Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen (18 page)
Sure they were. Depending on me to play the fool.
“Hah hah,” I said. “Nobody will even notice the difference.”
“Of course they will,” said Ella. “What about your parents? And your grandparents? And me? And Sam? Sam’s never been to a school function before in his life. He’s only going for you.”
“Maybe he can get a refund.” I fluffed up my pillow and leaned back. “Maybe all of you can.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” said Ella. “This isn’t like you at all. What happened to the person who never gives up? What happened to the person who told me her motto was ‘never say die’?”
“I don’t know,” I said. Which was true. “I guess she bailed out, too.”
Ella gazed at me in silence for several seconds.
“So that’s it?” she said at last. “All that stuff you told me about passion and art and putting your work before yourself, that was just more of your lies?”
“Of course not,” I said. “That’s what’s important. It’s just that I—”
“You’re just the same as Carla, aren’t you?” Ella stood up. “It’s all me, me, me and I, I, I. Nobody else counts for anything, do they?”
I stood up, too.
“That’s not true and you know it!” I felt like I was falling apart inside.
“No, I don’t know it!” Ella screamed back. “You haven’t given one thought to anybody else in all this. It’s all been about you.” She flung her arms wide, appealing to the gods themselves. “What about me?” she demanded. “I was miserable until you came to Dellwood. Totally miserable. I thought that everybody’s life was like mine, just doing all the things you’re supposed to do, when you’re supposed to do them, and never questioning anything. I thought that when I grew up all I could expect was a life like my parents’.” She was trembling with rage. “And then I met you. You gave me courage, Lola. You taught me that you can make life what you want.”
I reached out to touch her shoulder. I’d never seen Ella cry before. “Ella, I—”
She jumped back as though I’d threatened her with a sabre. “Don’t touch me!” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “You’re a sham, Lola Cep, that’s what you are. I thought being the best Eliza Doolittle you could be was what mattered to you. But it isn’t. Because if it was you’d go on tonight and you’d be the best Eliza Doolittle, no matter what Carla Santini says or does.” Ella’s face was red and blotchy from crying. “Don’t you get it, Lola? That’s the one thing she can’t do anything about. The one thing nobody can do anything about! And you’re just going to hand it to her.”
By now, I was crying, too.
“What’s going on in there?” called my mother. She started banging on the door. “Mary? Ella?”
I snuffed back a few million tears. “Nothing,” I shouted back through my sobs. “I’ve had a miraculous recovery.”
NEVER SAY DIE
Henry Higgins and I peered through the curtain at the side of the stage.
On the left of the auditorium were Mr and Mrs Gerard, Ella and Sam. Mr and Mrs Gerard were both wearing suits; Ella was wearing the A-line with the pearl buttons down the front she’d wanted me to wear to the party, but it didn’t look so bad because her hair was loose and the contrast between the copper and the blue was actually stunning; and Sam was wearing black jeans and a T-shirt and his leather jacket with the bottle caps bolted to it. They looked so out of place together that a passing policeman would have arrested Sam for holding the Gerards hostage.
On the right-hand side were my mother and father, the twins, my grandparents, and about a dozen of my mother’s closest friends. My parents were sitting together, with a twin on either side, to keep them from talking during the performance.
“Corblighme,” whispered Henry Higgins in a mid-Atlantic drawl. “It’s a full house. There are even people standing at the back.”
I was too excited to comment on his hopeless accent, but I will say that it was just as well that Mrs Baggoli moved the play to America.
“Henry! Eliza!”
We jumped back. Mrs Baggoli has a stage whisper that makes the floorboards quake.
“Get in your places!” hissed Mrs Baggoli. “Three minutes till curtain!”
Henry Higgins took his place by the supermarket painted on the backdrop. I took up my place in the wings with my groceries.
Everybody started telling everybody else to break a leg, the way actors do.
“Break a leg!”
“Break a leg!”
“Break a leg!”
I looked over at Carla Santini. It is a testament to my renewed determination and resolution that I didn’t say, “Break a neck!”. I thought it, but I didn’t say it. I am above such childish pettiness. I will never sink to her level again; I don’t like being down that low.
“Good luck, everyone!” boomed Mrs Baggoli as she skittered into the wings. “Give them a show they won’t forget!”
I was scared, I’ll admit it. Now that the play was actually about to begin, panic and doubt began marching around in my heart. What if I wasn’t any good after all? What if Carla managed to sabotage me with just a whisper or a smile?
“Never say die,” I said to myself. “Never say die.”
I pictured the faces of the Ceps, the Gerards, the Kapoks, and the solitary Creek – the Gerards with their hands folded neatly on their laps, the Ceps and Kapoks pushing and slapping and shoving each other, and the Creek unwrapping a stick of gum. It was going to be all right. I would play to them. I wanted them to be proud of me. All of them, even Mr and Mrs Gerard. Even Pam and Paula. But especially Ella.
It was a triumph!
We had ten curtain calls and a standing ovation. I was dizzy from bowing so much.
Mrs Baggoli came on stage for the last curtain call, passing out a single rose to every member of the cast. When she was done she put an arm around me and one around Henry Higgins. “My stars!” she cried to the audience. She squeezed my shoulder.
Sam and Ella came backstage.
“You were wonderful!” screeched Ella. “Even my parents think so. My mom said she totally forgot it was you up there.”
Sam grinned. “Not bad,” he said. “That’s my first play, not counting the story of The First Christmas in kindergarten.”
Careless of the make-up I was smearing all over her face, I gave Ella a hug. “Thanks,” I whispered.
“We’ll wait for you outside,” said Ella. “Sam’s going to drive us to the party.”
“I’ve bet Ella that the Santinis’ butler won’t let me in,” said Sam.
I tossed my hair and flashed my teeth in a Carla Santini way. “All you have to do is say you’re with me,” I crowed. “I’m the star!”
“Lola Cep!” Mrs Baggoli clapped her hands. “Mrs Ludley wants to lock up. Get out of your costume!”
At least my success hadn’t spoiled Mrs Baggoli.
“I’m going,” I said. “I won’t be five minutes.”
The only other person in our changing room (the girls’ toilet) was Carla Santini. She was leaning over a sink, re-doing her face for off-stage life.
“Congratulations,” said Carla, her eyes on me in the mirror. “You’re a big hit.”
Such generosity demanded generosity in return. “Thanks,” I said, stepping up to the sink beside her. “We’re all a big hit.”
Carla tossed her lip gloss into her make-up bag and straightened up. For once, she wasn’t smiling. “I have to hand it to you, Lola,” she said. “There’s more to you than I thought.”
“To you, too,” I said with total sincerity. “Much more.”
Carla laughed. A rueful expression appeared on her face.
“What couldn’t we do if we worked together?” she mused. “You know, sometimes I almost think it’s a shame that you and I aren’t in the same club.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said to her reflection. “I couldn’t afford to belong to any club you were in.”
Carla laughed again. I guess she took it as a compliment.
Books by the same author
And Baby Makes Two
Tall, Thin and Blonde
The Boy of My Dreams
Ride On, Sister Vincent
Sophie Pitt-Turnbull Discovers America
My Perfect Life
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dyan Sheldon is the author of many books for young people, including the sequel to
Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen
–
My Perfect Life
– as well as
Tall, Thin and Blonde
;
The Boy of My Dreams
;
And Baby Makes Two
;
Planet Janet
;
Sophie Pitt-Turnbull Discovers America
and a number of stories for younger readers. She also writes books for adults. Of
Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen
– now a major film starring Lindsay Lohan and Adam Garcia – and
My Perfect Life
she says, “The character of Lola is loosely based on my best friend in high school, who, like Lola, made life in the suburbs far more exciting than it would otherwise have been.” American by birth, Dyan Sheldon lives in north London.
You can find out more about Dyan Sheldon and her books by visiting her website, at www.dyansheldon.co.uk
For Kathy, Patty and Mary
First published First published 1999 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
This edition published 2010
Text © 1999 Dyan Sheldon
Cover illustration © 2003 Phil Hankinson
The right of Dyan Sheldon to be identified as author
of this work has been asserted by her in accordance
with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced,
transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in
any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without
prior written permission from the publisher.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data:
a catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-4063-3045-8 (ePub)
ISBN 978-1-4063-3256-8 (e-PDF)
Table of Contents
THINGS GET BOTH BETTER AND EVEN WORSE
YOU CAN CHOOSE YOUR ENEMIES, BUT NOT YOUR RELATIVES
DESPERATE MEASURES FOR DESPERATE TIMES
ONE OF OUR LITTLE DETAILS DISAPPEARS
THE BEST LAID PLANS OF MICE AND MEN OFTEN GET MESSED UP
THE NIGHT CONTINUES AS IT BEGAN
ELLA, I, AND THE GREATEST POET SINCE SHAKESPEARE HIT THE MEAN STREETS OF MANHATTAN
THINGS TAKE A TURN FOR THE WORSE
OH, WHAT A TANGLED WEB I’D WOVEN