Pride and Princesses Teenage Aliens chapter 8

Chapter 8

Teenage Aliens

    ‘Definitely, definitely do not text him first. He has to make the effort and text you. It says so here, in...I believe this one’s called, The Rules of Young Adult Romance,’ I advised.

    We were sitting on banana lounges in the water, swerving Wednesday around in her tyre, trying to explain to her the things about dating no one ever taught us.

   ‘Of course you have to actually get a date,’ Mouche added helpfully, straightening Wednesday’s sunglasses.

    That’s when I got a text that changed my day and interrupted the boy-rating diaries and our potential date-planning for at least a few hours.

    ‘Gotta move it Mouche – get off the couch potato zone and bring it...forget about school plays, I’m going professional.’

     It was Thom, my theatrical agent. He used to run an agency called Thom’s Kidz but now it’s just called Thomz Starz since all his ‘kids’ are mostly teenagers (except Wednesday).

    ‘You mean?

    ‘You betcha...’

    And in the space of an hour I’m preparing to ace my third professional audition. This time it’s a recall (which means instead of a thousand other teenage girls it’s between me and twenty others) for a part in the low-budget film, Teen Alien. 

    So I’m pulling on my best skinny jeans and painting on tooth whitener for the recall for a teen horror flick. Mouche is helping me find a suitable outfit.

    I am pretty excited. I’ve forgotten all about Mark and the Princesses and school play auditions. Instead, I’m all fired up about driving into LA with Mouche. This will be the first time we drive to an audition without a chaperone. And I’m not excited just because I think I might get the part, or because going to Century City will be an excuse to gaze longingly at the surrounding movie studios, or even because I get to play someone else outside my comfort zone. No, I’m excited because I’m definitely on course for implementing the first of our dating strategies – meeting up with an older man (an eighteen-year-old called Matt). We used to take drama class together on Saturdays. I heard he is interning as assistant to the director on this film. He was a PA student at Sunrise High a few years ago. Now he goes to UCLA.

    Mouche offered to drive me to the Alien movie recall and do some window shopping before meeting me for lunch at Century City. ‘What are best friends for?’ she’d asked. ‘Besides, it all goes in the diary...’

    Wednesday and Mrs Mouche were sleeping in. Wednesday was curled up at the foot of Mrs Mouche’s bed as her older daughter tiptoed out of the house that morning. They made a pretty picture. 

    I had stayed over but we hadn’t had much sleep because we were both extremely excited. Thom had tried to get Mouche to audition as well, but as she explained to him, ‘I’m sorry, no can do. I have decided to concentrate on school. Acting is not my forte anymore, Thom. I want to get my scholarship to NYU. Besides, I think I prefer real life.’

    Perhaps Mouche had a point and it certainly helps to have a supportive friend, not just a competitive one. I’m not sure if the desire for the good fortune of a friend can outweigh envy, but I’m working on it. I’d almost forgotten about Mark Knightly and his hotness when Jet texted just before we left for Century City:  Mark is coming 2. Text address pick u both up @ 8pm next Saturday night. Jet. PS. Are you going to be in Santa Monica this afternoon? Wanna hook up with us?

     ‘How exciting,’ I said.

     ‘Mmm...it says in Mrs Jones’ Guide that, ‘a boy should always make specific plans not vague notions about what he wants to do with you, and where he wants to take you...’ Mouche replied. 

     ‘Even so, I can hardly breathe. Do you think this means they like us?’

     ‘Of course. But I think they could have been more specific...’

     ‘Well maybe they need direction...’

     ‘Never make it easy for them...Mrs Jones @ p.29’

     ‘Can you quit it with the Mrs Jones stuff for now? You should text them back and make plans for us. I can hardly think straight.’

     ‘That...is not cool. They can text us when they’ve thought of something. I don’t want to just hang out and let them think we are available anytime they suggest. Now, focus on your audition and let me do the planning...’ Mouche said. ‘Pretend I’m your stage mom,’ she added.

     ‘Okay. Besides, it’s not as if it’s really my date, since Jet only officially asked you. I’m there as a social photographer and Mark, well, who knows why he’s coming since he’s scarcely bothered to speak to anyone at school all week. But I’m sure we could make time to see them this afternoon...’

    ‘Okay, I will encourage them to suggest a proper date. Swimming might be good.’

    ‘That’d be...fun.’

    ‘You know, Mark did at least speak to both of us at school this week but who knows, maybe he’s gay for Jet?’

    Mouche started laughing. My friend has a very unique view of traditional relationships these days.

    ‘I’m just kidding. He’s so obviously straight. He could barely read the lines for Rocco when Mr Sparks made him stand in for Peter. He’s so clearly not artistic.’ 

    We had arrived early for the movie recall and driven to Venice Beach to watch the waves lap onto the sand. Our families had visited this beachside suburb often when we were little and we had fond memories of it.

   ‘Just to change the subject, I totally want to buy a house here, overlooking the ocean, when I’m famous,’ I mused.

    ‘Definitely. We can live next door to each other. I’ll be your manager and do all your legals, and when you’re past it we can represent Wednesday and live off the proceeds.’

   ‘I’m thinking we should get started on that one. She’s very precocious already...’

Mouche laughed and said, ‘I’m just kidding...’

    ‘Well, if I don’t get this recall, I’m going to concentrate on school and our treasure hunt and saving for New York, so maybe we could be Wednesday’s stage mothers...after all, our own mothers are not exactly interested in show business.’

   ‘And maybe that’s a good thing,’ Mouche added. ‘I mean, at least we can never accuse them of trying to exploit us.’

    The ocean looked really beautiful early in the morning. Venice was not quite as seedy as the boulevard made it look at sunset when all the stalls and skate boarders and card sharks and markets had packed up for the day. When we came here with Trish and Mrs Mouche last year, a little girl came up and asked me if I was on some television show. I was so flattered I even signed an autograph, although Mouche disapproved. I didn’t want to disappoint my adoring public by telling the truth.

    ‘You’re seriously delusional Pheebs,’ Mouche said.

    ‘No I’m not. I just have a good imagination.’

   ‘I think that’s why we’re friends,’ Mouche said. ‘I’m definitely the more pragmatic one.’

    ‘It’s nearly 10am,’ I announced, glancing at my sides.

    ‘Think of me doing research as I go shopping.’

    ‘Okay.’

    ‘The play is the thing, Phoebe.’

    ‘Absolutely.’

    ‘Shakespeare wrote it, I’m saying it. Now break it and I’ll meet you at the sushi bar before lunch with news...then we can talk.’ 

    ‘Text them back...’

     ‘I’m texting them now..’

      ‘Okay. Gotta motor...’ We parted with an air kiss on both cheeks which is very theatrical and exactly what women in France and England do all the time.

     I took the elevator to the casting office, not far from the Century City shops. When I arrived I was surprised to see Teegan’s older sister, Missy, seated at the reception desk.   

    ‘Phoebe...er...Harris?’

    ‘Here,’ I said as Missy huffed with a superior tone and told me to take a seat in the waiting room. I said, ‘merci,’ in keeping with my French theme for the day and started to fill out my form.  My wrist foils were scratching my skin as I wrote. Then I anxiously chewed my bottom lip and realized my plumping gloss needed replenishing.

     I applied some extra shine. Then I took some deep breaths, very slowly. I didn’t really have my mind on the job. I was daydreaming about Mark and holidays and thinking about Mouche’s plan and the play, even though I said I wouldn’t. 

     ‘Phoebe Harris?’ Missy enquired, pretending she’d never met me, bringing me back to earth.

     ‘Yes,’ I said pleasantly.

     ‘You may go in now, we’re ready for you.’ 

     I was slightly disconcerted that Missy would be sitting in on my audition. With all of these thoughts going through my mind, added to the fact that I was wearing extra high platform ‘alien’ boots, it is not surprising I tripped and fell onto the carpet upon entering the room.

    And who should be there to help me up? None other than potential date number one: Matt. Things were looking up. Matt smiled sweetly. His hair was way longer than the fashion of this season might dictate but he wore casual board shorts which I found endearing. Already I had visions of making him my little surfer dude.

     An audition is perhaps not the best place to meet a potential date but I didn’t want to limit my options to the juniors of Sunrise just yet.  I mean, Mark hardly seemed like a sure thing. I know I’m too young for Matt but he is seriously yummy and thinks I’m eighteen and has great hair and nice eyes. Plus, Mouche encouraged me and Thom knows him from some classes they did together at UCLA.

    ‘Hot car,’ Mouche had noted.

     Not that cars and stuff matter but they might count if they become treasures to hunt and gather.   

     Teegan’s older sister gives me a deceptively sweet smile. She gestures to the director and the camera operator all sitting in the room. In front of me, beyond the audition panel, lies a one eighty degree window overlooking the sprawling maze of highways, concrete and far away movie star houses that make up Los Angeles.

   ‘Phoebe...Star?’

   ‘Yes, that’s me.’

    The casting agent looks at me in disbelief as I give her a smile and whisper, ‘stage name.’

    ‘So, it’s really Phoebe...Harris?’

   Great, my imagination is working overtime today. I’m staring out the window thinking of Europe and France and England and exotic castles and Mark Knightly...when I should be thinking of Matt and outer space teenage aliens and a third dimension. Silver, think silver foil Mouche warned me when I ran my lines last night in the kitchen.

    ‘Hey, haven’t we met before?’ Matt asks with a very cute smile plastered on his face. He has brown hair and brown eyes and adorable man-sneakers on.

    ‘I think so,’ I say.

     He smiles again in return. He’s very responsive. It’s like a smiling competition. He’s a serious honey but let’s face it, an older man is quite a challenge. He’s passably cute and I am so pretending to be eighteen, and I think this list of requirements for New York has some merit, particularly when I see he’s even flashing a silver pen. I feel a little guilty for sounding materialistic and more interested in our dating game than my career but that pen is suddenly reflecting light into my eyes.

    ‘Okay, are you ready...Phoebe?’ the director asks. ‘Okay...action.’

     I say my lines to Matt who is off camera and pretending to be the other teenage alien. Something beeps. The camera stops. Someone has forgotten to turn off their cell...it’s Teegan’s sister, Missy, creating the interruption, another big surprise. I feel like going all Christian Bale on her but I don’t think I’d win any brownie points for doing that. 

    ‘So, can we try it again,’ the director, who is wearing older man sandals (let’s just call them mandals) and a shaggy haircut, says.

    ‘Um...Phoebe, did you hear the director? Would you mind trying that scene again?’ Teegan’s older sister spoke loudly, as if I couldn’t hear her.

    ‘Oh, of course.’

    ‘And can you remember...she’s a teenager, and...I need you to look a little...more alien...remember, she’s just been defending herself against another species...’ the director added.       

    ‘Sure... right.’ I run my hands over my Princess Leia hair and stretch my fingers.

    The director is a little uptight, that’s for sure. Mouche would know how to handle a professional film audition better than me, but I’m doing my best.

     Me? I’m more of a belter than a contemplator of dialogue.

    ‘And this time,’ the director says as I find my mark, ‘try to be a little less sophisticated, remember to play her as a young teenager.’

    Upping the creep factor again.

    ‘Sure.’

    ‘Cos you’re, like, what? Sixteen?’

    ‘Eighteen?’ I hesitated, wondering if I should pretend to be more mature. .

     Before I get the chance to answer, someone whispers, ‘I thought she was younger.’

    Then Matt hushes everyone and I notice him wink at the casting guy.

     He’s totally gay. Of course, I should have remembered, he was a dance major. I realize I have no chance and the camera begins to record my jaw dropping.

     This image is forever captured in still format.

     I begin to say my lines.

    ‘Stop, stop,’ the director says.

    I look up, a little shell shocked, wondering if I could ever stand all the lame interruptions of film acting, when the director adds, ‘and remember...’

    ‘What?’ I whisper back, mirroring his manner.

     ‘She’s an alien. So, play her like an alien...we need to see that.’

     ‘Okay,’ I say, very confidently, smoothing my Princess Leia whirls and honing my spaced-out gaze, and putting my forefingers above my ears to give me antennae, making sure not to smile as Teegan’s spiteful older sister laughs out loud.

 

     ‘That was great,’ the casting agent says as if it wasn’t.

     ‘Oh, wait,’ the director says, ‘we want a picture of you before you leave. Oh and sweetie, can you wipe off all the make-up...’

     I’ve done enough of these to know they’re supposed to take the photograph at the beginning. Can you believe how tacky this industry is? I spent ages getting the right 10x8s for my agent Thom, then these peeps take the entire image away in a minute with the most ‘natural’, digital picture they can muster. That’s showbiz.

     ‘Sure,’ I smile my all-American girl smile. Really, Mouche should be doing this, not me. I’m much more of a stage actress than a film actress. With the camera in my face I feel like an imposter. 

     ‘You blew it,’ Mouche would say when I told her what I did next. 

     ‘They took the picture of me on the way out and I turned to the director with my cell and said, ‘you know what, I think I’ll just take one...snap...of you too.’ Thanks for the memories... Everyone looked seriously surprised.’

      ‘I’m going to write this up in the guide and even if I don’t get the part, we did get a prize.’ I said, waving the cell image to a waiting Mouche. ‘See, I’m already becoming a lot more pro-active with the dating game...’

       I remembered the casting form I hadn’t finished filling out and ran back to the office. Then I thought of the first item on our list.    

     ‘Do you think I could borrow your pen?’ I asked Matt, who was ‘working’ on the computer at the front desk.

     ‘You know what?’ Matt said, ‘why don’t you just keep it? I got it for free anyway.’

      Item number one: the pen.

      Did that count as a date?

Pride and Princesses The Missing Page chapter 9

 

  Chapter 9

The Missing Page

 

    ‘Of course not, you can’t count an audition as a proper date...well maybe just this once,’ Mouche said.

    ‘Great,’ I said. ‘Then it’s your turn next.’

    ‘Of course, I’ve already put myself out on a limb through a series of texts that have resulted in the Fall Fling that can totally count as date three...’

     ‘Ahhh! That’s so exciting. When’s date two?’

     ‘Ah... Jet and Mark want to meet us this afternoon near Santa Monica Pier to go swimming before we drive home...’

    ‘Are you serious? What should we wear?’

    ‘We should go shopping for swimsuits after lunch. I still have my emergency fund from working during the holidays.’

     ‘...mmm...I have exactly ten dollars...but, I have my dance leotard in the car...’

     ‘Okay, perfect. We’re meeting them at 1pm.’

     So, I’m standing at the foot of the escalator, adjusting my boot zipper, checking to see if I’ve developed blisters and thinking it will be a warm day in the South Pole before I get a movie part, since it’s pretty obvious I didn’t get this one. Moving right along though, I’m all excited about the impending date when I see Teegan’s face (upside down) as she brushes by me near the cinema complex.

     Then, when I stand up I bump into Matt and his boyfriend. I say, ‘sorry’ and they say ‘hi’ and Mouche giggles.

    ‘You know, Phoebe, men rarely humble themselves. It says here in How to Date the Undateable @ p8; ‘Men rarely apologize...apologies display weakness.’ So remember that.’

     Mouche and I decide to go to a healthy looking cafe for lunch before checking out Victoria’s secret and Macy’s.

     We add extra detailed notes, in the cafe, on all the boys in our diary.

     ‘I can call this The Seduction Cafe in my notes next week...’ Mouche says. I flicked through the previous entries. At that stage we were reading more guides to dating than actually dating but all of that was about to change.

      ‘Always be pleasant and eager – how else do you get what you want?’ I can hear Mouche’s voice reading from The Good Girlfriend (page 19) in my mind as we both collapsed in peals of laughter under the pile of titles such as, ’A Woman’s Guide to Blissful (and Married) Love’ (our mother’s mothers gave them that when they were teenagers). That particular title fell out of Mouche’s tote when the waiter brought us our chicken burgers and fries.

   ‘I thought we were supposed to be eating healthily...’

   ‘This is not so bad, as long as we add ketchup. Ketchup has lots of lycopene which is good for you,’ Mouche said.

    While we were munching away, Freya and Teegan entered the cafe - just to put us off our food. Mouche hurriedly scrunched her notes and stuffed them into her bag.

    ‘Hi Girlfriends,’ Teegan said. ‘I think I nailed it.’

    ‘Two auditions in one week,’ Tory added.

    ‘Mmm...’

    ‘Busy pretending to be friends again?’ I asked.

    ‘Well of course you nailed it, Teegan,’ Mouche added. ‘Isn’t your cousin the casting assistant?’

     Teegan looked quite put out. ‘Older sister,’ Freya added with a slight giggle and Teegan looked at her and rolled her eyes.

    ‘Well, we gotta go. Meter’s running...’ This was something Mrs Mouche always said when she was trying to get away from bad boyfriends. Mouche thought it might work just as well with frenemies.

    ‘Hey, we thought we could all have lunch together. We noticed that you were...really popular last week with the boys...I mean they were talking to you and we noticed you are both wearing really hot clothes and someone told us you are going to Fall Fling with Jet and Mark...’

    ‘We’ve gotta go,’ Mouche said. ‘C’mon Phoebe.’

     I got up to leave.

     We weren’t ready for a truce just yet. Not when we had planned the year to our social advantage already.

    We grabbed our stuff and left, hastily putting our burgers in their napkins.

   

    As we were driving into Santa Monica, I realized we had lost something.

   ‘Oh, no!’ I said as Mouche rounded the corner towards the pier.

   ‘What?’

    ‘A page of our notes – they’re missing...the page with the plan about how we should turn the teenage boys from undateable to dated...’

    ‘But you still have the rules, right?’

    ‘Yeah, they don’t know the rules.’

     Mouche just looked at me in horror. She knew the page had been left in the cafe with Teegan and Freya. It was as if we had armed the enemy with the perfect ammunition: a page of our thoughts about dating the guys at Sunrise High and the back story to each of those guys -  the prequel to the list of rules detailing just enough of our thoughts to lead them to the plan.

    ‘We have to focus,’ Mouche said

    ‘Yes, focus,’ I replied.

    ‘There’s nothing we can do right now,’ Mouche assured me. 

 

     Jet was waiting at the pier with two snow cones when we arrived in Santa Monica. Mark was nowhere to be seen.

    ‘Hey Mouche, hi Phoebe,’ Jet smiled in the most affable manner and I could tell Mouche smiled extra wide when she noticed the t-shirt he wore advertised a band that she liked. 

    ‘Mark had to go...park the car but he said he’d meet us here in ten minutes.’

    ‘Great,’ Mouche said. ‘Hey, I love your t-shirt. That’s my favourite band,’ she added, sounding just a little over eager if you ask me.

     We walked down to a sandy area reserved for ‘safe swimming’ where Jet had arranged to meet Mark. The weather had turned a little and it seemed our beach party idea might have to prematurely end before it started as the sky went from bright to cloudy all in the space of a few minutes.

    Mouche and Jet seemed to be having a great time though, splashing each other in the shallow water, as I read over my script sitting on a blanket. Mouche wore an eye-popping pink, polka dot bikini. I’d managed to find my regular navy blue leotard, which could double as a swimsuit. I’d left it in a school bag in the glove compartment of Mouche’s car. It was a pity not to wear it. Besides, as the afternoon wore on, it seemed the other half of the date wasn’t going to happen.

    I looked up from my script when some little kids on the beach kicked sand in my face. I considered the benefits of changing into my regular clothes and waiting in the car instead of being the third wheel. As Mrs Jones said, ‘being the third wheel on a date is a form of torture. I’d advise any girl being forced to witness the budding romance of her friend up close and personal...to go shopping.’

     Jet and Mouche were laughing in the shallows and although it was good to see them having so much fun, I was becoming a little exasperated. Feeling thirsty, I stood up, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and yelled out, ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes!’ to Mouche.

      ‘What?’ Jet replied, until both he and Mouche seemed to understand. 

      Go shopping. It was the one piece of Mrs Jones’ advice I maybe shouldn’t have taken. I was suddenly extra thirsty and wandered up to the boardwalk to buy a drink. As I was turning to pay, I felt a tug on my purse strings. Not just a tug, a pull and in the time it takes to scream, a small boy ran off with my bag.

      He was as fast as lightning but I was also pretty quick and followed him for what seemed like minutes, through a tiny maze of backstreets until I was thoroughly confused and the boy seemed to have disappeared. I was desperate for a phone to call my mother but I didn’t want to worry her. Besides, what could she do all the way out in Sunrise? It was darker, later, and I’d been away from the beach for at least half an hour. Mouche would be starting to get worried.

     I dusted my jeans off then sat in the curb for a few minutes. Searching for a friendly face to ask for help was probably not the best idea. There was only one business open in this particular side street, and no people. The store looked dark and cramped, but beggars can’t be choosers or so the saying goes. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty.

 

     Meanwhile, Mark had arrived in Santa Monica. He was late after attending the last of his ‘counselling’ sessions. Mark was required to visit a psychologist after crashing his car into a shop window two years ago and driving without a licence. No one had been hurt, but still, it was a requirement for him to be able to drive without restrictions or Mark never would have attended the ‘sessions’, he later told me. He didn’t generally discuss his problems with strangers.

    The psychologist’s office was not far from Santa Monica but he’d been stuck in traffic.  Thoughts of the planned afternoon in Santa Monica were making him impatient. He really did want to get to know Phoebe and Mouche better. He wanted to introduce them to Petra as well. His sister had hardly left her room, except for school, since they’d arrived.

    When he’d asked Petra about her first day, she just burst into tears and ran up the stairs.

    ‘That bad?’ said Jet, ‘I told you those HSYL girls are nasty...’

    ‘If my aunt and uncle weren’t such snobs she could’ve just come to Sunrise with us.’        Mark was thinking about all of this when he noticed a girl who looked a lot like me, running up from Santa Monica beach after ‘a little street urchin.’ This alarmed him because he knew the area was not safe if you were by yourself. He knew it was later than expected, but he followed his instinct that all was not okay and tailed me into the laneway.  

    Meanwhile, Mouche was worried and on the verge of panicking.

    Her senses were in overdrive. Although she’d never admit it to Jet, she had been having very intense dreams lately and had woken up that morning with the idea that something might go wrong during the day if she and I were separated.

    ‘I just can’t imagine where she might have gone. We should go look for her. Phoebe would never go off alone and stay away without saying goodbye,’ Mouche said, as she and Jet dried off and hastily pulled their clothes on over their damp swimsuits. Then she had a vision of a CD outlet and said, ‘hurry, we should go up to the business centre beyond Santa Monica Boulevard...’

    ‘How do you know?’

     ‘I just...remembered, Phoebe said something about...buying some CDs...’

     So, I guess you could say, by the time I entered the small music store I had three people already searching for me, which could only have been a good thing.

    There was a grungy looking man sitting behind the counter, at least ten years older than me, wearing a t-shirt advertising dog fights. He was sort of creepy so I hovered near the entrance, wondering why this store had to be the only one open for business on a Saturday.

    ‘Hi,’ he said, and looked up. Music blared out.

    ‘Hi,’ I said hesitantly. I hope he couldn’t tell just how freaked out I was about losing my purse, or rather, having it stolen from me. ‘I’m just wondering which direction the pier is? Someone...a little kid, stole my purse.’

     He looked concerned.

    ‘Hey, do you wanna use the phone or something?

    ‘Uh, okay,’ I said hesitantly. I was glad I had committed Mouche’s cell number to memory. As I took steps forward, he moved off his chair and opened the latch that led to the area behind the counter.

    ‘It’s back here.’

    Suddenly, I was wary.

    ‘Can I use your cell? I’ll pay you.’

    ‘No problem, except I don’t have one.’

    Who doesn’t have a cell? I was backing out the way I came in when I heard a child screech. I looked above me to the open loft in the upstairs section of the store. A child looked down at me, I saw his reflection on the television screen. He was playing a computer game. It was the kid that stole my purse.

    ‘That’s him! That’s the kid who has my stuff.’

     It may have been unseemly but I actually pointed towards him.

    ‘Really?’ the man said innocently, ‘He’s my nephew, I don’t think...’

     Suddenly, I had this odd feeling Mr Music Store owner was running some kind of pickpocket racket when suddenly I took a step back into another person and turned around to see the face of Mark Knightly.

    ‘Hey, what’s going on?’ he said in his rich, low voice.

    ‘That child stole my purse.’

     Quick as lightening, Mark said, ‘wait outside,’ and pushed past me to race up the stairs.

    I heard a child throwing a tantrum and about ten seconds later Mark emerged with my tote bag in his hands.

    ‘Is this what you were looking for?’

     He didn’t say anything for at least three minutes as we walked back through the alley way, me trailing along behind his manly strides.

     ‘You shouldn’t be hanging out in this area,’ he felt the need to chide me. He seemed angry.

     ‘Excuse me. It’s a free country last time I looked.’

      I would’ve said ‘thank you’ more profusely by now but he barely seemed to notice me. He was distracted by a text from Jet.

      ‘Everything’s okay, we have to get back to Sunrise. I’ll drop you home. Your friend is going ballistic, seems she thought you’d been kidnapped. You shouldn’t have just wandered off like that alone.’

      I was stunned by his near total lack of empathy.

      ‘Well...if you’d been where you said you were going to be, I might have gone swimming and never had my purse stolen in the first place!’

     Mark looked annoyed.

     ‘Do you want to report this? I mean, to the Police.’

     ‘What’s the point, they’ll just deny it.’

      ‘I’ll get my aunt to make an anonymous complaint to child protection. It’s probably better that way,’ Mark said.

      ‘Why do you say that?’

      ‘Well...um, I’m sort of on probation and that guy had a gun under the counter...’ 

   We arrived back at Mouche’s house late-afternoon. Mark hardly said a word to me except, ‘put your seat belt on,’ on the way back. He was treating me like a child and I really wasn’t impressed. It was a thrill to be in his sleek car but I wasn’t sure just how much more of his conceited personality I could tolerate.

    I was relieved when we pulled up at my house. Mark deposited me in the driveway before I could say ‘thank you’. Mouche arrived about ten seconds later. Jet followed behind in his car. Mouche waved to him as we opened the gate and the boys drove off without even bothering to come inside.

Pride and Princesses The End of The Day chapter 10

Chapter 10

The End of The Day

    Trey was sitting on the porch helping Wednesday to paint her face with glitter and non-toxic substances when we arrived. He gave Mark a quizzical stare, but Trey had ignored me for most of my life so, I pretended not to care. The boys said a brisk, ‘see ya,’ to Mouche and me, then left as quickly as they’d arrived.

    Mouche’s brother looked up at both of us with what could only be described as amusement and derision. I mean, Trey had something of the authority figure aura about him. On this particular day, I have to tell you something I’d refrain from telling Mouche; he looked totally buff. He had his shirt off because he’d been swimming and his muscles were all big and cut...mmm. Kind of like how Mark might’ve looked without his shirt, only older.

     But Trey was angry. He had a dark, cute little cloud forming over his face and a wrinkle of exasperation between his eyes like he was ready to verbally lose it.

    ‘You guys said you would be back at one. Here.’ He deposited Wednesday’s paintbox in Mouche’s hands as if he was glad to be free of it.

    ‘Take it. I’ve decided child minding is ‘women’s work.’

    ‘So-rry. Someone’s chauvinistic brother is in a bad mood,’ Mouche added sarcastically.

    ‘Yeah, yours. I’m going out.’

    ‘Oh, it must be that skinny buck-toothed girl who also takes pre-med. She’s always coming around,’ Mouche said with a clever little sister smile. Mouche was particularly outspoken with family members and Trey was usually a safe target.

    He grabbed her sun hat and she chased her brother up the stairs but when he locked the child-proof fence behind him, Mouche screamed until he threw her hat back at her.

    Trey pretended not to notice me after that.

    Later, Mouche and I occupied Wednesday by allowing her to play with our makeup, while we compared shoes and ate gummy candy.

    When he was ready to go out, Trey left a slightly sweet smell in the hallway. As he walked past us, the air reeked of aftershave.

    ‘Wearing the latest ‘perfume for men’ are we? Oh, he’s so manly,’ Mouche teased.

   I swooned. Poor Trey just went all red and bolted out the door.

    Mouche and I both laughed and Wednesday clapped her hands again. She really was the smartest almost-three year old in the world.

    When Wednesday was born, Mouche and I applauded Mouche’s mom for her original name choice. Mrs Mouche liked to watch re-runs when she was a little girl of this classic show on television where the child was called, you guessed it, Wednesday. So, Mouche’s little sister is not just named after the day she arrived in the world. In any case, I’ve offered to babysit tonight, because Mouche has a ‘date.’

     We have planned to go for a swim. After that, I’ve promised to teach Wednesday how to become a star.  Some teenagers don’t like little kids but I love hanging out with Wednesday and if I didn’t want to be an actress, I might even become a nursery school teacher.

    Mouche has her ‘practice date’ organised for this evening from 6pm to 8pm with Scott Riley who lives across the road because, according to Mrs Jones’ guide, ‘a first date can often go badly...always have your next date planned, that way you won’t fret if the first one doesn’t work out...there are plenty more fish in the sea.’

    Mouche gives her date with Jet priority so she’s practising with Scott. She suggested I also go with them to the ‘Midnight-Zoo’ (the Sunrise baby-animal zoo opens late once a year) but I don’t want to be the ‘third wheel’ again. Besides, I’ve been reading all about Africa in geography. One day I intend to go on a safari so I won’t be missing anything I can’t see in future.

    ‘I wanna come too,’ Wednesday says as she watches Mouche run the straightening iron through her hair.’

    ‘Oh, you get to stay with me, Wednesday. Lucky you...’ I say.

    ‘Lucky-me! Lucky-me!’ Wednesday says, clapping her hands. Children are so cute when they are pre-school age. 

     ‘How do I look?’ Mouche says ten minutes later.

     ‘Hot.’ We both clap our hands like we are Mouche’s fan club. ‘We are so glad we’re not going with you,’ I whisper under my breath. Scott was not exactly my dream man.

      ‘Now’, I said to Wednesday after Mouche vacated, ‘I’m going to put on this DVD of Mouche and I singing songs in first grade, you’ll just love it... and we can practice all the words after we’ve watched it.’

    Of course, Wednesday sang along for about ten minutes and I danced around with her but after all the face painting exertion, she wound up asleep in the corduroy beanbag in front of the television. I moved her out of the way of the radiation and looked up to see Trey rifling through a drawer in the kitchen.

    ‘Hey Phoebe, has Mouche just left you guys here?’

    ‘Yeah, it’s okay, I promised your mom I’d wait until she comes home. My mom is coming home soon...she has a late showing.’ My mom was busy selling a house three streets away.

    ‘Okay, if you’re sure it’s alright. You are really good with her...’

    ‘Uh...thanks.’ I smile. Trey is looking super hot. What a shame he is an older man and totally annoying. He thinks he’s going to be a band manager as well as a doctor.

   ‘...So?’ I asked Trey.

   ‘Huh?’

   ‘Forget something?’ I said with a smile.

   ‘Oh, I’m just trying to find my car keys...’

   ‘I think they’re in the fruit bowl...’

    ‘Oh,’ he says, grinning at me all white toothed and handsome. Gosh, he’s almost as good-looking as Mark Knightly, and because he’s older, he might even be hotter.

    Mouche and I took Trey’s car for a spin once when he was studying. He didn’t even notice it was gone until after we arrived home. Trey is so busy studying and trying to promote his band that the more important things in life, like having some serious fun, might just bypass him if he’s not careful.

    ‘I love your aftershave,’ I say, really sarcastically.

    He looks so embarrassed and Wednesday stirs and mumbles, ‘after-wave’ and Trey looks uncomfortable and says, ‘see ya’ in a confused manner and hurries out the door.

    ‘If a man is hesitant around you, don’t imagine you’ve reeled him in. He may just be unsure whether or not he wants to make the first move. And a man should always make the first move. And really, girls, do you want a man who doesn’t think enough of you to make the first move?’ Oh, Mrs Robinson can just shut up for the next day or so. I totally enjoyed making Trey cringe. Honestly, my new found confidence and all those old dating guides are working wonders.

   As Wednesday slept, I wrote up the Boy-Rating guide with the events of the day and the plan for the following month. Mouche and I are big on planning.

    But when it came time to put pen to diary paper, all I could think to write about my ‘date’ was:

   

    Date with Matt the UCLA older man – possibility- didn’t occur

    Rating 3/10 

    Items for the treasure chest: silver pen.

  

    Possible Date with Mark Knightly – My saviour!!!

    Rating 6/10 – it didn’t really happen, but he still managed to be in the right place at the right time. Yay! Thus far has revealed an arrogant nature with little regard for the feelings and schedule of others (i.e. me).

    Items for treasure chest locker: the receipt for my drink (doesn’t really count).

   

    I think I was sleepy by then because when I woke up it was morning and Mouche was lying on the floor next to Wednesday on the couch in front of the television. Breakfast News was playing. My mom had left me a note saying when she came by we were asleep and Mrs Mouche was home and she was going to come around at 9am to have breakfast with us. I’d looked so happy dozing and needed my rest.

    Trish was busy with her own life so she probably didn’t notice The Boy Rating Diary lay open on the floor on page nine (The first eight pages were filled with notes taken from various guides – mostly Mrs Robinson’s and Mrs Jones’ since they were our favourites). The notes included sub-headings (that might be of use to younger sisters such as Wednesday when she’s older) with topics such as:

 

·           Boyzamples (examples of familiar boy-types i.e.: academic, sporty, emo etc)

·           How to behave on dates

·           Likes / dislikes of future men

·           Targeted potential boy candy and

·           Items needed for your journey; be it New York, Los Angeles or Paris

 

The first page gave our mission statement:

 

This is the work of Phoebe Anderson and Mouche Macintosh.

Phoebe wants to be a Broadway singer, dancer, actress. Mouche: a brilliant lawyer. We want to help others as well as ourselves. This is our expose of the pre-men and women of Sunrise High (and a few random adults) starting with the Princesses and moving on down the list of pre-men prototypes we have or intend to date.

What follows is our advice, gleaned from hundreds of hours of research. We hope our experiences can shed light on yours...

 

After my notes on date one, Mouche added hers when she arrived home:

Date 3: Mouche and Scott

2/10

Identifying factors: his mother drove us everywhere

Job and personality: student, primary focus; science fair

Kisses: one on hand

Items gained: A feather (also disguised as a pen)

Possibility of re-date: none (hopefully)

 

*Date 2 Mouche...continued (notes):

 

    ‘Everything that could possibly be humiliating and bad about a date happened on this one...first of all, his mom came with us, which I thought was bizarre at first, but then it was okay. Scott’s mom was dressed like a hippie but it turns out we had a lot in common (we all liked pizza) so it wasn’t too bad. In fact it was preferable to talking to Scott as he didn’t have anything to say. It was also really sweet when she made her son open my door for me. I thought it was cute that she was teaching him to be chivalrous even if some people think it’s old-fashioned. Up until then he hadn’t spoken until we walked past the penguin enclosure...’

    ‘I hope you don’t mind my mom coming. It’s just that...it’s her car and she doesn’t trust me to drive it.’

    Wow is this supposed to make me feel secure in his arms? Wait a minute, I’m not even in his arms...

   Then he says, ‘after dinner let’s leave her in the gift shop and go make out...’

   ‘Are you serious? It would be a bit rude leaving your mom like that...’

   He’s starting to seem less like a nerd and more than a little undutiful...worst date ever except for the baby animal zoo where I got to feed a lot of different species and Scott’s mom, who used to be a vet, explained loads of interesting stuff to me. I think I will introduce her to my mom and Trish. She told me she her husband just ran off with a woman he met online.

    Is there something in the water of Sunrise? I shouldn’t be too hard on Scott. He must have immediate family tensions. Give him an extra point. Prompt arrival home at 8pm – Phoebe and Wednesday were asleep on the couch. We picked up Wednesday and I’m writing this while you were sleeping. Can’t wait for the Fall Fling. This was just for practice.  First planned dates are always just for practice. Onwards and upwards, Mrs Mouche always says. ‘Night.