Pride and Princesses Swim Team chapter 6

Chapter 6

Swim team

    ‘Throughout history, women’s moral behavior has always been highly scrutinized...males have had social freedoms women were seemingly unaware of...these freedoms were kept from women not just because of biology but because men invented the patriarchal rules...’ I was glued to A History of Suffrage in the back seat of the bus as we embarked on our trip to the swimming centre.

    ‘What does patriarchy mean?’ I asked Mouche.

    She instantly looked it up.

    ‘It’s like...society is male-dominated, so women have to fit in with rules they didn’t create but then they help to maintain them...otherwise, I guess, society as we know it...would break down completely...’

    ‘Oh,’ I sort of understood. It was like Mark and Jet escaping while we had to stay and be bored in study hall. Maybe they were just smarter, or quicker or something.

    ‘And maybe they are just male...because according to your literature...being male might be enough to let you progress easily through life,’ Miss Tartt was way bitter and overheard us as we snapped the pages shut. She really wasn’t ready to hear this stuff. She needed to focus on prettying up and being nice to other women in particular. Then people would take her seriously and she could study the history of feminism but still husband hunt.

    ‘It’s good to know the history of our sexual struggle,’ Mouche said, ‘but we so don’t want to become like her...’ Miss Tartt wandered off the bus after taking the roll. I was so glad she wasn’t going to be coming along to pass judgement on my freestyle.

    I’d also been relieved to wave Freya and Brooke goodbye at the bus stop but dismayed to learn that Mouche and I are two of only six girls on the swim team. Teegan and Tory are going with us because they are quite athletic and always compete with Mouche and me in everything. Brooke and Freya are waving us off, standing on the pavement. Brooke is wearing her latest crucifix because she has recently found religion and is working on her ‘do unto others’ motto. Proof of this is the magnanimous smile colouring her expression. She’s also considering the benefit of ‘dressing more modestly’, but worried she may not fit in with her junior sorority sisters.

    Meanwhile, Teegan, Freya, and Tory have decided to dress entirely inappropriately for the morning. It’s uncharacteristically cold and none of them have sweaters.  Teegan occasionally pretends to be my friend, so I mock smile and try to be ‘friendly’ in return. Freya, meanwhile, is trying hard to impress Mark who has barely looked at her. So sad. As Mrs Jones might have said, ‘those girls need to play hard to get.’

     Still, as I sat on the back seat of the bus watching the Princesses through the window, waving and pretending to be supportive of me, as they chat to each other, I have to admit I’m not sure even I have the restraint to act indifferently towards someone I like. I hold that thought as Teegan and Tory reach their seats.

    Everyone is seated, the bus takes off and lurches forward as I’m leaning over my tote bag searching for my iPOD. Gravity pushes me into the back of the seat in front.

     I steady myself. Mouche, seated next to me, smiles and whispers, ‘this should be fun, any excuse for extra-curricular activities with the boys and Princesses can barely contain their enthusiasm.’

     I nod in knowing agreement and flick through my playlist. Mouche is busy updating our future blog – the secret one of course, the one we carry in diary form. This one is for our eyes only. Mouche will update the official Sunrise News Blog after the Fall Fling. We’ve decided to go with a traditional headline ‘Possible Prom Themes’ then upload an article titled: Prom Themes Throughout History with the by-line -   vapid possibilities from previous junior years - Underwater World, Chicago 1930, Movie Star Couples (the usual). No sense running with the lead story of two girls dating themselves into history until it’s ready.

    Mouche was going to quit the swim team to concentrate on her academic classes but I persuaded her to come with me. ‘It is a known fact that ladies need strenuous exercise just as much as men...’ I told Mouche using received pronunciation.

   ‘Which guide did you get that from?’

    ‘I don’t know, I think I heard the sentiments in Little Women.’

    ‘Oh, I love that story.’

    ‘Me too.’

    There aren’t very many people who swim and as luck would have it, Mark and Jet and Alex and Tom are riding the bus as well.

     ‘I’ve often noted that swimming tends to do beautiful things to shoulders. You can see the results in the broad arm muscles of the boy sitting in front of me, his face slightly obscured by the headrest of the seat,’ I whispered to Mouche.

     Of course, I’m describing Mark.

     When he turns his head Mouche stifles a giggle as I unwrap some gum, offer her some and innocently observe the world outside the bus windows. 

      ‘He’s very uptight,’ Mouche scrawled on the side of her note page, shoving it in front of me.

       ‘He still hasn’t spoken to me but earlier today, he offered to help me lift my bag when the locker door was stuck,’ I said softly. 

      ‘Chivalry is so not over yet,’ Mouche added, ‘Oh, fabulous, Tom Allen just glanced my way. Guess what?  Teegan and Tory have decided to flirt with all the boys on our behalf. Don’t they realize none of us are ready for the approach since we’ve barely had time to read the copious quantities of old-fashioned dating literature we found in the closets of our slummy mommies?’ 

     ‘I loved it when you used to jokingly answer the telephone with those immortal words, Hello this is Mrs Mouche’s brothel…’

      ‘I was only twelve…’

      ‘Our mothers weren’t quite as fond of the introduction as I recall...’

     The bus had stopped at a red light by this time. Suddenly Teegan crawled out of her seat and made her way to the back of the vehicle.

    ‘Hi Pheebs,’ Teegan said as if she was my best friend.

     I smiled tepidly. Mouche had her ears blocked with music.

    ‘Hi Mark,’ Teegan continued. ‘I can’t wait for you to pick us up Saturday tonight.’   

     Mark looked over at Jet as if Teegan had gone nuts, and then gave her a reluctant smile. Both Teegan and Tory smiled back and I was embarrassed for everyone and pretended to be writing, but the road ahead was bumpy so after a few minutes I stopped.

    ‘I forgot to tell you, Freya and Brooke are Jet’s neighbours. They’ve been ‘noticing’ him for years and Freya even spread a vicious rumor that she has webcam images of Jet doing it with an ex!’ I whispered.

     ‘So possibly illegal, to spread publicity unasked, but Brooke doesn’t care. She thinks she’s above the law. No doubt the footage is inspired because Jet is very sporty and buff. I’m not sure if Teegan and Tory realize just how popular Jet could become,’ Mouche added with a smile.

   ‘He’s good natured, too,’ I whispered after Jet had helped Mouche with her jacket and bags. ‘It seems like nothing is a trouble to him.’

    ‘Brooke and Freya act like eager fans when Jet is around. Although they are as obsessed with Mark as everyone else, he has blatantly ignored them and even the Princesses get a little hurt when boys like him look down on girls like them.’ Mouche said.

    ‘They treat Jet with the reverence of a fan base and look up to him. Brooke was once overheard in the cafeteria saying, ‘of course we’re lucky to be his neighbours but we could be totally torn apart if it came to fighting over Jet.’

    Thankfully, Mark and Jet had their earplugs safely in their ears by this point.

    ‘Girls like the Princesses learn to be nice to boys at a young age. Perhaps their mothers teach them,’ Mouche whispered, ‘Brooke and Freya have loads of money and their walk-in closets are twice the size of Teegan’s and Tory’s who make up for this slight disadvantage with extra stylish ensembles.’

    The two other Princesses had waved us goodbye from the pavement wearing today’s furry back pack slung over their shoulders. They were wearing their matching boots and jeans. Even Mark looked twice. I made a note of this in our diary under the heading: what to wear / dressing to impress.

     Now, you might think we’re being uncharitable towards the Princesses since it’s obvious they are trying to make an effort but you don’t share the history. Perhaps it’s time I shared a bit of it as we head to the swim centre about twenty minutes from school.    

     Once, when we were in first grade at the Los Angeles School for Young Ladies, Teegan tried to make us pick her lunch up off the floor. She just dropped her grilled cheese and chilli fries all over our shoes. Splat. Then her twin sister, Tory, laughed and said, ‘pick it up and eat it. All of it.’

     Then, it was our turn to laugh.

    ‘As if,’ Mouche said. Instead, we kicked those fries right back at her and ran in the opposite direction.

    These war-like incidents happened between us all the way through grade-school.

     In the beginning, we might have been friends. As we got older, we all aced fashion and theatre design but then Teegan hired a designer to do the costumes for our lame sixth grade musical and made sure Mouche and I wore the most hideous ones. Freya and Mouche had a fight over whose mommy was prettier and everyone started being catty with each other after that.

     As girls, we weren’t really taught to support each other, just to compete with each other, which is so wrong if you ask me. Anyway, the Princesses were much better at ganging up than Mouche and I. Once they all conspired to get us into trouble for something we didn’t do (like writing horrible notes about our super-strict history teacher), we were defenceless against their conspiracies. For a start, it was always their word against ours. In the end, there were more of them; and sisters usually side with each other. Go figure. At least I had Mouche. And she had me.         

    The bus slowed and pulled over. Mouche, who doesn’t get car sick, is busy studying boyzamples. She hastily shuts down the images on her cell. We bunch up our belongings and grab our bags. This time, Mark hands me mine and our fingers touch. It’s kind of uncomfortable but, in a good way. Mouche sees my blush and starts to giggle as we head to the pool.

     ‘Alright everyone, you have three minutes in the changing rooms. Then I want you all out here and ready to go by 9.30am.’

    Mr Frames was raising his voice. He has brown, curly hair, glasses and a nice smile. Although he teaches music, he doubles as a swim coach and is one of the best teachers at Sunrise.

     Teegan was adjusting her goggles and talking to me in the bleachers as the boys lined up for the one hundred metres.

     ‘Take a look at Mark. He really grew up in England.’

      I was stuffing my hair into the required bathing cap and trying to find my goggles as Mouche rolled her eyes and began the search for her missing ear plug.

      We could hear Tory rating all the boys as they stood on the blocks: ‘nine, eight, six, eight and a half, three, ten, ten.’

      The last two were Jet and Mark. The one who got three, well, he wasn’t exactly athletic. Teegan and Freya started smirking when Mark adjusted himself.         

     Mouche and I nearly walked into Mark and Jet as we hurried back to the bus a few hours later, but Mark just said, ‘excuse me,’ quite dismissively and walked past me without saying anything else. Jet paused and smiled at Mouche and I noticed she smiled back, but now Jet seemed hesitant to actually say anything. Boys are complicated.

    That evening, after my mom and I finished our late night shopping at the market on Main Street, Mouche met me and together we tried on dresses for the dance. Mouche whispered into a changing room mirror as we swapped make-up, ‘I’ve been reading loads of classic dating guides, such as Deal With It - He Doesn’t  Want to Date You and The Unspoken Laws of Romance but I think we’re embracing unknown territory, our own Dating Adventure for Teenage Girls.’

    ‘Because we’re such experts...’ I added sarcastically.

    ‘True,’ Mouche replied, ‘but I’m sure we can teach while we learn – look at Mr Frames.’

     Mr Frames was our student teacher last year and we leaned into the store window to watch him and his new fiancée walking across the road hand in hand. We’d conspired to let Mr Frames know how much our other student teacher, Miss Love, liked him. Now they’re both fully registered teachers and we’ve received invites to their wedding this winter. We are obviously very good matchmakers for other people – why not each other? Why not all the girls in school? The whole town?  The universe even?

    ‘But what is the point of all of this, when, what we really need, is some money for our college funds?’ Mouche said. ‘You’re starting to take this whole Emma fixation a little too far. Forget about school plays and dating new boys, I’m starting to worry I may not get my college scholarship.’

    ‘Of course you will Mouche. You’re one of the smartest girls I know. Besides, money isn’t everything...’

    ‘I just have this feeling,’ Mouche said.

    ‘What?’

    ‘That we’re going to be seriously sidetracked...’

    ‘Well, maybe that’s a good thing, because sometimes the real world lacks excitement...’

    ‘Really Pheebs, you are my best friend, but I’m not so sure...’

    I smiled and pulled out the copy of Wuthering Heights that I was being forced to re-read and review for an English assignment. I’d just finished skimming Emma, another Austen story, but Mouche had preferred the movie version. ‘Life’s kind of like that now,’ she had said one afternoon when we watched it, ‘except faster and with more sex and swearing.’

    We sat in the Sunrise cafe and viewed the world going past our window booth, each of us adding to the Boy Rating Diary as we waited for our food.

     Joel Goodman worked in the diner. He was kind of hot but monosyllabic. I should know. I tutored him in English once a month and in return he helped to fulfil my credit quota. He’d been brought up speaking English as a second language and although he spoke almost without an accent, he sometimes wrote the words around the wrong way.

   ‘Hey,’ he said as he took our orders wearing all black and his usual wife-beater shirt, ‘the usual?’

   ‘Yes please,’ said Mouche, who was unfailingly polite in public. Joel smiled at her then me, in turn. I looked away, because Joel was a huge flirt.

   ‘You know how long we’ll need to work Saturdays just to get enough money for even a year in New York?’ Mouche asked.

    ‘Do not fear...I have a feeling everything will come together in the end. It always does and money worries are no reason to change our plans...’

      We expanded our ideas on napkins after eating the special burger deal, watching the Sunrise world go by. Most of the people we saw through the window we knew or had met at least once. That was one of the things I liked about Sunrise, though Mouche and I mostly wanted to get out. Maybe she wanted out even more than I did.

    Later that evening we continued to plot.

    Mouche dropped her purchases next door at her house, then came over. 

    I was sitting on the porch eating ice-cream having my musical theatre star fantasy and waiting for my agent to call.

     Oh, that’s something else I haven’t told you much about yet. I’ve been acting, or rather auditioning professionally, part-time, since I turned twelve. I try not to spread this about as I was teased mercilessly at HSYL. I got to do a commercial a few years ago for breakfast cereal but since then the money has kind of dried up. It’s so weird how I can be outgoing when I’m pretending to be someone else, although lately, I’m starting to fear stage-fright. I have to really psyche myself up to perform. But I’ll get over that. All the best actresses do.

    My agent, Thom, says I need to wait until I’ve made the transition from ‘child to woman,’ which would be a bit creepy if Thom were even vaguely interested in females for anything apart from ‘art or fashion.’ Although Mouche liked dance and drama, she never seriously considered the artistic world in her career prospects.

     But when I looked up that evening, I suddenly noticed a possible usurper for my junior year glory. Mouche was framed by the moonlight and actually looked much more like a star in repose than I did.

     Mouche was so pretty. I believe Mrs Jones may have referred to her as ‘breathtaking.’

     Have you ever felt like someone else has stolen your life? Well, Mouche is so perfect and so perfectly nice that you’d almost give her your life if she asked, but then you’d totally regret it.

    The thing was, she could steal your life or the hottest guy in school, if she was so inclined. She was much prettier, if you ask me, than even the Princesses; although I’m fairly sure she never thought it. Mouche had Alice in Wonderland hair and cool jeans and perfect boots and was wearing bright pink, frosty lipstick.

     I forgot about the slight pang of envy I felt as we were trying on our Fall Fling dresses again and deciding what shoes and accessories to take. As we stood in front of the full length bedroom mirror, I knew it was wrong to be jealous or envious of your best friend forever, but it didn’t feel wrong at the time.

Pride and Princesses Scandal chapter 7

Chapter 7

Scandal

    Mouche had us sorted. She’d read the entire contents of Dating Yourself into Oblivion and used her instincts to ‘encourage’ Jet to consider coming to the Fall Fling.

    As social monitors of the year, we were totally prepared to attend, cameras in tow, by ourselves: but arm candy always made the other girls jealous. And who could resist that? Mouche left an old-fashioned note in Jet’s locker, waiting for Jet to take the bait. When she pulled into my driveway that morning looking very excited, I thought he’d maybe replied.

    ‘Not so much, turns out I might have been a bit previous with the note, I’ve been up half the night doing extra research. I think I should’ve made the pursuit more of a challenge for him...meanwhile...’ Mouche thrust a handful of highlighted pages in my face.

     ‘Guess what I’ve come up with...’

     It turned out Mouche had refined and highlighted the next entry of the Boy-Rating Diary with a specific list:

   

THE BOYS OF SUNRISE HIGH 

Mark Knightly

Transfer student from Loratio and England, seriously hot, very dark and broody

Jet Campbell

Also a transfer student, just as hot; recently obtained his pilot’s licence. There really doesn’t seem to be a downside to this man...

Joel Goodman

Dangerous, brutish, charming

Jack Adams

Film school tragic; owns and runs the film club every Friday lunch time

Tom Allen

Wants to be a stockbroker, possibly more interested in money than dating

Josh Klein

Art major, sci-fi fan 

Peter Williamson

Musical theatre star (a real challenge for a date), honors student 

Adam Feldman

Academic genius, slightly stooped from being bent over his microscope, doubt he has ever spoken to a female, interested in insects.

Alex Miller

Dubious moral values, rumored to run a school gambling racket

Ethan Mandel

Future concert pianist, always dragged into composing the school musical

Tobias Olson

Xbox fan, martial arts expert, quite the rebel, caught in freshman year smoking who knew what and suspended from school for a week.

Scott Riley

Boy next door (literally lives across the road)

 

     While Mouche was parking, I executed a few ballet twirls and a high kick up the steps before I leapt and landed on my feet near the fence. This isn’t so unusual in our school, and besides, no one was looking. Oh, except Mark. My face went red as I hastily looked away.

    ‘How deeply embarrassing,’ Mouche said.

    ‘Why? I’ve gotta warm up for class,’ I covered, as if I wasn’t the least embarrassed. 

    ‘Wow. You’re becoming more like Buffy every day,’ Mouche said.

    ‘What a shame that series was cancelled. I’d have auditioned for a role and we wouldn’t have had to go to school at all. You could’ve been my assistant.’

    ‘Thanks, I’m sure that would be a rewarding job, Phoebe. Face it, we should’ve fleeced our father’s bank accounts and emigrated to New York years ago. We could’ve attended the Professional Children’s School thus avoiding HSYL altogether.’

     ‘Those days are over, Mouche.’

     ‘Thanks for the memories.’

     Our time at HSYL had been very harsh, if you haven’t gathered that already. Mrs Mouche had dated the school guidance counsellor and a scandal had erupted when their relationship resulted in the birth of a child – Mouche’s half-sister, Wednesday. As it turned out, Wednesday’s Dad was actually Mr Married Guidance Counsellor from nine streets away. Mouche was understandably keen to vacate this town, maybe even this state, permanently. (Of course, Mr Married Guidance Counsellor had never told Mrs Mouche that he was attached and since we’d never needed his guidance, we didn’t know, but it was all a mini social nightmare in our street and everyone was treating Mrs Mouche like the town bike).

   Mouche and I had felt more like lepers in the Gothic halls of HSYL that month after the scandal broke. Between trawling through academic work and being taunted by the Princesses chanting, ‘sluttie mommies, sluttie mommies, you both have sluttie mommies...’ You can imagine the rest. It was all caused by Mrs Mouche’s scandal and the fact that my mother totally stood by her (that’s what friends are for). And of course, I stood by Mouche, just as she had always stood by me. People saw us as the offspring of our morally dubious, adulterous mommies. Although, as Mrs Mouche said, ‘I wasn’t knowingly committing adultery since he lied to me – he was the jerk!’

     

      I’m sure that’s why, after playing the good girl cards, we decided to go for it and turn the Boy-Rating Diary into a real challenge. We’d learned a lot about being social pariahs at HSYL and placed our competitive natures aside to learn what it took and how important it was to have a loyal friend. 

    ‘You only need one,’ my mother once said, ‘as long as it’s a good one.’

     Or was that husbands?          

 

   ‘I totally love my mom but I just can’t believe she did it with him,’ Mouche admitted,

    ‘You’d think she could’ve used contraception... but then we wouldn’t have Wednesday, who is seriously cute.’

   ‘It says here, ‘the ‘accidental’ conception is rare past thirty...men are terrified of needy, baby-hungry, gold diggers desperate to secure them for their net value and sperm...’

   ‘Ew...once again...disgusting. Besides, ‘men need to re-learn to be grateful...they require direction in the art of seduction...like in the old days...make them thankful that women even want to sleep with them...’

   ‘Gold diggers? Nothing in return? Who’s the gold digger? Who asks for nothing in return?’ Teegan’s ears pricked up when we walked by her. She gave us a piercing stare. Teegan was a virtual conduit for any form of relationship gossip. Of course, this particular gem came from Miss Suzy’s Bunny Girl Secrets but I wasn’t ready to share them with my nemesis just yet.

        

      Singing had been re-scheduled and replaced with English class because our teacher was in the auditorium with Mr Sparks, preparing the audition roster for Rocco and Julie. Before class started, the rain was tapping on my window. It never rained in Sunrise and Mark was late. I was pending his arrival like an ingenue awaiting her first Oscar but he didn’t appear and I was more disappointed than I’d let show. Finally, ten minutes after the lesson started,  he showed up, late, which raised eyebrows but since he was the only person in the class (apart from me) who’d read the prescribed text (Wuthering Heights), the teacher was willing to forgive him once she’d read his notes. She seemed exceedingly pleased to have been graced by his mere presence. We were working on a modern re-write of the dialogue from the famous scene when Cathy tells Nelly it would degrade her to marry Heathcliffe as Mark walked down the aisle towards the vacant seat next to me.

     Teegan immediately staked her claim. She planted her dainty, black tap shoe firmly at his feet to prevent him going any further.

     ‘Oh, hi Mark,’ she said, ‘I just love your jacket. Did you get it at French Connection UK? My cousin used to work at the store on Kings Road...’

     He gave me an apologetic smile, then sat where he was bade.

     I was a little annoyed that my Franco hadn’t fought for me, but since we hadn’t properly conversed there was little I could do, except wait longingly and plan.

     At lunch I was tapping my toe under the table, humming the last bars of a piece I was learning on keyboard for music class when someone touched me on the shoulder and all I could see was a mouth move. Then I took out my ear plugs, turned off my play list and heard a voice. It was quite deep and mature and male. The voice unmistakeably belonged to Mark Knightly.   

    ‘You’re on the swim team, aren’t you? I saw you race yesterday. You won. You were good.’

     ‘Oh, thanks...’ I said, kind of lost for the right reply.

     Mark had already won points for making the first move, which is very important.

    Now, one of the first steps in my reference guide (which Mouche decided was mostly outdated, but nevertheless quaint) detailed how to appear nice, yet unobtainable.

    I didn’t think this would really work but when Mark said hello after English class earlier that morning, I tried it. I didn’t actually speak, I just smiled back shyly but when he kept walking, I thought I’d really blown it.

     But here he was trying to get my attention again in the last minutes of the lunch hour.

    ‘Well, um...I guess I’ll see you at the auditions...’

    ‘Yeah, the play is compulsory,’ I said dumbly. Mouche cringed.

    ‘But aren’t you and...your friend PA students?

    ‘Yeah...’

    ‘Cos I saw you both...dancing around this morning. So you must like...artistic stuff, right?’

     I nodded and smiled like a total dork.

     Silence sat uncomfortably between us.

     ‘...see ya, Phoebe,’ he said and walked off.

     I looked at Mouche and flushed, ‘Did you hear that?’

     ‘What?’

     ‘He said my name!’

     ‘Oh, please, c’mon, we gotta go...’

     

     We ran down the corridor to the school auditorium.

     All the serious PA students were warming up at the bar and a few people were hanging out backstage, going over scenes for Rocco and Julie.

     When try outs were about to start and we were waiting in our seats, Teegan said to me, ‘so, did you manage to get your hooks into Mark?’

    ‘Not exactly,’ I replied.

    ‘Why not? I saw him talk to you at lunch. He’s definitely open to it. I’m sure he’d date you, even just for one night.’

     I ignored her insinuation that I wouldn’t be worth dating more than once.

    ‘That’s not true,’ Freya said with the phony compassion she was renowned for. ‘He’s definitely into me,’ she smiled patronizingly. ‘But you never know, if you wait your turn once I’ve discarded him...’

     I walked over to Mouche.

     ‘Never mind,’ Mouche said. ‘It’s payback time.’

     Mouche and I huddled together in our tights and oversized sweaters and ballet shoes. I have had loads of pairs of those pink shoes over the years and so has Mouche. But Mouche is not sentimental. I am. I have all my shoes displayed along the walls of my bedroom, along with the programs of every play I ever attended, when my mother and I went to New York. We saw every show on Broadway, using Daddy’s credit card before he had it blocked off.   

    ‘Here. So, you get to write up today’s entry, should be interesting.’ Mouche whispered, placing the pink diary in my tote.

    ‘I’ve decided we take it turnabout; you get this week – then, in the end, we combine the knowledge of everything we have learned from the first ten dates.’

   ‘You’re hopeful. I kind of messed up at lunch. So I think we can safely say we will be attending Fall Fling alone.’

   ‘Give it a few days.  Teegan is a piece of work.  If Mark has any brains he’ll work that out; meanwhile we need to re-focus. I think these old guides are really good. If nothing else, they might show us what not to do. Are you ready?’

    ‘Yep,’ I say, ‘I’m a bit nervous.’

    ‘Don’t be, you’re fab. I’m so excited. I love auditions when I’m not doing them. You’re going to be amazing.’

    Mouche could be humble like that. She really is an excellent performer when she deigns to grace the stage. I guess she just finds more joy in being behind the scenes these days, and for this production, she will get full credit for design and choreography as well.

    The strobe lighting was being tested as together we sat in the auditorium in the semi-dark, our new bags on the empty chairs beside us, a picture of a fake universe on the roof making the theatre appear like a wondrous planetarium. Our favourite teachers, Mr Frames and Miss Love were busy organizing the order of auditionees.

      Mr Frames said, ‘oops, wrong show’ into the microphone when he mixed up Mr Sparks’ directions and generally acted uncoordinated in front of Miss Love. Then he finally projected the right slides for the background: modern day images, Los Angeles streets, a mock version of Marina Del Rey, The Grove, Santa Monica Pier.

     ‘How does it look people?’ Mr Sparks asked via microphone.

     ‘Awesome,’ some wish-to-be called out sarcastically. 

     As we turned our heads, we overheard Freya discussing possible junior prom themes with Jet Campbell.

    ‘I changed the theme because we need a couple of boys on the dance committee.  We’re not sure whether to do an inspired Bond theme or ...’ Tory, meanwhile, looked intently at Jet but he seemed to be bored with her attention and lit up when he saw Mouche.

   ‘Mmm,’ Jet said, looking in the direction of Mouche and me. He even took a step back when Teegan tried to paw his arm. Perhaps he had better taste than I imagined.

    The soccer team, led by Alex and Tom, arrived and sat behind us. They began talking very loudly about how they were only here because Mr Sparks (they said his name in mocking high tones) had promised them extra credit and time off to do what really matters – play soccer.

  

    We felt slightly outnumbered but refused to be intimidated. Watching straight men audition is not pretty. The director, Mr Sparks, was preparing his opening speech (always a classic) and testing the microphone with a little tap of his fingers.

    Ethan Mandel was rather begrudgingly warming up his fingers on the piano (I have to admit I love to hear him play). He was practising his ‘incidental theme’ composition and Mouche and I were whispering about the content of today’s notes.

   ‘Mmm... this really is a nice shot,’ Mouche whispered, pasting the first photograph of Mark Knightly, taken on her cell phone, into the initial pages of the Diary, along with the one of Mark and Jet arriving at LAX  and a combined photograph of the Sunrise Soccer Team . Teegan looked over as if she sensed something was up and not just a change of hairstyle.

    ‘I hope this isn’t stalking. This could be misconstrued as evidence at some kind of teenage stalker of the year convention. You don’t think it could fall into the wrong hands and make us seem more viperous than the Princesses, do you?

    ‘No, it’s not for public consumption, yet. Anyway, leave it to Teegan, her nasty side is going to be revealed without too much help from us...’

    By late afternoon, Mr Sparks was getting more and more frustrated. Most of the boys refused to take ‘the process’ seriously. Only one of them could really sing, dance and act; Peter Williamson, no surprise there.

    ‘I wish we were doing a musical,’ Peter said, rolling his eyes as he sat down next to Mouche, his scene study partner.

    ‘Me too,’ Mouche agreed tolerantly.

    By now Ethan Mandel, was secretly swigging some suspicious liquid out of a flask he brought from home which he referred to as ‘cough syrup.’ In any case, his playing just got better and better, to the point where he didn’t want to stop even when everyone was talking. Rumor abounded by 6pm that the silver ‘flask’ contained absinthe (wildly popular in Paris at the turn of last century for containing hallucinogenic properties).

     By 6pm the preliminary list of names was read aloud: the last two boys and the last two girls standing; ‘okay, now can we have Phoebe, Freya, Peter and ...Tobias...’

     Miss Tartt spoke the words with a flick of her dancer’s skirt, ‘the parts would be finalized and placed on the bulletin board next week.’

    ‘I have an announcement to make,’ Mr Sparks said, ‘...this will be my last play here. As some of you know, I recently completed my PHD in Elizabethan studies...yes, you may applaud.’

     A few of the drama geeks clapped tepidly.

    ‘Thank you...really that’s not necessary. Anyway, I’ve accepted a post at the Royal Academy next year, so let’s make this production the best ever.’

     Everyone groaned. The jocks because they knew they had an easy option and the drama students because we were used to Mr Spark’s bizarre theatrical ways and would really miss his enthusiasm.

    Mouche rolled her eyes next to me and whispered, ‘go get ‘em!’

    It was my turn for a recall even though I wasn’t certain which part I was up for.

    ‘I don’t want you to impose character just yet,’ Mr Sparks spoke loudly to justify the fact that he was still in the process of stealing our teen dramas in order to complete his ‘original masterpiece...a comic and heartbreaking journey through teen world titled: Rocco and Julie – a tragedy in three acts!’

     When the boys came back to the raked seats and Jet and his group sat behind me, Alex pulled my ponytail like a twelve year old.

    ‘I’m surprised you didn’t try to snap her bra-strap as well, you moron,’ Teegan, sitting beside me, said loudly. It was suddenly an unlikely alliance, almost sisterly. Teegan seemed to be coming over to our side.  I gave her a hesitant smile and she gave me a truce smile in return. I’m kind of glad Mouche didn’t see me do that, though. I caught Teegan peering over my shoulder to see what I was writing and I snapped the pages shut.

    Alex had wrecked my concentration, I began reading over the part of Julie in my seat, waiting for Mr Sparks to say, ‘thank you, Freya. Phoebe, you may begin...’ and noticing Jet notice Mouche as she discussed dance moves with the teacher-choreographer for the first scene.

    When Mouche sat down in the stands, as I was heading onstage for my audition, she suddenly whooped and hollered like a one woman fan club, breaking the dating rules and not caring what anyone else thought.  By then, Mark was sitting quietly in the corner. He looked unimpressed about the possibility of being roped into the roles of stage manager and understudy.

   As I glanced at my script, I have to tell you, although it was based on the original, it was quite different; from scene one, it wasn’t quite what everyone expected. Mr Spark’s version of Romeo and Juliet starts at a dance, in a school gym, with starlight for a rooftop...

 

from Act I: ROCCO AND JULIE

    Music plays.  ROCCO holds out his hand to Julie at the party where they first meet. Julie is dressed in high fashion, Rocco wears street.

 NARRATOR

    Our tale of two star crossed lovers begins with two families...both from opposite ends of Los Angeles. Rocco lives in a trailer park and Julie resides in Bel Air. Rocco and Julie see each other across the dance floor, Rocco’s best friend Tyrone is with him.

TYRONE

    I’m out of here

ROCCO

    I’m staying to meet the girl of my dreams.

    Julie is serving herself some fruit punch.

JULIE (overhears)

    Really, you shouldn’t reveal so much before we’ve even met.

ROCCO

    I’m Rocco

JULIE

    I’m Julie

    Rocco takes Julie by the hand.

ROCCO

    Palm to palm and lips to lips...

JULIE

    Not so fast...Rocco. We’ve totally just met.

ROCCO

    Then take my hand.

    Julie takes his hand

    And feel my heart

    Julie feels his heart

    And hear it beat for you

    They kiss.

 

    Okay, so we stopped the audition before the kiss.    

    Afterwards, when I was hanging around backstage, pulling on my jeans over my dancer’s tights, Mouche hastily scribbled on page three of her entry in the dating diary:

 

  Auditions today!

 

Something weird is happening. Phoebe is a star and boys are noticing us. It must be the ‘Guide for Young Ladies’ advice in chapter 2 – ‘feign disinterest’- that’s working, because Phoebe and I have been ‘feigning disinterest’ all week...and MARK KNIGHTLY and JET CAMPBELL have already spoken to us. 

 

PS. Jet Campbell just handed me a note. It said: Wanna go to Fall Fling together? Jet He left his number. Does that mean I’m supposed to text him? Does that even count as a love letter? Mouche