Pride and Princesses Apologies and Whispers chapter 14

Chapter 14

Apologies and Whispers

    The year was half over. Mouche and I had not really been on any successful dates, and the treasure chest prizes all came about in unexpected ways. We didn’t mind. The ‘treasure’ was all part of the game. We stopped being so strict about how we obtained the items, which resulted in multiple sweaters and pens hoarded in a spare locker awaiting transfer to the real chest in Mouche’s room. We could sort out what we needed at a later date. I hand washed, dried and ironed the black sweater and sewed a row of sparkling sequins around the edge. It would be perfect for New York. 

    When we arrived back at school the following Monday it seemed obvious that Jet had hooked up with Teegan after we left. We also noticed Tory had her hand hooked firmly into the pocket of Mark’s jeans as they all walked down the hallway together.

   ‘Men can be dogs,’ Mouche whispered.

    I ignored the foursome, but I felt Mark’s stare in the small of my back as Mouche and I walked past them. 

   ‘Hey, Phoebe...’ Mark said as I passed him, trying to disassociate himself from Tory.

    Mark tried to talk to me again during study hall and then at rehearsals but I ignored him. Later, we had dance rehearsal for the part of the play with the musical interlude. I was huddled in the corner of the theatre.

    ‘Now I’d like Phoebe to hold hands with...Mark, can you stand in for Peter?’

    ‘Help me,’ I said under my breath when Mr Sparks tried to pair us up. I stood about as far away from Mark as possible. I looked in his direction only when I couldn’t avoid it.

    Exasperated, Mr Sparks declared, ‘I have an announcement to make. Since Peter injured his foot on the weekend, Mark will stand in for him at rehearsals. He should be fine in a few days.’

    I groaned inwardly. Mark had gone from hero to zero all in the space of a week, in my opinion. A tiny bit of Mouche’s pragmatism had entered my world. It was like I couldn’t be light-hearted anymore.

    ‘I may have had my pride badly injured but I am determined not to let the seriously haughty Mark Knightly get to me,’ I told Mouche.

    ‘Mark’s behaviour puts them both under the microscope,’ Mouche said, glancing at Jet.

    We rehearsed scene three, then during the dance number, Mr Sparks tried to make us touch hands again.

     ‘Enough already!’ I announced, stealing Mouche’s favourite line. I broke away from Mark. Peter barked, ‘stop’ to Ethan Mandel in his stage manager voice, giving the order from a chair to start again. I sighed and even Mark noticed (how could he miss) that I was so over him.

    ‘There is no way I am dancing with the understudy,’ I said loudly to Mouche after Mr Sparks decided Mark and I should dance together since he was the only one left over (Mark had been hiding out in the lighting box trying to avoid his understudy duties). He towered over me, like I told you, and it was easy to avoid his eyes.

     ‘There is nothing in the world that could inspire me to touch his hand,’ I added in a hoarse whisper. ‘In fact, I’d rather not be in the dance number at all.’

      Besides, I had my soliloquy to practice and there was no way he was going to succeed in putting me off my lines.

     ‘Drama queen,’ Mr Sparks added under his breath, ‘while Miss Phoebe-the-Star has her own personal tantrum we’ll just continue with Act Two and come back to the dance scene tomorrow – oh and you two are definitely partners. The tension will create chemistry. You’ll just have to find a way to stop acting like children, start acting like young adults and make it work. Remember, it’s for extra credit.’

    ‘And Mouche, you have to at least pretend you like Jet in the dance sequence.  The play is the thing, Mouche. What will Julliard say if I write on your transcripts, ‘not a team player?’

    ‘I’m going to NYU or Yale, Mr Sparks.’

     Mr Sparks looked surprised.

     ‘But Mouche, you might waste your talent. You have a God-given gift.’

     ‘I’m going to be a lawyer, Mr Sparks. I want to help people and earn lots of money.’

     ‘Ah the evils of finance!’

      Mr Sparks had a point, though - blackmail. It usually worked.

      Mark was looking very sheepish by now. I wondered when he’d grow up to behave like a man and have something to say for himself. Perhaps my expectations had been too high all along.  

     Then Jet started flirting with Mouche without her realizing it and meanwhile Teegan flirted with Mark without knowing she probably shouldn’t be if she wanted his undying devotion. I stood my ground. When Mr Sparks called ‘ten minutes everybody,’ I left the room to find Joel. I think I needed a distraction. 

 

    Joel was in study hall when we were in rehearsal and we found reasons to meet up more than usual now. Was it possible we’d even started to become friends? He’d started talking to me a lot more ever since the night he dropped Mouche and me home. Suddenly the prospect of dating him seemed tempting. So, when he texted me to meet up with him for ‘a mental health break’, I was kind of glad. I didn’t even mind being texted at the last minute since we weren’t dating and I wanted an excuse to avoid the peeps at rehearsal. Plus, Mouche was working on costumes.

     Thoughts of teenage romance were superseded by the possibility of our friendship. I studied Joel as he walked towards me carrying his guitar. Would dating a true man-slut ever really be a good idea? It seemed like our friendship was doomed from the start. I know what Mrs Jones would say: ‘men and women can never be friends; the possibility of romance always gets in the way. Avoid Romeos like the plague. Man-sluts will always play the field and one woman will never be enough to satisfy their lust for female attention and popularity...’

     ‘Hey Joel.’

     ‘Hey, Phoebe,’ he said casually when we met up at the intersection of school hallways.

      Words were unnecessary. Joel was on a break from detention again and I was obviously not enjoying rehearsal.  I was impressed with his musical interests, though. He’d just released a single on his website but was too cool to ever appear in the school play.

      We sat together near the vending machine while Joel tuned his guitar and ninth graders stopped to shyly ask him for his autograph. After they left, we considered silently where the day had taken us. Before Joel finished his drink, he gave me a suggestive little grin and said, ‘okay, gotta motor, see ya later...’

      I put Joel out of my mind and began thinking about Mark as I wandered back to the auditorium. I felt like I needed to lick my wounds and take a break from the game. Even if Mark and I were never meant to be, I was glad to finally be standing up for myself, going with the moment, so to speak. I’d previously stood off stage in my own shadow.  If Mark hadn’t dissed me, I’d never have possessed the courage to disrespect him in public. But then, I’d never have needed to. I was beginning to enjoy annoying him. Just mentioning Joel’s name seemed to make Mark flinch.

     Before I left rehearsals that day, he came up to me and said, ‘I didn’t know you were friends with Joel Goodman.’

   ‘Well, I tutor him,’ I said hesitantly, ‘not that it’s any of your business.’ I was so angry I’d spoken to him directly but he caught me unawares. I thought Mark deserved the silent treatment a little longer but he had forced my hand.

   ‘Oh.’

   ‘Besides, it’s nothing to you how I spend my after-rehearsal hours.’

   ‘I know, I didn’t mean anything by my comments. It’s just that I don’t think he...’

    ‘He’s already told me about you and what your family did to him. You really don’t need to elaborate.’

     I turned and flounced off leaving Mark totally gobsmacked.

  

    So that was the state of our boy-rating plan by November, the month of the play. Teegan and Freya and Brooke and Tory had been hunting around open lockers and portals of blogs and discarded pages of The Sunrise News (ones that they’d even contributed to) searching for the missing parts of a puzzle they felt sure were somehow important to them, but they couldn’t quite put all the pieces together. They’d noticed we dressed sharply and boys talked a lot more to us, boys they’d once envisaged being more interested in them. 

    They had confronted us recently inside the girl’s changing rooms.

    ‘We need to talk,’ Teegan said. ‘Soon.’

    ‘We’ll schedule a meeting,’ Mouche said. ‘How’s next week?’

    ‘Fine.’

    ‘Perfect.’

     Teegan had no idea what we had in mind. 

    ‘Better to keep them wondering for as long as it takes us to decide exactly how to play this,’ Mouche said.

      Our dating diary was filled with all the tiny mishaps and possibilities of the previous months. We didn’t want to let them know more than was necessary. 

     Way back at the beginning, we counted the note from rehearsal week one as a love letter. And we included the diagram of a movie set. Matt sketched it on a script at my audition (I found it discarded in the wastepaper basket) along with the word Star. We included it because the little house made of squares and circles and triangles and a few scribbles was meant to represent the ocean at Venice Beach where he was telling the other casting assistant he once lived. We think that vision is one we aspire to even if dating Matt never really happened.    Star is a word that we love and the beach is a place we both like. So you could say we’ve learnt to take the good from every mishap; and write it all down. We can learn from it.

    Of course it had been a busy time, what with Mouche studying and working on the costumes for Rocco and Julie and her dancing perfection. Meanwhile, Mark noticed neither of us were very friendly towards him. Though he was once on top of our list, he was now at the bottom, especially as he appeared to be letting Teegan (who was all over him like a rash) flirt with him. But we could have told her she’d have problems reeling in the catch. Teegan was pawing his arm, fawning over him and making him ‘special’ lunches, but you could tell it was just making him more uncomfortable.  

     Jet was busy ignoring Mouche after she stopped talking to him because Mark had insulted her friend (me) which was very loyal of her. ‘Besides,’ Mouche said, ‘I’ve totally moved on.’

     And her dancing? It was spectacular! I caught Mark watching us both practice our solos from backstage, with more than a spark of interest.

    Then there were Mouche’s designs for the play which were so gorgeous even Ethan Mandel commented on their gloriousness. Maybe that’s because I’d caught him trying to kiss Mouche behind the stage curtains one afternoon. Love had given him extra incentive to be sweeter and more enthusiastic.

     Mouche got some ideas for the play the day we took Wednesday to the local vintage store for research on the costumes of the punk era. We also went online. There were some amazing photographs of punks and clothes from the 80s all over the web. We also had the Trish and Mrs Mouche family photograph albums for historical reference. Mrs Mouche’s family were from the South originally and full of old Southern traditions. For example, manners were big way back then and being ‘ladylike’ was held in high regard. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ were important words. Perhaps some of the boys could learn that – especially Mark. Our mothers held tea parties when they were our age instead of nasty girl gossip fests. All very civilized.

     Our moms told us, ‘we could never discuss anything with our mothers, we are so lucky we have you girls for advice, to set us straight.’

     Wednesday clapped her hands in approval, ‘wet us wait,’ she repeated in her cute baby voice.

     Someone else who needed to be set straight was Mark, but it seemed the opposite was occurring.

     Although the scheduled meeting with the Princesses had distracted us, it was with sheer disbelief that I discovered a note from Mark one day in my locker.

     ‘What took him so long?’ Mouche asked.

      It was, I suppose, a letter of apology because Mouche had told Tory who’d told Jet who’d told Teegan who’d told Mark that I was ignoring him because I’d heard him dissing me at the Fall Fling. I promptly stuck the note in the glory box guide, after passing it to Mouche to read.

    The letter was surprisingly humble. It read:

   

Dear Phoebe

    I just wanted to write to say I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings at the Fall Fling. I was having a bad evening. I was worried about my sister, Petra, and I said some things I shouldn’t have. I didn’t want people to think I liked you. For what it’s worth, I think you are a really good actress and perhaps it is me who is lacking in social etiquette, not you.

 My apologies

 Mark Knightly

 

      ‘Mmm. Quite the backhanded apology.’ Mouche said, obviously shocked.

      He, ‘didn’t want people to think he liked me?’ What was wrong with liking me? I wondered.

      ‘What an arrogant nightmare. I’m glad to be rid of him.’ I said.

      ‘Still, it was quite unexpected. From another era even,’ Mouche replied.

      ‘Perhaps the Neolithic one,’ I added.

       I stuck the note straight in the Boy-Rating Diary under the heading Phoebe’s love letters. Pleased with my work, I highlighted the headings with glitter glue, ‘I think that almost counts, don’t you?’

     Mouche laughed and said, ‘I think it’s kind of beautiful; an apology, even if it was poorly worded. Maybe we’re too young to have hearts of stone.’

     Meanwhile, the hole in the brick wall between our houses had grown bigger because our locker was one third full and our little treasure chest was filling up with items and secrets.

     For a week or so, the dating game took a back seat as study and school life and the general business that became a game of dodging Princesses (before the meeting) took over.  Mouche and I, after our initial surge in popularity, struggled with how to proceed. 

     We had a page about all the boys on our list, and had put off the ‘secret meeting’ with the Princesses for as long as possible.

     Trish and Mrs Mouche’s first post-break-up dates were successful enough to encourage them to start dating properly again, but nothing memorable had happened for them in the form of love letters, or anything else (except dinners).

    In the meantime, both of our moms were on vacation for a week and during that time they threw themselves into self-care (manicures, hairdressers, deep tissue massages) and mothering which we admired.

    Trish began to cook again using her mother’s recipes. Together we had mother / daughter meals which were both memorable and delicious. Mrs Mouche even invited Martin around to share in the meal as a return for the night he took her bowling and let her win. He had a son named Eli as it turned out who was two years younger than me and very studious. Eli seemed quite interested in being friends which was flattering, but he was too young to date, although quite the reader. In fact most of the boys on our list at Sunrise were such a mismatch for me, that I started wondering what it would be like to properly date Joel or Ethan or even Mark; the guys I’d initially been attracted to but who for obvious reasons, hadn’t really worked out thus far.        

     Meanwhile, Mrs Mouche was dating an accountant from her work whom she’d decided was, ‘boring boring boring, but at least he’s teaching me how to organise my taxes.’

     *Note to self: men who teach you something useful...especially about money and boy stuff (ie. mechanics) are good to know (because a lot of women don’t know as much as they should and being unknowledgeable about money and cars leaves you open to financial abuse....). That is a direct quote from Mrs Mouche.

       In any case, work and socializing were keeping our mommies who drink very busy these days. We were also indulging in a social whirl. Our moms were too pre-occupied to check up on us which was perfect because we hadn’t really refined our dating game properly; and the best was definitely yet to come.

Pride and Princesses Matresses and Meetings chapter 15

Chapter 15

Mattresses and Meetings

      Teegan, Tory, Brooke and Freya had been wracking their minds over the meaning of that one page of muddled notes they’d discovered weeks ago and the fact that we seemed, every now and then, to be juggling a list of men for possible dates in between our busy schedule of school, rehearsals and semi-professional auditioning activities.

      Unbeknown to Mouche, I have to admit, I’d flirted with Trey. Unbeknown to either of us, I think Jet was beginning to like Mouche again (he’d glanced over at her in rehearsals more than once to see if she was noticing him) and maybe because of this or in spite of this, I was really noticing when Mark was noticing me. It was like the fact that I had ignored him peaked his interest. Then once (or was I imagining it?) he seemed to be watching Mouche’s dance scene with more than professional interest. As if I cared. There were nine other men on my list.

      Plus, although Tory was getting louder and pushier by the hour, I was still the lead character in the play. But I was offended and had a long memory (like an elephant’s, my mother once said). My pride had been sorely injured by Mark’s remarks at the dance, more than I cared to admit. Although the letter was nice, it took until the visit to Mark’s house, many days later, for me to start seeing my tormentor in a different light.

    In the meantime, I was becoming friendlier with Joel.

    This seemed to hit the spot, Mark’s sore spot. For some reason Mark just hated Joel, who, although friendly with multiple girls, always took extra time to say ‘hi’, and hang out with me now. I knew he might be a bit unreliable to actually date but I was happy to become friends with him.

    ‘You know, Phoebe, you are actually my first friend who is a girl,’ he said analytically, as we snacked on pretzels during my rehearsal break. We talked about lots of things, not just the novels we had to read for English, or his guitar solos. We talked about New York and how it is one of the most fantastic cities in the world. 

     Known only to Mark, Freya had offered (as the social secretary of junior year) to show him around Sunrise one weekend. It would have been totally against our original rules to make all the running, but Freya had a hot new car her father had bought for her birthday and wanted to show off it and herself. I heard her tell Tory she had plans to be Mark’s ‘special girlfriend’. I’m not sure even Mark knew what that meant but Tory seemed momentarily put out.

    Tory explained it (many weeks later) in the guide thus: ‘In England, macking is called snogging, and since Mark had been in England for a year, he seemed to think dating was just hooking up and snogging. So when I suggested we hook up and go to the movies, Mark was, according to Jet who told Teegan who told Mouche who told me, ‘too polite to refuse.’

    We all had a little laugh at that entry, especially me, and it seemed the days when I imagined Mark to be ‘the one’ were long gone. 

     But I forgot to tell you how the Princesses got involved.

     In the beginning, they all, rather cluelessly and obviously, tried to target Mark. We shuddered at their appalling lack of smarts in this area. He had them on speed dial and even more confused than he’d had Mouche and I. The other girls evidently needed our savvy.

     Mark, the alpha male, was playing them.

     ‘I don’t understand why charms I’ve worked on countless pre-men seem to fall short with Mr I love myself Knightly,’ Teegan complained.

      Tory listened to Teegan’s whining then relayed it to Brooke who told me.

     ‘You won’t believe it,’ Tory added, ‘but Teegs actually said to him after rehearsal one night when she was taking notes, ‘your place or mine?’ when he offered her a lift. Anyway, he obviously didn’t like her that much since he offered Phoebe and Mouche a lift also. Mouche said ‘yes’ before Phoebe could say ‘no’ because it was late at night and she thought it would be in their best interests to swallow their pride.’

     My ears burned at that one. It was true, I hadn’t had a chance to say no, but we were not in a position to refuse. Trey had borrowed Mouche’s car (his was at the local garage) and I didn’t have one. Trey’s cell was on answer which really annoyed both Mouche and me, because we have a rule to never walk home alone in the dark.

    ‘I’ll talk to Trey about that later,’ Mouche promised, as if she was the parent and Trey, the child.

     After Mark had slighted me, Mouche had considered spreading the rumor that he was a man-slut but then we mutually decided that this would just enhance his reputation and make us sound bitter. We were more amused watching the Princesses fail to make headway in the dating game with him, one by one.

    ‘Sometimes it’s best to let bygones be bygones,’ my grandmother always used to say which I suppose means, forget about past hurts. So I left the idea of Mark as ‘the perfect boyfriend’ alone, where it ought to be, and just got on with my life. Then the Princesses lives entwined with ours in the most obvious way. 

    We’re not sure how far Mark and Freya went after he dropped Mouche and me off that night after rehearsal, but the next day Brooke and Teegan and Tory were seen huddling around a crying Freya who was whining something about, ‘he kissed me and everything but now I don’t think he even likes me. How could he not like me? I’m the smartest, funniest, coolest girl in the school!’

    ‘Ah, that would be a matter of opinion, Freya,’ Mouche uttered under her breath. But this time I was glad that nobody heard because Freya was visibly distressed.

     You could see the confidence draining out of Freya and her Princess sisters on a daily basis and I felt a little uncool that I couldn’t give them advice. Why did girls let boys affect their self-esteem this way? It was lucky I loved the stage and Mouche loved to dance. These loves gave us a lot more to focus on than boys.

    ‘Perhaps we should share the benefit of our research,’ I suggested that day, thumbing through the last of my dating guides, The Good Girlfriend (a gem of a tome), written by anonymous.

    ‘Oh please,’ Mouche said, ‘they’d only listen if it was wrapped in pink paper and tied with a ribbon.’

    ‘It is,’ I said, tapping our half-filled Boy Rating Diary.

     The Princesses were all having a pity party for one another because nobody else would bother to have any kind of party for the nastiest girls in school.

     What we do know for sure - Mark was definitely not saving himself for marriage or true love or any of that because he was spotted reading Lolita in the town library - quite the scandal around here.

     Mouche noticed it when she was researching a legal case for part-time work she does at a homeless shelter in LA once a month. In fact, I’d say Mark may have taken Freya up on her offer and now maybe both of them regret it. At least, that’s what I’d say.

     It was kind of sad actually - their little love fest gone wrong. Last night at rehearsals, Freya was giving Mark soppy puppy dog looks and he was just totally ignoring her in his snobbish, uptight way. I could have told her he was a mean, proud, nasty person but she didn’t ask. I’d never advise Freya, willingly. Besides, Mark was clearly the target; he’s supposed to be the date at the end, the best date, and now I doubt I will ever speak to him again since he’s clearly the most conceited boy in school. Well, who wants some stuffy old castle in Scotland anyway?

    ‘I’ve mentally moved on,’ I assured Mouche.

    But I should tell you what happened with Mouche and Jet. She wrote about it in the dating diary:

    

     Mouche: ‘Jet and I got so friendly that we dated more than once. We went roller skating, then he took me to dinner and a movie and drove me right to my front door in his seriously hot sports car. He opened doors and paid for everything and the most he even tried was to hold my hand. Then, on the third date,  Jet got cold feet and told Scott Williamson to tell Phoebe at rehearsals to tell me that he couldn’t meet up with me that weekend because he ‘had to go with Mark and his sister and their aunt and uncle for a skiing holiday in Telluride...’

   ‘Telluride! That’s a lame excuse’, Phoebe said.

   ‘I agree. I mean, I’m not the best or most experienced skier in the world, but if he was going to abruptly change plans, then he could’ve at least invited me or told me himself.’     

    I drew a line through him on the list and spent an entire Saturday crying. After I’d dried my eyes, I gathered Wednesday to me and said to Pheebs, ‘I do solemnly swear that I will never get my heart broken ever again.’

    It was many weeks later before we found out what really happened.

 

    Wednesday tugged at Mouche’s hair, attempting to braid it in a sisterly fashion.

    ‘He’s no loss if he will do that to you without a proper explanation,’ I offered.

    ‘This,’ Mouche said, ‘is the first and last time I will ever cry over a man.’

     ‘He’s so not worth it, I said.

     ‘Not worth it,’ Wednesday agreed.

     ‘And neither is his proud, superior friend.’ I couldn’t even say Mark’s name by this point.

      At rehearsal, Mark Knightly was standing near me when Peter came over to chat.

      Peter winked at Mark and Mark ignored us both.

     ‘Actually, he looked kind of sheepish...Mark’s a weird guy.’

     ‘Maybe not so much...’ Mouche observed. ‘It’s true that he hurt your pride and he was wrong to do it, and wrong about you, but at least he didn’t pretend to like you then ditch you like Jet did to me. I genuinely think he was just trying to cover up how he felt. Perhaps he has his own reasons for his strange behaviour. He seems to have better qualities than some of the boys at Sunrise. At least he has a level of maturity and says what he thinks.’

     ‘Thanks.’

     ‘Well, he was too quick to judge, but then so were we. I mean, look how wrong we got it. We actually thought Jet was Mr Nice Guy.’

      Even in the throes of her own misery, I started to feel like Mouche was getting the better of me again.

     That evening, we conversed in my room, ‘I’ve heard in Europe, people aren’t at all particular about whom they sleep with. Maybe that’s when Mark became a man-slut.’

    ‘Maybe,’ Mouche just shrugged and flicked on a repeat of episode of some teen reality programme.

    ‘I’m so over this show,’ she said. ‘The only thing to do when you’ve been ditched is to eat an entire box of chocolates.’

    ‘At least...you didn’t do it with Jet or anything. I mean, it’s not like you went that far...’     

    ‘I’m destined to be the only sixteen year old in Sunrise who hasn’t even been stage-kissed more than twice,’ Mouche said.

     ‘Ah, that would be me, also.’ I must admit I was shocked at Mouche’s revelation of her entire lack of love experience. I thought surely she’d kissed Ethan Mandel. I tried to cheer her up, adding, ‘well, maybe, that’s a good thing. I mean, whatever happened with Freya certainly didn’t make her happy. Maybe we’re too young for relationship drama.’

    Mouche just started crying all over again.

    Anyway, a few days later (the last week of October to be precise) another note arrived, attached to the revised script breakdown, Act One page 9.  At first, I thought it was a note from Jet, because it had Mouche’s name on it and I immediately walked over to Mouche, who was taking a break from rehearsing the opening dance number and handed it to her.

    ‘Maybe this is the formal apology...it could be from him.’

    ‘Jet?’

    ‘I don’t know, maybe.’

    ‘Perhaps I should forgive him for standing me up.’

    ‘That’s not in the rules. Don’t you have any pride? I’m sure Mrs Robinson would deem our interest in men who have already disrespected us as ‘unforgivable’. We have to be better than that.’

    ‘Here.’

    ‘What?’

    ‘You take it, open it.’

     Mouche unfolded the entire piece of notepaper.

    ‘You must’ve had it wrong the first time. It says, ‘Phoebe and Mouche.’

    ‘Maybe he wants to double...’

    ‘This might be out of our league...here, you open it.’

     I do as I’m told. Everyone is on morning break and huddled around in groups but I’m sure I noticed the evil glances of the Princesses in our direction because this is what the note said;

 

    We know what you’re up to...we want in on the competition or we’ll tell everyone what a pair of Skeezie hoes you both are...dating ‘boyzamples’ and acting like mattresses etc. Love Teegan, Tory, Brooke and Freyaxxx

 

    ‘Mattresses!’ Mouche exclaimed.

     We’d show them mattresses.     

     Mouche excitedly grabbed the most recent set of notes right out of my hand and said, with a slight glimmer in her eye, ‘just let me consolidate what we need for the meeting...’   

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.