‘This place is wild,’ Mouche said as we rounded the corner that led to a row of lockers.
‘At least it’s cheap,’ Brooke chimed in with mock consolation.
‘I can’t believe the Princesses have ended up at the same school as us....I heard they were
expelled
from HSYL....big surprise...’
Then Teegan morphed into our world, like dry ice, her red hair as shiny as her lip gloss.
‘It’s less shameful than not being able to afford the fees,’ Teegan sniggered.
‘Oops,’ Mouche said, placing her newly painted fingernails across her mouth as if she wasn’t sorry she’d been overheard. ‘I’d forgotten her extreme sensitivity during lunar eclipses.’
Peter Williamson, meandering behind us, laughed out loud. He considered Teegan a hormonal witch on a good day.
I ignored the Princesses and began searching my locker for the greatest scene study text ever written,
An Actors Guide to Method Acting.
Then, out of the dank and dull drudgery of morning classes, the boys from the airport appeared.
They looked stunning.
Mark had his sunglasses in hand, his dark hair freshly washed and he smelled like
Boycandy
aftershave. Endearingly, he also looked lost as he tried to establish class locations. When he paused near my locker, looked up flustered, then looked back down again, I was totally lost for words. Mark managed to find six.
‘Hello,’ he said hesitantly, looking at Mouche. ‘I’m looking for room...three...’
He was at least a foot taller than me (so was Jet) and I thought I had more right to be shy since they were total man models in disguise. I thought Mark was hotter, though, simply because I had been reading Austen and decided I liked dark haired men. But really, both of the boys were super hot.
Also, Mark was smart. Perhaps I was already a little intimidated by his grey matter. He was carrying a physics text after all. Mouche and I were clearly missing out on something (‘some higher level of boredom,’ Mouche observed), because we did not understand physics, nor did we wish to.
Jet was quite garrulous for a boy and politely interrupted Mark. ‘I’m sorry, we’re new, obviously, and we’d like to know where room 308 is located...’
I looked down at my folder then inched another glance beyond the paper towards a confused Mark Knightly. He looked so adorable in his black jacket and
retro jeans. He definitely resembled a young James Franco. (Thereafter, pre-men like Mark will be known through the famed halls of Sunrise High, as
‘Francos’.)
But it was Mouche who led the way, ‘You can follow us if you like,’ she said.
‘Most men would never admit they couldn’t follow directions,’ Mouche whispered later.
‘Oh...thanks,’ Jet said, giving Mouche a genuine smile, which she returned in full, ‘We might even have some subjects together, if you’re lucky,’ Mouche said mischievously.
‘Mmm...doubt it,’ Jet replied, ‘I don’t take...acting.’
Mouche was slightly put out by Jet’s comment and Mark was silent on the subject.
‘Actually,’ Mouche added, ‘the mainstream academic students are combining with the performing arts majors this year for English class.’
‘Well good,’ Jet said, ‘then we’re sure to see each other again...’
They talked on. It was obvious Jet liked Mouche and he was trying to make up for putting his foot in his mouth.
‘I just realized,’ I told Mouche as we walked to class, ‘I forgot my schedule.’
‘Okay, see you in ten...’ The small group walked on. I ran back to the hall and sorted through my locker, disappointed that neither of the boys took any of my subjects but hopeful Mark would be in my English class.
Peter Williamson, my sometime dance partner, was searching through his locker.
‘Hey, Pheebs,’ he said.
‘Hey, Pete.’
‘Who are the newbies?’
‘Two words,’ Teegan interjected, ‘no chance. They’re straight.’
‘Mmm...’ Peter said, probably just to annoy the Princesses, ‘I believe that was more than two words. A boy can dream...’
I looked at Peter and smiled. He raised his eyebrow and gave me a knowing glance. On cue Teegan snapped at us.
‘
As if,
’ Teegan said trying to retrieve a twisted ballet ribbon that was stuck in the fold of her civilian shoes, ‘real men don’t dance.’
Peter Williamson looked at Teegan with distain and curled his lip and flicked through his iPOD playlist.
‘Do you like my skinny jeans, Teegan? I got them from the girl’s section...’ Peter said, just to freak the Princesses out.
Teegan looked a bit scared.
‘Easily shocked,’ Peter mouthed. Peter’s been into Glam Rock forever. I smiled then turned my back on the lead Princess.
I finally found my schedule. Peter made a victory sign and stuck his tongue through his fingers, muttered, ‘later,’ to me and made a cat’s claw gesture behind Teegan’s back as he sauntered off to class.
‘Well, look at you Phoebe. Haven’t you smartened up your image,’ Tory, (the second in line to Teegan’s throne), noted as she shut her locker door. The hinge metal was lined with faux pink fur and pictures of all the narcissistic celebrities Tory idolizes. At the moment her hair is bleached blonde in homage to her favourite celeb from some random teen TV show.
‘Our dream, people, is to be famous for being famous,’ Tory announced to her girl posse that morning. It was hardly news to those of us who knew her well.
The Princesses were usually too self-focused to pay any attention to me although they were more wary when Mouche was around. Alone, I was fair game.
‘Wonder where the sister is?’ Teegan mused aloud, her thoughts still trailing the newbies.
‘Petra is nowhere in sight. She hasn’t been seen for days.
Rumor
has it she’s being
home-schooled
.’ Brooke (the third Princess) shuddered in a hushed tone.
‘Why? Tory asked.
‘Because she’s a
freak
,’ Teegan whispered, already jealous of Petra’s close proximity to Mark.
‘Ew, she’s his sister,’ Freya remarked during assembly, a little late to catch the crux of the conversation.
The girls all looked up and rolled their eyes. I wondered who the real freaks were and it seemed like Teegan and Tory were sure to fit the bill. What a surprise.
I hurried to class thinking about what Mouche told me over the summer.
Being practically psychic, Mouche predicted a month ago that some
‘nasty girls that we already knew were going to cause trouble’
and ‘
two hot boys’
would arrive for junior year.
I prayed the second part of her prediction would come true and now it had. The strange thing was, after almost a whole school year as ‘creative transfer students’, Mouche and I had managed to fly under the radar, but everyone knew the names of Teegan, Tory, Brooke and Freya from the minute their well-manicured feet stepped through the polished halls of Sunrise Performing Arts High School. They actually wore colour co-ordinated sweaters that fell below their crotches and were belted tightly above their waists that first day they arrived - just to get noticed. It worked.
‘Those girls are fashion criminals,’ Mouche stated when they sauntered down the hall like a posse of Bratz Dolls.
The Princesses had been expelled from HSYL for ‘
undisclosed reasons’
but were passably talented so they ended up here. Their primary focus in life seemed to be driving a wedge between other females and boasting about their popularity with the male species. I could’ve told them jealousy and bitterness were wasted emotions but they’d never have listened.
Instead, I did my best to ignore them.
At lunch, Mouche and I sat apart from the Princesses, trying to work out some on-paper choreography for dance class. We overheard them speaking about Mark and Jet in the lunch queue, though.
‘Three words...Mark. Knightly.
Franco
.’ Teegan over-enunciated loudly, stealing my pet term. ‘I actually witnessed Mark Knightly’s arrival at LAX when I touched down from Eye-bee-tha.’
‘She knows how to pronounce Ibiza,’ Mouche whispered. ‘We can all sleep well tonight because Teegan has learnt how to pronounce the name of an island off the coast of Spain,’ Mouche said. Mouche was way smart.
‘Mark Knightly
totally
wanted me when he arrived in Bel Air,’ Teegan continued, adding, ‘we locked eyes in
The Reader’s Nook.
Oh well, girls, you can’t rape the willing,’
The Princesses laughed.
‘I didn’t know she read,’ I whispered to Mouche.
‘Teegan’s love of literature is well-known,’ Mouche stated loudly as she gestured towards Teegan’s copy of
Teen Vogue.
Admittedly, we both loved
Teen Vogue
but
Mouche
was out to prove a point.
‘Teegan just loves an audience,’ Mouche said, as Tory continued.
