Sojourner orders as much food as me. ‘Gotta enjoy it while I can. Cutting starts next week. It’s the worst.’
‘Can be dangerous too.’ Sally sends me every article she finds that outlines the many dangers of fighting. There are many on how dangerous rapid weight loss is. No amount of my telling her that I don’t want to be a fighter gets through to her. If I’m not a fighter I’ll never have to cut to make the right weight division.
‘Yes, Daddy. I train with Dido. I don’t cut recklessly.’
‘Uh huh.’ I’m not sure how you can cut without being reckless. Most of our weight is water. The main thing fighters do is not drink water, which is reckless.
The milkshakes come first. Mine tastes like chocolate. I thought malted would be more exotic.
Sojourner sips and laughs. ‘You’re really not going to ask about Daniel, are you?’
I blush. ‘I didn’t want to pry.’
‘Sure you do.’
‘Well, yeah, but I don’t know you that well and it’s not my business. If you want to tell me you will.’
‘He broke up with me. He was starting college. I was in high school. It was going to be long distance.’ She shrugs. ‘But then he tried to get back with me over Christmas and it turns out he has a college girlfriend. I wasn’t pleased. Hadn’t seen him since, till tonight. He’s a jerk.’
‘Does jerk count as swearing? ’Cause if so you just swore.’
She takes a half-hearted swipe at me. Her stomach growls loudly. Mine echoes hers.
‘Doesn’t that mean you lost the bet, Soj – Sid?’
‘Jerk is not swearing. I did not lose the bet. We did not have a bet.’
‘Noted. I’m allowed to say jerk. We do have a bet. We just didn’t say what we were betting.’
Our hamburgers are placed in front of us.
We hoe in. Mine’s great. About halfway through I slow down, eating a fry in two bites instead of one.
‘So, why do you always go to call me Sojourner, not Sid?’
‘I like it,’ I mumble.
‘What?’
‘I like your name. Sojourner. I like the sound of it. It’s how I think of you.’ I take a bite of my burger.
‘I like the way you say it.’
‘Thanks.’
‘It’s your accent, makes everything sound cuter.’
‘You think I’m cute?’
‘I think your accent is cute.’
‘So I don’t have to call you Sid?’
She nods. ‘You can call me Sojourner. But not in front of Jaime. I’ll never hear the end of it.’
We walk home.
‘How much trouble are you going to be in?’ I ask as we cross Lafayette Street and I recognise where we are.
‘No more than I was already in. I told them I’d be out late. I told them I was running with you. They trust me. Even when they’re mad. They’d tell me if they wanted me home.’
I flinch a little when she says they trust me.
‘What?’
‘Mine say they don’t trust me. Because of sparring. I’ve never broken a promise to them before.’
‘Thought so. I knew it cost you to go against them. I’m sorry they don’t see that.’
‘You and me both. They want me to be like them. Or rather, not like them. My dad was wild when he was young. He broke a guy’s jaw once.’
Beside me, Sojourner tenses. I wonder if I’ve hit on a sore point. She’s never mentioned her dad. I’d assumed there wasn’t one.
I look up. ‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ she says softly. ‘Don’t look.’
I look, of course. Two guys in leather jackets with a million tats walk towards us.
If they say one word to Sojourner I am going to say something. Three police officers overtake them. One looks at me. I nod. He nods in return.
Sojourner lets out a breath.
I wonder if those guys would have said something if I wasn’t there. I shouldn’t be relieved that I’m not a girl, but I am.
At Tompkins Square Park Sojourner starts to walk around it rather than through.
‘Is it closed?’ The gate is open and lots of people are walking through.
‘Kind of. Cops lock it around midnight, so it’s best to walk around rather than have to argue our way out if the gates are locked.’
It’s after midnight. The lights are still on in the park, but I follow Sojourner. ‘Seems weird not walking through.’
‘Cause we keep running into each other there?’
I smile. I think of it as our park.
‘It’s the centre of the neighbourhood. Everyone walks through, hangs out here. Did you know there was a riot here in the old days?’
I didn’t.
‘My mom says the new rich residents put up their own signs saying the park was closed at midnight when it wasn’t. They didn’t like people sleeping in there. The old neighbourhood fought back. Mom included. She was a kid. They lost. Now there’s way more rich people than poor.’
Near the gate we pass a group of people sitting on a blanket inside. One of them strums a guitar. I try to imagine a riot. I can’t.
‘Mom’s always talking about how different it used to be. She can’t make up her mind about whether it was worse back then or better. It changes by the minute.’
‘You’ve lived here all your life?’
‘I was born here. Mom was too. Never lived anywhere else.’
I try to imagine that. I can’t.
‘I like how alive this city is.’ Some of the restaurants and all of the bars we pass are full. It’s a lot like Bangkok that way. We pass other couples. Or, rather, couples. It’s not like Sojourner and I are a couple.
‘City that never sleeps.’ Sojourner screws up her face at the cliché. ‘Though that just means Manhattan, Staten Island and Queens are sound asleep right now.’
‘Nothing can stay awake all the time.’ A tall man with a tiny dog passes us. ‘Though I’ve never seen so many people walking their dogs this late at night.’
‘Guess he can’t afford a dog walker.’ Sojourner slows. ‘This is it.’
The front of her building doesn’t look much different than the other buildings on the block, or on my block for that matter. It’s just narrower: brown brick, single-fronted, with a hardware store at the bottom and a door with four buzzers.
‘Night, Che.’
‘Night,’ I mumble. Keeping my eyes open hurts, but I don’t want to go. I reach out my hand to touch hers, unthinking, and am about to pull away, but Sojourner takes it in hers, squeezes lightly. I feel it everywhere. She hasn’t let go. I don’t either.
She leans forward, kisses me lightly on the lips, lets go of my hand, pulls out her keys, opens the door, looks back at me.
‘You didn’t swear,’ she says. Then she’s up the stairs, the door clicking locked behind her before I can respond.
I stand there with my lips buzzing, wishing I’d slipped a hand around her waist, pulled her to me, kissed her back. Instead I almost forgot how to breathe.
When I get home I’m exhausted. I don’t shower or change out of my sweats. I fall into bed, thinking about Sojourner, touching my lips where hers were. That kiss didn’t have anything to do with God or Jesus. If I weren’t exhausted I’d masturbate.
Instead I pass out wanting her.
I wake to the feeling that someone is in my room. I open my eyes a sliver.
Rosa, of course. She’s bent over my phone.
I close my eyes. I’m so tired. I don’t want to deal with Rosa. But what if she’s texting Sojourner something?
I don’t want to confront her. I don’t want to hear what she’s thinking. I don’t want her to tell me I’m the only one who understands her. I don’t want to know what’s going on in that empathy-free brain of hers.
‘Rosa,’ I say, sitting up. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Nothing.’ She doesn’t even look guilty.
‘What are you doing in my room with my phone?’
Rosa puts the phone down. She shrugs.
‘Rosa?’
‘I was bored and you weren’t awake.’
‘So you decided to break into my phone?’
‘It’s not broken. See?’
She hands it to me. It’s almost four in the morning. I would give anything to be asleep.
‘How did you get into my phone?’
‘It’s the same code as your ATM card.’
‘How do you know that?’
She shrugs again. ‘I watch.’
‘Don’t!’
‘I wanted to know if you were mad at me.’
‘I’m always mad at you. Take it as read.’
Rosa sits on the bed next to me. ‘But you’re my best friend.’
‘I thought Sid was your best friend.’
She doesn’t notice the sarcasm. ‘You’ll always be my best friend. I only want to be friends with Sid because you like her. I want you to like me best.’
I check my messages, my sent emails. I can’t find any sign that she’s done anything. Just spying. Just spying?
God. My head hurts.
‘You don’t talk to me anymore,’ Rosa says without a trace of petulance.
‘We talk all the time.’
‘But you don’t tell me what you’re feeling.’
‘Because you don’t care what anyone’s feeling.’
‘I do. I will. I’m learning how. I’ve been asking Seimone questions and listening to her answers. I asked Sojourner if she likes you. She said she did. Though I could already tell. See? I’m learning about people. I told her you’re the best brother in the world.’
‘Great.’
‘If Sid were gone, would you like me best again?’
‘What do you mean, if Sid were gone?’
‘I told Sid you might learn to love God if she explained God to you the way she explains God to me.’
‘So you believe in God now, do you?’
‘No. Don’t be silly, Che. God’s like Santa Claus. But she wants me to believe, so I’m being how she wants me to be. That’s what normal people do. I’m being normal. Like you want me to be.’
Her logic is so twisted I don’t know where to start.
‘I’m changing my passcodes. You need to stay out of my phone and out of my room.’ And out of my head.
‘You know I’ll figure out what your new one is. David taught me how.’
I groan. David is way too smart with computers and way too fond of teaching Rosa what he knows. Just because David doesn’t use his knowledge for evil, it doesn’t occur to him that she will.
‘Did David tell you it was okay to break into other people’s phones?’
She nods solemnly.
‘Rosa! David would never say that.’
‘Yes, he would. David says all sorts of things. Did you know he has an escape kit?’
‘A what?’
‘A kit with the things he needs if he has to leave a country in a hurry.’
I shake my head. ‘Why would you even say that? Stop lying.’
Rosa shakes her head. ‘I told you I can’t promise that.
Lying’s too useful. Besides, you lie. You said your nose was fine when it wasn’t. You said you weren’t sparring when you were.’
‘Can you promise not to break into my phone?’
‘Okay.’
‘Say it.’
‘I promise not to break into your phone.’
‘Or anyone else’s.’
Now it’s Rosa’s turn to groan. ‘Or anyone else’s.’
‘Go to bed.’
‘I’m not sleepy.’
‘Go and be not sleepy in your own room. I am sleepy.’ I point at the door.
Rosa pouts, then leaves. I try to stop thinking about what she said about Sojourner being gone.
In the morning I’ll put a lock on my door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
At breakfast the parentals and I barely exchange words. So much for this being a loving, open, communicative family. Rosa smirks.
It’s like they’re conspiring to wipe last night with Sojourner from my mind. It won’t work. My lips buzz faintly. Sojourner kissed me.
I don’t talk to them about Rosa going through my phone. Even if they listen and deign to respond, what’s the point? Rosa is only ten years old and capable of no evil and, hey, how precocious of her to be hacking already.
I overhear Sally on the phone saying something that sounds like ‘delayed teenage acting out’. I think she means for me to hear. I feel my fists clench.
I go to the nearest hardware store and pick the cheapest electric drill and a sliding bolt. That will keep her out of my room. At the counter I hand over the parentals’ only-for-emergencies credit card.
‘I’m sorry,’ the clerk says. ‘That card’s been declined. Do you have another one?’
‘It’s been declined? I don’t understand.’
‘You can’t buy anything with this card. It doesn’t work.’
He must think I’m an idiot. I know what declined means. Should I use Papa’s card? Will he freak out? I’ll have to call him and explain. Again. It’s probably some temporary glitch. I hand over his card. It works.
When I get home Sally and David are out and Geoff and Rosa are downstairs geeking out about fractals.
‘Morning,’ I say.
Geoff nods and returns the greeting.
I hand him my homework, more calculus, because I don’t get it. He goes over it with me while Rosa plays with fractals on her tablet. I try to concentrate. I want to go upstairs and install the lock.
Geoff’s brow is furrowed. He wants me to understand.
He makes a small noise halfway between a squeak and a sigh. ‘Che, what is calculus?’
‘Huh?’
‘How would you describe what calculus is if someone asked you?’
‘Torture? A series of formulas that I don’t understand?’
Now he looks like he’s in pain. ‘What’s algebra, then?’
‘I’m not Rosa. I have to memorise this stuff. I have no hope of understanding it. You know what, Geoff? I’m out of here.’
Geoff stares at me and opens his mouth, but no words come out.
‘You can’t go, Che,’ Rosa says. ‘You’re not allowed.’
I go upstairs. Rosa follows me. She watches as I throw fresh wraps and my water bottle into my backpack.
‘You can’t skip maths. Your brain will atrophy. You’re already behind.’
I ignore her.
‘You won’t get to be a neurologist if you fail maths.’
‘Like you care.’
‘You’re not being good,’ Rosa says. ‘Why should I be good if you’re not good?’
‘Because…’ I pause, drop the backpack and sit on the floor.
‘You might not have to do any more maths,’ Rosa says. ‘The parentals haven’t paid Geoff. They’re broke.’
‘How do you know?’
Rosa smiles.
She’s probably broken into their phones too.
‘That’s why they went to Thailand. They ran out of money. Then when the business there failed too they—’
‘Failed? They sold it. How could they sell it if it was a failure?’
‘They sold at a loss.’
‘How do you know?’
‘How do you not know? The McBrunights are paying for everything here.’
I know that, but I hadn’t thought it through. It’s not normal. ‘I tried to buy something with the parentals’ credit card.’
‘They’re skint,’ Rosa said. ‘I looked up all the words that mean no money: impecunious, empty, strapped, hard up, penniless, poor, flyblown, stony, stumped, broken, silverless, ruined, bust—’
‘I get it.’
Was Rosa making a joke? Did she think it was funny?
‘I like skint best.’
‘Their credit cards stopped working when we were first in Thailand. They just forgot to tell their bank we were going there.’
‘The
McBrunights are the parentals’ last chance. If this business isn’t a success, then David will have to work IT again, and you know how bad he is at holding down a job.’
I don’t know any such thing. What’s she talking about?
‘We’ll probably have to live with Nana and Papa. They’ll send us to a rich school. Like they did with David.’
‘He was expelled.’
‘We’re much gooder than David was when he was our age. Besides, I’ll get a scholarship. I’m a genius.’
I don’t like this horrible fantasy she’s spinning. I’m not a genius. Will Papa pay for me to go to school and university? He likes to get something for his money. His paying for my boxing annoys the parentals. Will he pay for our education to spite them too? You failed, here’s me stepping in and saving the day.
I don’t want to live with Nana and Papa. I certainly don’t want Rosa to live with them. They play their children off against each other, buying them, selling them. Spending more than an hour or two with David’s parents makes me squirm.
One of the aunts would take me in, but if they did there’d be no help from Nana and Papa, who are the only ones with money. Them and Uncle Saul, who would never take us in, and even if he did, it would be worse than Nana and Papa.
‘Broke,’ I repeat. ‘Why didn’t they say anything? They haven’t told us to be careful with money.’
‘Because we always are. That’s how they raised us.’
I can’t make sense of what Rosa’s saying. ‘How can they afford this party, then?’
Rosa looks at me like I’m stupid.
‘The McBrunights are paying?’
Rosa nods. How does my ten-year-old sister know more about what’s going on than I do? Because she likes to spy. She must be exaggerating.
‘All they care about is impressing the McBrunights. I told you they don’t care about us.’ She slips her hand into mine. ‘Let’s do some more maths before Geoff realises they can’t pay him.’
She tugs my hand and I stand. We go downstairs.
‘Sorry,’ I say to Geoff. ‘Been a bit stressed.’
Geoff makes a sound that could be sympathetic. He looks slightly past my left ear.
Rosa smirks. ‘Let’s explain fractals to Che.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When Leilani arrives at the housewarming party with Maya, Veronica and Elon, Rosa and Seimone are giggling in the kitchen as David puts together another tray of nibblies to be handed out to the guests. He doesn’t look like a man who’s on the verge of losing everything. But then David has his poker face on most of the time.
My Sister Rosa Page 19
