Drama

CHAPTER SIX

"Come on. It's the only thing I can think of that will even remotely calm me down." Liz was whining across an untouched plate of french fries at Stella, the luncheonette down the street from MWS. It was Friday and the booths were packed with unconcerned seniors, superior juniors, and the occasional wannabe underclassman. Liz, Alex, Carly and Lucas sat at the booth of honor, a sprawling corner job with a great view of the street and the front door. No one entered or exited a lunch hour at Stella without their notice... and comment.

"Cankles! I spy cankles!" Alex spewed the insult a little too loudly as a senior waddled through the door. But for once, Liz was in no mood to play the "pin the insult on the competition" game.

"Guys? Are you listening to me? Tomorrow night? A triple-off show? Just like the old days." Liz and Carly had been scoping out the way off Broadway shows of the Village, Soho, and even Brooklyn for years. They called them triple-offs, because it didn't get more off, off, off Broadway than the one they'd seen two years ago, for example; a revival of an old forties musical reset to emo music with a cast composed entirely of little people. Alex had started joining them on these quirky excursions when he'd horned into the Liz-Carly club back during their freshman year. And eventually, even Lucas had been dragged to several of these off-beat indie productions. Though he always failed to grasp their fascination with shows that were so obviously "D-list."

"I don't know, Liz. Auditions are Monday and I haven't even cracked the script yet. Not to mention the mountain of homework I've been avoiding all week." Translation: Alex would be too busy trying out his latest fake ID at one of the noisier gay clubs in Tribeca.

"I'm going to the country this weekend with my parents," Lucas sighed, as if a visit to his parent's place on the beach in Montauk was some sort of monumental chore.

"I'll go." Good old Carly. She was always ready to throw herself into Liz's Saturday night plans, no questions asked. Probably because if not for Liz, she would never have any Saturday night plans.

"Love you." Liz wrinkled her nose at her best friend and Carly found herself blushing.

"I still don't get the attraction, Liz," Lucas sputtered through a mouthful of fries. "If you want to go see a show, get your dad's ticket broker to get you into Laugh it Up. I hear that chick from Real Housewives is really good in it."

"I can't even begin to tell you how many things are wrong with that statement," Liz scowled.

"I'm just saying, if you need cheering up, do it right. Get a limo. See a show that actually matters."

"Hollywood's greasy drippings are not what matter, dude," Alex snickered.

Liz tried to smile, to laugh it off, but it was tricky to find humor in the increasingly obvious fact that she and her boyfriend seemed to be separated by a huge gaping void sometimes. A void of taste. Of common interests. And, of course, that pesky virginity divide.

She shook the thought away and turned back to Carly. "Just come over early so I can give you something to wear." Coming from anyone but Liz, this would have been a heinous insult. But considering her depressingly depleted wardrobe, Carly was willing to overlook it.

"Okay. I'm going to put in some extra hours in the studio tomorrow morning, so I'll come over after I clean up."

"On a Saturday?" Alex looked like it was the greatest sacrilege he'd ever heard. "Don't you dancers ever take a break?"

"Apparently not."

"More power to you, baby girl."

Liz wasn't listening; she was noting Lucas's eyes lazily sweeping over the long legs of some sophomore dance student. His eyes seemed to be getting into a bad habit of doing that lately.