Pride and Princesses An Unexpected Kiss chapter 16

Chapter 16

An Unexpected Kiss 

     The day before the scheduled meeting, something truly unexpected happened which made me question my devotion to Mark.

     It had been a long afternoon of rehearsing and I left the auditorium to water my parched throat. Outside, I encountered the adorable Joel Goodman again.

     He grunted “hello” with a confident smile as he walked down the empty hallway past me. Joel had been kept back a year, after his parents “home schooled” him. They travelled through Europe, like gypsies, after their connection to Mark’s  parents went bust. Joel’s wild, black hair was all spiky from some hairdressing show and his rangy, blue jeaned hips had a studded belt around them. His sister (who was a model agent) paid him three hundred dollars to slum it in an LA show the previous week because she ’d  had trouble finding extra “young, dangerous types.” She  could’ve asked Mark and Jet as well. Their combined attitudes would have been perfect for the catwalk. 

     At least that’s  what Brooke whispered to Freya who told Teegan who told Mouche who told me. Joel got whispered about a lot. He was considered hot but a little dangerous and I was secretly thrilled that our relationship had developed from monosyllabic to the next level -  basic conversation and meeting up during rehearsal and detention “time-outs”. 

      We’d become friends but so far I’d never involved him in the Boy-Rating Diary.

      Without realizing it, I had been letting Joel hang out with me when what I really should have been doing (maybe) was dating him, even if Mrs Jones dictated his unsuitability. He was kind of bad. I didn’t  have to ask Joel what he was doing here in the hallway again. I knew.

     Joel had been suspended. His jeans hung low and you could see the top of his boxers and the bottom of his ripped torso peeping out from beneath his plaid shirt. His muscular arms carried a more than usually heavy bag, full of the contents of his locker. 

     We paused at the drink vending machine. Suddenly he stopped and turned around to acknowledge me.

     “Hey, Tuesday Girl...”

     As I told you, he was kind of smart. It’s just that, as punishment for attempting to take a photograph up Miss Holland’s skirt (Miss H was our music teacher), he’d been assigned to hang out with a different “high achieving” student every day for a month during ninth grade.  After that, he got the “dangerous” rep. Today, the rumor about Joel’s suspension (for setting off the school smoke alarms “unintentionally”), had been posted on the Princess’s webpage. Thereafter it had multiplied like swine flu. I was not completely unaware. 

     “Hey Pheebs...come here, there’s  something I wanted to say to you before I go on vacation...”

     “You can say it from there...”

     “Why, because I’m such a bad influence you have to keep your distance?”

      “Of course not,” the truth was, I admired his reckless abandon.

      I moved forward but not too close.

      He stopped and looked at me like I was soda in a fountain. He paused momentarily, then spoke.

     “You were my favorite,” he said in a deeper than teenage rebel voice.

     “Your favorite what?”

     “Day of the week. We usually met on Tuesdays.”

      This gave me an idea.

     “Mmm...Can you put that in writing?”

     “Eager to please the lady...” he said with a smile. Joel pulled out a docket or something from his pocket and wrote: 

 

     To Phoebe (Tuesday) Harris; you are my favorite day of the week, luv Joel.

 

     I stopped feeding coins into the slot and shoved the note into my pocket. I was feeling all hot and sweaty from dance rehearsals and not looking my best to greet a man as per the guides I now read obsessively, but exceptions must be made and I wasn’t expecting this. I stood my ground and faced him. 

     “Why are you carrying such a big bag? You don’t have, like, a body in there do you?”

      He laughed and lit a cigarette.

      “No. Want one?”

      “It’s illegal to smoke at school. Besides, it’s bad for you.”

       He stubbed it out.

      “I just gave up. I’m celebrating.”

      “What are you celebrating?”

      “I’m going to New York.”

      “What? You mean you’re  dropping out of school?”

      “Yep. For two whole weeks. I got suspended but I don’t think I want to come back, anyways...”

     “Wow...I don’t know if that’s  something to celebrate..” then I forgot the Mrs Jones Guide and just said what I thought, “...that could be a really dumb idea...besides, I wasted loads of time checking your work.”

    “No time is wasted Phoebe Tuesday. Besides, I have an older brother there. I can catch up on Wuthering Heights when I’m gone. Don’t worry. I’ve never been to New York but it’s got to be more interesting than here. I can’t wait to go.”

     I couldn’t  wait to get out of Sunrise either. Maybe it had something to do with Mark.

    “Me either,” I said, trying to sound way cooler than I am. I leaned back on the door of the locker, “after the play is over, and I’ve  graduated, I want to go to Julliard...if I get in.” Joel smiled.

    I gotta tell you being around him at that moment made me feel a little shy. This was starting to bother me. I was becoming the girl I was before I became the self-assured pre-woman I am.

    “Well,” I said, “break a leg in New York. The drink machine awaits...”

    But before I could turn he leaned over and kissed me and the last thing I expected was to kiss him back, especially as he was all smoke-addled and I was sweaty.

     Proof your love life can change in a second.

     “I always wanted to do that...” he said. Then we heard the squeak of unoiled hinges and Mark walked out from behind a nearby locker. Trust Mark to ruin my day. He glanced at Joel knowingly, then turned around, and walked off in the opposite direction.

      Joel smiled at me like the kiss hadn’t meant a thing, said “adios amigos” and left.

 

     “How rude,” I wrote in the diary that night and when I told Mouche she agreed. “They just love you and leave you. What’s the point of that?” I started to cry. Mouche consoled me.

      “This is so unexpected...”

       “I know,” Mouche said. “...but was it good?” she asked.

      “Well, it would have been...if we hadn’t been interrupted. It was kind of special because it was the first real kiss I’ve ever had apart from my dozens of stage kisses, as you know, and most of them were with Peter Williamson...”

    “Here, I have something for you. I found it backstage when I was going through the costume boxes.”

     “The vintage jeans...but don’t I have to obtain them via a date?”

     “Obtaining items from so-called dates will not a self-determined woman make...except maybe in France. So, I’m going to add that the rules of “obtaining items” can be amended as and when we see fit. I think the unexpected encounter you had with Joel can definitely count as a date and you just need a little help with the items. Anyway, these jeans are perfect for treasure trove item three.

    We both tried them on. They were a little long for me but I just rolled them up.

     I got to keep the guide that night. I sat up in my canopy bed like Pollyanna thinking about Joel and how best to describe what had happened. A little part of me was seriously annoyed. For ten minutes he’d taken me out of my triple threat Princess-hating world and taken me into the possibility of Loveland. And in Loveland, it seemed to me all the rules, the entire plan, went out the window. It’s like that old disco record Mrs Mouche plays all the time when she’s doing the vacuuming once a year.

    Love was way complex.

    But in the end, I kept it simple.

    “Keep it simple sister,” Wednesday was learning to say. I know because Mouche taught her and there is nothing funnier than a three year old with glitter face saying; “keep it simple sister,” in a bluesy voice. Thom is just chomping at the bit to take her on at Starz; I think He’s  given up on Mouche and me, but what you really need in the biz is an agent who believes in you.

     “No”, I replied when Mouche asked me if I’d heard from Thom since the Alien audition,     “I really need him to believe in me...” I whined a few seconds later.

     “What you need is to believe in yourself,” Mouche said.  In any case, Thom wanted Wednesday to audition for a commercial that will be ongoing and set her up for life, financially (or at least for college), if she  gets it.

     “We shouldn’t exploit her talents,” Mouche said.

     “But couldn’t we ask your mom?”

      “You know what she’ll say,” Mouche replied.

      Somehow, Thom convinced us to take Wednesday to the open call the next day. Thom rang and rang until we relented and Mouche agreed to take Wednesday to her first Kidz audition without telling her mother who, “didn’t  want anything to do with that exploitative business,” now that she  had her own career and love life back on track.

      If Wednesday gets it, the commercial will set up her college fund. Then Mrs Mouche might be happy about it, and glad we arranged to take her.  Besides we both love any excuse to drive to the heart of Los Angeles.

     I was wiping sparkles and face paint off Wednesday’s face.

    “I want more,” Wednesday said.

    “No Wednesday. Kids wearing make-up look like little hussies. They want to see you looking natural!”

    Wednesday was immediately put out and crossed her tiny arms and legs and snuggled up to Mouche.

    “Okay,” I said, finally deciding to use the curling tongs on Wednesday’s hair. Mouche’s mother had forbidden me to do this to Wednesday’s golden baby locks long ago. But Mrs Mouche was away on a business conference and wouldn’t  be back until Sunday so I was in charge.

     “Okay girls, I trust you,” Mrs Mouche assured us as she  flounced off the front porch, her suit freshly dry-cleaned, her make-up newly applied, her hair blow waved. Mrs Mouche was really a great role-model for young girls. She  had lifted herself up from male and financial disaster.

     “Out with the old and in with the new,” Mrs Mouche always said.

     Once she  had left for the airport we were safely on our way.

    “I hope this works out better for you than it did for me,” I tell Wednesday. 

    The casting was in Santa Monica.

     After we sat with Wednesday for the morning while they took her photo and listened to her say a few cute words, we had the whole afternoon to ourselves and we went to Third Street Promenade for lunch. Then we drove to Venice again and checked out the market stalls all afternoon.

     “This is fun,” Wednesday said, in full sentence. Mouche wiped ice-cream off her baby sister’s face and smiled.

     At home that evening, Wednesday slept deeply.

     “She’s exhausted,” I said to Mouche.

     “I know,” Mouche said, “I hope we did the right thing.”

     “Of course we did,” I told her.

      “I can’t wait to have children one day. Well, I mean, I’d like to get married first, and of course, I wouldn’t plan on kids until I’m at least twenty or thirty.”

      I smiled. I knew Mouche would make a great mother.

      “But not yet,” I told her.

      “No, not yet,” Mouche joked.

     “Now, getting back to the Boy-Rating Diary,” I continued...

     Of course I had to re-capture the story of the previous date as well as update the encounters section with the brief but slightly beautiful moment between Joel and me.

      Mouche said she was too emotionally exhausted to re-live the episode with the Princesses or my speed date with Joel. Besides, she said, “I have a meeting to prepare for tomorrow...I have the best idea, the funniest idea in the whole world....we’ll beat those skanks at their own game and get our dates sorted out in the process...”

      I must admit, I was not one hundred percent sure what Mouche was up to, but she  promised to brief me at 8am the next morning before school. 

      “Oh, and I have news to tell you regarding Jack Adams, film school tragic.” Mouche said, brushing her teeth. “We’ve developed a mutual love for All About Eve and things have progressed. We may even decide to go skating together if I can drag him away from his blue screen,” Mouche said.

      “I’ve  only got my one interlude with Joel to write up and now He’s  skipped town just when we were on the verge of becoming epic.”

      We both laughed as I continued writing in the original Boy-Rating Diary.

      “This should have come at the end,” I wrote. “I don’t care about gathering stupid treasure chest items anyway, I never really did.”

       When it was Mouche’s  turn to write up her chapter, she  scribbled next to mine in pink fluoro; “big mistake Pheebs, always keep your eyes on the prize and remember the rules of the game.”

      But what were they?

      Mouche seemed to be changing them as we went along and sometimes I wondered if she  was telling the whole truth. I saw her flirting with Ethan Mandel whole days before she  ever mentioned it in the boy rating notes under “Mouche’s  Boys: (sub-heading) Boys I’ve  kissed this year.” It was getting a little bit confusing, for sure.  

     Then I stuck in the note with Joel’s name on it and when I looked on the other side, where the tape met the paper, I noticed Joel had scrawled his number and his email, just in case, he wrote, you’re in New York. 

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.