Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen by Dyan Sheldon Read Free Book Online Page A

them more immediate and relevant…”
    “It’s hard to relate to characters you can’t really understand,” agreed Alma. She giggled. “And those clothes…”
    Tina Cherry, Carla’s second-best friend, tittered. “And a flower girl! I mean, really, what’s that supposed to be? I mean, she doesn’t even work in a florist’s, does she?”
    Carla squealed with triumph. “That’s exactly what I told her. And I pointed out all the successful, meaningful modernizations that have been done in the last twenty years. You know, like Romeo and Juliet .”
    “Good for you,” said Marcia Conroy, the third disciple. “It’s about time Mrs Baggoli woke up and smelled the coffee.”
    The true significance of what Carla was saying was, of course, not lost on me. I was dumbfounded, truly dumbfounded. Carla Santini, knowing she didn’t stand a chance against me when it came to playing an Eliza Doolittle who sold flowers on the streets of London, had decided to change the script. She’s incredible, she really is. You almost have to respect her. You certainly have to make sure you never turn your back on her.
    “So what’d she say?” asked Tina.
    Carla became touchingly coy. I was facing away from her, but I had no trouble seeing the way she smiled and cocked her head to one side so she’d look shy but mischievous. It’s one of her favourite poses. She was undoubtedly tossing her curls. It was enough to make you vomit.
    “Well, you’re not going to believe this, but I told her my idea about changing the location to New York today, and making Eliza a check-out girl in a supermarket…”
    “Uh-huh…” chimed in Alma. “It’s a great idea.” Alma thinks everything Carla Santini says and does is great. She probably gives Carla a standing ovation when she goes to the bathroom.
    “So what’d she say?” pressed Tina, whining slightly with impatience.
    “Yeah,” said Marcia, “tell us what she said.”
    “Well…” Carla paused dramatically. The suspense was really killing. “Mrs Baggoli said she thought it was a really excellent idea.” The table behind us erupted in girlish squeals of delight. “She said she’d been thinking it was time to do something a little different,” Carla went on, nobly controlling her own excitement, but not quite keeping the smug triumph out of her voice, “and she thought my idea was just the thing.”
    “That’s incredible!” gushed Alma. “That’s truly incredible!”
    Tina and Marcia, like myself, were at a loss for words. All they managed were a few awestruck “Gee”s.
    Carla’s laughter rumbled around us. “Didn’t I tell you you wouldn’t believe it?”
    Carla was right, I didn’t believe it. The major problem with Carla Santini – aside from her character, her personality, and her annoying personal habits – is that she was born and raised in Deadwood. As were all her friends. She established her image and territory in kindergarten. She can make anybody believe anything. Even teachers are fooled by Carla. Even Ella had been fooled. But Mrs Baggoli? Mrs Baggoli has done repertory all over the country; she once directed an off-Broadway play; she even had some small parts in a couple of movies and she’s travelled just about all over the world. I couldn’t believe that someone of Mrs Baggoli’s sophistication and worldliness could possibly be fooled by Carla.
    “Carla Santini strikes again!” crowed Alma.
    Out of the mouths of yes-girls…
    “I really have to hand it to you, Carla,” said Marcia admiringly. “You always go after what you want, don’t you?”
    “And she always gets it,” I whispered to Ella.
    Carla laughed with what passed in her for good nature. It sounded like a knife going through live tissue.
    “My parents didn’t raise any losers,” said Carla.
    Ella gave me a look. I could tell from the way her mouth was turned down that Ella thought that my parents had.

THE SHOW MUST GO ON
    Perhaps it was that look of futility and