Pride & Princesses

by Summer Day

‘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, she has a very distorted 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?

  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 look
ed 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