“Who’s Harry?” Jimmy asked.
“His brother Harry. He died when Grandpa was a little boy,” said Mrs. Goldglitt, patting her father’s arm. “Harry fell out of a tree, didn’t he? It was a long time ago, wasn’t it, Pop?”
“Great,” said Jimmy. “He sees dead people.”
“At least he’s calling you something,” Rosie said. “He won’t even make eye contact with me, Jimmy.”
“Harry,” said Jimmy. “Call me Harry.”
Mrs. Goldglitt sighed. “He has good days and bad days, and the bad days are taking over. I’m sorry, children.” She looked at her watch. “It’s too late to take him out to the garden. Do you want to see where he sleeps?”
They wheeled Grandpa out of the game room and down the hallway into a room with a bed, a desk, a chair, a dresser, and a sink. Rosie and Jimmy exchanged glances. Jimmy coughed, uttering the word prison.
Mrs. Goldglitt stationed Grandpa by a small table with a cluster of frames on it. “These are pictures of all the people who love you, aren’t they, Pop?”
They no longer expected Grandpa to answer. Rosie said, “The bed is so tiny! Didn’t he and Grandma buy a king-sized bed so that he had plenty of room for his feet?”
“Honestly, honey, I don’t think he knows much of anything now.”
“We used to jump on it, didn’t we, Rosie?” Jimmy spoke close to Grandpa’s ear. “When we were little, we had fun jumping on your bed!”
Grandpa grunted.
“Do you remember?” said Rosie in a small voice.
He dipped his head down so that his chin was on his chest again.
“I think I’m ready to go,” said Jimmy, heading for the door.
“Wait,” said his mother. “Dad, do you want to sit in front of the television set before it’s time for bed?”
Mrs. Goldglitt turned him around and pushed the chair back down the hallway to the television room. The three of them took turns kissing him goodbye.
“Come again,” said the nurse as they passed the main desk. “He was happy to see you.”
Jimmy pushed open the heavy doors to the outside world. “How could she tell?” he said, astonished.
Rosie and Jimmy started laughing hysterically, and Rosie said, “We’re sorry. We’re sorry! We can’t help it!”
“It’s okay,” said her mother. “It’s better than crying.”
They walked a few blocks to the Italian restaurant nearby, and ordered eggplant heroes. Nobody talked much, although Rosie was tempted to bring up their imminent shopping spree.
When the heroes arrived, Rosie took her sandwich and held it in the air. “To Grandpa,” she said.
“To Grandpa,” said Jimmy, taking a quick bite and raising his own.
“Don’t get tomato sauce on the tablecloth,” said Mrs. Goldglitt, smiling.
* * *
On Sunday morning, Rosie telephoned Lauren to see if she could come shopping with them. According to Mrs. Jamison, she was sick in bed. Rosie hoped the story was true, and not just an excuse to avoid her altogether. Summer and Sarah were nowhere to be found, but nothing could shake Rosie’s good mood as she and her mother got into the car. Her mother made the comment “I hope this dance doesn’t cost me a fortune,” to which Rosie replied, “I can raid my piggy bank.”
“Bloomingdale’s is out,” said Mrs. Goldglitt, but Rosie couldn’t help noticing the excited glint in her mother’s eye that shopaholics get before a spree. Next to a great cup of coffee and her boyfriend, Sam, nothing put a smile on Mrs. Goldglitt’s face the way shopping did. Buying for her daughter was almost as rewarding.
Mrs. Goldglitt was elated when they found a dress in the mall that was inexpensive enough to keep the glint in her eye. It was short, fruit-free, a soft violet color that brought out Rosie’s eyes, and she felt downright pretty wearing it. They found a cheap little matching beaded handbag, a pair of low strappy heels, and dangling fake diamond earrings that her mother wasn’t sure about.
* * *
On Monday morning, Rosie’s eyes were bright and shining as she talked about the pretty outfit they’d bought. “I hope Robbie likes it!” Rosie said, munching on Cheerios although it was a junk-food cereal day.
“You’re smitten, I can see,” said Mrs. Goldglitt.
“What does that mean?” said Rosie, smiling from ear to ear.
“How do I explain it?” Mrs. Goldglitt ran to the unabridged dictionary, which she kept under the china cabinet in the dining room. “It says, ‘struck hard.’ So when I say it, I mean, struck hard by love! Remind me to vacuum someday,” she added, brushing the dust off the book’s cover.
“You’re not smitten by vacuuming,” Rosie said, making her mother laugh.
At school, Lauren was nowhere to be found. Rosie bumped into Summer at her locker. “Is that the lip gloss we bought together?” she said, hoping that going back to normal would make everyone forget about the past.
“I don’t think so,” said Summer uneasily. “It’s Pink Meringue.” Her eyes wandered away from Rosie.
“It looks pretty,” said Rosie. “Have you seen Lauren?”
“She still has the flu,” said Summer, slamming her locker and turning to leave.
“She’s been sick forever!” said Rosie, putting out her hand. “Summer! Can we talk?”
“About what?” Summer said cautiously.
“Are you mad at me or something?” Rosie couldn’t help saying what was on her mind. “I mean, are you Mary’s friend now? I’m not saying it was right what I did,” she added quickly.
“Can’t we just forget about it, Rosie?”
“I’d like to. But things are funny between us, you know?” Her voice caught in her throat.
“It’s just that…” Summer searched for the words. “How do I put this? Mary tortured me every day. You were in my class, remember?”
“But that’s what I’m saying! Why are you so upset with me?”
“Let me finish. Mary told everybody that I smelled. That I didn’t know how to read, which made it awful when we went around the class and had to read out loud, because I got so nervous and stumbled more, and I was a good reader, Rosie! Dumb and Dumber Summer, remember? She told people not to invite me over to their house! And a lot of them didn’t! It was the worst year of my life.”
“I know that,” said Rosie, her voice low. “Then why shut me out?”
“She was way worse to me, and I never did a thing. I never talked to anyone about it, and my mother didn’t either. She made me go to school, like nothing was happening. She told me to try and be nice to her. Can you believe that? Do you know, I brought her a candy bar one day? One of those huge Hershey bars? She sniffed it and made a face, and threw it right in the garbage can, in front of everyone. So maybe I’m mad because I didn’t do anything. And you did.”
“I’m sorry, Summer. I didn’t realize.”
Summer’s lip was trembling. “And do you know what your hitting Mary did? It just made everyone feel sorry for her. I don’t remember anyone feeling sorry for me when I didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning to go to school. When I wanted to crawl into the closet and stay there forever.” A tear spilled down her cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” Rosie repeated, her own eyes welling up. “But I know what you were feeling. All week, I wanted to crawl into the closet and stay there forever.” She paused for a moment, and said, “Do you really think people feel sorry for her? That makes me want to puke.”
“I hope not, that’s for sure. Are you crying?” Summer brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. “Don’t get me started. A secret part of me is glad you did it. Payback time. But not that way, Rosie, you know?”
“I know.” Rosie took a chance, holding out her arms to Summer. Summer moved into them, and they hugged each other hard. “I’m glad we talked,” Rosie whispered.
“Me too,” said Summer. “I feel better. And Sarah will come around, I promise.”
By the time they said goodbye, Rosie realized tha
t she’d forgotten to tell her about Robbie. When Rosie opened up her locker to get a few books for class, another white note floated to the floor. This time she opened it immediately. It said, “Meet you at the famous rosebush, seven-thirty.”
All smiles, Rosie walked into homeroom. She chatted with her friends, never mentioning detention. Teresa was her usual friendly self, and seemed less like an outsider to Rosie. Even her clothes looked more acceptable. Who cared if her pink shirt didn’t match her red plaid skirt? On Teresa, somehow, it worked. It occurred to Rosie that perhaps she was the one who had changed.
As soon as Rosie entered English class, Mr. Woo called her over to the desk. “Welcome back, Rosie,” he said quietly.
“Nothing like that will ever happen again,” she said.
“I know that,” said Mr. Woo, winking at her.
The wink meant everything. She sat down at her desk, turning quickly around to smile at Summer. Then she leaned toward Robbie and said, “That’s fine.”
He answered, “Okayyyyy,” drawing out the word. It was enough for Rosie.
As soon as she got home, Rosie called Lauren. “I’m still sick!” her friend croaked. “You sound happy! What’s up?”
“I am!” said Rosie. “But not that you’re sick! Robbie asked me to the dance. Can you believe it?”
“That’s great!” said Lauren. “I’m so bummed, because I never got the nerve up to ask Tommy Stone! Summer and Sarah are going with me, if I’m better by Friday.”
“You’ll be better, it’s four days away!”
“I’m staying home tomorrow, and if I don’t have any fever, my mom says I can go in on Wednesday. I miss you!”
Rosie hung up the phone, a huge smile on her face. She and Summer were friends again. Sarah had said goodbye to her today, and had even given her a hug. It was funny how happiness was something that was better when you shared it with your friends.
* * *
On the day of the dance, Robbie and Rosie exchanged glances only. It was as if the act of going together had made them both so nervous that they could no longer speak. Rosie raced home to get ready, four hours early. She shampooed her hair and toweled it dry. Her mother would style it for her later, with the curling iron that she’d brought home from the salon. Mrs. Goldglitt had watched Jessica at work making soft ringlets on several clients already.
Rosie sat down at the computer and looked up Robbie Romano under his screen name. What had she heard him tell his study group his name was? RobRom15.
She scanned his profile.
Name: People call me Robbie, and my parents call me Robert when they’re mad at me. Rosie thought it was brave of him to mention his parents. Who cared?
Location: In my room playing Xbox Live, or in my driveway shooting hoops. Rosie wasn’t surprised by Robbie’s love for Xbox. Jimmy played it, when his homework was done. She could hear strange boys shouting in the living room from all over the country! Rosie made a note to ask Jimmy which games he liked so that she could mention them to Robbie. She wouldn’t be fake and pretend that she played them, but at least it would provide a few minutes of conversation.
Gender: Male. No kidding, thought Rosie. What were the rules? Don’t insult their egos. Don’t ask if you scared them. Don’t eat Blue Hawaii ice or hit someone in the face or do anything embarrassing. It made them clam up.
Hobbies and Interests: Hanging out with friends, Xbox Live, music by Sublime, the comedian Dane Cook.
Rosie ran into Jimmy’s room and found one of his Sublime CDs. She read the liner and the lyrics from top to bottom and played the music while she researched Robbie. Music was safe to talk about. What did she have now? Sublime, Xbox, Dane Cook. About three minutes of conversation, but it was a start.
Rosie looked in the mirror and formed her lips into a pout. Would Robbie kiss her? Who knew? Would she like it? Maybe. Would he know where their noses were supposed to go? She hoped so. Would she be the first girl Robbie kissed? In a way, it would be easier if he was a virgin kisser. If there was no competition, Rosie could be the best, but she could also be the worst. But if he knew how to do it, Robbie could show her. She was a fast learner. She picked up Spanish easily. And dance steps, too. Why not kissing? Rosie laughed out loud.
* * *
A half hour before she was supposed to meet Robbie at the rosebush, the famous rosebush where he had fallen over backward, Rosie was dressed and ready to go. She made a last-minute call to Lauren, who picked up the phone and said, “Hey, we miss you! We’re all getting ready at my house.”
Before Rosie could feel bad that she hadn’t been invited, Summer grabbed the phone. “Don’t kiss anybody before we get there, okay? We’ll see you inside.”
Rosie started to laugh. “Hey, I promise! What did we decide? Leave the lip gloss on or take it off?”
“Eat something inside, and it will come off on its own. Then you won’t have to decide,” said Summer, laughing. “Break a leg!”
Sarah picked up the phone. “Summer thinks it’s a play or something! I’m not kissing anyone. It’s germ season, you know.”
Rosie heard Summer say, “It’s always germ season for you, Sarah!” to a chorus of laughter.
“I’m nervous!” Rosie said, wondering if anyone was still on the phone.
Lauren was back. “Don’t be!” she said cheerfully. “We’ll be there to rescue you if you need any help!”
Mrs. Goldglitt started screeching about how late it was getting, and to brush her teeth and get her coat. “You’re not the one going, Mom,” said Rosie.
“I’m as nervous as a cat!” said her mother, examining her daughter from head to foot, and rubbing Rosie’s face with a tissue. “Too much blush. You look like Grandma Rebecca’s porcelain doll with all that rouge. But Grandpa would tell you that you looked beautiful, honey. If he were here.”
“Better than cute,” said Rosie softly, feeling a wash of sadness pass between them.
When they arrived at the school, Mrs. Goldglitt didn’t want to let her out of the car. “I can’t leave you here alone,” her mother protested, but Rosie convinced her that a yardful of students would keep her safe. “Be good,” she said, leaning over to kiss her. “Have fun, be smart, don’t drink or drive.”
“What?” said Rosie, in mock protest. “I was going to drive Robbie to the beach afterward!” She made a face and said, “And drink? What are you thinking? It tastes worse than coffee!”
“Good,” said her mother, smiling broadly. “I’ll pick you up at eleven.”
When she was gone, Rosie’s heart started hammering as if she’d run the track three times. She was scared and eager, and excited, too. What could she call it? Sceager sounded right.
Rosie found the rosebush that had made Robbie fall over backward. The famous rosebush where it had all begun. It was getting darker now, and the front of the school was deserted. Maybe her mother was right. She should have stayed in the car until she’d spotted Robbie. Rosie shifted from foot to foot, peering into the distance, searching for Robbie’s lanky frame.
A voice made her jump. “I saw him over there, on the other side of the school, by Mrs. Petrie’s house!”
Rosie squinted her eyes in the darkness and saw the glint of a hundred buttons. It was Teresa Tubby, her girl Teresa, top wrestler and true friend, her eyes trained on Rosie. “There’s a rosebush on the other side of the school, you ninny!”
Rosie ran like a maniac, following her heroine past the front steps of the school, past the flagpole, past the sign that said SEVENTH GRADE CAR WASH ON SATURDAY. In the distance she saw two people, a boy and a girl. The girl had long blond hair that shimmered in the streetlamp. The boy’s hair was spiky, and his face was in shadow. Robbie and Mary. Mary and Robbie. She could have spotted them anywhere, her crush and her downfall. The kiss exchanged between them was a knife in Rosie’s heart, and she stepped back quickly, trying to save herself from falling.
The noise startled the two of them, and made them look up.
Robbie’s m
outh hung open. Mary followed his stare and said, “Can I help you, Miss Peeping Tom?”
Teresa reappeared with Billy in tow. He reminded Rosie of her cousin’s golden retriever, coming to rescue the damsel in distress.
“Hey,” said Billy, and Rosie mumbled something back. “I’ve been looking for you! Weren’t we supposed to meet at Mrs. Petrie’s rosebush? The one I thought your grandfather was looking for? Teresa said you were waiting by the other rosebush!” He held out his hand, and Rosie took it gratefully.
Teresa took Rosie’s other arm, and said out loud, “You know he got detention defending you!”
Rosie glanced sharply at Billy, who smelled only of aftershave and was her second newest hero. “I thought you said you were in detention because of lateness,” she said.
“I lied,” he said shyly, and they turned the corner and entered the fiesta-decorated gymnasium without looking back.
“I forgot there was more than one rosebush,” Billy whispered. “I thought you’d remember.”
“Detention got my memory,” Rosie fibbed. “Mr. Woo would be proud. You used symbolism!”
“Too bad we met at the wrong symbol, huh?”
“And your handwriting sucks,” Rosie scolded him gently.
She would never tell Billy that his B looked like an R, especially when she had wanted it to be so. Teresa had saved her, with her jingling chains and her hundreds of buttons and her heart of gold. Rosie would tell her other friends, Lauren, Summer, and Sarah, that they should take her blunder and put it in the vault and never speak of it again. She would never ever tell, cross her heart and hope to trip backward over a blooming rosebush.
17
Rosie’s New Mantra
Later in the evening, sitting on a bench under one of the piñatas, Rosie discovered that she could say anything she liked to Billy. She didn’t have to run home and log on to the computer to look up his profile. Rosie even apologized for those times she held her nose. “I feel terrible about it,” she said, looking to see if he was insulted.
To her relief, Billy laughed and said, “Hey, I deserved it! We have Teresa to thank for conquering my hygiene problem. If she hadn’t told me, you’d still be holding your nose! It’s hard to catch a whiff of yourself.”
The Kissing Diary Page 11
