Will the Real Raisin Rodriguez Please Stand Up? (2 page)

Lynn says that exactly three out of five boys' hearts grow fonder as a result of absence but that in two out of five instances “out of sight, out of mind” applies.

“How does ‛out of sight, out of mind' work? Does their memory of you fade gradually, or does it automatically get deleted the moment you disappear from view?” I asked her.

“More like they promise they'll call you every minute and then accidentally forget to unlock lips with Fippy the entire time you're gone,” she said, sounding a little bitter. I had no idea which boy she was referring to, but that doesn't surprise me at all. Chances are, the poor guy is no longer with us.

“Well, which category do you think CJ falls into?”

“CJ's an odd one. He's unpredictable, so I'm tempted to group him with the two out of fives, but then again, even his unpredictability is unpredictable, so he could belong with the three out of fives. Basically, he's a wild card.”

I was beginning to panic. That sentence made absolutely no sense to me. All it did was further prove that math isn't actually helpful in real life.

“Is there anything I can do to make his heart grow fonder?” I asked.

“Well, the more fun you have together before you leave, the more likely he is to miss you while you're gone. And you should be extra nice. Jeremy and I are going out on Saturday night. If you invite CJ along, that'll count as extra nice.”

“But does it count as fun?”

“If I were any other kid, I would say definitely. I mean, we're going to a movie and then out for pizza—the Saturday night activity of choice for our age group. But there's a chance the evening could prove to be a bit predictable for our crowd.”

Predictable? Maybe for a woman of the world like Lynn, but not for me. I've never even been on a date before. And for CJ? Who knows if that adorable little weirdo has ever even seen a movie or eaten a slice of pizza, for that matter?

“Is that enough fun to get us through my trip to Berkeley?” I asked.

“If nothing else, it'll be an interesting sociological study. Something for you guys to talk about afterward.”

“Talk!?” I asked, panicked.

“Or sign, or send smoke signals, or cluck, or however it is that you guys converse. Talking only represents thirty percent of human communication. So no need to worry about it. Just as long as you sparkle.”

Sparkle, she says! Now, how does a person do that? I could dip myself in a vat of glue and roll myself around on a mound of glitter, but I doubt that's what she means. Knowing her, she's probably talking about something that comes from inside a person. Which frankly doesn't sound like as much fun. Next time I might be better off going to Lola for advice. When she makes a suggestion, it's pretty safe to assume it involves glitter and glue.

“Oh, and one more thing, Raise,” Lynn added before getting off the phone. “Since you're leaving the next day, maybe we can all exchange presents that night too.”

Presents! Extra niceness! Sparkling! I better get busy.

 
8:15 PM, EST

Does glistening count as sparkling? I wonder. Because that I can do. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm doing it right now. But that's mostly because my lack of sparkle is making me so nervous, it's causing me to sweat like a pig.

Uggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Sweating like a pig is so unsparkle-y.

 
8:18 PM, EST

What am I going to do?

Can sparkling be taught?

 
8:24 PM, EST

Maybe there are online courses?

 
8:27 PM, EST

Or perhaps a Sparkles University?

 
8:31 PM, EST

If only I knew someone who sparkled . . . Then maybe that person could give me some helpful hints.

 
8:35 PM, EST

Wait a minute!

I just thought of something!

I do know someone who sparkles!

Sparkles sparkles!

In fact, Sparkles is his first name.

Oh, good. Now all I have to do is call him and ask him how he does it.

Phewww!

In sticky situations, I always find it helps to have a plan.

Except when the plan doesn't work! That Sparkles is absolutely impossible to track down. I've called everyone I know, but no one knows how to reach him. I even called Galenka Popodakolis. Her host father was so happy that someone from school was calling her, he invited me down to his hardware store to pick out anything I wanted under fifty dollars. I was thinking one of those canvas tool bags with the leather handles would make a snappy purse.

That Sparkles—he really is a mystery. Oh no! What if being a mystery is the key factor to sparkling? I am many things, but a mystery is not one of them. Unless people find it mysterious that I'm such a blabber-mouth.

I guess sparkling will just have to wait until tomorrow.

 
9:06 PM, EST

What should I do? The phone is ringing and the caller ID says it's CJ. I wanted to put off talking to him until I learned how to sparkle.

Maybe I'll just let the call go to voice mail. Then tomorrow, once Sparkles has passed his wisdom on to me, I can tell CJ that I was out to dinner with my family when he called and when I got home, it was too late to call him back. But it'll sound much more exciting because I'll say it in Sparklese.

Oh no. Samantha's calling my name!

Now she's telling me to pick up the phone. . . .

Now I'm telling her to tell him I'm not here. . . .

Now she's telling me she already told him that I was. . . .

Now I'm asking her to tell him that she made a mistake and that she must have been imagining it. . . .

Now she's telling me—ooh! That Sam—who knew she had such a potty mouth?

I guess I better go talk to CJ. Which is fine because I can still put the extra nice into effect even without the Sparkle.

I just got off the phone with CJ. Kept it really simple, in light of my PSS (Pre-Sparkle Syndrome) and stuck to the extra nice. All I talked about was Saturday night. I asked him (extra nicely) if he would be so kind and gracious as to accept Lynn's invitation to go to the movies and pizza with Jeremy and her on Saturday night. And how does he feel about participating in the exchange of gifts?

He said a movie and pizza with JereLynn sounded delightful. That maybe we could go to the Mainline Multiplex. Or otherwise he'd check and see what was playing at the Art House. Either way, pizza afterward sounded perfect, presents sound terrific, and what time should he pick me up?

OK. That's not exactly what happened. What happened exactly is that I said, “Do you want to go to the movies with Lynn and Jeremy on Saturday night and then out for pizza afterward where we'll exchange gifts?” and he said, “OK.” But we each knew what the other meant, and that's what's important.

Ya know, I think it's really great that CJ doesn't talk much. In fact, it's one of my favorite things about him. It's not about quantity, it's about quality—just ask the Hiltons. I'm pretty sure they're the ones who said that too.

Though it is rather interesting to consider from a medical standpoint. When I first met CJ, he had a pretty severe talking deficiency. Then right before we started going out, he came down with sudden onset chatty-osis. And now he seems to be experiencing a deficiency again.

I wonder if he was born with only a certain amount of words and he just used them up?

That's OK. We all have our differences. And just like I'm not going to judge CJ for his talking disorders, I can only hope he won't judge me for my PSS.

 
Logged in at 9:29 PM, EST

 
9:41 PM, EST

I'm so so sorry, you guys. You know you kittens are the loves of my life. My reason for being. The ones I owe it all to. If I didn't know you two were back home waiting for me, I never could have survived this move. You can't possibly think I'm not looking forward to going home. Ever since I got to Philadelphia, I've been living for the moment I'd finally see you two again on sacred soil. The moment I'd get to stroll down historical

Telegraph Avenue and grab a light breakfast of Cruelty-Free muffins and hot Postum before heading to the delightful annual Holiday Street Fair. Then comb through the vast array of folk art and jewelry booths in search of the beaded necklace to outdo all other beaded necklaces. And then to find one that looks almost exactly like all the ones you already have but know that this one's better because it was fashioned by a person of indigenous persuasion or possibly a former hippie who may or may not have noticed that the sixties ended forty years ago. A Tofurkey burger at Karma Kow for lunch will be just the thing to tide us over as we venture into Amoeba Records in search of old vinyl and then finish the day off with a light supper of Chicken-style nuggets at McVeggie's before making our final stop of the day at House of Pies for some Fluffernutter pie made with real sugar and white flour (but just this once)!

So you see? I really truly sincerely lovingly muchly fantastically stupendously stupendeliciously cannot wait to get to Berkeley to see you two, the best Kitties a girl could have. And don't forget. I'm also dying to see my dad. It's been four months, and I really miss him. So it'll be nice to have him all to myself for once. I guess that's the one teeny tiny good thing to come out of my parents' divorce. That I'll be able to spend time alone with my dad, which I was never able to do when he and my mom were together, especially at the end, when they were always fighting.

I'm just a teeny-weeny bit nervous that CJ won't like me when I get back—that's all. But I'm working on that so it won't get in the way of our fun once we're together.

 
9:54 PM, EST

I promise I haven't. In fact, Honies, I'm almost home! Mark your calendars. I'm arriving on December 23 at one o' clock. I already talked to my dad, and he said he'd drive me over to see you guys as soon as I dropped my bags off at home. So it's all set. Roll out the red carpet—Berkeley, here I come!

 
9:57 PM, EST

That is, if you still want me . . .

 
9:59 PM, EST

You do still want me, don't you?

I'll take that as a yes.

 
PS—There's something I neglected to mention earlier. I hope you can forgive me. It's not like me at all to forget something so crucial. I guess I've just been a little preoccupied lately. What I'm trying to say is this morning I was in the shower and I realized that I ran out of shaving cream. The only product in there was shampoo, soap, and conditioner. Now, which do you think I turned to? You're probably thinking the shampoo or the soap, right? But surprise, surprise, it was the conditioner! It's meant to soften hair, right? Well, what better product to use as a substitute for shaving cream but something that softens hair? Word to the wise—conditioner makes an even better shaving cream than shaving cream.

 
PPS—Now if only it made a better ketchup than ketchup, we'd be sitting on pure gold!

Kitty Kitten Kats,

Even though I haven't spoken to Sparkles about sparkling yet, I think it's safe to bet that looking as beautiful and gorgeous as possible couldn't hurt. And seeing that super-modelitis isn't going around at the moment, I'm going to have to work very hard at achieving my goal.

Now, why can't the Hiltons give us a saying that explains how to do that?

 
7:07 AM, EST

I bet that saying would have something to do with false eyelashes. Like, false eyelashes make the eyes grow gorgeouser.

Or, out of false eyelashes, out of beauty and gorgeousity . . .

And you know what? It's absolutely true. Everyone looks better in false eyelashes. Even my bathroom sink looks prettier with them sitting on top of it.

I'm going to find mine and put them right on. Because when the Hiltons speak, you'd have to be a fool not to listen.

 
7:14 AM, EST

Help! Emergency! My lashes are glued shut. Someone call 911! I can't see a thing! Thank goodness I can touch-type or else I'd have no way of communicating with anyone and I'd be left in my bedroom to die helpless, sticky, and alone.

 
7:15 AM, EST

Unless of course I had the good sense to make use of my voice and shout for help.

Let's see what happens . . .

(I'm shouting for help.)

No response . . .

(Trying again.)

Still no response . . . (Trying a third time.)

Still nothing . . .

Exactly what is wrong with these people who claim to care? Who claim to be related to me by blood? For all they know, a sniper could be sniping me with his snipe, but they're content to take their chances.