The Kissing Diary (11 page)

Rosie Gold-hooligan

13

Rosie's Intentions Did Not Include Detention

When they got home, Rosie's mother delivered her own set of detention rules: no television, no computer, no telephone. Rosie pleaded hard for her telephone privileges. How else would she know if her reputation was in the toilet? Her mother wouldn't budge.

“What was it you told me? Do the crime, pay the fine?” Mrs. Goldglitt said, raising an eyebrow.

Serving detention at home reminded Rosie of last year's blackout, except that she was the only one dealing with the misery of no electronics, and no one volunteered to play cards with her by candlelight. She did her homework, read a novel, and wrote a letter to her cousin in California, but she was itching to talk to Lauren and her friends.

Jimmy loped into the living room and tossed his jacket over the easy chair, despite his mother's call from the kitchen to hang it up.

“Hey, slugger, how's it goin'?” he said, landing a few light punches on Rosie's arm. “I heard it on the grapevine that my sister's a thug.”

“Very funny,” said Rosie dejectedly.

“Hey, we all hit rock bottom sometime. I beat up Stanley Siddow in the eighth grade, remember?”

“That's true,” said Rosie, brightening. Mrs. Goldglitt entered the living room and lifted up Jimmy's jacket with two fingers. “Hang it up,” she said.

“Did you take away Jimmy's privileges when he beat up some kid in the playground?” Rosie asked her.

“Stanley Siddow was three hundred pounds and he sat on Jimmy's head and wouldn't let him get up,” said Mrs. Goldglitt, unyielding. “It was self-defense. Besides, they separated the two of them, and Jimmy wasn't suspended. This is very different.”

“Yeah, I'm going to jail,” said Rosie.

“Detention sucks. I had detention when Mom and Dad were getting the divorce, and we were always getting to school late, remember?”

“You were late four times,” said his mother. “And they made you stay after school.”

“Whatever.” Jimmy tossed his jacket back on the chair. “I've got my study group tonight. Can I hang it up later? What's for dinner?”

“Prison food,” joked Mrs. Goldglitt. “Dry bread and water.”

The following morning, Rosie sneaked a phone call to Lauren while her mother was in the bathroom. “Meet me at the rosebush where Robbie fell over,” she whispered as soon as she heard her friend's voice. Rosie kept her eyes on the ground as she waited. She felt as though she were about to perform her Greek play all over again, except that this was her life and there were no extra rehearsals to make things better.

Lauren arrived looking very solemn. “Hey,” she said as they headed toward the school.

“I'm so glad to see you,” said Rosie, relieved, even if it felt as though she were going to a funeral.

“I called, you know. Your mom said you were grounded.”

“We had bread and water for dinner,” said Rosie, repeating her mother's joke.

Lauren didn't even smile. “Why did you do it?” she blurted out. “I know Mary bothers you, but did you have to hit her? What were you thinking?”

“Thinking had nothing to do with it,” said Rosie. “I was out of control.”

Lauren shook her head, and her sparkly barrette from Claire's Accessories threatened to come undone. “I was in a state of shock. I just couldn't believe you would do something like that!”

“You act like I planned it!” Rosie felt herself getting defensive. Couldn't Lauren support her instead of sounding like her mother? She lowered her voice. The way things were going, a rumor would circulate that she was yelling at her best friend and about to slug her. “I'm not saying it was the right thing to do, Lauren! What happened afterward?”

Lauren softened her own tone, saying, “I was at the nurse's office with Mary, so I missed a lot of it.”

“What did Mary say?”

“That you were a threat to society and ought to be put away. That you should be expelled. The nurse put cotton in her nose, and it was all red. Mary kept saying, ‘Is it broken? Is it broken?' Did you aim for her nose?”

“No,” said Rosie, feeling a rush of shame. “It wasn't broken, was it?”

Lauren shook her head.

“It just happened,” Rosie repeated. Punching someone in the nose was like a bad cartoon from the olden days. When was the last time she'd hit someone? When Jimmy had gotten angry and thrown her book bag out the door? All of her papers had scattered across the lawn, and Rosie had socked him, but not in the nose. Luckily, her mother had intervened, and Jimmy hadn't been able to punch her back. She pulled Lauren out of the main hall for privacy. “Does everyone think I'm a low-life?” she asked.

“Just let it blow over and people will forget about it,” Lauren said, looking around as though she was ready to bolt.

“What did Sarah say?”

Lauren's eyes flickered. “She said … what did she say?”

“Tell me.”

“She said it was nuts!”

“Nice,” said Rosie.

“Don't get mad! You know what you did was off the wall!”

Rosie could feel her face turn to stone. “And Summer? What did she say?”

Lauren put her hand out, as if it would make Rosie shut up. “Don't go through a list of people, please.”

“Summer is not a list. Summer is Dumb and Dumber Summer who was tortured by Mary all through elementary school.”

“She was … shocked.” Lauren floundered. “She said it made you look bad and Mary look good.”

Rosie felt herself go pale. “I guess she can't remember when Mary picked on her, and she didn't want to go to school, and her mother had to force her to go. Hey, maybe nobody wants to be seen with me anymore. I'm a…” Rosie cast around for the word she was looking for.

“An outcast?” said Lauren, trying to be helpful.

“A
felon!
” cried Rosie. Lauren looked confused, which didn't surprise Rosie, as she had always done better on vocabulary tests. “You're worse than my mother!” Rosie declared.

“It was
embarrassing,
Rosie! Can't you see that? It was like …
The Jerry Springer Show
or something!”

“I don't want to talk about it anymore,” said Rosie, close to tears.

The bell rang and they hastily said goodbye, rushing away from each other so quickly that Rosie had no idea if they were friends or not.

As she walked in the direction of the detention room, the patter of feet and jingling chains made her think she was about to get mugged. “Rosie!” a voice called breathlessly.

Rosie turned around to see Teresa running toward her like a friendly dog.

“I just wanted to tell you that I'm in your corner!” said Teresa.

“What?” said Rosie, hoping it didn't look as though she was about to cry.

Teresa slung an arm around Rosie. “I'm not saying you should have hit her, but Mary has a new nickname now.”

“She does?” said Rosie, trying to keep her eyes from welling up with tears.

“In gym class, somebody called her Bloody Mary, which has lots of connotations, if you know what I mean.”

“Connotations?” said Rosie. Was that one of Mr. Woo's vocabulary words?

“I'm just saying that if they ever do a remake of the movie
Mean Girls,
Mary could be the star. You stood up to her. Even if you did it the wrong way, Rosie.”

“That means a lot to me,” said Rosie, her voice husky.

Teresa took Rosie's arm and escorted her to the detention room as if she were squiring a princess. “Bloody Mary, that's her new nickname. She was the Queen of England for five years, so it didn't last much longer than middle school, you know? It's a drink made of vodka and tomato juice, too. My aunt had too many at my cousin's bar mitzvah. And Bloody Mary is the Polynesian lady from
South Pacific.
She's nasty, even if she sings some nice songs.”

Rosie laughed. “Where do you get this stuff, Teresa?”

“See you later,” said Teresa, patting Rosie's back and walking away, a cowboy with jingling spurs.

Rosie joined a dozen kids slouched behind their desks. They looked up to scrutinize each new arrival. Slipping into a chair behind Deena Corvo, who badly needed a dandruff shampoo, Rosie wondered what she'd done. Sworn at a teacher? Set fire to a wastepaper basket? Shown too much midriff, which, to judge by the outfit, might be the case? A teacher Rosie had never seen before waddled in, her billowing dress tent-like, camouflaging a large lumpy body. Rosie made a mental note to follow her mother's exercise regimen when she got older so that she wouldn't end up wearing tents.

“My name is Mrs. Caruso. Welcome to detention.” She picked up a clipboard and read their names from a list, licking her finger as she turned the page. It reminded Rosie of her father, who licked his index finger when he was reading the newspaper. Germ-phobic Sarah said it was a nasty habit and made her feel sick. Her ex-friend Sarah, Rosie thought sadly.

“Billy Jones?”

Billy Jones? Rosie was astonished.

The door flew open and Billy hurtled through it. He mumbled a “Hi” and flopped into the vacant seat next to Rosie. Something was different about him that she couldn't figure out. “I'm here,” he said.

“You're late,” said Mrs. Caruso. “Here are the rules. You may do schoolwork or read a book. There will be no gum chewing, no eating, no headphones, no iPods. In other words, this is meant to be a punishment. It's not a vacation from school.”

The minutes felt like hours. The hours felt like days. Rosie memorized every chipped block on the wall. The hands of the clock moved incredibly slowly. By one o'clock, Billy's eyes were closed and he was snoring gently. The teacher rapped a paperweight on the desk and said, “No sleeping, either, Mr. Jones.”

Billy blinked his eyes open and turned his head toward Rosie.

She smiled at him. “Why are you here?” Rosie whispered.

“Lateness,” said Billy, smiling back. “How's your grandpa?”

“No talking either!”
Mrs. Caruso said sternly, and Billy's mouth turned down as if he were a pouting child. Rosie tried not to giggle, certain that laughing wasn't allowed either.

When the final bell rang, Billy jumped to his feet and stretched his arms toward the ceiling, yawning noisily. He said, “That was a blast, wasn't it?” and left before Rosie could answer him.

The moment he was gone, she figured out what was different.

Billy Jones didn't smell anymore.

Rosie felt invisible when she hit the hallway. Grandma once told her that the older you got, the more invisible you became to the outside world. When she got sick, Grandma made another discovery. Sick people became invisible, too. No one wanted to know them, or see them, or become them. If Grandma were alive, Rosie could tell her that she had found a new way to become invisible: punch someone in the nose and get detention.

Heads turned the other way and voices hushed as Rosie walked by. Summer was standing at Sarah's locker, and they were deep in conversation.

Rosie approached them with a breezy “Hey!” If she ignored the problem, maybe it would go away.

“Hey,” said Summer, turning her back on Rosie and shutting her out. Sarah avoided looking at her altogether.

A lightning bolt hit her as Robbie rounded the corner, his familiar book bag with the Xbox logo slung over his shoulder. Summer and Sarah conveniently walked away, and Rosie called after them desperately, “Wanna hang out?”—the words nearly choking her. Overnight, it seemed they had lost their hearing.

“Hey, Robbie,” said Rosie, and her heart registered a little bleep as his eyes made contact, until his face went dead.

Rosie wandered away, searching for Lauren, but she was nowhere to be found.

Then Rosie walked home, alone.

She went straight to her room and wrote in her diary:

Tuesday

Dear Diary,

I might as well be Grandpa with half a mind. I'm invisible. Lauren is mad at me. Sarah is Rosie-phobic, like I'm a snotty tissue. I hate to say it, but Summer is Dumb and Dumber Summer again, because she doesn't feel like being my friend anymore. All I can say is,
Bloody Mary!

I am

Rosie Gold-bitterer-and-bitterer-and-bitterer

P.S. The only nice thing that's happened is that Billy is keeping me company in detention for lateness. So what does he do? He arrives there, late. News flash! Billy doesn't smell anymore. Wonder what happened.

Oh dear. My Kissing Diary has become a Dissing Diary, as in, I am dismissed.

14

Rosie's Intention Is to Never Again Get Detention

Detention was so boring that it made Rosie crave the classroom. Oh, what she'd give to solve a math problem, learn about the Aztecs, run after a ball in baseball, read a sonnet. Anything but stare at the back of John Lory's oily head, read for hours, count the dandruff flakes on Deena Corvo's shirt, listen to Billy snore, or wonder how many minutes would pass before Mrs. Caruso woke him up. When the bell rang announcing the end of the day, the students stood up in slow motion, as though they had lost every ounce of energy by focusing on nothing.

As soon as she saw Lauren, Rosie called out her name. “Lauren! Wait up!”

Lauren was slow to turn around.

“Where's everyone going?” Rosie said, joining the throng of kids heading down the hallway.

“The wrestling match. We're playing St. Christopher's.”

Rosie tagged along hopefully, glad that no mention was made of yesterday's outburst. “I can't believe Summer and Sarah are ignoring me,” she said. “What can I do?”

Lauren shrugged. “They'll come around. Bloody Mary is telling everyone that you're insane. And that her father might sue the school.”