section of the paper. He’s an architect and likes to see what kind of houses are selling every week. "It worked for Clark Kent."
My obligations to my family met, I went upstairs to my room to start my own homework. I turned on my computer and found a slew of e-mails, most of them from Trina. Even though she lives right next door, we still e-mail each other more than we talk on the phone . . . more than we talk in person, even. I don’t know why. Maybe because we don’t leave our houses all that much. There aren’t a whole lot of places to go in Clayton. Besides school, that is. And I’m always reading, and Trina’s always practicing for whatever role she’s going out for in drama.
In fact, you can usually hear her practicing in her room, because our houses are like a hundred feet away. Trina has what Mr. Hall calls a very strong diaphragm. It allows for a lot of vocal projection. She’s gotten the lead in just about every play that’s ever been put on in the Clayton school system, so I guess she’s got a good shot at a career. Her plan is to go to Yale Drama School, like her idol, Meryl Streep. Then she says she’s going to take Broadway by storm. Trina has no interest in film work. She says the interaction between an artist and the audience during a live performance is an opiate to which she’s become addicted.
Hey, where’d you disappear to during choir
? Trina wrote. Her online name is—no surprise—Dramaqueen.
La Hall about had a fit, you were gone so long
.
I have gotten pretty used to lying to Trina about the whole Ask Annie thing—she flat out accused me of being Annie once, when the
Register
printed a letter from a kid who claimed he couldn’t stay awake without drinking a six-pack of Diet Coke, and then had to swallow like four Sominex at night to go to sleep. My response, "So quit drinking so much soda," was apparently so "classically Jen"—at least according to Trina—that I nearly blew my cover.
So it wasn’t really any skin off my teeth to reply,
J E N N Y G: Oh, Cara had another cow. What’d I miss?
DRAMAQUEEN: That girl must be starved for attention at home. Why else does she try so hard to get it at school? Anyway, you fully missed it. La Hall showed us the dress we’re supposed to order to wear at Luers. Get ready: It’s red with a sequined lightning holt down the front.
This was appalling. I mean, considering it was going on my body.
J E N N Y G: You lie.
DRAMAQUEEN :
Au contraire, mon frère
. AND it contains not a single fiber naturally occurring in nature. AND it costs a hundred and eighty bucks.
J E N N Y G:
lierberat nos et lacerat fortuna!
DRAMAQUEEN: You’re not kidding. The guys have it easy. They just have to get red cummerbunds and bow ties to go with their tuxes. We’re having a car wash Saturday to raise fundage for those girls whom
fortuna
has forsaken. I signed you up for the twelve to two shift I figured at least we could work on our tans while we wash. Provided it doesn’t rain.
J E N N Y G: You know, you neglected to mention when I signed up for this class that it was going to begin eating away at my social calendar, bit by excruciating bit.
DRAMAQUEEN: Oh. like you have something better to do.
Sadly, this is true. I don’t have anything better to do. Still.
J E N N Y G: A HUNDRED AND EIGHTY BUCKS? For a dress I’m never going to wear again? That is RIDICULOUS.
D R A M A Q U E E N: That’s showbiz.
J E N N Y G: And I thought the padded bras were bad . . .
DRAMAQUEEN: Seriously. Hey, so guess what? Steve asked me to the Spring Fling.
Steve McKnight is Trina’s boy toy. He sings baritone in the Troubadours and played Henry II to Trina’s Eleanor of Aquitaine in the Drama Club’s version of
The Lion in Winter
Steve’s also been Beauregard to Trina’s Auntie Mame, Romeo to her Juliet, and so on. Trina isn’t in love with him—she is saving herself for Luke Striker—but since he’s taller than she is, and head over
My obligations to my family met, I went upstairs to my room to start my own homework. I turned on my computer and found a slew of e-mails, most of them from Trina. Even though she lives right next door, we still e-mail each other more than we talk on the phone . . . more than we talk in person, even. I don’t know why. Maybe because we don’t leave our houses all that much. There aren’t a whole lot of places to go in Clayton. Besides school, that is. And I’m always reading, and Trina’s always practicing for whatever role she’s going out for in drama.
In fact, you can usually hear her practicing in her room, because our houses are like a hundred feet away. Trina has what Mr. Hall calls a very strong diaphragm. It allows for a lot of vocal projection. She’s gotten the lead in just about every play that’s ever been put on in the Clayton school system, so I guess she’s got a good shot at a career. Her plan is to go to Yale Drama School, like her idol, Meryl Streep. Then she says she’s going to take Broadway by storm. Trina has no interest in film work. She says the interaction between an artist and the audience during a live performance is an opiate to which she’s become addicted.
Hey, where’d you disappear to during choir
? Trina wrote. Her online name is—no surprise—Dramaqueen.
La Hall about had a fit, you were gone so long
.
I have gotten pretty used to lying to Trina about the whole Ask Annie thing—she flat out accused me of being Annie once, when the
Register
printed a letter from a kid who claimed he couldn’t stay awake without drinking a six-pack of Diet Coke, and then had to swallow like four Sominex at night to go to sleep. My response, "So quit drinking so much soda," was apparently so "classically Jen"—at least according to Trina—that I nearly blew my cover.
So it wasn’t really any skin off my teeth to reply,
J E N N Y G: Oh, Cara had another cow. What’d I miss?
DRAMAQUEEN: That girl must be starved for attention at home. Why else does she try so hard to get it at school? Anyway, you fully missed it. La Hall showed us the dress we’re supposed to order to wear at Luers. Get ready: It’s red with a sequined lightning holt down the front.
This was appalling. I mean, considering it was going on my body.
J E N N Y G: You lie.
DRAMAQUEEN :
Au contraire, mon frère
. AND it contains not a single fiber naturally occurring in nature. AND it costs a hundred and eighty bucks.
J E N N Y G:
lierberat nos et lacerat fortuna!
DRAMAQUEEN: You’re not kidding. The guys have it easy. They just have to get red cummerbunds and bow ties to go with their tuxes. We’re having a car wash Saturday to raise fundage for those girls whom
fortuna
has forsaken. I signed you up for the twelve to two shift I figured at least we could work on our tans while we wash. Provided it doesn’t rain.
J E N N Y G: You know, you neglected to mention when I signed up for this class that it was going to begin eating away at my social calendar, bit by excruciating bit.
DRAMAQUEEN: Oh. like you have something better to do.
Sadly, this is true. I don’t have anything better to do. Still.
J E N N Y G: A HUNDRED AND EIGHTY BUCKS? For a dress I’m never going to wear again? That is RIDICULOUS.
D R A M A Q U E E N: That’s showbiz.
J E N N Y G: And I thought the padded bras were bad . . .
DRAMAQUEEN: Seriously. Hey, so guess what? Steve asked me to the Spring Fling.
Steve McKnight is Trina’s boy toy. He sings baritone in the Troubadours and played Henry II to Trina’s Eleanor of Aquitaine in the Drama Club’s version of
The Lion in Winter
Steve’s also been Beauregard to Trina’s Auntie Mame, Romeo to her Juliet, and so on. Trina isn’t in love with him—she is saving herself for Luke Striker—but since he’s taller than she is, and head over
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