Read Online My Invented Life by Lauren Bjorkman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lauren Bjorkman
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audacitytakes my voice away, but then the perfect counterattack comes to me in a flash. Sometimes I amaze myself with my own brilliance.
“Carmen, could you please put on a coat,” I say. “The problem is . . . you’re so sexy I can’t concentrate.”
Carmen flushes a shade of red so bright that even the whites of her eyes turn pink.
“Roz!” Sapphire says. Stainless-steel sushi knives come to mind. “One more outburst like that and you’re history.”
My chest aches from the unfairness of it all. Sapphire is turning a blind eye to what’s really going on. Can’t she see how Eva and Carmen—who aren’t even speaking to each other—have teamed up to wreck my performance? Still, I know that neither whining nor witty comebacks will get me anywhere. I take the script she offers me.
The scene runs smoothly after that. By the time Bryan comes to the palace for his wrestling match with Charles, I’m in the zone and can enjoy the part where we fall in love at first sight. I summon him from across the arena. He strides beneath my balcony—just a chair for now—to speak with me.
Me/Rosalind:
Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?
Bryan/Orlando:
No, fair dykeness. He is the general challenger . . . .
When I open my mouth, nothing comes out.
Et tu, Bryan?
Sapphire whacks Bryan over the head with her notebook. “Enough!” she says. “What did you all have for lunch? Mexican jumping beans smothered in hormonesauce? Tomorrow the serious work begins. You’re dismissed.”
As the geeks disperse, I chase after Eyeliner Andie because she’s the only one I want to talk to. Normally I avoid waif types that make me feel like a giantess. Fee fie foe, no fun. But there’s a difference between her and the others. For one, she lacks that Morning Talk Show Host perkiness I detest. She has this otherworldly quality, like her body is just incidental to her life.
“What did you think of your first rehearsal?” I ask when I catch up with her.
“Interesting.” She stops walking and lowers her voice. “Do you want to know who did the boxer shorts?”
“I know already,” I say. “Eva.”
She nods and shakes her head in an ambiguous Mona Lisa way.
“Then who?”
“You already know,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic. “Does your girlfriend ever come to Yolo?”
“Rarely,” I say.
“What’s her name?” Her voice has been getting warmer as we talk, approaching tepid.
“Candy,” I say without thinking, and then scramble to make my lie more convincing. “Well, that’s just her chat name. Actually her name is Carmella. We met on the Web.” For one crazy second, I think Andie might ask to meet her. “We kind of broke up,” I say. “Long-distance love, you know.”
“I know,” she says. “See you around.”
Chapter
9
O utside the theater
, the drizzle brings out the smell of old leaves, eau de decaying maple. I don my cheap plastic rain poncho. Eyeliner Andie has disappeared. She’s a spirit girl who can vanish at will. Weirder yet, Nico pops out of nowhere like a gopher from a hole.
“Where’s Andie?” I ask because Spirit Girl and Gopher Boy appear to be an item.
He shrugs. “You were great in there,” he says. He kicks a rock out of a puddle. “Andie says . . . Andie thought . . . Well, Andie has this idea that . . . ”
I grow impatient. “What?”
He studies the water beading on his boot. “Nothing.”
Life would be much easier if people’s real agendas scrolled across their foreheads as they talked. Of course, in that case I’d be screwed.
“Okay, bye,” I say. I leave him there, maneuvering my scooter around the puddles. The drizzle turns to rain. When I look back at him, he hasn’t moved at all, not even to put up the hood of his jacket. I wonder what he wanted to tell me.
At home, a dozen vegetarian cookbooks from the UCDavis library are stacked on the kitchen table. It’s sweet that Mom thought of me, but I’m a tad ambivalent
“Carmen, could you please put on a coat,” I say. “The problem is . . . you’re so sexy I can’t concentrate.”
Carmen flushes a shade of red so bright that even the whites of her eyes turn pink.
“Roz!” Sapphire says. Stainless-steel sushi knives come to mind. “One more outburst like that and you’re history.”
My chest aches from the unfairness of it all. Sapphire is turning a blind eye to what’s really going on. Can’t she see how Eva and Carmen—who aren’t even speaking to each other—have teamed up to wreck my performance? Still, I know that neither whining nor witty comebacks will get me anywhere. I take the script she offers me.
The scene runs smoothly after that. By the time Bryan comes to the palace for his wrestling match with Charles, I’m in the zone and can enjoy the part where we fall in love at first sight. I summon him from across the arena. He strides beneath my balcony—just a chair for now—to speak with me.
Me/Rosalind:
Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?
Bryan/Orlando:
No, fair dykeness. He is the general challenger . . . .
When I open my mouth, nothing comes out.
Et tu, Bryan?
Sapphire whacks Bryan over the head with her notebook. “Enough!” she says. “What did you all have for lunch? Mexican jumping beans smothered in hormonesauce? Tomorrow the serious work begins. You’re dismissed.”
As the geeks disperse, I chase after Eyeliner Andie because she’s the only one I want to talk to. Normally I avoid waif types that make me feel like a giantess. Fee fie foe, no fun. But there’s a difference between her and the others. For one, she lacks that Morning Talk Show Host perkiness I detest. She has this otherworldly quality, like her body is just incidental to her life.
“What did you think of your first rehearsal?” I ask when I catch up with her.
“Interesting.” She stops walking and lowers her voice. “Do you want to know who did the boxer shorts?”
“I know already,” I say. “Eva.”
She nods and shakes her head in an ambiguous Mona Lisa way.
“Then who?”
“You already know,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic. “Does your girlfriend ever come to Yolo?”
“Rarely,” I say.
“What’s her name?” Her voice has been getting warmer as we talk, approaching tepid.
“Candy,” I say without thinking, and then scramble to make my lie more convincing. “Well, that’s just her chat name. Actually her name is Carmella. We met on the Web.” For one crazy second, I think Andie might ask to meet her. “We kind of broke up,” I say. “Long-distance love, you know.”
“I know,” she says. “See you around.”
Chapter
9
O utside the theater
, the drizzle brings out the smell of old leaves, eau de decaying maple. I don my cheap plastic rain poncho. Eyeliner Andie has disappeared. She’s a spirit girl who can vanish at will. Weirder yet, Nico pops out of nowhere like a gopher from a hole.
“Where’s Andie?” I ask because Spirit Girl and Gopher Boy appear to be an item.
He shrugs. “You were great in there,” he says. He kicks a rock out of a puddle. “Andie says . . . Andie thought . . . Well, Andie has this idea that . . . ”
I grow impatient. “What?”
He studies the water beading on his boot. “Nothing.”
Life would be much easier if people’s real agendas scrolled across their foreheads as they talked. Of course, in that case I’d be screwed.
“Okay, bye,” I say. I leave him there, maneuvering my scooter around the puddles. The drizzle turns to rain. When I look back at him, he hasn’t moved at all, not even to put up the hood of his jacket. I wonder what he wanted to tell me.
At home, a dozen vegetarian cookbooks from the UCDavis library are stacked on the kitchen table. It’s sweet that Mom thought of me, but I’m a tad ambivalent
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