Plus the longer I stayed in the bathroom, the longer I was someone with a boyfriend.
Plus plus, what if it was a mistake? What if I just had to give it more of a chance? What if he was the only boy in the entire boy kingdom who would ever go out with me? If nothing else, he was certainly the only cinnamon-scented, violin-in-a-bag-carrying, impossibly-long-eyelashy boy who would ever go out with me.
Plus plus plus, HE WAS SOOOO GOOD-LOOKING.
Twelve more years of silence passed. There were several knocks on the door. We ignored them all. At some point Thomas took out his phone and started text-messaging some friend. (He really knew how to work that keyboard.) Finally Lynn spoke up.
“Rae, how long do you plan on staying in here?” she asked.
“How long do you?” I shot back.
“Aw, c’mon, Rae—what’re you doing?” Lynn asked through muffled giggles. Thomas was tickling her. “You can’t hide in here forever. Just go talk to him. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”
There was another knock at the door.
“Fine,” I said, and turned the doorknob.
“Wait!” Lynn said. “Before you go—have any more reporters been to your house?”
“Even if they have, I wouldn’t speak to them,” I said, slowly cracking the door open. “In accordance with rule number two in the CoolerThanYou guidelines, I refuse to glorify The Man. Right on.” And with that, the biggest lie that has ever passed between my lips, I marched out of the door, unprepared for who was standing on the other side. As you might have guessed, it was none other than CJ.
“Hey,” he muttered without looking me in the eye, and attempted to enter the bathroom.
“Wait!” I shouted. “You can’t go in there.”
“But I have to,” he said.
“But someone else is already in there,” I told him.
He gave me a look that said, “I don’t understand,” and, “Then what were you doing in there, you weirdo?” I must say, the role change was rather refreshing.
“You two need to have a little talk—” I heard someone say. Suddenly a glittery flash of silver swirled before my eyes. As my eyes adjusted to the brightness, the movement slowed down and I was able to make out the shape of a person—a tall person—who towered over your average seventh grader (not including Roger Morris, who’s not just six inches too tall for his grade but also six years too old.) But as the movement gradually stopped, I realized the extra height wasn’t coming from the person. The extra height was coming from a hat. A silver-sequined top hat.
“Happy New Year’s, Sparkles!” I said, throwing my arms around his shoulders. “Love the top hat and tux!”
“Happy New Year’s, New Girl!” he said, patting me on the back. “Wait. I take that back. Make that, Not So New Girl Anymore. Not So New Girl Anymore, too bad you missed out on your big chance this afternoon.” The way he said it actually made me feel bad for disappointing him.
“Now listen, I have got to jump. Places to go and people to see.” He put his hand on CJ’s back too and gently pushed us closer together. “Enough beating around the bush, you two. Just tell each other how you feel.” Then he gave us each a peck on the cheek. “Love ya!” he said. And then he swirled away.
. . . Leaving me and CJ alone. Each to deal with that awful potato salad feeling in the back of our throats.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say what I had to say. For one thing, we were in a very bad location for a private discussion. Behind us, people had started lining up for the bathroom, and sitting at my feet, Fippy and Roman were doing the old smoocharoo.
“Wanna go outside?” I asked.
“That’s okay, I know what you’re gonna tell me—we can just break up right here,” CJ said. He shook my hand and turned to leave. He hesitated for a second and turned back. “I saw your family on TV. It’s a shame you didn’t get on too,” he added, and then walked away.
I didn’t know what to feel. Relieved that CJ took care of the hard part for me or sad that it was all over between us? I guess the tears welling up in my eyes answered that question for me.
I couldn’t believe it. It all happened so quickly—I was completely confused.1. Of all things for CJ to finally get, why did it have to be that our relationship stunk?
2. Of all subjects for him to find easy to discuss, why did it have to be our breakup? And last, but most definitely not least (and with all due respect to the beautiful love that we had, most definitely most),
3. Who broke up with whom?Technically, he was the one to speak the words. BUT—the actual words he spoke were, “I know what YOU’RE going to tell me.” Which shows that it was my idea first. Who gets the credit?a. The person who thought it first? or
b. The person who said it first?
Gentle kitties, I believe the answer is (a). The person who thought it first.
I needed to get out of that party and away from all those happy people. So instead of going outside with CJ, I went outside myself.
When I got to Roman’s front porch, I realized it was the second time I had come there to cry during a party. Last time it was at his make-out party, when I walked in on Lynn and Jeremy in the laundry room and I realized they’d been hiding their relationship from me. And this time it was over CJ.
Maybe I should stop going to parties. And to Berkeley. And home, I thought.
Because no matter where I go these days, it never feels right. And even when it got right, the right only lasted for a tiny bit of time.
Why does everything have to change all the time? I wondered. Those Hiltons say, “Change is good,” but it seemed quite obvious to me that in this case they’re wrong. Without change, my parents would have stayed together, and we would have stayed in Berkeley. Without change, Vivvy never would have changed schools, and Danny would have stayed with her first husband. Wouldn’t everyone be happier that way?
One thing is for sure, without change, Lola never would have gotten on a bus. I don’t care what kind of genius she is, in Berkeley, the sign is missing from the bus stop near our house, and there’s no way she would have found it.
I’d been out on Roman’s porch for a while, and I was starting to get cold. Just as I was preparing myself to go back inside and try to have fun, I heard the sound of a girl squealing.
“I’m sorry, you know the rules, there’s no avoiding the mistletoe,” I heard the familiar voice of Jeremy Craine saying back to her. I heard one more squeal and then a moment of quiet. I guess in observance of the rules.
And then I felt the strangest sensation. Like a churning in my stomach. The kind I have when Dylan wears an oversized sweater with nothing under it but leggings and she actually looks good. Or when Samantha wears her . . . face.
A few seconds later I heard one more squeal, and then Jeremy appeared on Roman’s porch. He was carrying a small basket and wearing a baseball hat with a piece of mistletoe hanging from the brim, but when he saw who I was, he took the hat off. Again I felt something in my stomach; this time it was a sinking rather than a churning. Like when there’s a box of Fruity Pebbles on the breakfast table, but it’s empty when I pick it up because Lola couldn’t resist pouring herself that sixth bowl.
“Hey, Rae,” he said, and gave me a quick air hug. “How’s Lola doing? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it over today for the news crew, but I was rehearsing.”
“Wait! They called you?” I said.
“Well, I was the one who found her,” he said.
“I guess, but I’m her sister.” I don’t know why I bothered with that argument; no one else seemed to care that I was the sister, so why should he? “Whatever—thanks for finding her. Who knows what would have happened to her if you hadn’t?” I said. It was tempting to imagine, but why dream?
“No worries,” he said. It was cold enough for me to see his breath. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” Now he was trying to blow rings.
“Me and CJ broke up,” I said. It felt weird to say it. As if it were more true now than
before.
“Really?” he asked. I’m pretty sure I detected a grin on his face. “That’s too bad; I know what that’s like.” Now the smile faded. “But I guess you already knew that.”
“Yeah, I heard,” I said, and we both stood quietly for a second.
“Anyway, are you wearing a watch? Cuz if you are, I’m supposed to be collecting them,” he said, showing me the basket with a bunch of watches inside.
“Then how are we supposed to know when it’s midnight?” I asked.
“We don’t care about midnight. Midnight is just another way for The Man to keep us down.”
“Right on,” I said, even though I had just taken a step backward in my understanding of The Man. Not that it mattered. I was happy not to be surrounded by people kissing one another at the stroke of midnight. So I happily handed Jeremy my watch.
“You should come inside soon—we’re gonna jam in a little while. And I’m going to play that new song I showed you, 'I Saw Raisin Kissing Santa Claus.’ ”
“Awesome,” I said.
But what I really meant was, “Not awesome at all.” This party was beginning to look like a big clunker from my point of view. So far the activities had included sharing a bathroom with two people who didn’t want me there, breaking up with my boyfriend, and fielding questions about my four-year-old celebrity sister. And I still had listening to bad music and wondering whether it was New Year’s yet to look forward to.
But I was stuck. There was no way of getting home. Unless I could convince Lola to get on a bus again and come pick me up.
So I went back down to the party, where they were setting up the equipment to jam. I wondered if it’d be hard for me to watch CJ play now that I wasn’t his girlfriend anymore. Or if it would get easier to avoid staring at Lynn making out with a boy who was half her size. Very good looking—but still very half her size.
Soon everyone started to gather around the staging area. I sat down too, and a few seconds later Galenka and her poor accessorizing sat down next to me. Though to be fair, she was showing great improvement in that area. Tonight she was wearing a South Park T-shirt and jeans. All she had to do was get rid of the ascot and she was good to go.
Just as we exchanged hellos, I heard the mike go on.
“Good evening, Philadelphia!” Roman screamed. Everyone started clapping and screaming as if they were at a real concert. I braced myself for CJ to take the stage with him. I realized I had never seen him play violin and wondered if he looked cute doing it or goofy. I’ve noticed that sometimes violinists make goofy expressions, possibly due to the fact that they have to hold their instruments down with their faces.
As CJ took his place next to Roman, I looked down at the floor. It was just too uncomfortable to watch him. They played “Black Christmas Totally Rocks,” and from what I could tell, he sounded really good.
Next up was Fippy and “Santa Claus Is Dead,” which also sounded really good. I was amazed at how unbored I was. And at how happy I was for CJ. Even if our eighteen-day relationship was mostly a disaster, at least CJ got to know some people a little better. I mean, maybe he’s not on a speaking basis with any of them yet, but it still could happen. Which was nice for him.
And I finally got to kiss a boy. Which was really nice for me.
I started wondering if all this meant that I was becoming a better person. Don’t get me wrong, I love me just the way I am, but being happy for the boy I just broke up with doesn’t really sound like me. And neither does trying to find the good in a situation that didn’t work out the way I wanted.
I was deeply lost in thought reviewing the facts when Jeremy got onstage. Roman was behind him on keyboards and Fippy was on triangle. I guess as long as Dylan wasn’t the person playing it, the triangle did count as an instrument.
“Here’s a little song I like to call 'I Saw Raisin Kissing Santa Claus,’” he said, pulling the mike out of the stand. Then he gave Roman a quick nod. “'I saw Raisin kissing Santa Claus,’ ” he started singing, and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I fast-forwarded through the lyrics until I got to the line, “What a laugh it would have been if CJ had only seen Raisin kissing Santa Claus.”
What would CJ think? That I told Jeremy to do it? That I had changed my mind and wanted him back? It was too awful to imagine. I had to do something. I had to stop Jeremy before he said that line and embarrassed me to death.
I started by waving my hands at him. But all he did was wave back at me. And he was already half way through the song. Then I sang along with him for a bit, thinking when he got to the bad line, I could just drown him out. But people started giving me dirty looks. Galenka pinched me. “It is not now time for you to be singing,” she said.
I had no choice. I ran up to the mike. “Change the CJ line,” I whispered. That’s when the night took a very unexpected turn.
Because of all the noise, Jeremy couldn’t hear what I was whispering. He just felt my lips against his ear and thought I was giving him—duhn, duhn, duhn, duhn—a KISS.
So, he1. Kissed me back. On the lips.
2. Finished the song by using his own name instead of CJ’s. As in, “What would Jeremy think if he saw Raisin kissing Santa Claus?”
3. In front of everyone, including CJ.
A million thoughts raced through my mind at once. But the one that stuck was about CJ. I felt really bad for him. It must have bothered him to see another boy kiss me less than an hour after we broke up. At least I think it must have bothered him.
Although with CJ you never know. He never mentioned anything bothering him the whole time we were together. Or making him sad. Or even happy, for that matter. Who knows—maybe he doesn’t have feelings?
But on the off chance that he does, I had to come up with a way to quickly cover up what had just happened.
So when Jeremy sang the last note of the song, I grabbed his hand, threw it up high, took a bow, and yelled, “Thank you very much!” to make it look like me and the kiss were a planned part of the act.
I even stuck around the staging area to receive compliments.
“Excellent,” said Fippy as she gave me a quick hug.
“Nice work, Rae,” said Lynn as she linked pinkies with me.
“You totally rocked,” said Roman as his eyes twinkled at me.
“You have got the angry skills,” said Galenka.
Everyone was so impressed. I guess I’m just a natural. Makes you wonder why I’ve shied away from performing all these years. I guess I’m just not comfortable being the center of attention.
I was so busy drowning in the glory, I forgot about CJ for a little while. He was the whole reason I got up onstage to begin with. I scanned the room and found him sitting on the floor with Roger and examining Roger’s new PSP. When CJ looked up and saw me, he gave me the thumbs up.
Mission accomplished. I was relieved. I would not have wanted to hurt CJ’s feelings.
“Can I talk to you outside?” Jeremy said, tugging at my sleeve. I was in the middle of planning my Grammy Award outfit (gold glitter minidress with gold platform ankle strap shoes), so I was tempted to ask him to come back in a few. Also, I had a feeling I knew what he wanted to talk to me about. And I had no idea how to respond.
“Um . . . sure,” I said, following him upstairs and out the side door. It was snowing. Real snow. Not the wimpy wintry-mix kind. We walked down the front porch steps and around the house to the back-yard. There was a picnic table and benches there. Jeremy whisked the snow off the bench and we sat down.
“Um, so, like, why did you run up and kiss me like that before?” he asked, undoing and redoing the toggle buttons on his coat.
“Um . . . no offense,” I said, “but I didn’t kiss you.”
“Um . . . yes, you did,” he argued.
“Jeremy, I would know if I kissed you, and I didn’t.”
“Raisin, it’s okay—I’m not mad at you or anything.”
“Well, you have no reason to be mad at me because I didn’t kiss
you.”
“Then what were you doing with your mouth so close to my ear?” he asked. Even though it was dark, I could see his face turning red.
“I was trying to tell you to change the CJ line at the end of your song.”
“Oh. Really?” He was much calmer now. His face had gone back to its usual white and brown. “I guess that makes sense.”
“I didn’t want CJ to get the wrong idea. Like that I still liked him and was trying to get him back through your song or something like that.”
There was a pause. I could almost hear Jeremy thinking.
“Well, do you still like CJ?” he asked, staring at his shoes.
“I like him. But I don’t like him like him,” I said.
“Really?” he said, smiling ear to ear.
“Really,” I answered.
And before I knew what was happening, he was kissing me.
AND I WAS KISSING HIM BACK!
The full-on Frencharoo.
It was so strange. I never thought of Jeremy that way. Not even once. I mean except earlier in the evening for a second when he took off his mistletoe hat and I was a little disappointed. But that was the first time. And then I forgot about it. Until that moment on the picnic bench in back of Roman’s house. But I realized that he was what I always wanted. At least since right before Christmas when Lynn complained that Jeremy wanted to write a song for her and sing it at Black Christmas. She thought that was too much, but I wished I could have something like that. And last night that wish came true for me.
“Wait, what time is it?” Jeremy asked as he pulled away from me.
“I don’t know—someone took away all our watches,” I said.
“That’s okay, I stuffed some of them in my pocket and forgot to put them in the basket,” he said, fishing one out. He looked at the watch and then he smiled at me. “Guess what time it is?”
Suddenly Jeremy looked different to me. His freckles had taken on a whole new light. I don’t know how I missed it all these months, but the guy’s a looker.
Will the Real Raisin Rodriguez Please Stand Up? Page 12
