Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen - Dyan Sheldon [71]
My mother, however, had not been at the party, and had not had a good time. My mother said that if I ever pulled a stunt like that again, she’d have me lobotomized. She’d do it herself.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was when your father called?” she screamed. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you, traipsing around Manhattan in the middle of the night? How could you lie to me like that?”
“I was desperate,” I sobbed. “You didn’t understand how important it was to me.”
“And you don’t seem to understand how important keeping you alive is to me,” said my mother.
My punishment was six months’ hard labour, with no chance of parole.
“I don’t care what plans you’ve already made,” raged my mother. “If I need you to baby-sit, that’s what you do. Six months,” she repeated. “You’ll be free for your birthday.” She gave me a motherly smile. “Make sure you live to enjoy it.”
I promised I would. I could afford to be contrite – and generous – I was getting off lightly, and I knew it. My mother knew nothing about the dress, which I’d smuggled into the house in my bag, and that meant that Mrs Baggoli wasn’t going to know about it, either. There was no way she’d be able to tell by looking at it now that it had spent Saturday in New York. I didn’t get off as lightly as Ella, though. Her parents were out when she got home, and the only thing they asked about Saturday was “Have a nice time at Lola’s?” My mother agreed not to tell the Gerards what had happened.
“There’s no point upsetting them now,” said my mother. “Besides, I know Ella had nothing to do with this. She just let herself be persuaded by you. I don’t think that deserves the wrath of the Gerards.” It was the first time I realized that Karen Kapok probably liked Ella’s parents a lot less than they liked her.
Once my mother had calmed down, I spent the rest of Sunday in a state of euphoria. I couldn’t join in the family conversation. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t even face my homework. I just lay on my bed, listening to Sidartha on my stereo and planning my entrance at school the following morning. I wanted every detail straight in my head, so I could stand back and enjoy my total triumph.
SNATCHING DEFEAT FROM THE JAWS OF VICTORY
Sam Creek arrived in his Karmann Ghia to collect me and the dress on Monday morning.
“So?” said Sam as I squashed myself into the front seat. “How’d it go? Did you manage to get in?”
“You won’t believe what happened!” I said, too excited to pretend to be cool. “You just won’t believe it!”
I told him what happened.
“And you should have seen my dad,” I concluded. “Lots of Stu’s friends knew his books. It was really weird.”
Sam took his hands from the wheel for a second. “Hallelujah!” he shouted. “This is the day I’ve been waiting for since kindergarten, when Carla Santini used to talk me out of my dessert every lunch. I cannot wait to see her face.”
He didn’t have long to wait.
Ella was waiting for us in the courtyard, right outside the student lounge. In my old school, the teachers were lucky to have a faculty room, but in Deadwood even the kids have their own room. The student lounge has three walls of glass, a bunch of chairs and low tables, and a drinks machine. Ella jerked her head behind her as we approached.
“Carla’s already started boring everybody to death with every microscopic detail of the concert and the party,” said Ella. She looked a lot different than she had just two days before. Partly this was because she had her hair down, but it was more than that. She looked brighter, happier, sort of more vivid.
Sam and I looked through the wall of windows. Carla Santini was holding court from the centre chair, flanked by Alma, Tina and Marcia, and surrounded