What Mandy Busyman Did

A Note

Stacia (stay-sha) 

Notes seem to be a big part of stories. It's like opening another plot, like opening another door. Like making a new story, like the author decided to throw a note in there because there was no other way to explain why and how they wanted to change everything and primarily start over. If you never noticed that, you haven't been reading a lot of books. (Not that I'm judging.) 

Now, when you receive a note, for real, and it's not a joke, what would you do? What if this pathetic piece of paper could lead you to your fate, to your destiny? Or at least lead you to maybe a new place in town. What would you say? I had these thoughts whirring around, only in first person. I had the note in my hand, droplets of tears and confusion stained on my faded jeans. Though Mandy was never exactly a friend, she cared enough to send me this, and now I had to deal with it. She had sent it to me for no reason other than the fact she was bored being lost and wanted some more drama to take place. Mainly me tromping around the world trying to find her in some box where she could get out, jump around, claim she's "free" and make magazine headlines. You know, those stories that they show on the news. I hate the news. God, all they explain are stories of murder and kidnapping and dogs being abused by some frenzied person who couldn't get a handle on their life. 

Or humans being mauled and slaughtered and-

-oh,I'll stop. Now listen, when I saw this specific note dug in the pocket of Mandy's aqua blue bookbag, I thought it was a note from passing notes. You know, like they show in tween movies to try to relate to tween girls but end up making a fool of their company and their director. Turns out girls like Mandy actually  pass notes. So I didn't bother to look too much at it. But being the sleuth I am,(being the nurse's assistant favored in that), I quickly grasped the note in all of its glory. Of course it wasn't sparkling or anything. (I wish.) But it was legitimate and I needed to check it out. 

So I-

Wait, I didn't even tell you about myself. I'm idiotic. I mean, honestly, you guys are reading some top-secret reports about Mandy and I'm just over here spilling it without talking about who is writing it. 

I'm Stacia, pronounced stay-sha. I'm your average girl, but I've got a few secrets. I guess that's still average, right? Anyway, I'm a natural born performer. Always on the stage, that's me. And if you want to know my appearance, well, I'm normal. Not strikingly gorgeous or anything,  just blonde with a couple freckles dabbed here and there, along with baby blue eyes and a stunning smile.  OK, maybe I am beautiful. (And you know it.) 

And one more thing: I have a British accent. I grew up in the U.K. and life there was scenic but also dull and uninteresting. I needed a spice, and that's exactly what I got when my dad was placed in America. We have a huge mansion, (we're rich, I might add, not to brag or anything), and we've got an adorable fish named Slipper. (My mum's allergic to the furry things.) Now, before we unveil the rest of the story, I'm dying to tell you one more thing. (This is seriously one more thing.) 

I've got an obsession with theatre. It's like I was born and raised on the stage! I grew up around the lights and props. (Mum's a director.) 

My mum and dad wanted me to try out acting, thinking I might like it since I was a rambunctious child. You did not want to babysit me, let me tell you. My babysitter only lasted one hour and then called my parents saying she was done and demanded cash. They refused but drove her home, being the fine and dandy people they are.

So anyway, I joined a local production and landed a pretty acceptable role. But it wasn't enough. I wanted to be the best, and that required a lot of practicing. I rehearsed my lines every day and was the first one to be off-book. "And at such a young age!" my director had exclaimed after seeing me rehearse.