeans and sweaters (admittedly with a little fur around the edges). We wore classic items that kept a little mystery.

      Brooke kept her glasses on and her tops buttoned but upped the smile factor and her nice girl ways also seemed to be working. You had to give her credit for having her own mind – for once. 

     Strangely, the ways of the Princesses did seem to, shall we say, be bearing fruit and Mark and Jet and the rest of the football team had never been so popular...”

     My new entry took longer than expected. I had to write about meeting Mark in the park and also add the other news I’d heard via various Princesses. The diary was a good way of telling Mouche about the horrendous fact I’d discovered: Mark had actively stopped Jet from dating her.  I tapped my pink-feathered pencil on my desk. I knew Mouche wouldn’t  be back from the shelter before 3pm, so I had most of the afternoon to finish my essay. Then, I remembered something else I needed to add to the diary. “It seems the streets aren’t safe from either Knightly’s (Mark’s  sister was yesterday seen visiting a clothing store with her aunt, according to a text from Ella) or Princesses (Teegan’s  older sister –Missy, the casting assistant – was earlier in the day seen breakfasting with our florist, Tim, who is totally a closet case according to Mouche).

      Suddenly, I thought about Joel. As it turned out, Joel had emailed me twice.

     “He’s practically obsessive,” Mouche noted.

     We added these emails to the chapter titled, letters and to the one where Joel apologizes for abruptly leaving and twice asks me, can you come to New York? (I emailed him to say – maybe next year) so I think that might have put him off but there is no way I’m quitting the play to be with some guy offering no more than a transient weekend – who did he think I was?

      Boy-rating was starting to make me analytical, and occasionally a little bit angry, not an emotion I’d previously allowed myself to express. Mrs Robinson’s guide would have something to say about that: i.e. stay contained...) In The Good Girlfriend guide it says, “never write love letters...make sure your date writes the love letter.” We are modifying the rules to include incidental notes and emails as love letters! So, although Joel was forgiven for running off after kissing me (very passionately) I realized Joel was not exactly the stable boyfriend material the Boy Rating Diary craved. At least dating and rating a variety of boys had taught us to be highly selective. 

    “And let’s face it,” Mouche said, “people (i.e. Princesses) are only too happy to see you paired up with the most inappropriate males (for example, Martin’s son).”

    I am holding in my hand notes of the dates thus far (prior to consolidation). I’m reading them during my quick lunch break. The notes are lying on my desk along with some of the more recent ones in Mouche’s  drawer. I’m just about to get to them:

 

Here are some more juicy details about the dates that occurred this past week:

 

Mouche Macintosh:

     The game has expanded. Mark is interested in Phoebe. I am interested in dating Mark (for the ultimate United Nations experience) and Phoebe says, “Go for it.” So, I don’t think she’s really interested. She says ‘strong and silent’ isn’t as hot as it’s supposed to be. We went for brunch. Phoebe said, in the interests of the game, she  didn’t  object.

    The date was okay but no real fireworks or anything. Mark spent the whole time asking me about Phoebe and I think they suit one another. The Princesses are throwing themselves at all the boys on our list. The guys seem to be strangely bettering themselves though. Maybe they’re not so dorky after all. And in the interests of sharing, I have thrown Jet into the ring. He even took Teegan flowers! Maybe our original rules were flawed.

    Could it be that the Princesses have discovered that showing enthusiasm is not a bad thing? Are we all learning from the fake truce and really beginning to be nice to each other? Could it be possible that we are making like friends for real this time? And is this for the greater good, not just for our dating game, but the good of teenage society?   

    Teegan, Tory, Brooke and Freya have each had one date a piece. They are added to the FAKE diary but the fake diary has become REAL; the two diaries have merged – we are beginning to trust the Princesses! I’ll let them do the talking in their own words (they also added more identifying factors) So, here is what you’ve all been waiting for: A list of the dates so far:

 

Date: Teegan and Jet

Place: Breakfast @ Sunrise Puppy School (since I have a new Chow Chow puppy and Jet offered to help train him!)

At first, all Jet could do was talk about Mouche and how she  won’t talk to him. I followed every rule in the list, and he was surprisingly responsive. I wore the very cool cardigan fashion, loosely buttoned but with a demure polka dot scarf because his eyes nearly popped out when I went up to him before rehearsal and said, “hi, Jet...I’ve  often wondered why we’ve never dated...”

     “Huh?” he said. Then he kind of laughed as if his friends might be listening.

      The dogs liked him a lot which is a good sign.

      I took a pro-active stance as per The Guide.

 Items gained: a pair of gloves. It was slightly windy and Jet insisted on buying me the fine woollen gloves I admired at the Sunrise General Store on the way home.

 Kisses gleaned: one (on the hand) when my new puppy was let loose and dragged off his leash. I made a yelping cry and insisted Jet kiss my wrist better.

Rating: 9/10 (Jet loses a point for being already taken. I think Mouche holds firmly in her manicured fingers, a place in his heart.)

 

Tory and Jack Adams

Identifying factors: home cinema

Alcohol consumption: none, drinks diet soda

Job and personality: high school junior, film obsessive

Kisses: one, on screen, between the actors; I put my arm around him and he had to rush out of the room as I whispered, “I hear you like to make…adult movies.”

Items gained directly: a copy of La Dolce Vita

love letters? He’s promised to send me an email of his top ten list of all time great action films

Possibility of re-date: maybe, if I can find an ancient copy of Solaris. The good stuff; we are all thinking of starting a Sunrise Movie Club which has to be a pro-active venture.

Rating: 6/10

lost 4 points for luring me into his “studio” when I thought he wanted an interview for a reality TV show and to make out; but what he really wanted was to show me some old 1960”s French film He’s  mad about. Jack seems to be quite the romantic at heart.    

 

Brooke and Tom Allen

Identifying factors: high school senior, obsessed with investing his money; where he gets that from is a mystery

Alcohol consumption: none, but Tom raided his father’s study looking for hidden bottles and spent half an hour trying to locate his father’s misplaced Financial Review

Job and personality: high school mathlete and economics major. This was the most boring date of all time, plus contrary to the “dot point list”, Tom has the makings of a bad value system. Is he reformable?

Kisses: one, but loses points because I had to initiate it; I know! The boy rating diary has encouraged me to be far more adventurous than I normally would have been on a first date.

Items gained: another sweater - his mother offered it to me when it got chilly (ah, I believe that was cashmere, girls; project success!) and he told me not to bother bringing it back (does that mean she  didn’t  like me? ) Ah dahrrr, Teegan (who was way jealous and trying not to show it) wrote.

Mouche edited this section with an interjection, “you should donate to the homeless charity, Brooke. We have way too many sweaters now...”

Items gained directly: monetary advice, ‘priceless’ according to Tom’s dad. Love letters? Doodles on the back of a drink coaster with love hearts and hugs: “Does this count as a love letter?”

Possibility of re-date: not sure, Tom doesn’t  invest time in high school relationships that won’t go anywhere. Besides, his mother wants him to marry, “a descendant of the Vanderbilt’s...” but, learning about the NASDAQ wasn’t as dull as I expected and we did hold hands watching the financial news.

Rating: 6/10 – room for improvement

    

Freya and Peter Williamson –local production of Guys and Dolls, Peter was more interested in taking notes on the choreography than practicing it with me over ice-cream at the Sunrise Diner. Ten for effort. He was dressed in shoes with lights and tiny wheels on the soles of them, so he could roll down the pavement like a ten year old. Everyone stared as he moon walked past.

Rating:6/10 for exuberance and the fact he didn’t  seem to care what anyone thought about him.

 

To be continued...