by Anna Carey
Oh dear, the minion uprising has not gone down well with Karen and Vanessa. They were both showing off more than ever at rehearsal today. I think it is to make up for the fact that their loyal sidekicks have rebelled (though they haven’t rebelled very much, they were all sitting together at lunch today. Still, I didn’t see Alison and Caroline helping the other two with their lines, so I am still hopeful. And Emma says that Alison is really good at the computer class so maybe she will start spending more time becoming a techie genius and forget about Karen).
Anyway, Vanessa and Karen were really awful. I feel so sorry for Wiktoria from 2:4, having to play Jane Banks, stuck between those two goons. She is looking more and more depressed as the rehearsals go on. I don’t know how she’s made it this far. If I had to share every single scene with Karen and Vanessa, I’d have run away weeks ago. It just shows what a trouper she is.
Actually, I think John Kowalski is really getting fed up with Vanessa. She was all over him again this evening. He was on his way out of the hall at the break (I’m afraid it was to smoke a cigarette) and Vanessa pounced on him.
‘John!’ she cried. ‘Just who I was looking for. Tell me what you think of this dance step from the kite scene.’
And before John could do anything, she started hopping about the place with a hideous smirk on her face.
‘Very nice,’ he said when she eventually stopped. But he looked annoyed. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me …’ And he marched off before she could say another word. But Vanessa looked very pleased with herself. I don’t know why; it was obvious that he was trying to escape from her. I think.
I only talked to him for a second today, when he returned from his smoking session. As soon as he saw me, he smiled. I have to admit he has such a nice smile.
‘Hey there, Rafferty,’ he said. ‘Back to the grindstone.’ And then he had to go back to Cathy and the principals’ rehearsals. I didn’t see him afterwards because I was going over to Cass’s house and we left before he did (Alice and Bike Boy were going on an actual date, sort of – just to a café down on Drumcondra Road).
‘Are you okay?’ said Cass when we were walking down Griffith Avenue. ‘Any more news from Paperboy?’
‘Um, no,’ I said. ‘I haven’t mailed him back yet.’
Cass looked surprised.
‘Seriously?’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I haven’t been sure what to say.’
‘Hmm,’ said Cass. ‘Well, what do you want to say to him? Apart from, like, come home from Canada.’
‘I dunno,’ I said. ‘I mean, I actually see what he means. I kind of know he’s right. But I don’t want to say “Fine, let’s break up.” That’s so final. It’s awful.’
‘But you don’t have to say that,’ said Cass. ‘I mean, you can just say something about wanting him to be happy too. That’s nice and vague and he won’t think you’re sitting around moping.’
Cass looked very wise, which is quite unusual for her. I reminded her about my rule to stop moping. At least in public.
‘Oh yeah,’ said Cass. ‘You’ve been very good so far. I mean, you haven’t moped for ages. Not at me, anyway.’
‘Thanks,’ I said.
‘Are you sure your lack of moping has nothing to do with a certain … someone?’ said Cass. Now she did not look very wise. She had a big stupid grin on her face. ‘A moody someone with floppy hair?’
‘No!’ I said. ‘If by someone you mean John Kowalski. We’re just friends. Anyway, he smokes.’
‘He could give up,’ said Cass.
‘It doesn’t matter whether he does or not,’ I said. ‘Because it has nothing to do with me. I haven’t actually broken up with Paperboy. So how could I want to do anything with John Kowalski?’
‘The human heart is a mysterious thing,’ said Cass in a ridiculous voice. She is definitely not wise. In fact, she was talking a lot of rubbish. Anyway, we stopped talking about my love life (or lack of it) because we had reached Cass’s house. When we were settled in her bedroom (which is still so much nicer than mine it depresses me. By the time my parents agree to do mine up again I’ll be old enough to leave home) Cass told me about her and Liz’s new idea. They are talking about doing a musical side-project.
‘Just keyboards and bass,’ she said. ‘Liz’s big sister has a bass she can use.’
I got a bit worried then.
‘Cass,’ I said, ‘I hope you are not forgetting Hey Dollface in all this. I mean, I hope you’re not going to get obsessed with your new band and abandon us when Alice’s wrist is better.’
Cass looked outraged at the suggestion.
‘Of course not!’ she said. ‘As if I would. This is just for fun, for me and Liz.’
Cass is a terrible liar, so I think she must have been telling the truth. Which means Hey Dollface is safe. It was a fun evening anyway. Cass’s mum made us a delicious lasagne and afterwards we went back to her room and danced around to very loud music until Cass’s annoying little brother Nick came in and turned the volume down. Everyone’s siblings are annoying, Alice is so lucky being an only child.
SATURDAY
I replied to Paperboy’s mail today. I followed Cass’s advice and was quite vague. I said there was no need to worry about me. I was doing loads of cool stuff and I was having great fun on the musical. Which is actually all true. I said I’d made new friends and I was glad he had new friends too. And I thought moving on was a good thing. Which is also all true. If I had been very brave I would just have written ‘Are we actually going out anymore?’ But I’m not so I didn’t.
SUNDAY
I am not the only one suffering because of romance. Poor Alice is as well. Not because there is anything wrong between her and Bike Boy – he clearly really likes her, and she really likes him, so that’s okay. It’s just the fact that Alice lives out in the middle of nowhere. She has to get lifts everywhere because they live, like, two miles from the nearest bus stop. Luckily, her parents don’t mind giving her lifts and their jobs are quite flexible so they can pick her up from school and rehearsal, but it doesn’t always suit them and it was a huge hassle just going to a café in Drumcondra after the rehearsal on Friday. We were just on the phone for ages and she said that Bike Boy is very understanding about it but she wishes she could just casually arrange to meet him in town like I could with Paperboy in those long-ago days.
I suppose I should be grateful that my parents decided to buy a house in a fairly central location. Though it is hard to be grateful to them for anything. Today Mum was in one of her annoying ‘caring parent’ moods and started asking me questions about my Life. Which I did not want to talk to her about.
‘You do seem more cheerful recently,’ she said. ‘How are things with …?’
But before she could continue, I said, ‘They’re fine! Everything’s fine!’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Well, good. You do know you can always come to me if there’s anything seriously wrong, don’t you?’
‘There isn’t!’ I said.
‘Good,’ she said. Then she didn’t say anything and I hoped she was going to go away again, but no. Instead, she said, ‘You know, very few people keep going out with their first boyfriend or girlfriend forever. Most people don’t meet the person they want to spend their lives with until they’re much, much older.’
‘You met Dad when you were in college,’ I said.
‘Yes, but (a) there is a big difference between being twenty and fourteen and (b) I didn’t even go out with him until a few years after we graduated,’ she said. ‘I met him in third year when I came back from America and then we did the musical. But we were just friends for ages and ages.’
‘What, you mean you agreed to go out with him after seeing him in that musical?’ I said.
‘He was very good in that musical!’ she said indignantly. ‘Very attractive, if you must know. His dancing was amazing. I think, in retrospect, I had a little bit of a crush on him even then.’
‘Oh my GOD, Mother,’
I said. ‘I am not talking about this for one minute longer.’
And I marched upstairs and put some music on. I really do not know which is worse, her treating me like a servant or trying to be nice to me.
MONDAY
Cass has cut her hair! Like, really cut her hair! Instead of shoulder-length sort of layered, sort of fringey golden brown hair she now has a proper fringe and a wavy bob. She got it done on Saturday and said she was dying to ring me and Alice yesterday and tell us about it, but she thought she would surprise us. Which she did.
‘I can’t believe you have actually chosen a fringe,’ said Alice. ‘I mean, you’ve been trying to grow yours out for ages and ages.’
‘I just thought I should embrace the fringe,’ said Cass. ‘It’s clearly my destiny. And then something came over me, and I thought, I want a bob! And the hairdresser said it was a good idea.’
Even John Kowalski noticed Cass’s hair and he never seems to pay much attention to other people.
‘Your friend Cass looks different,’ he said when we were chatting during the break and Cass was climbing a wobbly ladder with a paint pot hanging dangerously from one hand. ‘Cool hair.’
It does look really cool. And it sort of goes with her glasses, even though she still says she hates her glasses. She looks really pretty. In fact, I am a bit jealous. My hair still looks wavy and weird.
Anyway, when John wasn’t praising Cass’s hair we had a good conversation about what we want to do in college. I haven’t really thought much about college, apart from, of course, knowing that I want to go. And I suppose I want to do some sort of arts degree. I just can’t decide what. I’d thought about English, but maybe I should try for drama too, now that I’ve really discovered my theatrical side. Anyway, it doesn’t matter if I don’t really know exactly what I want to do because I’ve got three years to think about it, but when I said that John looked appalled.
‘But Rafferty,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to make a plan. And a back-up plan. You’ve got to have a vision!’
Heavens.
‘Well, what are you going to do?’ I asked.
‘I’ve got several options,’ said John. ‘I’m just weighing them up. There’s drama in Trinity or UCD, but maybe I’ll do English and drama. And I’m also considering applying for Rada in London.’
‘What’s Rada?’ I said.
‘R.A.D.A. The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art,’ said John, looking slightly surprised that I didn’t already know. Anyway, it turns out Rada is, like, incredibly posh and prestigious and loads of really famous, serious actors went there. It’s so fancy, it sounds like you’re basically taught by the Queen. John thinks it would help him hone his theatrical skills for his future as a famous writer/actor/director person.
I wonder if I could get in there myself? I didn’t say that to him, though, in case he thought I was, like, copying him like a weirdo and I was going to follow him across the Irish Sea. I just nodded and went back to the rehearsal. But I have been thinking of it ever since. Just imagine me and John as glamorous young student actors in London. ‘Who are that attractive young Irish couple?’ people would ask. Not that we would be a couple-couple, of course. Just friends. And actorly colleagues.
WEDNESDAY
Ended up walking down the road with John Kowalski again because Cass’s piano lesson was moved around and she had to leave rehearsal early. Somehow we keep finding ourselves leaving at the same time. We had a very interesting conversation about life and books and our dreams of the future. John Kowalski’s parents sound even worse than mine.
‘They just care about money and trivial things,’ he said. ‘I can’t stand their inane chatter.’
My parents are also full of inane chatter at the moment. If I never hear the words ‘Pirates of Penzance’ again, it’ll be too soon.
John is an only child. I asked him if he wished he had brothers and sisters but he said no, he was glad he hadn’t.
‘I need time to myself to write,’ he said. ‘Siblings would be a distraction.’
I can’t argue with that. I was trying to write a story this evening and Rachel stomped in roaring about something stupid. She says I’ve used up her posh Chanel lipstick and she knows it was me because she hasn’t used it for weeks and it’s gone down loads in its tube (has she been measuring it? I wouldn’t put it past her). She’s such a miser. I’ve barely used it myself, I just let other people use it at Vanessa’s party. Quite a lot of people, in retrospect. I won’t tell her that, though.
Actually, maybe it was a good thing she burst in and stopped me writing because I’m not sure my story was much good. I was trying to write a serious story about a young actress, but I kept thinking of funny things to put in. Which is not good if you are trying to be a serious writer. And I am. Trying to be one, I mean. I’m pretty sure there is no room for funniness in great art. John doesn’t seem to think there is, anyway. He thinks great art is about war and passion and, I dunno, dying and stuff. Not stupid jokes.
THURSDAY
All the teachers can’t wait until the musical is finished. Even Mrs Harrington seemed a bit impatient today.
‘I know it’s very exciting, girls,’ she said. ‘I’m looking forward to it myself. But we’ve got to remember school comes first!’
But it was Miss Kelly who got most annoyed. I suppose you can’t blame her really. When she came into the classroom today Alice and I were showing people how we act while singing and it was a bit noisy.
‘You can do whatever you like in your rehearsals,’ bellowed Kelly. ‘But when you’re in this classroom you’re here to work, not fool around!’
Actually, I think that when we’re in her classroom, we’re there to be terrified rather than work, but none of us said that.
‘I will be keeping a special eye on all of you musical girls,’ Kelly went on, ‘to make sure you’re keeping up with the class.’
She pointed at Ellie, who looked a bit scared.
‘What are you doing in this show?’ she demanded.
‘Um, costumes. With Mrs Limond.’
And then something surprising happened. I kind of assumed Kelly would think Mrs Limond was a frivolous person for being so devoted to fashion, but no! She thinks Mrs Limond is an environmental heroine!
‘You could all learn from Mrs Limond, girls,’ she cried. ‘That woman has made all her own clothes since 1952. She’s not supporting the pointless consumerism that’s destroying the environment! And she’s been recycling school costumes for years. Last year she turned a Russian peasant dress from the 1997 production of Fiddler on the Roof into one of Sandy’s dresses in Grease. She’s a recycling inspiration to us all! Isn’t she, Ellie?’
‘Um, yes,’ said Ellie, looking a bit stunned.
The thought of Mrs Limond recycling old costumes cheered Miss Kelly up no end, so the rest of the class was fine, really. Well as far as the musical goes. There was still a lot of environmental disaster and rants about which countries contribute most to our impending doom, but we’re used to that now.
FRIDAY
Oh my God!
John Kowalski kissed me. And I kissed him back.
I am an adulterer!
Okay, I am not technically an adulterer as I am obviously not married. And it’s not like Paperboy and I are going out properly anymore. In fact, we are meant to be moving on. But still! We never officially broke up! Oh dear.
This is what happened. There was some sort of prop emergency, so Cass and her team were staying on a bit later after rehearsal again. When we were getting our stuff together, Alice and Bike Boy were gazing into each other’s eyes in a way that made me feel very left out (I mean, I really am happy for her and everything, but it doesn’t mean I want to stand there and, like, gawp at the two of them). So I just slipped out of the hall and somehow I found myself walking out with John Kowalski.
Well, by ‘somehow’ I mean that I was walking out of the hall and he came up to me and said, ‘Hello, Rafferty. How’s life in the chorus?’
> And I said, ‘Oh, you know. Chorus-y.’
‘Ah,’ said John Kowalski. ‘What a surprise.’ He paused. ‘Are you hanging around waiting for anyone or are you going home now?’
‘Home now,’ I said.
‘What a coincidence,’ he said. ‘So am I.’
And we walked out of school and up the drive together. I have to admit I had a funny feeling that something was going to happen, but I wasn’t sure what.
‘You know that play I wrote that I told you about?’ he said.
‘The one about the soldier who can’t decide whether or not to kill himself?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Well, I got a mail yesterday saying I was on the shortlist. The winner will be announced in a couple of weeks.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That’s brilliant.’
‘Yeah,’ said John Kowalski. ‘I knew I just had to get it out there.’ He looked at me. ‘Some day, Rafferty, I’m going to work in the theatre, and I’m going to be famous.’ He looked like there was a fire inside him. ‘I know I am.’
‘And when you are, you can get Hey Dollface to do the music for all your plays,’ I said.
He laughed. ‘I can do the music myself, thanks very much! If music is needed, of course. But thanks.’
‘I can’t decide whether I’d like to be in a band full time or not,’ I said. ‘I mean, I kind of want to. But then I want to be a writer. And I do sometimes think of being an actress. Especially after all this musical stuff.’
I thought John Kowalski might say something like, ‘You can be my leading lady!’ But he didn’t.
‘Well, you’d better decide,’ he said. ‘There’s no time to waste. You’ve got to follow your muse. Just make sure it’s the right one.’
‘That’s easier said than done,’ I said. ‘Maybe I’ll just, um, follow the band muse for a while. Once Alice is better, of course.’
‘You should play the guitar instead of her,’ said John. We were nearly at the corner now.
