Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

All’s Well That Ends Well

“All right,” said Ella softly as we drove to Stu’s loft in my father’s car, “I’m prepared to forgive you.”

How generous, I thought. She hadn’t ruined Eliza’s ball gown. She didn’t have to face Mrs Baggoli. She didn’t have to face Karen Kapok. She didn’t even have to face Marilyn and Jim – there’d been no one at home when Officer Lentigo called and the answer machine hadn’t been on. She didn’t really have anything to forgive me for. I didn’t say anything, though. So far, things were working out better than even I could have hoped. I didn’t want to rock the boat.

Ella’s face was stern in the shimmering shadows. “But you have to promise you’ll never lie to me again,” said Ella. “You know what my mother always says: ‘You can trust a thief, but never a liar’.”

Personally, that seemed a bit hard to me. I mean, sure I’d elaborated on dull reality a little, but I never lied about anything important. I would never let Ella down. I would never betray her. I would never say I was her friend and then steal her boyfriend, the way some people would.

“I promise,” I said solemnly. “I’ll never lie again – not even about things that aren’t important. I’ve learned the error of my ways.”

“Thank God for that,” said Ella, but I made out more than relief in her expression. She was as happy as I was. We’d done it! We were going to arrive at the Sidartha party with Stu Wolff. Carla Santini was going to have a herd of cows!

In the front seat, Stu and my father were talking about my father’s picture books. Stu had recognized my father’s name. His niece was a big fan of my father’s rabbits.

I leaned back against the hairs that cover the back seat of my father’s car, and smiled. “Can you wait to see Carla’s face when we walk in?” I asked softly. “Or what?”

Ella grinned back. “No I can’t. If I wasn’t so wet and hungry and half crippled I wouldn’t believe it was going to happen.” She winked. “All’s well that ends well…” she said.

You wouldn’t have been able to tell it was the middle of the night from the scene in Stu’s duplex-loft. The party was in full swing. Even though he had enough room to house a jumbo jet, the place was packed.

Ella and I hung back in the doorway for a few seconds, our eyes trying to take it all in.

“Look over there!” Ella kept saying as she spotted another celebrity. “Look over there! Look over there!”

“Come on,” said Stu. “I’ll lend you guys something dry and have those dresses cleaned and at your dad’s by tomorrow afternoon.”

I pinched Ella hard. “Stu Wolff’s clothes!” I hissed. “We’re going to be wearing Stu Wolff’s clothes!”

“I’ll be over there,” said my father, pointing to the main bar. “I think I’d like a drink.”

As we followed Stu up a spiral staircase to his bedroom, my eyes scanned the crowd of famous faces for the infamous one of Carla Santini.

“I don’t see her,” I whispered to Ella. “Do you?”

Ella shook her head.

Stu left us with two very worn Sidartha T-shirts and two pairs of tracksuit bottoms, and went off to find my father. “Imagine meeting Calum Cep,” he said. “I can’t believe my luck!”

“He can’t believe his luck?” I softly shrieked when the door shut behind him. I buried my face in the T-shirt that had so often stunk from Stu Wolff’s sweat. “I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“Not yet,” said Ella. “Not till Carla Santini sees us.”

We descended the spiral staircase slowly, pausing every rung or two to survey the revellers in their designer clothes and glinting jewellery, our heads held high. What did we care that we looked freshly drowned and ready for a jog? We didn’t. We were the privileged ones. We were the ones who had brought Stu back. We were the ones tripping over his pants.

We were on the last few steps when we spotted Carla. She and Alma were demurely following Mr and Mrs Santini as they cut a path to the door through the throng.

“Carla!” I cried. “We’ve been looking for you.”

I saw her glance over. She didn’t turn her head or scream or anything, but she did glance over. Alma glanced over, too.

And then they disappeared behind a waiter with a tray full of food.

“Did you see her face?” Ella was as delighted as I was. “I’m glad I don’t have to ride home with her – she’s going to be in a really bad mood.”

I laughed out loud. “All’s well that ends well,” I said.

We all had a great time at the party, even Negus. Several people with small children recognized Negus as Buster, the hero of My Dog, Buster and Buster Runs Away, and they made a big fuss over him and stuffed him with canapés. My father and Stu discovered that they were both into climbing and talked till four in the morning about rock faces and ropes. In fact, my father enjoyed himself so much that by the time we got up on Sunday he’d more or less forgotten why we’d gone to the party in the first place. After he called my mother again, he took Ella and me to lunch, and after our dresses came back from Stu’s cleaners (good as new), he drove us home.

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.