Dad grunted something about having the Explorer so she wasn’t to worry about the weather. Mom nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “Okay. Good. So you can stop and pick up a heavy jacket at least. He really needs so much, John, and I know you haven’t the time now. As I said, I was able to pick up a few things at the mall—guessing at the size—but he needs underwear and socks, long sleeved shirts, jeans, and, of course, a warm jacket. Maybe you c—”
“Honey, don’t fret. It’ll be a piece of cake,” Dad assured her. “It won’t take us guys more ’n a minute to get all that stuff. We’ll stop, get the stuff and be home in three shakes of a lamb’s tail. Don’t worry.”
Mollified, Mom hung up and turned to Rose and me and shook her head. “That man is having a ball with Jimmy-John.”
Rose smiled and I shrugged. “Sounds like it,” I agreed, making a conscientious attempt at complacency.
Mom nodded. “Well, I’m going to make a quick run to the supermarket to stock up on a few things before the weather changes. Can you think of anything we can’t do without?”
I shook my head and then waved a hand. “Do we have popcorn? If it snows, we have to have lots of popcorn. And cocoa. Oh, and chocolate chips for cookies.”
Mom smiled. “Okay, I’ll make sure to pick up baking stuff and several boxes of popcorn.”
“Be sure to get the kind with double butter.”
“Oh, great. Cholesterol, here we come.”
“Aw, we don’t eat that much of it. Be a sport, Mom. If we’re snowed in we need fortification…don’t we? I mean, what if the electricity goes out and we need energy to maintain body temperature? The extra butter and calories will be life saving then. Right?”
Mom made a face. Rose grinned. A first.
* * * *
That night it began snowing with a vengeance. Sunday morning we awoke to several inches of fresh new snow, still coming down with no signs of letting up. Mom debated whether we should attempt church and then decided we should. She told Rose and me to help Jimmy-John dress.
The night before we’d had a difficult time getting the little kid ready for bed because he was wound up tighter than a spring after his outing with Dad. The pile of new clothes presented him made it impossible to get him settled down. Rose finally sang him to sleep. After Mom and Dad tucked him in, I stayed outside the door and listened while Rose sang him song after song in a gentle but clear voice. My fantasizing about her joining chorus wasn’t so far-fetched. She had a lovely voice.
In record time we were all dressed—Rose and Jimmy-John in their new outfits and looking better than I ever have thought possible. They met us in the kitchen for cups of hot cocoa before we left for church, and I tried not to gape like an airhead. Like I said, scrubbed clean in a bubble bath that had lasted half an hour the evening before, Jimmy-John looked sweet as could be in brown pants and brown sweater over a yellow shirt. Dad had done a good job picking out clothes that fit and, added to the few things Mom had purchased, the kid now had a fairly extensive wardrobe. With his hair combed and his usually wan face rosy, he looked a different child than the pathetic little waif who’d sat on the inside steps of the school bus with only a sister to care for him.
Rose wore a dark green skirt with matching sweater over a crisp white blouse. Her hair, washed, conditioned, and curled, now shone like polished chestnut. I almost felt dowdy in comparison in my brown skirt and long sleeved sweater, which, although fairly new, seemed boring next to Rose’s striking outfit. Swallowing my pride, I complimented Rose on her new look. I meant it, too.
Dad had to park the car a ways from the church so we hurried into the warmth of the huge stone building. We entered the sanctuary and sat in our usual pew. Feigning nonchalance I looked around for the Spencers, hoping to spot Nancy. I didn’t have long to wait. Only a few minutes later she sauntered down the far-left aisle with her parents. Like before, they joined Mr. and Mrs. O’Leary in their pew as though they’d been sitting there forever.
I tried to appear blasé as though I were only mildly curious about the goings-on. I mean, I wasn’t in drama for nothing. After one of my casual sweeps of the church, I caught a glimpse of Nancy. Her eyes were riveted on us and her mouth hung open in astonishment. Clearly, she’d seen us. And our “guests.” Aware of Nancy’s bewilderment during the entire service, I paid little attention to the sermon or to praying. Once the service was over, I couldn’t remember a single word the reverend had said or what hymns we’d sung. I just hoped God wasn’t too annoyed with me.
We stopped in the gathering area to say hello to friends and acquaintances and chat about such boring subjects as the weather, sports, and general town gossip. I couldn’t wait to see Nancy’s reaction when she got up closer and really saw the changes made in the Coughlin kids—Rose especially. As expected, Nancy and her parents gravitated to where we stood on the pretext of saying hello. They didn’t fool me. My mother, however, only saw the world through rose-colored glasses—no pun intended.
“Marilyn…hello,” Mom exclaimed with her signature smile.
“Kathy, dear, how are you?” Mrs. Spencer dripped sugary sweetness.
“We’re just fine, thank you, Marilyn. And you? I’ve missed seeing you and Bob. Have you been out of town? You haven’t been sitting in your usual spot.”
Mrs. Spencer had the grace to look embarrassed, and there appeared a slight coloring of her cheeks. She was actually flustered. “No. I mean, yes…that is, we’ve been quite busy. Things just kept coming up after the holidays, and-and whatnot. You know how it is. Such a lot to do with a family and-and the clubs and, uh, everything.” She tripped over her tongue, all the while trying to keep from staring at the Coughlins, which made me want to snort with laughter. Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Well, Kathy, who do we have here?” she simpered. “Aren’t these Bertie and Sam Coughlin’s children? We, uh, heard something about the awful tra—” She stopped as though suddenly remembering the kids were standing right there and might have feelings concerning the matter. The pink in her cheeks deepened to vermilion. Now more than ever it took a whole lot of self-control not to burst out laughing.
Mom didn’t appear fazed one bit. “Yes, Marilyn, this is Rose and little Jimmy-John Coughlin. They’re staying with us for a while until their mom can get things settled.” I noticed how Mom looked at the other woman, probably hoping to communicate that the subject was taboo. I knew she didn’t want Jimmy-John to hear anything negative or frightening. He’d been through enough already.
Bob Spencer took up the conversation, allowing his wife time to gather her wits. “Well, that’s fine, just fine,” he bellowed. “Some weather we’re having, huh? Guess we’d better head out. Still snowing to beat the band. You guys drive carefully, now. We’ll have to get together real soon. Maybe play some bridge.” He took his wife by the elbow and directed her past us.
Nancy, standing a little to one side, had stared at Rose and me the whole time without saying a word. As soon as her parents said their good-byes and started for the door, she mumbled something I almost didn’t catch. “See you tomorrow, Kate,” is what I thought she said before running to join her parents.
TWENTY-TWO
We boarded the bus the next morning, bursting with energy, and I led Rose and Jimmy-John to my new seat at the back of the bus. I passed Nancy in the third row without giving her a second glance, but she surprised me by putting out a hand to bar my way.
“Kate! Kate, wait.”
I paused and looked down at her in a grand imitation of Queen Victoria. “Yes, Nancy?”
Nancy patted the seat beside her. “Sit here, Kate. Louise has decided she’d rather sit in the back with the other sophomores, after all.”
Rose stiffened behind me in the cramped aisle. Glancing back, I saw that she’d put on the silly, half-smile again, resigned to the fact that I’d abandon her for my old crowd. Fat chance. The thought that Nancy was so sure of herself sent a surge of angry determination through me. I looked at Nancy w
ith my haughtiest air and smiled with pointed politeness. “Thanks, but no thanks. We’ll just find a seat in the back.”
“B-but there’s not any room back there. You know that.” Nancy was perplexed.
Her obvious discomfiture fueled me further. “Well, then, we’ll just make room. We can sit three to a seat with no problem. See ya.”
I left Nancy so dumbfounded I wanted to laugh but continued my way down the aisle. We found a seat, believe it or not, and scrunched together—Jimmy-John on Rose’s lap—and I couldn’t have been prouder of myself. I felt like I’d won a decisive battle in what was becoming a heated war. Filled with satisfaction, I looked up and fixed my eyes on the back of my ex-friend’s head, smug over my success. Nancy sat motionless, her head bowed as if in deep thought. She didn’t look behind her once for the rest of the trip.
When the bus lumbered into the high school parking lot, Rose and I disembarked together and made our way into the building. I strutted toward our homeroom as though I hadn’t a care in the world but was a little peeved with my companion, who followed two steps behind like some subservient shadow. I tried to urge her along, but Rose refused to be roused, so I was forced to gesticulate and talk about trivial things just to make up for her obsequiousness. It was bound to take longer than a couple of days to change what had been a lifetime of bad habits. I could understand that. I could empathize. Really, I could. She just needed more time to crawl out of her shell.
But me? I was in rare form, eager to see my old friends’ expressions when they got their first look at the new Rose. It also crossed my mind that the teachers would probably react noticeably when presented for the first time with the striking change in their diminutive, least important student. Boy, was I in luck. Fate was on my side. Before we’d made it half way down the crowded hallway, we came face to face with Claudia Jackson and her clone, Melissa Sullivan. Both girls stopped in their tracks and stared—mouths lolling. I almost crowed with delight.
“Oh m’god! It can’t be,” Claudia shrieked.
“Can’t be what?” the stupid Melissa responded.
“Her.” Claudia pointed.
“Who?” Melissa squeaked.
Claudia ignored her. “Kate, this isn’t—”
“Oh, Claudia,” I tittered. “Don’t be silly. You know Rose Coughlin. She’s been in your class since forever, you ninny,” I managed just a hint of condescension. I was so enjoying the looks of total disbelief that had overtaken their two pert faces.
“Rose? You don’t mean Rose Coughlin?” Melissa repeated, sounding dumber than ever.
“Yes, of course, Rose Coughlin,” I mimicked. “Do you like the new look? We simply had a blast shopping Saturday. Great sales going on. Did you guys get to the mall over the weekend? If you didn’t, you should have. We cleaned them out. It was a riot.”
Rose remained behind me, silent as usual, but at least not wearing the silly smile. Instead, she stood erect, chin lifted, listening to the discourse going on in front of her. I had the ridiculous desire to wink at Rose and was surprised when she responded with a grin. Spurred on, I linked my arm in hers and eased her toward the classroom, leaving a bewildered Claudia and Melissa behind. I smiled at them and said, “Toodles!” A word I’d never used before in my life, but it seemed to fit the occasion.
Mrs. Abrams sat at her desk and happened to look up when we walked into the room. As soon as she recognized the pretty stranger as none other than Rose Coughlin, she bounded from her chair like she’d been given an electric shock.
“Rose! Oh, Rose, you look absolutely…absolutely—that’s a beautiful outfit you’re wearing. And your hair. Oh, my dear, my dear. Your hair is…your hair is beautiful. Oh, Rose…beautiful…”
This fatuous gushing from our usually strict, no-nonsense teacher made me want to do a war dance in triumph. Dying to know what Rose was thinking throughout all this, I was a little surprised when she spoke—clearly and with a semblance of composure.
“Thank you, Mrs. Abrams. This is my—” she gathered some material in her hands, paused, then resumed. “This is my favorite new outfit. That’s why I wore it today. I love the feel of it. It’s so soft and, well…nice.”
“Yes, yes, it is nice. New, you say? Well, you have a good eye for styles that become you. You chose wisely. It’s adorable and you’re right. It does look very soft and-and so comfortable.”
We left a rather awe-struck Mrs. Abrams and went to our respective desks. I sat, made a pretext of arranging my stuff, then opened a library book and feigned an absorbed interest I didn’t have. All the while, I kept an eye on my fellow classmates so I could wallow with pleasure at their ridiculous reactions as they each saw the “new” Rose. To my utter delight, each displayed the most comical facial contortions as he or she processed what each was seeing—and not quite believing. A riot. One by one, mouths gaped, like large mouthed bass swallowing the hook, line, and sinker. Eyes popped and looks of stupefaction replaced once laughing, smirking faces. After a while, small groups began gravitating to the desk at the back of the room and remained there like tourists at a new exhibit at the zoo. Oh, gosh, it was too funny.
Loud exclamations of surprise, choked hisses, one syrupy compliment after another, followed question after question, and all the while Rose fended them as though she’d been a celebrity all her life. Well, in a way, she had been. Just not in quite so favorable a light. The kids grouped around her chattered about the stupidest things. To her credit, throughout the whole absurd ordeal, Rose kept her composure and continued smiling as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
Claudia, apparently recovered from her shock, plied Rose with questions about her father. My first impulse was to jump up and run to Rose’s defense, but as I watched and listened, it was more than apparent that Rose could handle it just fine.
Consumed with curiosity, however, I inched my way to the bookcase where Mrs. Abrams kept a collection of old paperbacks—all classics, of course—and pretended to examine titles. I kept my ears tuned to the conversation, however.
“So, Rose…tell us about your father. Was he really trying to rob a gas station? I mean, really? And is it true that he was shot doing it? My god! What are you guys going to do? Is your mother in jail? How long will she have to stay there? It’s too, too much, don’t you think? Nothing like this has ever happened to one of our crowd before. Weren’t you just totally devastated?”
All through this insensitive tirade, Rose just stared into Claudia’s snapping eyes. When the other girl paused for breath, she said softly, “Yes, my father tried to rob a gas station and, yes, he was killed. My mother—” she cleared her throat, “—is being held for questioning. I’m-I’m not sure what my little brother and I are going to do. Go live with my grandparents, maybe, although they are pretty old.”
At this disclosure, I put down the book I was clutching like a life preserver and pushed my way through the small crowd gathered around Rose. “Rose and Jimmy-John are going to spend some time with my parents and me,” I broke in, a little breathlessly, I hate to admit. Sometimes my acting skills aren’t as polished as they should be.
Marshall Thompson, a boy who bragged he only dated cheerleaders, smirked. “The Coughlins are living with you?”
“Yes,” I answered with all the brightness I could muster. “I’m an ‘only’ you know and always wanted to have a sister and brother. In spite of the tragic circumstances, we’ve been having a real blast. Little Jimmy-John and my dad are like two peas in a pod.”
Cindy, Jenny, and Molly appeared and boldly shoved through the mob to the front of the group. They paused like three mimes, took a long look at Rose, and then squealed as recognition hit them like a hammer.
“Oh my god,” Molly exclaimed.
“Rose? It can’t be. It isn’t possible. Oh, m’god. Is it really you? You actually look—I mean, you look, well, you don’t look like you—I mean, oh, m’god, you look fabulous.” Cindy blundered through the uncharted areas of her puny mind.
�
��God, your hair. It’s so pretty. Is that its natural color?” Jenny blurted.
This discovery and consequent discussion of the “new” Rose probably would’ve lasted the entire day if it weren’t for the teachers demanding we stay on track. As each consecutive teacher saw Rose for the first time and experienced the initial shock and surprise, he or she had to deal with private musings. You could see the turmoil each was going through but like a lot of adults, they were able to mentally sweep it under the rug and dive headfirst into their respective work. I thought Mr. Wilcox seemed more fired up than usual. Sort of amusing to see each different personality’s reaction and handling of the apparent metamorphosis of the lowly and infamous Rose Coughlin.
After the last bell, Rose met me at my locker and we hurried outside. The bus made its usual stop at the elementary school where Jimmy-John climbed aboard. We rode the entire route home, sitting three to a seat in the back, amid the laughing banter of sophomores. The kids on the bus, after having survived their initial jolt of that morning, now accepted Rose and Jimmy-John like old friends. Suddenly, it was okay to sit next to a Coughlin. In fact, for some of the guys, it was now a pleasure to sit near Rose. Face it. She was pretty. No way around it. Rose Coughlin was a very pretty girl, and no one had ever noticed it before. It was gratifying to think I’d been an instrument in the transformation of the once shunned girl. And, at the same time, it made me sick to see how fickle the other kids were. How dare they change so quickly and matter-of-factly. All of a sudden, because she was wearing nice clothes, she was accepted? There’s a word for that.
The rest of the week went smoothly, with only an occasional rude remark on the change made in the Coughlins or the robbery. Marshall Thompson whispered things like “Bang, bang, you’re dead!” but always received a poison look from me in return. When it became apparent his cronies weren’t supporting him, he grew tired of it. For the most part, the kids accepted the Coughlins, and after their initial curiosity and downright shock, life got back to something, resembling “normal.”
By Any Other Name Page 12
