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

always thought of her as a symbol of feminism.”
    Ella glanced at me as she began to remove a series of pastel plastic containers from her lunch bag. Mrs Gerard’s cooking class had moved on to salads.
    “Even though she’s not the female lead, it’s a part with depth and true contemporary resonance.”
    I was happy I hadn’t started eating yet; I might have been sick.
    Carla sighed. It was a sigh full of sadness and regret.
    “To be totally honest,” said Carla, “I think Mrs Baggoli made the right decision.”
    There were a few gasped protests and a couple of sympathetic snorts.
    “Really,” insisted Carla. “I mean, what is Eliza when you get down to it? She’s a loser, isn’t she? She’s illiterate, she’s ignorant, she’s in a dead-end job with no future or opportunities…” She sighed again. Poor Eliza. “She’ll probably end up on drugs or as a prostitute – what else is there for her?”
    I could feel her shudder delicately but distastefully behind me. I felt a few Santini curls hit my head.
    “Now that I think about it, I really don’t think I could identify with someone like that,” said Carla. She laughed sharply. “It takes a thief to catch a thief, doesn’t it?”
    “Huh?” said Alma.
    A few more curls slapped against me. Carla was rolling her eyes.
    “You know ,” moaned Carla, “it takes a thief to know how a thief thinks…” You could almost hear her start to purr. “Just as it takes a low-life to know how a low-life feels.”
    Alma, Tina and Marcia all collapsed in hysterics.
    I could have turned around and said something. You know, something subtle but apt. Like, “Well then, it is amazing that you didn’t get the part, isn’t it?” But I didn’t. To answer would be to play right into Carla’s game. To ignore her and act as though I hadn’t heard what she said would drive her nuts.
    I raised my juice container over the table. “Let’s toast,” I said loudly to Ella. “After all, this is really a celebratory lunch, isn’t it?”
    Ella’s expression was about as celebratory as a death mask, but she nodded and held up her stainless-steel thermos.
    “To Pygmalion !” I cried gaily.
    “To Pygmalion ,” muttered Ella. And immediately afterwards and much louder she said, “So, what do you think of all the rumours?”
    Despite the shocking initial disinterest of everyone at Deadwood High School in the death of a legend, there were now more rumours about Sidartha going around than Carla Santini had teeth.
    The reason the band split up was because Bryan Jeffries, the drummer, was a drug addict.
    No, it was because Jon Waldaski, the bass player, was dying of AIDS.
    Because Steve Maya, the lead guitarist, was an alcoholic.
    Because Stu Wolff was an alcoholic and/or a drug addict.
    Because Stu Wolff wanted to change his image.
    Because Stu and Steve did nothing but fight because Stu stole Steve’s girlfriend.
    Because Stu and Steve did nothing but fight because Stu wouldn’t let Steve play his songs in the band.
    Because Bryan attacked Jon with a snare drum.
    Because Stu broke Bryan’s jaw.
    Because Jon was suing the others for not giving him credit for songs that were his.
    Blahblahblah…
    “I can’t believe Bryan’s into drugs,” I said. “Stu wouldn’t tolerate it. He has too much integrity.” It went without saying that despite the historical connection between genius and mind-altering substances, we had dismissed the accusations of drug addiction against Stu automatically. Not only did he have integrity, he was passionate about his music. There was no way he would risk it for some superficial thrill.
    Ella started arranging the plastic containers in an orderly line. She’s not related to Marilyn Gerard for nothing.
    “Maybe he didn’t know at first,” said Ella. “Maybe he only just found out.”
    I opened my beat-up Zorro lunch box. I bought it in a junk store on the Lower East Side. I’ve always loved Zorro. I guess it’s the cape.
    “He’s