Party Princess (13 page)

And up close, it turns out J.P. has surprisingly bright blue eyes.

I got to see them—J.P.’s eyes—up close because Grandmère made us do the scene where Rosagunde has just strangled Alboin and is freaking out about it, when Gustav comes bursting into the bedroom to rescue his lady love from a ravishing by her new husband, not realizing she’d:

 

a) already drunk the guy under the table so he couldn’t get it up to ravish her in the first place, and

b) killed him after he passed out from all the Genovian grappa he’d consumed.

 

But, oh well. Better late than never.

I have no idea why Grandmère made me go through that farce of an audition since it’s clear she’s going to cast J.P.
as Gustav—just to appease his dad. Although, truthfully, J.P. was really good, both with the acting AND the singing (he did a totally hilarious rendition of “The Safety Dance” by Men Without Hats). And that she’ll cast Lilly as Rosagunde. I mean, Lilly was clearly the best out of all the girls (her version of Garbage’s “Bad Boyfriend” nearly brought the house down) and has the most experience with the whole performance thing, on account of her TV show, and all.

Plus she was really good at killing Alboin—which is only natural, since if there’s anyone at AEHS who I could see strangling someone with a braid, it’s Lilly. Oh, and maybe Amber Cheeseman.

But the whole time it was my turn to audition, Grandmère kept yelling, “Enunciate, Amelia!” and “Don’t turn your back to your audience, Amelia! Your behind is not as expressive as your face!” (Which caused no small amount of chortling from the side of the room my friends were sitting on.)

And she didn’t seem at ALL impressed by my version of “Barbie Girl” by Aqua (especially the chorus, “C’mon Barbie/Let’s go party,” which, if you think about it, is highly ironic considering my inability to do so. Party, I mean).

Really, what was THAT about? I mean, it’s not as if she’s going to cast me, so why all the yelling? I mean, what do I even know about acting? Apart from a brief stint as the mouse in
The Lion and the Mouse
in the fourth grade, I am not exactly what you’d call experienced in the dramatic arts.

It was a total relief when Grandmère finally let me sit down.

Then, on our way back to our seats, J.P. said, “Hey, that was fun, huh?” to me.

AND I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING BACK!!!!!!!!!!!

BECAUSE I WAS SO STUNNED!!!!!!!

Because to me, J.P. is the Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili. He’s not John Paul Reynolds-Abernathy the Fourth. The Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili doesn’t have a NAME. He’s just… the Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili. The guy I wrote a short story about. A short story that was rejected by
Sixteen
magazine. A short story I hope to expand into a novel someday.

A short story at the end of which the Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili throws himself under the F train.

How can I
talk
to a guy I had throw himself under a train—even if it WAS only fiction?

Worse, on her way out after the auditions were over, Tina (Jessica Simpson’s “With You”) was all, “Hey, you know what? The Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili is kinda cute. I mean, when he’s not freaking out about corn.”

“Yeah,” Lilly agreed. “Now that you mention it, he kinda is.”

I waited for Lilly to add something like, “Too bad he’s such a freak,” or “It’s a shame about the corn thing.” But she didn’t. SHE DIDN’T.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My friends think the Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili is cute!!!! A guy I KILLED in my short story!

And it’s all Grandmère’s fault. If she hadn’t got it into
her head to buy a stupid faux island, it would never have occurred to her to write a musical—let alone put it on—for my school, and I never would have met the Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili, much less found out that his nickname is J.P. and that, contrary to the character in my short story about him, he is NOT an existential loner, but actually just a nice guy who has a pretty good singing voice, and who my friends think is cute (and they’re right, he is).

God, I hate her.

Well, okay, it’s wrong to hate people.

But I don’t love her, let’s put it that way. In fact, on the list of people I love, Grandmère isn’t even in the top five.

PEOPLE I LOVE, IN ORDER OF
HOW MUCH I LOVE THEM:

 

1. Fat Louie

2. Rocky

3. Michael

4. My mom

5. My dad

6. Lars

7. Lilly

8. Tina

9. Shameeka/Ling Su/Perin

10. Mr. G

11. Pavlov, Michael’s dog

12. The Drs. Moscovitz

13. Tina Hakim Baba’s little brother and sisters

14. Mrs. Holland, my government teacher last semester

15. Buffy the Vampire Slayer

16. Ronnie, our next-door neighbor

17. Boris Pelkowski

18. Principal Gupta

19. Rommel, Grandmère’s dog

20. Kevin Bacon

21,000. Ms. Martinez

22,000. The doorman at the Plaza who wouldn’t let me in that one time because I wasn’t dressed fancy enough

23,000. Trisha Hayes

24,000,000. Lana Weinberger

25,000,000,000. Grandmère

 

And I don’t even feel the least bit bad about it. She brought it on HERSELF.

Thursday, March 4, the loft

Guess what Mr. G made for dinner tonight?

Oh yes. Chili.

There wasn’t corn in it, but still.

Maybe I should throw MYSELF under an F train.

Thursday, March 4, the loft

I knew I’d be inundated with e-mails the minute I turned my computer on. And I was right.

From Lilly:

W
OMYN
R
ULE
: Does your grandmother realize that the subject matter of her little play is practically rated PG-13? I mean, it contains attempted rape, excessive alcohol consumption, murder, violence—about the only thing it DOESN’T have in it is bad language, and that’s only because it takes place in the year 568. And could you believe how off-key Amber Cheeseman was? I totally blew her out of the water. If I don’t get the part of Rosagunde, it will be a travesty of justice. I was MADE to play this role.

From Tina:

I
LUVROMANCE
: That was fun today! I really hope I get the part of Rosagunde. I know I won’t, because Lilly was so good at the audition, the part will totally go to her. But it would be sooo cool to play a princess. I mean, not for you, since you play a princess in real life and everything. But for someone like me, I mean. I know Lilly will get it. Still, I hope I don’t get the part of Alboin’s mistress. I wouldn’t want to play a mistress. Also, I don’t think my dad would let me.

From Ling Su:

P
AINTURGURL
: Okay, clearly Lilly is going to get the part of Rosagunde, but if I get stuck with the part of the mistress,
I am going to scream! Asian actresses are always being relegated to roles where they are forced to play sexual subservients. Or, worse, just plain subservients… like Rosagunde’s maid. I refuse to be typecast! I hope she didn’t think my performance of Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” was too strident. Also, is your grandma going to need help with the sets? Because I paint totally good castles and stuff.

From Perin:

I
NDIGO
G
RL
F
AN
: Wasn’t that fun today? I know I wasn’t very good. I was just so surprised, you know? I mean, that your grandmother had me read for the part of Gustav instead of Rosagunde. Especially after I sang T.A.T.U.’s “They’re Not Gonna Get Us.” But it must have been because there were so many more girls than boys auditioning. You don’t think she thinks I’m a boy, do you???

From Boris:

J
OSH
B
ELL
2: Mia, do you think your grandmother would be willing to add a scene to her play where Gustav takes out a violin and serenades Rosagunde? Because I really think that would add some emotional depth to the production, should I be the person cast to play Gustav. Plus, it would add historical accuracy, since the rebec, the violin’s predecessor, dates from 5000
BC
. I know Maroon 5’s “She Will Be Loved” wasn’t the most inspired choice for my audition song, but Tina said she didn’t think your grandmother would like the only other song I’d prepared, Eminem’s “Cleaning Out My Closet.”

From Kenny:

E=MC2: Mia, I’m troubled by the suggestion your grandmother made as I was sitting back down after my audition piece that whoever plays the part of Gustav the smith ought at least to be capable of growing facial hair. It almost sounded as if she were inferring that I myself am not capable of this, when the truth is that I DO have facial hair, it is just very fair. I hope your grandmother is not going to be prejudiced against blonds in her casting of the male roles.

From Shameeka:

B
EYONCE
_I
S
_M
E
: All anybody can talk about are those auditions today! Sounds like Lilly is going to get the lead (what else is new?). Wish I could have been there. Is it true the Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili was there????

Seriously. It’s like they’ve forgotten we have other things to worry about besides who is going to be cast as Gustav and Rosagunde.

Like, for instance, the fact that we are still broke.

I guess it doesn’t really matter so much to them, since they are not the ones in charge.

One thing I will say for Grandmère’s choice of plays: She could not have chosen a piece that more fully illustrates the problems of the royal, in that, ultimately, you are all alone when it comes to making decisions of state. As it did for Rosagunde in that bedroom fifteen hundred years ago, the buck, for me, stops here.

This is all too much for one lone teen to bear. I need
someone to help me, someone to tell me what the right thing is to do. Should I just come clean with Amber, confess my sin, and get my whupping over with?

Or is there still a chance I can get the money before she finds out?

It’s times like these when I realize how woefully inadequate my familial support network really is. I mean, I can’t turn to my mother for advice in this matter. She is the person who was responsible for our cable going out once a month because she forgot to pay the bill—at least before Mr. G moved in.

And I can’t turn to my dad. If he finds out how badly I’ve screwed up my STUDENT government budget, he’s not going to be exactly jazzed about turning me loose on our COUNTRY’s budget. The last thing I need right now is a series of lectures from Dad on cost-effective municipal planning.

I already told Grandmère, and you can see the good THAT did. Who else is there for me to turn to, except Michael, of course?

And we all know how helpful HE was in the matter.

Speaking of Michael, the only e-mail I got that was unrelated to today’s
Braid!
audition was the one I got from him. And that’s just because he doesn’t even go to AEHS anymore, and didn’t know anything about what was going on:

S
KINNER
B
X
: Hey, Thermopolis! How’s it going? I was wondering if you wanted to come over tomorrow night for a sci-fi film fest. I have to screen a bunch of them for my History of Dystopic Science Fiction in Film elective, and
since I’m having the party Saturday night, I figured I should watch them while I had the chance. Want to join me?

It would have been inappropriate, of course, for me to say what I WANTED to say, which was: Michael, you are my lifeblood, my reason for living, the only thing that keeps me sane in the tempest-tossed sea of life, and I would like nothing better than to screen a bunch of dystopic sci-fi flicks with you tomorrow night.

Because it’s lame to say that kind of stuff in an e-mail.

But I still thought it, in my head.

F
T
L
OUIE
: I’d love to.

S
KINNER
B
X
: Excellent. We can order in from Number One Noodle Son.

F
T
L
OUIE
: And I can make some dip.

S
KINNER
B
X
: Dip? What for?

F
T
L
OUIE
: For the party! Don’t people serve dip at parties?

S
KINNER
B
X
: Oh. Yeah. But I just figured I’d buy some Saturday afternoon, or whatever.

I could see that my effort to appear enthusiastic about Michael’s party had fallen completely flat. But I persevered nonetheless, because I couldn’t let him know, you know, how NOT excited I was about it.