The Kissing Diary (5 page)

Robbie protested. “Hey, Mr. Woo! How come you gave us three myths?” Teresa corrected him, reciting the myth behind the names, and Mr. Woo made her team captain. Mary scribbled her address on a piece of paper and gave it to Robbie. “We'll do it at my house,” she announced.

“Mansion,” said Teresa when she heard the address.

“Whatever,” said Mary.

*   *   *

A couple of days later, when Mrs. Goldglitt drove Rosie to Mary's house, their eyes widened as they passed through the gate that said
PRIVATE ROAD
, down a long tree-lined street, and into her circular driveway. The edge of a tennis court could be seen in back, and two fancy silver cars were parked in front of a garage that looked big enough to hold Rosie's house. She waved goodbye to her mother and rang the doorbell, half expecting a butler to appear.

Mary answered, decked out in what looked like brand-new clothes with the tags snipped off. Rosie recognized the same Juicy Couture T-shirt that her mother wouldn't buy her because it was too expensive, her exact words being, “Twenty dollars more for a handful of fake diamonds? I don't think so.” Rosie followed Mary through three rooms that all looked like living rooms into another large space she called “the den.” Robbie was already there.

“Hey,” he said, aiming the word at wallpaper that Rosie's mother would die for.

“Hey,” Rosie answered, and Mary disappeared when the doorbell chimed again.

“This house is amazing. They must be rich,” said Rosie.

Robbie didn't answer, and Rosie made a mental note to borrow Lauren's dog muzzle for any future meetings.

Jangling noises signaled that Teresa had arrived. She breezed in and started pulling books out of her knapsack, talking nonstop. “I got three books about Demeter and Persephone out of the library. One is a picture book, which makes it easier to write a play about them. Another name for Demeter is Ceres, you know. We get the word
cereal
from Ceres, because she's the goddess of the harvest.” Teresa rummaged some more and pulled out a box of Lucky Charms with the name crossed out in Magic Marker. Above it, she had written
LUCKY CERES
.

Robbie looked blankly at the cereal box. Rosie saw him exchange dumb glances with Mary. It annoyed her. Had
they
gone to the library like Teresa had? Rosie had hastily pulled a few articles off the Internet, and that was it. Mary giggled, as if she was sharing a private joke with Robbie. Rosie resisted the urge to empty the Lucky Charms over Mary's perfect blond hair.

Teresa fanned them with a stack of typed pages and said, “Rosie, you can be the mother, Demeter, okay? Hey, we could call her De Mutter! Get it? Demeter? De mother? De Mutter? That's funny. Anyhow…” She reached into her bottomless Mary Poppins satchel and pulled out a gigantic fruit-patterned dress that resembled a beach bag. “This would be a good costume for you, wouldn't it? Goddess of the Harvest?”

“Who am I?” said Mary, eager for her assignment.

“You're Rosie's beautiful daughter, Persephone,” said Teresa, very pleased with her casting.

Rosie held the dress in her hand. Not only did she have a
body
shaped like a pear, but she'd be wearing a dress covered with strawberries and bananas and peaches and plums that was bigger and uglier than any of Grandma Rebecca's nightgowns. And she'd be playing Mary's mother.

Teresa continued. “Persephone was raised among flowers and she looked like one, too, so you fit the part.”

More like the Venus flytrap, thought Rosie, watching Mary purr next to Robbie. She glared at Teresa, who took no notice, saying, “And that leaves Robbie. Robbie, you can be Hades.”

Robbie plopped down on the couch and said, “What's his thing?”

“He's the God of the Dead.”

Robbie collapsed in a heap and said, “Then I don't have do anything, do I?” He closed his eyes and lolled his tongue out of his mouth.

Rosie couldn't help laughing along with Mary.

Teresa looked mildly annoyed and said, “Guys, do you even know the story here? It's why we have the division of the seasons. Winter and summer and spring and fall?”

“If we moved to Florida, where they don't have any seasons, we wouldn't have to do this anymore!” said Robbie, no longer dead.

Mary's laughter outdid Rosie's, and Teresa shushed her. “Persephone, you're out painting and you see this bush that you don't want to put in the picture. So you pull it out, and the hole gets bigger, and out leap six black horses and a golden chariot with you in it, Robbie. And you take her away.”

“That's called kidnapping, isn't it?” said Robbie. “Can they put gods in jail?”

“My uncle owns horses,” said Mary.

Rosie resisted calling her an idiot. “I don't think we can bring a horse into school,” she said sweetly.

“A chariot would be tough,” added Robbie, appearing to side with Rosie, which cheered her immensely.

Teresa ignored them. “Robbie, you take her to your underground kingdom.”

“A lot of action for the God of the Dead,” he answered. Rosie tried not to laugh, she really did. Why should she make him think he was funny when he had been so mean?

Teresa continued. “You try to make her love you, Robbie. You give her all sorts of presents. Rubies, diamonds.”

“What, no Kate Spade pocketbook?” Mary asked.

“She plays jacks with the jewels,” Teresa told her.

“Who's Kate Spade?” said Robbie.

“A great designer,” said Mary.

“Of spades?” Robbie looked so dumbfounded that Rosie had to laugh.

“Of handbags,” said Rosie, delighted by Robbie's lack of knowledge when it came to Mary's fashion name-dropping.

Teresa pulled a handful of junk jewelry out of her bag, the kind Grandma's sister, Aunt Sadie, liked to wear. “You can break these apart and use them, Mary. But, Hades, you have trouble winning her over. This girl is hard to please!”

“Moi?”
said Mary, in the only French word Rosie knew.

“Yes, and, Demeter,
you
go crazy!” said Teresa, directing her attention to Rosie, who sat up straighter. “You're furious and heartbroken, and you want revenge! You mess up the world! You won't let crops grow. Your husband, that's Zeus, he goes along with it. I guess I'll play him, he's King of the Gods, but believe me, Zeus doesn't mess with his wife! Winds start blowing and crops aren't growing, hey, that rhymes, maybe we should write a song about it!”

“Or use sound effects,” said Robbie, whistling like the wind.

“Not bad! Let's use it. I'll put it in the script.” Teresa pulled an apple out of her trusty bag. “My mom wouldn't let me buy a pomegranate,” she explained. “So we'll have to make believe. Mary, you eat six seeds from the pomegranate, which means marriage. You're stuck!”

“We can use M&M's,” said Mary, looking pleased with herself.

Rehearsal continued, with Teresa typing the skit into Mary's computer, Robbie trying to be funny, Mary giggling, and Rosie unable to decrushify. She sat like a lump on Mary's plush floral couch, holding the costume that would soon make her look like a big fat bowl of fruit.

That night, she wrote in her diary:

Thursday night

Not much to report. Saw Robbie today and couldn't help laughing at his silly jokes. I think I've turned into my mother, who laughs at everything that Sam says. I tried to ignore him, but Mary got me going, cooing next to him. I guess I'm stuck.

Signing off on my fruitless crush,

Rosie Gold-plum-pear-peach-pit-glitt!

6

Rosie Goldglitt's Skit

Zeus, Demeter, Hades, and Persephone fine-tuned their script as much as they could, printed up copies, and met that Sunday for a quick rehearsal. Robbie continued to address the wallpaper, but Teresa Tubby was such a taskmaster that there was very little time to take notice.

By Wednesday morning, Rosie was so nervous she could barely eat her bowl of unhealthy cereal. It was her group's turn to perform today, and not even Lucky Charms would go down.

Rosie's mother was all smiles, offering her daughter a variety of choices: waffles, toast, French toast sticks. Rosie looked at her suspiciously. “Why are you so happy, Mom?” she asked.

Her mother laughed and said, schoolgirl giggly, “Sam called me early this morning.”

“We have an alarm clock,” Jimmy said in between bagel bites.

“Be nice,” said Mrs. Goldglitt, her smile undimmed.

It was unsettling. Wasn't Rosie supposed to be the one feeling giddy after a boy she liked showed her some attention? If her mother had never seemed happier, it felt like the opposite for Rosie.

“Break a leg,” Mrs. Goldglitt told her as she got out of the car.

“Don't make a fool of yourself,” Jimmy added, bounding ahead of her.

Would it kill her brother to be seen walking in with her? thought Rosie, nearly killing herself when her foot caught on the inside of her very flared jeans. A hand found her elbow and steadied her. She looked into the blue eyes of Billy Jones, who said, “Your mother didn't really mean you should break a leg, Rosie!”

“What can I say?” said Rosie, laughing. “I follow directions!” It was funny how easily she could talk to Billy, whose friendly smile forced her to overlook the whoosh of body odor that nearly knocked her out on a queasy stomach. Red-faced and sweaty, he must have run to school at breakneck speed. His deodorant, if he used one, wasn't working.

“I'll see you in English,” Billy threw over his shoulder. “I'm up first!”

Rosie resisted telling him to shower first. “Break a leg!” she yelled after him down, the hallway. His laughter echoed back to her. Billy hadn't changed much since kindergarten, when he had given her a bracelet made of painted Cheerios. The crossing guard had told her mother, who had told the neighborhood, and by the end of the day, the whole world knew that five-year-old Rosie had a boyfriend. By six, the two of them were playing separately. By twelve, they barely knew each other.

Mr. Woo called Billy and Lauren's group first, which meant that Rosie's group was next. Billy Jones galloped through the doorway, looking like a clown with two squished toilet paper rolls that were supposed to be horns taped to the top of his baseball cap. One of them immediately flopped over on its side, reminding Rosie of her collapsed castle walls, except that Billy was onstage with no chance for an emergency trip to Home Depot.

“I'm
Pan,
and that's a
pan
in the neck!” said Billy, pulling the horn off his hat and tossing it in the wastepaper basket. “That's a pun,” he added. “Instead of ‘pain in the neck,' get it? I'm God of the Shepherds, and you're not supposed to see me throwing one of my horns in the garbage can.”

A smattering of giggles followed, and Billy, encouraged, said, “Pretend that I have two horns on my head, please. Oh, and I have the legs of a goat!” He lifted up his pant leg with a flourish, and down its side he had written “GOAT'S FEET!”

The class started laughing, and there was a chorus of shrill whistles. Mr. Woo stood up, saying, “I can't grade them if I can't hear them!”

Lauren burst into the room, saying, “I am a wood nymph!” She ran past Billy, who took off after her, galloping strangely. He pulled a stick out of his pocket and tapped it on Lauren's shoulder as if he were a fairy godmother turning her into a princess. “Poof!” said Billy. “You're a reed.”

Lauren stopped and stood like a statue, her hands jammed to her sides.

“That's where the expression
reed-thin
comes from!” said Billy. “Now I'm inventing a shepherd's pipe out of reeds.” He pulled a child's recorder out of his pocket and started playing a squeaky “Three Blind Mice.” The audience squealed and plugged their ears.

Tommy Stone entered the room, wearing a dress and a long red wig. “Hellooooo!” he cried, pretending to be mesmerized by Billy's music. He danced and wiggled so outrageously that Lauren the reed collapsed laughing.

“Hey, reed, do your job and stand up straight!” said Billy, pointing at her. “I have to run and get the other wood nymph!” He chased after Tommy, who ran frantically around the perimeter of the desks, his wig nearly flying off his head, crying, “I'm running from Pan because I'm in a
panic!
”

Billy turned to the class and said, “Get it? I've sent him into a
panic!
Pan. Panic. Mr. Woo, that's why I'm famous? I make people panic? It sucks. I mean, I'm the cause of sudden fear for no reason at all?”

“I think you're a panic,” said Mr. Woo, smiling.

“Thank you,” said Billy, turning quickly toward Lauren and growling so loudly that she screamed. “See? That was unrehearsed. And that's where we get the term
panic attack.
” He galloped off to applause.

Rosie was beginning to panic herself. If Lauren's skit was ending, her group was up next!

Suddenly Tommy reappeared, making whinnying noises and flapping a pair of white feathered wings. “I'm Pegasus!” he called out.

Billy waved his arms and said, “Mr. Woo knew we'd be the best in the class, so he gave us
two
myths.”

Tommy took over. “I was born from the blooooooood of Medusa when her head was chopped off by Perseus.” Billy rolled a Barbie doll head across the floor, and Tommy cried in a baby voice, “I want my mama, I want my mama.” Lauren laughed louder than everyone else. It reminded Rosie of her own laughter at the rehearsal with Robbie, and her mother's happiness at a single phone call. What was it about boys that made girls act that way?

“Two minutes!” Mr. Woo pointed at Rosie, who scrambled into the hallway with her costume in a bag.