Rose Sees Red (9 page)

“Shh,” Caitlin said.

The kids in Caleb’s group were standing up and doing their skit when we approached. Caitlin had drifted over before us and was watching the actors and encouraging them.

Two drama kids were wearing top hats and fake drawn-on mustaches. They froze into a position, like they were mannequins. There was rustling in the “backstage” area, which was really just another rock. Some girls wearing crinolines over their jeans were jostling one another and trying to remember what they were supposed to do.

Elliot Waldman gave them a cue and the girls pushed Caleb forward. He stepped between the two kids in top hats, who nodded that he was in the right place. The girls giggled. Caleb shot them a
shut up
look and cleared his throat.

“Step right up, step right up, and see for yourself, the two largest bullies in the world beat the living crap out of each other. You can have a front row ticket to the end of the world!”

Caleb’s whole broody personality changed once his mouth opened. Now he was acting like an emcee with an old-timey voice.

“Hello, I’m the USSR and I hate you,” one kid said.

“Hello, I’m the USA and I hate you,” another kid said.

Then they put up their fists and pretended to box as though they were in the 1920s.

“These boys are going to put on a real show for you. Fireworks, fisticuffs, and everything. It’s going to be the big bang,” Caleb said. “Who will win? No one knows. I’m taking all bets. The cost to play? Your GNP. Cheap. Cheap. Cheap. Make your bets!”

“‘I’m going to get you!’” one boy prompted. “‘With my bombs!’”

The USSR repeated the line.

Then each of them, the USSR and the USA, slapped their hands, and the girls came out and did some sort of weird dance move, shaking their colorful crinolines and doing what sort of looked like a cancan to make it seem like their skirts were explosions while they made bomb noises.

The actors stopped what they were doing.

“It’s lame,” Caleb said.

“It’ll be fine!” Elliot Waldman said. “It’s good. Keep going.”

“Come on, let’s go,” I said.

The actors continued dancing and making bomb explosions behind us as we left the rock.

“Are the girls supposed to be the bombs?” Callisto asked.

“Yeah, it’s very avant-garde,” Caitlin said. “They’re going to perform it at that rally tomorrow.”

I wasn’t sure they were going to change very many minds, but I kept my opinion to myself. I was in my own avant-garde international incident performance. The one where the girl next door was lost downtown. Where, in my mind, there could be KGB swarming all over Yrena’s house already, like roaches in the bathroom. I didn’t know how the piece ended. Or what would happen if she didn’t get back. I could place a winning bet that it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out I was the girl who jumped on the bus with her.

I was in trouble. But more than that, we—me and Yrena—were in trouble together.

And honestly, I didn’t care about me. All I wanted was for her to be okay.

We headed into the subway and went deeper downtown.

“Which way?” I asked once we emerged. Geographically I was all twisted up.

“Twin Towers mean downtown, Empire State means uptown,” Callisto said as she pointed out the buildings.

“Now I know where I am on the planet—and that is a good feeling,” I said.

Caitlin looped one arm through mine and Callisto took the other. Maurice followed us as we walked to Night Birds.

“It looks like a hole,” Maurice said when we got there.

“Well, it is,” Callisto said.

I didn’t care what kind of a place it was as long as Yrena was inside of it.

Maurice opened the door and held it open for us. No one had ever done this for me before, not even my dad.

Callisto gave him a hard look.

“First the taxi, now here,” Callisto said.

“Oh crap,” he said. “I’m sorry. I know. I know. I shouldn’t hold the door open for you ladies. You can do it yourselves and all that. My mom just drilled it into me that I should!”

“I don’t mind,” I said.

He held the door open for us and it wasn’t in a weird antifeminist way. It was in a genuinely thoughtful way.

“Me neither,” Caitlin said.

“Well, I do,” Callisto said.

“Well, how about on the way out, I let you hold the door open for me?” he said.

“All right,” Callisto said. “That sounds fair. I’m your equal, you know. Rose and Caitlin are, too.”

“I know,” Maurice said. “I’m sorry.”

“You’d better be,” Callisto said. “And we forgive you.”

On the one hand, I didn’t care if Maurice held open a door for me or not. I was happy either way and I didn’t think it was that big a deal. But I saw Callisto’s point and I wanted to support her because I didn’t want to not be standing up for women. My conclusion was that negotiating a friendship is hard. Maybe that was why I had shied away from doing it.

“There she is!” Caitlin yelled.

I was so relieved to see Yrena sitting with Free in the back corner near the jukebox. Free waved us over, but Yrena turned away when she saw me.

I was here for Yrena. I had to figure out how to get Yrena to go home with me even if she wanted to hate me.

First, I tried the direct approach.

“Yrena, we gotta go,” I said as soon as I got up to her. I even put my hand on her shoulder to convey a sense of urgency. Maurice, Caitlin, and Callisto sat and poured themselves glasses from Free’s pitcher of beer.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Callisto said. Then she waved to the empty seat at the table, like I had to hurry up before someone else took it.

“But I’m not staying,” I told her. “Come on, Yrena.”

“Sit down,” Free said. “Or you’ll ruin everything.”

Then I got it.

If I kept standing up, I would draw attention to us because we were all in high school, and if the bartenders paid too close attention to us, they would know we weren’t eighteen yet and everyone would get carded and kicked out or banned from here and it would all be my fault.

So I sat down.

That made Yrena relax.

“Beer?” Free asked, offering me the pitcher.

“No, thanks,” I said.

There was a lot of food on the table. French fries. Buffalo wings. Nachos. All half-eaten. Like an American sampler plate.

Yrena was sipping on a glass of ice water, smiling at Free.

I looked at the plate of nachos in front of her and I immediately saw what she was doing. She hadn’t really eaten any of the food she had in front of her. She had just pushed the chips and cheese around and made it look like she’d eaten
some. I wondered if maybe she thought nachos were gross. I wondered if they had Mexican food in Russia. Had she ever seen chips, salsa, and melted cheese? Maybe she thought it was weird-looking.

I watched as she talked to everyone. It was kind of interesting the way she made herself amenable to people. She just participated while totally staying true to herself. She didn’t want to eat the nachos because either she didn’t like them or she was on a diet.

It didn’t matter. The effort made everyone around her feel good.

I didn’t have that gift.

“Rose, I want to stay a little while longer,” she said to me.

“Love Potion No. 9” was playing on the jukebox. Isn’t that funny, how you can remember something specific and insignificant like that? Now, whenever that song comes on, I remember that night.

“I’m not going home. I don’t want this evening to end yet,” Yrena told me.

“It’s late,” I pointed out. “I’m going to get in trouble.
You’re
going to get in trouble.”

“We are already in trouble—what will another few hours change?”

“Yrena wants to go to the protest,” Free said. “How cool is that?”

And then he took her hand in his and held it.

I pushed my chair back so hard that it squeaked. I didn’t know what to do, so I stood back up and went to the jukebox.

“I’ve got some quarters,” Maurice said, joining me there.

“I’ll help you. I want to make sure there is good music,” Callisto said.

I flipped through the choices and tried to think of what I should do next.

“Oh, put on ‘To Sir, with Love,’” Maurice said, giving me some quarters.

Callisto pressed the right buttons and I watched as the arm plucked out the correct 45 and played it.

Yrena came over and joined us.

“You are angry with me,” she said.

“You left me,” I said. “We were there together. I thought we were friends.”

Maurice put the quarters in my hand and he and Callisto went back to the table to give us some space.

“We
are
friends,” Yrena said.

“Friends don’t do that to friends,” I told her. Then I bit my tongue. I sounded just like Daisy.

“I want to see more things,” Yrena said. “I want to go home tomorrow, after the Central Park protest.”

“We have to go home now,” I said.

I should have said that Todd had told me that there were suits at her house. Maybe that would have scared her. Or
maybe it wouldn’t have. She probably already knew that there were suits there.

“I am not likely to come here again,” she said.

“So what? Ask your parents to take you downtown. Ask them to take you to the protest.”

Yrena shook her head. “You do not understand.”

“No, I don’t,” I said. But I did understand a little bit. All I had to think about was the fact that we had climbed out of my window and escaped men who were watching us eat ice cream.

Yrena went back and sat down with Free.

I looked over at Callisto, who was shoving some nachos in her mouth. She was looking over at me. She punched Maurice in the shoulder; he pretended to be hurt, and then they both came back and joined me.

“I think Yrena is really sad,” Maurice said.

“She is really stressing me out,” I countered, giving him back his quarters.

“What’s the big deal?” Callisto asked. “She’s kind of a wet noodle. Let’s give her cab fare and forget about her.”

“If I lose Yrena again, I am afraid the KGB might come looking for me.”

Maurice and Callisto looked at me blankly for a minute and then they burst out laughing. Maurice laughed into his closed fist, like I’d surprised him in a delightful way. Then he slapped my back like I was a buddy. Callisto pointed at me and laughed, like I was trying to get one over on her. They
thought it was a joke—and maybe they were right. The whole thing was ridiculous.

“That’s a good one, Rose. You. Are. Funny,” Maurice said.

I was livid. Why had I ever agreed to come into Manhattan with a Russian girl I didn’t even know? It was not worth all the headaches it was bringing me.

“Just give her a minute and try again,” Maurice said.

“You’re nicer than me,” Callisto said, staring at Maurice. Really staring at him.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

“Your face,” Callisto said. “You know, you’re cute? I don’t think I’ve ever noticed how cute you are.”

“Well, you’re scary-looking,” he said. “I mean, you look like David Bowie. You look just like a boy!”

“This coming from the son of Khadira!” Callisto said. “Drag queens do impersonations of your mom!”

“I know that,” Maurice said. “That’s a
good
thing. She’s iconic.”

“Well, David Bowie is iconic and he’s androgynous. Are you afraid? Maybe you like boys. No shame in that.”

“I’m not gay! Why does everyone always assume that a male ballet dancer is gay?”

“’Cause a lot of them are?” I said.

“Right,” Maurice said. “I just—never mind, this is going to sound crazy. Forget it.”

“No, just say it,” Callisto said. “We’re all friends here.”

I didn’t want to correct her.

“Well, it seems like a lot of girls throw themselves at me,” Maurice said.

“I’m
not
throwing myself at you,” Callisto said.

“Neither am I,” I said.

“Well, I know that,” Maurice said.

“Maybe girls throw themselves at you because you are one of the only straight boys in dance class?” I said.

“Maybe,” Maurice said. “Or maybe it’s that girls just want to be with me because my mom is famous.”

“Is that hard?” Callisto asked. “Having Khadira be your mom?”

“It’s confusing that everyone reacts to who my mom is, you know? It doesn’t have anything to do with me. So I just want to take my time. Sort things out. Meet someone I like first.”

“I respect that,” Callisto said. “Our dad is Stone Mazzeretti.”

“Who’s that?” Maurice asked.

Judging from Callisto’s reaction, this wasn’t exactly the right answer. I was glad Maurice had asked and not me.

“He’s a famous jazz musician,” Callisto explained. “A trumpet player.”

“So you get it,” Maurice said.

“Yeah, it might be smaller than Khadira, but I get it.”

Maurice looked relieved.

“Thanks for not laughing at me,” he said.

“It’s no laughing matter,” Callisto said. “And I wouldn’t laugh at you, anyway.”

Wait,
I thought.
Where is Callisto going with this flirting?

Before I could figure it out, someone started yelling, “No. No. NO!”

“Caleb!” Caitlin yelled back from the table.

And then Caleb was standing in front of us.

“What are you guys doing here? Are you following me?” He looked like he was scowling again, but not his eyes. They were shining brightly and playfully as they took me in, like he was trying to decide if I was more than a kind of thorn.

“More like are
you
following
us,
” Callisto pointed out.

“This is a drama department hangout,” he said. “Don’t you have places that you can go?”

“Do you always have to be such a jerk?” Callisto shot back.

“You’d better be buying the beer,” Caleb said. “And then I’ll forgive you.”

“Jerk.”

“Come and join us, Caleb,” Caitlin said from the table.

Caleb and Callisto both laughed and then did a special handshake that they only did with each other and with Caitlin. It was a triplet thing.

“Hey, you. Underwear girl,” Caleb said as we all went back to the table and sat down.

He shook the longish, bangy part of his hair out of his eyes and stared at me. His mouth was actually ajar.

“Who are you again?” he asked.

He scratched the scruff on his cheek and cocked his head sideways.

“Rose,” I said.

“Are you really wearing underwear?” he asked.

I blushed a little.

“It’s long underwear,” I said. “I didn’t know I was coming out.”

“Crap. It’s almost midnight,” Free said, looking at his watch. “I have to go home. Curfew!”

“And we should go soon so we don’t have to wait forever for a ferry,” Caitlin said to her brother and sister.

And just like that, everyone was dumping all of their cash onto the table and heading outside.

“Wait,” Yrena said. “I have not picked a song yet.”

She took a quarter off the pile of money on the table and came over to the jukebox.

“I think we have time for one more song, yes?” she asked impishly. She had a mischievous look on her face, like she was up to a kind of fun that we would all be really missing out on if we didn’t stay to hear what the song would be.

“One more song,” I said.

She put her quarter in the jukebox. She didn’t even flip through the pages to see what was on there; she just looked
down at the big red buttons and pressed them randomly, like she could somehow channel the perfect song.

We all waited to see what would come up. To see what kind of tone chance would let us end the night on.

The needle fell on the groove…and there it was.

The bass line came on.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

Super Freak.

Yrena bent her elbows, stuck them out, and began to strut. Maurice did a little twitch move with his shoulder. I started to tap my foot. Callisto cocked her head from side to side. Caitlin moved the table to make some room.

And then there was the bumping of butts. And bodies sliding side to side. And dancers pointing to each other, giving cues.

Superfreakyyyyowwwwww.

We were leading the disco on the bar floor, drawing attention to ourselves. People at the other tables began to clap and encourage us. We got more freaky.

Free had the best moves. He didn’t have ballet stuck on him, so he was all moves and gyrating hips. We let him take the center of our dance circle. He knew all the words and he serenaded us all as he grabbed Yrena and drew her toward him. She laughed and laughed, right from her belly. Right from her heart.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the needle
lifted up off the 45 and the song was over. But we still had the moves inside of us as we made our way to the door and spilled out onto Second Avenue.

Dancing had made us all a little closer. We didn’t want to let go of the beat. It was like the music was still inside of us, keeping us together. Like we all wanted to see if there was maybe one more moment that would shake out of us, that we could all linger over.

But Yrena didn’t ask for another moment.

She said her big good-byes to everyone. It was like she was saying good-bye to her nearest and dearest friends, and she didn’t even know them.