Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen - Dyan Sheldon [26]
“So what happened?” I asked. “Did Carla turn Kali into a frog?”
Ella gave me a “don’t-start” look.
“The Simpsons moved, that’s what happened.” Ella stared into my eyes. “Kali couldn’t take it.”
I raised my chin. “Well, I can.”
“That’s what you think,” said Ella. “But Carla’s only been playing with you so far. She didn’t really think you were a threat before. But now – if she wants to, Lola, she can really make your life hell.”
“I’m not afraid of Carla Santini,” I said, chin still in its give-me-your-best-shot position. I believe it’s important in life not to be afraid of anyone or anything, not even a bad review. “She’s a teenage girl, for heaven’s sake, Ella, not Lady Macbeth. There’s no way I’m going to let Carla Santini keep me away from the Sidartha concert.”
“Have you listened to one word I’ve said?” asked Ella. She shook her head in a kind of dumbfounded way. “You know,” she sighed, “sometimes I can’t tell whether you’re just stubborn or if you’re stupid, too.”
LADY MACBETH AT DEADWOOD HIGH
A few brave souls quietly congratulated me on my triumph over Carla Santini with a smile or a nod of the head or a quick “good one, Lola”, but Sam Creek was the only one who made a public statement about the casting.
Sam had been out all week, but on Friday he gave me the thumbs up when I walked into maths.
“The Queen’s been severely wounded,” Sam shouted gleefully. “May she die of serious complications.”
A couple of the other kids glanced our way, but no one laughed or winked or anything like that. I could feel Carla watching us from the back of the room. She was always watching me now, even when she was talking to someone else. But she never gave any sign that she actually saw me.
My counter offensive was to pretend that it was Carla and her friends who didn’t exist. I flapped my cape and laughed.
“We can only hope for the best,” I said loudly as I took my seat. My smile was sour. “I’m afraid, however, that the prognosis doesn’t look too good.”
Sam hooted. He may not have any friends, and he might have missed the first few days of my and Ella’s punishment, but he isn’t stupid. He’d noticed the way the room went quiet when I stepped through the door, and he’d noticed the way none of the others greeted me.
“That’s a shame,” said Sam. He kind of jerked his head in the Santini direction. “You may have to hire a food taster if this keeps up.”
Among the BTWs and BTRs, however, no one said a word.
And when I say they didn’t say a word, I mean not a word.
It took a few days, but by Friday, when the whole school knew that I was playing Eliza Doolittle and Carla Santini was playing Mrs Higgins, even kids who had never heard of Pygmalion were treating me and Ella as if we were the Invisible Girls. Silent and unsmiling, the friends, friends of friends, and would-be friends of Carla Santini passed us in the hallways, sat next to us in classes, and stood near us on the lunch line as though we had ceased to exist. And all with no outward sign of hostility or show of temper from Carla herself. There were no snide comments or black looks; no nasty whispers or back-stabbing attacks. She shimmered around campus like a butterfly, smiling and laughing and tossing her head as though she didn’t have an enemy in the world. But she could pass within inches of me or Ella as though we were air. She could say something to the entire class, and everyone would know somehow that Ella and I weren’t included because we weren’t really there. I got to the point where I could almost empathize with Carla. No wonder she’s the way she is, I’d think as I walked ghostlike through the corridors. She must be frustrated and bored out of her mind. That was when I began to realize that Carla Santini is as wasted in Deadwood as I am – and more or less for the same reason. My spirit and talents are too large for the narrow confines of a suburban world, and so are Carla’s.
“You almost have to admire her, don’t you?” I said to Ella as we walked down the hallway together like prisoners of war being marched through the streets. “Think