The Rules for Existing

Layla

"What I want to know, is why a drop dead gorgeous girl living in a small town who asked me for reading advice on Kiss & Spell and got all excited when I suggested to her a book featuring homoeroticism would date one of the school's biggest nerd and pretend to everyone, even to herself, that she likes him."

"How did you know it was me?"

"I can put two and two together. I'm smart too," I replied, a little offended. "And I've seen the pictures of Lestat in Interview with the Vampire, the Tom Cruise one, that you put on your locker. Even though I must say the movies objectively do a bad job of portraying the themes of the books."

Iseul let out a small laugh. "Do you think so? Well, of course you do," she pushed back a lock of her hair. "No point in pretending to be surprised. Now you know I've read all of your reviews."

"All of them?" I asked, surprised. "Even the boring one where I talk about how dumb it is when they kill dogs in horror movies, and some anonymous user said that if literary pieces could win Razzies, I would have won one?"

Iseul was laughing now.

"Well," I huffed. "I sure hope it wasn't you. Otherwise I'd have to ask you to leave the room and never come back."

"I didn't ask you to leave the room and never come back when you talked crap about my dating life," Iseul said. She had a point. "What do you have against Oskar Goldschmidt anyway?"

"Nothing," I shrugged. "I'm sure that, if I liked boys, he would be very charming and he's probably not even a nerd. Besides you're friends with Will — you must have nothing against nerds. He struck me as one of those types who, growing up, wanted to find the Kirk to their Spock, if you get both of my references. But since I don't like boys and I've never found any of them attractive, I was just repeating stereotypes."

I winced. "Sorry. I usually don't do that."

Iseul nodded. "You never do, in your articles. And I think that by declaring that you're a lesbian, you wanted me to be impressed. Which I'm not."

Ouch. That hurt. I'd only just seen Iseul in real life, but I'd asked her plenty of questions about Anne Rice's books on my blog, and it was months I'd been half in love with her. I was hoping to come across a little more smoothly once we finally met in real life.

"I'll be honest with you," Iseul said, and pointed at my appearance, taking in my make-up-less face, my shaggy strawberry blond hair and my leather jacket. "You look, and sound, as if you don't have any shame. But I know you do. Otherwise, why have you never talked to me at school before? You must have feared my reaction."

"Your... what?" I was suddenly offended. "Excuse me, but I'm awesome!"

"You might be," Iseul said, too polite to hurt me. "But you said you find me drop dead gorgeous."

"But you are, and you know it!" I exclaimed. "They pay you for it!"

That shut up the both of us.

"I'm sorry," I amended. "I know what it sounded like. And I'm not a moron, I'm just hot headed. But I know things. I know they pay you because you are patient, hard-working, charismatic at all the auditions, and you stand the heat, the hunger and the thirst, and you're amiable enough not to look pissed off when they take pictures. But they also pay you because you're gorgeous."

"That is not the way I think of it," Iseul said. "Though I understand if that's what other people think."

"Hey, we're just a little jealous," I corrected myself. "I couldn't do it — I'm not attractive enough."

"You are, in a rough sort of way," she smiled at me. "Though you'd look better on a giant screen, in motion. Doing all of your own stunts and things like that."

I grinned. "A woman after my own heart."

That shut Iseul up again.

Before I could say I was sorry again, Mister Blanco entered the room. I was glad he'd saved me — making too many apologies was not in my style. I didn't know if I could mean them.

"Park Iseul, Layla... What was your surname again?"

I groaned. I made a mental note to start writing down aliases the moment I came home. Maybe I could ditch Layla too and choose something that sounded less like the name of an alien princess. How did they come up with the name of Han Solo? That one was a good name. And yes, I do have a bit of a fixation on Harrison Ford.

As we followed Mister Blanco, I nudged Iseul. "You never told me what your favorite book was."

She seemed to understand. When I'd first suggested that she read Anne Rice, I asked her to let me know what her favorite book would be. "Tell me yours," she said.

"The Vampire Lestat," I replied. "I like that Lestat has a rock band in it."

"I like Blood Communion, from last year," she said. "I like how Anne Rice has wrapped everything up. It wasn't easy, for a series that has been developed during very different times of her life, but it feels like an end. A fitting one."

If possible, I like Iseul even more now. I had chosen the second book because of a plot device, but it was also a smart choice. It had always been praised by critics and fans alike, though the usual fanatics were partial to the first. But Iseul had gone in with the heart and not the head, and chose the last novel. The perfect ending. It seemed like something I could crave too, both in fiction and in my life.

"To the risk of sounding boring, which I'm not," Mister Blanco said. "Stop discussing movies and follow me. People have been drinking too much, and someone has puked."

"Well, the movie talk was better," I replied. "And it was a book talk, just so you know. Oh, and last but not least, Professor, whoever says they're not boring is secretly boring."

The Professor laughed, for we often teased each other. After my mother's death, my father remarried and I'd never gotten along with him, nor with my stepmother. The Professor has always felt a bit like a father.

"I like you," he said. "And I'm sorry I couldn't remember your surname – I always thought it was very forgettable. Perhaps you could take Anne Rice's name as your own if you become an actress? What do you think of it?"

"Layla Rice?" I asked.

"Ly Rice?" he replied. "Ly is a good nickname, it would suit you."

It sounded a bit weird, but also like something I could get used to. I silently thanked the Professor, and Iseul and I went to the 'party room' to check on the fellow students.

The one who'd just puked was the insufferable girl called Sofia who once told me, in seventh grade, I would never find a boyfriend because I was too ugly. I smiled, thinking that maybe I had found myself a girlfriend instead. Not that I could even tell whether Iseul liked me, but things were looking up.

Iseul, ever the polite one, helped Sofia clean up, and then went to me, "She'll never say it, because she's not that kind of person, but maybe acting terrible has caught up on her. Or maybe Erik Chandra told her he's never going to the same university as she is — both things can be equally true."

I nodded, and handed her a plastic cup. "Don't drink too much," I said. "Just enough to have a little fun."

"Not having fun when you're there is impossible," Iseul laughed, which startled me. "Follow me."

We backed into a corner where it was possible that, even if we wanted to tell each other things, no one would pay any attention to us.

"How can you say that?" I asked her. "You don't know me."

She crumpled my hair, as if she liked me better when I was wild. "I already know everything about you. Don't you remember? I have read every post on your blog."

I leaned closer, and kissed her on her parting lips. "I don't know anything about you, yet, but I was hoping you'll let me find out."