dawn.
We were wearing pink gloss and oatmeal face masks. The pasty oats were moistened with warm water and mixed with Vaseline so they didn’t drop off in clumps into the pool. Wrapped up in bathrobes, heavy duty moisturiser smoothed over our elbows and heels (our ‘rough edges’ according to Sophia’s Beauty @ p.29 ), our feet dangled in the water making us seem like ladies of luxury.
‘I have a need for speed and a strange feeling I’m going to win this bet...’ Mouche said as she pulled her raisin feet out of the water.
I looked over at Mouche.
‘Don’t be so sure, Mouche, I’m totally going to give you a run for your money.’
Mouche flicked some water at me.
‘That’s it,’ I said, ‘you’re going under,’ and instead of feet sloshing around a pond the pair of us were engulfed in a tidal wave, our clothes soaked through.
‘Hey, you pushed me first, I just pulled you under!’ Mouche said.
We splashed about for a few minutes then stayed awake, texting plans, long after everyone thought we were sleeping.
The following day, Friday, was audition day.
As we filed into the auditorium and looked up at the proscenium arch, Miss Tartt and Mr Sparks waved to us then pointed in the direction of our seats.
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say we almost look like the Princesses,’ I mused aloud...
‘Except there are less of us and we have more taste.’ Mouche added. ‘I am so going to win this bet,’ she said, as if she’d solely invented the boy dating and rating competition in the first place.
So you’re going to win, huh? Not so quickly Mouche, I’d thought laughingly. The truth is we were both looking sharp; our clothes were new, our hair extra shiny and our lip gloss sparkled. Boys were noticing us, especially Mark and Jet. We’d made a big effort as prescribed in our dating guides ad nauseum.
‘ It is such a shame we had to entice them with teen glam,’ Mouche conceded.
‘It might be time to put away the old games of cards and tea leaves. We should rely on common sense and instinct,’ I said.
‘Of course,’ Mouche agreed.
The entire student body endured the welcome speech. Due to scheduling difficulties, it was delivered by our Principal a week later than usual.
Mr Sparks, our drama teacher, appeared slightly dazed by the length and monotony of the address and could be seen dozing off during the speech. If Mr Sparks had been talking to the entire student body, he’d at least have added a light show, ‘ and maybe some disco... ’ Freya sniggered in a sarcastic horse whisper.
Teegan, the Barbie, was the next person we bumped into that day and she said, ‘hi,’ in a newly mature way. We said ‘hi’ in return because it doesn’t pay to let the enemy know exactly how the land lies. Mouche and I still resented her and her friends for taunting us when we were children and invading our new school to boot. She almost tripped over her own shoes running down the hallway barking, ‘Mark! Ma-ark!’ as if she owned him already.
I hadn’t seen Teegan this anxious to get someone’s attention since she chased an assistant casting agent through our school car park to try to snare the lead in a teen angst afternoon special.
‘Now observe her undignified display,’ Mouche noted, ‘desperate to try to get Mark’s attention. Doesn’t she realize, ‘ if she has to work that hard in the beginning she’ll have to work like an Olympic athlete towards the end ?’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Oh, this great dating tome is called, ‘How to Treat ‘em Mean to Keep Them Keen...’
‘The only problem is ‘they’ have to be keen in the first place...’
‘So true.’
Mark seemed pretty busy ignoring Teegan as he walked on by but when she finally fell at his feet and her
We were wearing pink gloss and oatmeal face masks. The pasty oats were moistened with warm water and mixed with Vaseline so they didn’t drop off in clumps into the pool. Wrapped up in bathrobes, heavy duty moisturiser smoothed over our elbows and heels (our ‘rough edges’ according to Sophia’s Beauty @ p.29 ), our feet dangled in the water making us seem like ladies of luxury.
‘I have a need for speed and a strange feeling I’m going to win this bet...’ Mouche said as she pulled her raisin feet out of the water.
I looked over at Mouche.
‘Don’t be so sure, Mouche, I’m totally going to give you a run for your money.’
Mouche flicked some water at me.
‘That’s it,’ I said, ‘you’re going under,’ and instead of feet sloshing around a pond the pair of us were engulfed in a tidal wave, our clothes soaked through.
‘Hey, you pushed me first, I just pulled you under!’ Mouche said.
We splashed about for a few minutes then stayed awake, texting plans, long after everyone thought we were sleeping.
The following day, Friday, was audition day.
As we filed into the auditorium and looked up at the proscenium arch, Miss Tartt and Mr Sparks waved to us then pointed in the direction of our seats.
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say we almost look like the Princesses,’ I mused aloud...
‘Except there are less of us and we have more taste.’ Mouche added. ‘I am so going to win this bet,’ she said, as if she’d solely invented the boy dating and rating competition in the first place.
So you’re going to win, huh? Not so quickly Mouche, I’d thought laughingly. The truth is we were both looking sharp; our clothes were new, our hair extra shiny and our lip gloss sparkled. Boys were noticing us, especially Mark and Jet. We’d made a big effort as prescribed in our dating guides ad nauseum.
‘ It is such a shame we had to entice them with teen glam,’ Mouche conceded.
‘It might be time to put away the old games of cards and tea leaves. We should rely on common sense and instinct,’ I said.
‘Of course,’ Mouche agreed.
The entire student body endured the welcome speech. Due to scheduling difficulties, it was delivered by our Principal a week later than usual.
Mr Sparks, our drama teacher, appeared slightly dazed by the length and monotony of the address and could be seen dozing off during the speech. If Mr Sparks had been talking to the entire student body, he’d at least have added a light show, ‘ and maybe some disco... ’ Freya sniggered in a sarcastic horse whisper.
Teegan, the Barbie, was the next person we bumped into that day and she said, ‘hi,’ in a newly mature way. We said ‘hi’ in return because it doesn’t pay to let the enemy know exactly how the land lies. Mouche and I still resented her and her friends for taunting us when we were children and invading our new school to boot. She almost tripped over her own shoes running down the hallway barking, ‘Mark! Ma-ark!’ as if she owned him already.
I hadn’t seen Teegan this anxious to get someone’s attention since she chased an assistant casting agent through our school car park to try to snare the lead in a teen angst afternoon special.
‘Now observe her undignified display,’ Mouche noted, ‘desperate to try to get Mark’s attention. Doesn’t she realize, ‘ if she has to work that hard in the beginning she’ll have to work like an Olympic athlete towards the end ?’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Oh, this great dating tome is called, ‘How to Treat ‘em Mean to Keep Them Keen...’
‘The only problem is ‘they’ have to be keen in the first place...’
‘So true.’
Mark seemed pretty busy ignoring Teegan as he walked on by but when she finally fell at his feet and her
Similar Books
