Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

behaviour. “How could you think you’d get away with it?” she wondered aloud. “Nobody who isn’t an idiot believed you in the first place.”

“That’s right!” chimed in Tina. “I mean, you? The only way you’d get into a party like that is if you were one of the waitresses.”

I stood there, taking their abuse, staring at Carla in shocked disbelief. She had no intention of eating humble pie; it wasn’t on the Santini menu. She was going to lie through her teeth, and make it her word against mine.

“Don’t you pretend you didn’t see me!” I was calm, but strong. I stood up straight. “I know you did.” I sent a sneer in Tina’s direction. “And don’t you tell me the only way I’d get into a party like that is as a waitress. It just so happens that Ella and I got in with Stu Wolff. After we practically saved his life.”

Carla gestured to the photographs spread out on the table in front of her. “There’s the proof,” she purred. In case I was too thick to get what she meant she explained. “Those are my pictures from the concert and the party. Lola isn’t in one of them. But Stu is.” Her smile was Antarctica with lipstick. “Now how could you have been saving his life, Lola, when he never left the party all night?” She made a helpless gesture to her audience. “Why isn’t Lola in any of the pictures?” Her expression became sweetly sly. “It’s not like she’s camera shy, is it?”

Another round of laughter greeted this insightful witticism.

“Bride at the wedding … corpse at the funeral…” muttered Alma.

I wanted to turn the tables on her. I wanted to say that she had taken a photo, but she was pretending that she hadn’t. Only Ella was there. I’d promised her I wouldn’t lie any more, and I definitely wasn’t going to when she could hear me.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” I said instead. “Ella and I were at that party. My dad and Stu are even going climbing together – sometime.” When Stu got back from finding himself in India.

That, unfortunately, was the wrong thing to say.

Carla went off like a siren. “Your dad? But you don’t have a dad, Lola. Ella’s mother told my mother that your father died before you were born.” She turned her lethal smile on Ella. “Isn’t that true?” she asked.

It was obvious that our adventure really had changed Ella. She recovered more quickly from this sudden attack than I did.

“If you say so, it must be true,” said Ella sarcastically but without strictly lying. “All I know is that Lola’s father is very much alive and living on the Lower East Side.”

The homeroom bell sounded.

Carla smiled. “Of course he is. He and Stu Wolff are probably climbing up some mountain in Manhattan even as we speak.” She gave Ella another killer dose of smile. “Didn’t I say you should come with me?”

Monday went downhill from there.

History, Spanish and science weren’t total hell because, though everyone darted knowing glances at me and Ella, and muttered amongst themselves, Carla wasn’t in those classes with us, egging everyone else on. But in maths, Ms Pollard sent Sam to the principal for threatening to deck Morgan Liepe because he called Ella and me liars. And in English, where we had a supply teacher because Mrs Baggoli was taking one of her classes on a field trip and we were supposed to be writing an in-class essay, Carla passed her photographs around so everyone could see the first-hand proof that Ella and I hadn’t been at the party. Hearing the hissed wisecracks and sniggers, the supply teacher periodically raised her head from the book she was reading, but as soon as she went back to it, the wisecracks and sniggers would start again.

After school, Ella went home looking down, and Sam and I got the dress out of his car and snuck it back into the drama room cupboard. At least some things were going according to plan.

“Maybe Carla really didn’t see you,” said Sam as we climbed into the Karmann Ghia. “I mean, it is possible. The party was really crowded, right? And it was late.”

I snorted with derision. “Oh, please… She saw us all right.” I opened the passenger door again and freed my cape. “You should have seen her face. She looked like she’d just swallowed her tongue.”

We pulled out of the parking lot.

“You should have taken your own camera with you,” said Sam. He shook his head. “I mean, if you think about it, it always was a ‘heads Carla wins; tails you and Ella lose’ proposition. Even if she’d taken a photo of all of you together, she would never have admitted it.”

“Thanks for thinking of that now,” I said. I hadn’t even thought about bringing a camera with us because I knew Carla would have one. The last thing I’d needed to do was lose or break my mother’s Pentax on top of all my other crimes. “And anyway,” I went on more pleasantly, “I do have proof. I have Stu’s T-shirt.”

Sam gave me a look. It was not an encouraging one.

“Have you been paying any attention to what’s happening?” he asked. He sounded as though he was worried about my sanity. “So what if you have Stu Wolff’s T-shirt, Lola? How are you planning to prove he gave it to you, or even that it’s his?”

I opened my mouth to answer. “Well … I … uh…” I closed it again. Sam was right, of course. It was like agreeing to fight a duel with pistols and discovering that your opponent had a nuclear bomb. I mean, it wasn’t exactly what you’d call playing by the rules. But then, as even Carla had tried to explain to me, Carla has her own rules, and everyone else has to play by them.

“People will believe me,” I said firmly. I wasn’t going to let Carla Santini shake my faith in all mankind. “Why would I lie about something like that?”

He winked. “Why would any of us lie, Lola?” asked Sam.

The Big Freeze had settled over Deadwood High once again. I had no opportunity to explain to anyone where my new T-shirt had come from, because no one was specifically talking to me. Or to Ella.

“Gee,” said Ella as we walked to the auditorium together after English through a sea of indifference, “seems like old times, doesn’t it?”

“I’m really starting to get tired of this,” I answered angrily. It’s one thing being humiliated when you know you’re slightly in the wrong; but it’s something else when you know you’re totally in the right. The injustice of it all was galling! “If she doesn’t back down, I may seriously have to consider killing her.”

“You’d get caught,” said Ella. “And either she wouldn’t die, or she’d just come back as someone worse.”

Enveloped in gloom, Ella came to a stop at her bike.

“All is not lost,” I informed her. “I may be down, but I’m not beaten.”

“Really?” Ella eyed me curiously. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m going to do what I promised.” I grinned. “I’m going to tell the truth.”

The mood at that afternoon’s rehearsal was nervous. Nervous and tense. I exchanged polite greetings with everyone except Carla, but that was as far as conversation went. You could tell the others were all waiting to see what would happen between Princess Santini and me.

I gave away nothing until we were ready to start.

“All right!” boomed Mrs Baggoli. “Places, everyone!”

“Mrs Baggoli?” I stepped to the edge of the stage. “Mrs Baggoli,” I said loudly and clearly. “There’s something I have to say before we begin.”

The expression on Mrs Baggoli’s face was like a sigh. Opening night was only three days away. She didn’t want any interruptions.

“Now what?” asked Mrs Baggoli.

I held my head up, bathed by the spotlight. “Mrs Baggoli,” I said. “I have a confession to make.” My eyes met hers. “A confession and an apology.”

Someone made a gagging sound from behind me.

“A confession?” Mrs Baggoli smiled a little uneasily. “A confession about what?”

“I did a terrible thing, Mrs Baggoli.” I spoke slowly, with dignity, dragging the attention of everyone to me.

“Lola…” Mrs Baggoli laughed a little. “What on earth have you done?”

I took a deep breath, the moral torment I’d been enduring showing in my face. “I borrowed Eliza’s dress,” I