by Summer Day
‘You know, Phoebe, you are actually my first friend who is a girl,’ he said analytically, as we snacked on pretzels during my rehearsal break. We talked about lots of things, not just the novels we had to read for English, or his guitar solos. We talked about New York and how it is one of the most fantastic cities in the world.
Known only to Mark, Freya had offered (as the social secretary of junior year) to show him around Sunrise one weekend. It would have been totally against our original rules to make all the running, but Freya had a hot new car her father had bought for her birthday and wanted to show off it and herself. I heard her tell Tory she had plans to be Mark’s ‘special girlfriend’. I’m not sure even Mark knew what that meant but Tory seemed momentarily put out.
Tory explained it (many weeks later) in the guide thus: ‘In England, macking is called snogging, and since Mark had been in England for a year, he seemed to think dating was just hooking up and snogging. So when I suggested we hook up and go to the movies, Mark was, according to Jet who told Teegan who told Mouche who told me, ‘too polite to refuse.’
We all had a little laugh at that entry, especially me, and it seemed the days when I imagined Mark to be ‘the one’ were long gone.
But I forgot to tell you how the Princesses got involved.
In the beginning, they all, rather cluelessly and obviously, tried to target Mark. We shuddered at their appalling lack of smarts in this area. He had them on speed dial and even more confused than he’d had Mouche and I. The other girls evidently needed our savvy.
Mark, the alpha male, was playing them.
‘I don’t understand why charms I’ve worked on countless pre-men seem to fall short with Mr I love myself Knightly,’ Teegan complained.
Tory listened to Teegan’s whining then relayed it to Brooke who told me.
‘You won’t believe it,’ Tory added, ‘but Teegs actually said to him after rehearsal one night when she was taking notes, ‘your place or mine?’ when he offered her a lift. Anyway, he obviously didn’t like her that much since he offered Phoebe and Mouche a lift also. Mouche said ‘yes’ before Phoebe could say ‘no’ because it was late at night and she thought it would be in their best interests to swallow their pride.’
My ears burned at that one. It was true, I hadn’t had a chance to say no, but we were not in a position to refuse. Trey had borrowed Mouche’s car (his was at the local garage) and I didn’t have one. Trey’s cell was on answer which really annoyed both Mouche and me, because we have a rule to never walk home alone in the dark.
‘I’ll talk to Trey about that later,’ Mouche promised, as if she was the parent and Trey, the child.
After Mark had slighted me, Mouche had considered spreading the rumor that he was a man-slut but then we mutually decided that this would just enhance his reputation and make us sound bitter. We were more amused watching the Princesses fail to make headway in the dating game with him, one by one.
‘Sometimes it’s best to let bygones be bygones,’ my grandmother always used to say which I suppose means, forget about past hurts. So I left the idea of Mark as ‘the perfect boyfriend’ alone, where it ought to be, and just got on with my life. Then the Princesses lives entwined with ours in the most obvious way.
We’re not sure how far Mark and Freya went after he dropped Mouche and me off that night after rehearsal, but the next day Brooke and Teegan and Tory were seen huddling around a crying Freya who was whining something about, ‘he kissed me and everything but now I don’t think he even likes me. How could he not like me? I’m the smartest, funniest, coolest girl in the school!’
‘Ah, that would be a matter of opinion, Freya,’ Mouche uttered under her breath. But this time I was glad that nobody heard because Freya was visibly distressed.
You could see the confidence draining out of Freya and her Princess sisters on a daily basis and I felt a little uncool that I couldn’t give them advice. Why did girls let boys affect their self-esteem this way? It was lucky I loved the stage and Mouche loved to dance. These loves gave us a lot more to focus on than boys.
‘Perhaps we should share the benefit of our research,’ I suggested that day, thumbing through the last of my dating guides, The Good Girlfriend (a gem of a tome), written by anonymous.
‘Oh please,’ Mouche said, ‘they’d only listen if it was wrapped in pink paper and tied with a ribbon.’
‘It is,’ I said, tapping our half-filled Boy Rating Diary.
The Princesses were all having a pity party for one another because nobody else would bother to have any kind of party for the nastiest girls in school.
What we do know for sure - Mark was definitely not saving himself for marriage or true love or any of that because he was spotted reading Lolita in the town library - quite the scandal around here.
Mouche noticed it when she was researching a legal case for part-time work she does at a homeless shelter in LA once a month. In fact, I’d say Mark may have taken Freya up on her offer and now maybe both of them regret it. At least, that’s what I’d say.
It was kind of sad actually - their little love fest gone wrong. Last night at rehearsals, Freya was giving Mark soppy puppy dog looks and he was just totally ignoring her in his snobbish, uptight way. I could have told her he was a mean, proud, nasty person but she didn’t ask. I’d never advise Freya, willingly. Besides, Mark was clearly the target; he’s supposed to be the date at the end, the best date, and now I doubt I will ever speak to him again since he’s clearly the most conceited boy in school. Well, who wants some stuffy old castle in Scotland anyway?
‘I’ve mentally moved on,’ I assured Mouche.
But I should tell you what happened with Mouche and Jet. She wrote about it in the dating diary:
Mouche: ‘Jet and I got so friendly that we dated more than once. We went roller skating, then he took me to dinner and a movie and drove me right to my front door in his seriously hot sports car. He opened doors and paid for everything and the most he even tried was to hold my hand. Then, on the third date, Jet got cold feet and told Scott Williamson to tell Phoebe at rehearsals to tell me that he couldn’t meet up with me that weekend because he ‘had to go with Mark and his sister and their aunt and uncle for a skiing holiday in Telluride...’
‘Telluride! That’s a lame excuse’, Phoebe said.
‘I agree. I mean, I’m not the best or most experienced skier in the world, but if he was going to abruptly change plans, then he could’ve at least invited me or told me himself.’
I drew a line through him on the list and spent an entire Saturday crying. After I’d dried my eyes, I gathered Wednesday to me and said to Pheebs, ‘I do solemnly swear that I will never get my heart broken ever again.’
It was many weeks later before we found out what really happened.
Wednesday tugged at Mouche’s hair, attempting to braid it in a sisterly fashion.
‘He’s no loss if he will do that to you without a proper explanation,’ I offered.
‘This,’ Mouche said, ‘is the first and last time I will ever cry over a man.’
‘He’s so not worth it, I said.
‘Not worth it,’ Wednesday agreed.
‘And neither is his proud, superior friend.’ I couldn’t even say Mark’s name by this point.
At rehearsal, Mark Knightly was standing near me when Peter came over to chat.
Peter winked at Mark and Mark ignored us both.
‘Actually, he looked kind of sheepish...Mark’s a weird guy.’
‘Maybe not so much...’ Mouche observed. ‘It’s true that he hurt your pride and he was wrong to do it, and wrong about you, but at least he didn’t pretend to like you then ditch you like Jet did to me. I genuinely think he was just trying to cover up how he felt. Perhaps he has his own reasons for his strange behaviour. He seems to have better qualities than some of the boys at Sunrise. At least he has a level of maturity and says what he thinks.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Well, he was too quick to judge
, but then so were we. I mean, look how wrong we got it. We actually thought Jet was Mr Nice Guy.’
Even in the throes of her own misery, I started to feel like Mouche was getting the better of me again.
That evening, we conversed in my room, ‘I’ve heard in Europe, people aren’t at all particular about whom they sleep with. Maybe that’s when Mark became a man-slut.’
‘Maybe,’ Mouche just shrugged and flicked on a repeat of episode of some teen reality programme.
‘I’m so over this show,’ she said. ‘The only thing to do when you’ve been ditched is to eat an entire box of chocolates.’
‘At least...you didn’t do it with Jet or anything. I mean, it’s not like you went that far...’
‘I’m destined to be the only sixteen year old in Sunrise who hasn’t even been stage-kissed more than twice,’ Mouche said.
‘Ah, that would be me, also.’ I must admit I was shocked at Mouche’s revelation of her entire lack of love experience. I thought surely she’d kissed Ethan Mandel. I tried to cheer her up, adding, ‘well, maybe, that’s a good thing. I mean, whatever happened with Freya certainly didn’t make her happy. Maybe we’re too young for relationship drama.’
Mouche just started crying all over again.
Anyway, a few days later (the last week of October to be precise) another note arrived, attached to the revised script breakdown, Act One page 9. At first, I thought it was a note from Jet, because it had Mouche’s name on it and I immediately walked over to Mouche, who was taking a break from rehearsing the opening dance number and handed it to her.
‘Maybe this is the formal apology...it could be from him.’
‘Jet?’
‘I don’t know, maybe.’
‘Perhaps I should forgive him for standing me up.’
‘That’s not in the rules. Don’t you have any pride? I’m sure Mrs Robinson would deem our interest in men who have already disrespected us as ‘unforgivable’. We have to be better than that.’
‘Here.’
‘What?’
‘You take it, open it.’
Mouche unfolded the entire piece of notepaper.
‘You must’ve had it wrong the first time. It says, ‘Phoebe and Mouche.’
‘Maybe he wants to double...’
‘This might be out of our league...here, you open it.’
I do as I’m told. Everyone is on morning break and huddled around in groups but I’m sure I noticed the evil glances of the Princesses in our direction because this is what the note said;
We know what you’re up to...we want in on the competition or we’ll tell everyone what a pair of Skeezie hoes you both are...dating ‘boyzamples’ and acting like mattresses etc. Love Teegan, Tory, Brooke and Freyaxxx
‘Mattresses!’ Mouche exclaimed.
We’d show them mattresses.
Mouche excitedly grabbed the most recent set of notes right out of my hand and said, with a slight glimmer in her eye, ‘just let me consolidate what we need for the meeting...’
Chapter 16
An Unexpected Kiss
The day before the scheduled meeting, something truly unexpected happened which made me question my devotion to Mark.
It had been a long afternoon of rehearsing and I left the auditorium to water my parched throat. Outside, I encountered the adorable Joel Goodman again.
He grunted ‘hello’ with a confident smile as he walked down the empty hallway past me. Joel had been kept back a year, after his parents ‘home schooled’ him. They travelled through Europe, like gypsies, after their connection to Mark’s parents went bust. Joel’s wild, black hair was all spiky from some hairdressing show and his rangy, blue jeaned hips had a studded belt around them. His sister (who was a model agent) paid him three hundred dollars to slum it in an LA show the previous week because she’d had trouble finding extra ‘young, dangerous types.’ She could’ve asked Mark and Jet as well. Their combined attitudes would have been perfect for the catwalk.
At least that’s what Brooke whispered to Freya who told Teegan who told Mouche who told me. Joel got whispered about a lot. He was considered hot but a little dangerous and I was secretly thrilled that our relationship had developed from monosyllabic to the next level - basic conversation and meeting up during rehearsal and detention ‘time-outs’.
We’d become friends but so far I’d never involved him in the Boy-Rating Diary.
Without realizing it, I had been letting Joel hang out with me when what I really should have been doing (maybe) was dating him, even if Mrs Jones dictated his unsuitability. He was kind of bad. I didn’t have to ask Joel what he was doing here in the hallway again. I knew.
Joel had been suspended. His jeans hung low and you could see the top of his boxers and the bottom of his ripped torso peeping out from beneath his plaid shirt. His muscular arms carried a more than usually heavy bag, full of the contents of his locker.
We paused at the drink vending machine. Suddenly he stopped and turned around to acknowledge me.
‘Hey, Tuesday Girl...’
As I told you, he was kind of smart. It’s just that, as punishment for attempting to take a photograph up Miss Holland’s skirt (Miss H was our music teacher), he’d been assigned to hang out with a different ‘high achieving’ student every day for a month during ninth grade. After that, he got the ‘dangerous’ rep. Today, the rumor about Joel’s suspension (for setting off the school smoke alarms ‘unintentionally’), had been posted on the Princess’s webpage. Thereafter it had multiplied like swine flu. I was not completely unaware.
‘Hey Pheebs...come here, there’s something I wanted to say to you before I go on vacation...’
‘You can say it from there...’
‘Why, because I’m such a bad influence you have to keep your distance?’
‘Of course not,’ the truth was, I admired his reckless abandon.
I moved forward but not too close.
He stopped and looked at me like I was soda in a fountain. He paused momentarily, then spoke.
‘You were my favorite,’ he said in a deeper than teenage rebel voice.
‘Your favorite what?’
‘Day of the week. We usually met on Tuesdays.’
This gave me an idea.
‘Mmm...can you put that in writing?’
‘Eager to please the lady...’ he said with a smile. Joel pulled out a docket or something from his pocket and wrote:
To Phoebe (Tuesday) Harris; you are my favourite day of the week, luvJoel.
I stopped feeding coins into the slot and shoved the note into my pocket. I was feeling all hot and sweaty from dance rehearsals and not looking my best to greet a man as per the guides I now read obsessively, but exceptions must be made and I wasn’t expecting this. I stood my ground and faced him.
‘Why are you carrying such a big bag? You don’t have, like, a body in there do you?’
He laughed and lit a cigarette.
‘No. Want one?’
‘It’s illegal to smoke at school. Besides, it’s bad for you.’
He stubbed it out.
‘I just gave up. I’m celebrating.’
‘What are you celebrating?’
‘I’m going to New York.’
‘What? You mean you’re dropping out of school?’
‘Yep. For two whole weeks. I got suspended but I don’t think I want to come back, anyways...’
‘Wow...I don’t know if that’s something to celebrate..’ then I forgot the Mrs Jones Guide and just said what I thought, ‘...that could be a really dumb idea...besides, I wasted loads of time checking your work.’
‘No time is wasted Phoebe Tuesday. Besides, I have an older brother there. I can catch up on Wuthering Heights when I’m gone. Don’t worry. I’ve never been to New York but it’s got to be more interesting than here. I can’t wait to go.’
I couldn’t wait to get out of Sunrise either. Maybe it had something to do with Mark.
‘Me either,’ I said, trying
to sound way cooler than I am. I leant back on the door of the locker, ‘after the play is over, and I’ve graduated, I want to go to Julliard...if I get in.’ Joel smiled.
I gotta tell you being around him at that moment made me feel a little shy. This was starting to bother me. I was becoming the girl I was before I became the self-assured pre-woman I am.
