Jess had a go at me when George had gone. She told me I should have said I was off with anxiety or depression, because "they can't touch you if you've got mental 'elf issues." I said I'd remember that for the
formal meeting. No reply from Lucy yet. My stomach was churning again.
It was my last evening to practice before the SADS Grease auditions tomorrow night. My Summer Nights rehearsal with Myra had not gone well. I'd got a little confused with all the constant switching of lyrics in the duet. When I'd accidently sung "Met a boy cute as can be" Myra had exploded: "Since when was the leader of the T Birds fucking gay? It's called Grease, not Vaseline!" Her anger got me all nervous and I did too many shoo-bop bops. We eventually decided we'd practise on our own.