“Fine. Just keep a lookout and I’ll call you back in a bit.”
“Yeah, okay,” Todd said.
“Don’t say anything to Mom and Dad,” I added.
“They’d have to torture me first. And I have studied techniques…”
“Okay, bye.” I hung up the phone. I didn’t want to hear about Todd’s techniques for withstanding torture.
I started sweating.
I had to find someone, like a needle in a haystack. I was looking into the park, and I realized that as much as it sucked, New York City was a pretty amazing haystack.
Walking into the park at night was a bit magical. Like going into the forest that surrounds Sleeping Beauty’s castle. That was a part that I would like to dance, the Lilac Fairy. I suppose most people would want to be Princess Aurora, but I think ever since I saw the breathtaking performance of it at the American Ballet Theater with Natalia Makarova and Mikhail Baryshnikov, it was Martine van Hamel as the Lilac Fairy and Fernando Bujones as the Bluebird who thrilled me the most. I thought, in the end, that the Lilac Fairy had the biggest heart in the story and that was the kind of fairy that I wanted to be. I never minded afterward when Daisy and I played at being prima ballerina and she would insist on being the princesses and make me be all the other parts. Often it was the other parts that got the more interesting movements of music.
It was quiet once we entered the park, the sounds of the city fading a bit to the background. As we stepped deeper into the park, we began to hear the party before we saw it.
Laughter.
Bottles rolling on the ground.
Squeals.
A rap.
“My name is Zizi or Zizzle D and I’m here with my friend Emily. We’ve got a little rap to do for you. About the girl who’s a popular screw…”
And then I saw it. It was really just a big old rock with kids standing everywhere on it. On the ground there were brown bags filled with snacks and six-packs of beer. Only this was just kids from Performing Arts, not from every school in the city. It was more gritty than the museum party. More mixed. Less elite feeling.
Mostly it was older kids. Juniors and seniors. And then the cooler freshmen and sophomores. All kids from all the departments were hanging out together.
When we got to the bottom of the rock, some kids turned to check us out, then turned back to what they were doing. Some of them waved. They knew we belonged.
Caitlin grabbed me.
“Look, it’s David Freddy and Elliot Waldman. Let’s start with them.”
They were sitting, legs stretched out, passing a joint between them with a bunch of kids sitting around them looking worshipful.
One of them was Caleb.
“Hi,” Caitlin said a little breathlessly. “We’re looking for our friend, a Russian girl…”
“If you want to be in the skit, sit down,” Elliot said. “We’ll see if we can fit you in.”
Caitlin immediately sat down.
“No way,” Caleb protested. “They can’t be in the skit.”
“We don’t want to be in the skit,” Callisto said.
“Well, I don’t know,” Caitlin said.
“This is my place,” Caleb said.
“It’s a rock in Central Park,” Callisto said. “You don’t own it.”
“We’re looking for my friend,” I said. “A Russian girl.”
“Who are you again?” Caleb asked. His brown hair was longer than short and shorter than long and parted just off center in a cowlick that made what could be considered average looks unaverage. He was skinny and wore a brown T-shirt with an army jacket and a pair of faded blue jeans. His eyes were dark hazel and serious. His lips were full and he had scruff on his cheeks, and in my opinion he looked like he was always scowling. It was probably just a side effect of his deep thoughts and drama department broodiness.
“Rose,” I said.
“Oh yeah—the one who throws things at me,” he said.
“The Russian girl would have come with that girl Tammy and some Science kids,” Maurice said.
“Tammy. Is she one of the goblin girls with the antique dresses and green hair? Smoking cloves?” Elliot asked.
We all nodded.
Elliot jerked his thumb over his shoulder to another part of the rock.
“Get her and leave please. This is my scene,” Caleb said.
Then he grabbed a beer from a brown shopping bag on the ground and cracked it open.
As we started to walk away, Caleb called after us.
“Rose. I can see your underwear.”
“Your brother is a jerk,” I said.
“I know,” Callisto told me.
“Imagine having to share a womb with him,” Caitlin added.
We made our way over to a bunch of girls all looking vintage-y perfect in their antique dresses and kid gloves. I didn’t see Yrena, but Tammy was sitting with them on the ground, trying to fit in.
“Hey! Maurice! I knew you would change your mind and join us,” she said, standing up as soon as she saw us. She wobbled a bit, totally tanked, and then stumbled over.
“Maurice,” she said. She pulled him into a big hug and clung on to him for a little bit too long. “I’m so glad you came. I like you so much.”
Maurice peeled her off of his shoulders.
“We’re looking for Yrena,” he said. “Have you seen her?”
“Oh, she went home,” Tammy said.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I think so. I don’t know! I don’t even know her,” Tammy said. “I wish I could just go home. Just right now. Like Dorothy.”
Then Tammy clicked her heels three times but lost her balance and fell flat on her butt. She threw her arms up in the air dramatically.
“Help me up, Maurice!” she said. As he did so, she added, “I remember now. They went to the owl place.” Even when she was up, she still tried to hold Maurice’s hand.
“What’s the owl place?” I asked.
“Maurice, where does your mom keep her Oscar? Can I come over to your house and touch it?”
“Sure,” Maurice said. “If you tell me where the owl place is.”
One of the green goblin girls started laughing and talking to us.
“Night Birds,” she yelled at us.
“Where?” I asked.
“Night Birds,” Maurice said. “It’s a drama hangout.”
“Oh yeah, Night Birds,” Tammy mumbled to herself.
“Second Avenue between Fifth and Sixth,” Callisto said. “I know where that is.”
“Was she with Free?” I asked Tammy.
“What do you mean, is it free? It’s a bar,” she said, and laughed, like she thought I was dumb or something. Then she turned to Maurice in an about-face and acted all sweet and syrupy. “Can I come with you guys?”
“Maybe another time,” he said. “The cab is full now.”
“Oh,” Tammy said. Then she put her hand up to her mouth and ran off to throw up.
“Come on—we know where she went,” Callisto said.
“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 who
le 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.
Night Birds
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.
Rose Sees Red Page 9