‘You’re late,’ she said, looking up at him from beneath her spectacles. She was clearly appreciating his masculine energy when I noticed the edges of her mouth turn up in a slight smile. You could almost hear her thinking, ‘if only I were sixteen again...’
Mark was quite apologetic.
‘Yes, please excuse me...Miss Tartt. I’m Mark Knightly...’
‘And you are?’ She peered at Jet.
‘Jet Campbell,’ Jet said affably. ‘We had to re-check our schedules.’
Miss Tartt was smiling sweetly by this point. She gestured to the boys to take a seat after she’d ticked the roll.
Mr Sparks was team-teaching with her that morning and in the process of announcing his plans for the play of the year, an updated version of Romeo and Juliet called
Rocco and Julie.
‘Oh help us all,’ Mouche mouthed as she rolled her eyes and pulled her beret over her ears.
I glanced at Mark when he wasn’t looking in our direction, wondering if I’d ever have the courage to speak to him. I also considered the possibility that in all the romantic literature Mouche and I had ever read, good intentions were surer if the boy made the first move.
‘My fellow Thespians, this story is about true love. All the best stories are. Auditions will be held at 3pm, Thursday. I want you all there and not just the drama majors – we need the boys for extra credit please. This, our combined junior class production, is sure to be a masterpiece...’
Jet laughed out loud.
‘Any more of that negativity and I’ll see you in detention,’ Mr Sparks said pointedly.
Mr Sparks really believed he could improve on the original script using modern language. Since Shakespeare wasn’t around to tell him otherwise, his word was law. Mr Sparks was our combined home room teacher (and a seriously hard marker) so it paid to find a way to at least pretend to like him.
‘Phoebe Harris?’ Mr Sparks called out my name as I chewed my pencil and looked outside at the fallen orange leaves. I was wondering how in the world Mouche and I could make this year the best ever before the drama of college applications and everything else took over our lives. I raised my hand and noticed Mark glancing in my direction.
It’s true; I subsequently discovered that Mark’s late arrival on his third day as a transfer student was not his fault. His family couldn’t have been thrilled that he was attending Sunrise (he’d applied too late for any private school acceptance), but perhaps the superior tone he used when he spoke again could have been avoided.
‘And what might your name be, Sir?’ Mr Sparks said in a most theatrical manner as Mark started to leave the room.
‘Ah, Mark Knightly,’ he replied, sounding ridiculously uncomfortable. Mark had a rich voice. He spoke like a boy with a lot of money who has been told a few too many times he is extra good-looking. I could tell by his tone that he was not exactly thrilled to be repeating junior year in a different time zone. He’d almost graduated high school in England where they even have a separate school for senior year.
I had the opportunity to consider him once more in repose now that he was engaged in conversation with Mr Sparks. Mark was tall and wore his dark hair slightly long and swept across his forehead. He had cobalt blue eyes and a smile that Mouche would later describe as, ‘kind of dangerous.’
He also looked very embarrassed to have been singled out and ignored Mr Sparks when he asked him another question about whether he would sign up for the play. This made Mr Sparks go completely ballistic and he immediately signed up Mark to be stage manager of the new
Romeo and Juliet.
Mark just cringed in his seat and was the first person to escape when the bell rang.
‘He’s totally hot,
what a Franco
,’ Teegan said as she flicked her cherry hair in my face on her way to acting class. I was yet to publicize my new phrase in
The Sunrise News
and already the Princesses were coining the term as their own. C’est la vie. Perhaps copying a trend really is the highest form of flattery.
‘I’m definitely going to get the lead role in this,’ Tory added as she pulled down the freshly printed poster announcing the auditions for
Rocco and Julie
out in the hallway.
‘Just the name sounds totally sad,’ Mouche said, ‘but we are so going to audition because I know one Princess who could do with a little competition.’
‘You said it, Mouche,’ I added, under my breath.
‘The lead role will definitely go to Tory. She is perfect for the part,’ Teegan quipped, smoothing her lustrous locks.
‘Don’t be so sure,’ Mouche added. ‘Phoebe is auditioning as well.’
‘But Tory’s been working professionally all summer,’ Teegan countered. Tory looked a little bit surprised and very annoyed since I’d been the star of the HSYL freshman showcase, when all the agents from Los Angeles came to the school to see if there was anyone who would interest them. That’s kind of how Wednesday (Mouche’s baby sister) and Mouche and I signed with an agency called
Thom’s Kidz
(but more on him later, I promise).
‘You know everyone is invited to audition, Tory. May the best actress win!’ Mouche replied.
Tory stuck her nose in the air and checked her lipstick a third time before walking down the hall with Freya, Teegan and Brooke. That clique of juniors managed to look down on everyone and anyone and may have even convinced us all (including the teachers who they were super nice to) that they walked on air.
At lunchtime, Brooke, spaniel curls hanging perilously close to her food, could be heard moaning over her jell-o, ‘I just don’t know why there are so few hot guys in our town, even if the population is small. Mark Knightly is so cute he could start a riot around here.’
Freya, who was flicking through the images of her pony club trip via cell, looked up and said as an afterthought, ‘I agree.’
Tory smiled a big, toothy, insincere smile as she checked her gloss.
‘And...he wants to major in pre-med at Yale or Harvard,’ Teegan said, crossing her Barbie legs in agreement.
‘I heard his uncle owns a huge castle in Scotland and his family harbors a very dark secret...’
Tory added, tying her sweaty locks in a ponytail.
‘Shh,’ Brooke said, ‘Mark and Jet are coming over right now.’
The boys gave us wicked little grins.
‘Spreading the love,’ Mouche said under her breath.
Mark slid over onto one of the side tables and pulled out his study notes while Jet started playing some computer game then passed a basketball with his feet back and forth under the table towards Mark while they ate.
They looked over at me once when I was reading. Then, as soon as Mark and Jet had finished eating they ran out onto the playing fields, laughing at all the performing arts girls (us) as they slid out of the room. It was as if they had their own private joke, ignoring us. Well, ignoring almost everyone. Mark walked over to speak as he left, but turned, thought better of it, then glanced at Mouche and me and walked away. Peter was walking across the courtyard at that moment giving Mouche a cheeky grin. They had arranged to rehearse some dance moves.
‘Later, Pheebs,’ Mouche ran outside to greet Peter, who relayed to her a snippet of conversation he overheard as he was doing up his shoes.
‘It’s always the same for me,’ Jet said, as they walked outside.
‘What do you mean?’ Mark asked.
‘Always a feast or a famine.’
‘Petra thinks you’re conceited, now I know why.’
‘Your sister is kind of spacey, so I won’t take that too seriously. I mean, can I help it if a bunch of man-starved hot chicks throw themselves in my path? Have you checked out that cute little blonde girl we spoke to this morning?’
‘Not really. I’m too busy noticing we’re practically in Hicksville. All this culture is really overwhelming. I’d forgotten how much I dislike Los Angeles.’ Mark said.
‘LA is not so bad. C’mon, it’s the City of Angels. Besides, what’s so great about London at 6am? Parts of the city are seriously unclean. I mean, people spit on the streets there. A lot.’
‘Yeah, I guess, but outside of Beverly Hills, we barely
walk
on the streets here.’
‘I love being home. I love the air and I missed the food.’
‘I guess. There’s no place like home...I’m just kind of worried about my sister. Since our parents died, my aunt and uncle have insisted on sending her to that girl’s school...I just know she’s going to hate it.’
‘It’s kind of a bummer...your sister’s so...’
‘What? Weird?’
‘No, I was going to say, shy. Special.’
Mark rolled his eyes. He knew Jet was being sarcastic.
The boys had moved to the basketball court and began to shoot hoops.
‘After our parents died she stopped eating and became so introverted. I think she needs friends.’
‘From what I hear, she’s not going to find them at the Young Ladies Academy.’
Jet shot a near perfect hoop.
‘Great, that’s what I thought.’
Mark took over and bounced the ball, keeping it from Jet with his right palm.
‘I mean, we just saw the results. Did you see the way those girls were all ‘jostling each other for the last diet soda at lunch? Apparently they got expelled from
The High School for Young Ladies.’
