Change Places with Me

by Lois Metzger

  Evelyn touched her face lightly. “I don’t mind wrinkles. Besides, people complain of hearing loss, after.”

  “They didn’t say anything about side effects.”

  “They never do, do they? Some of these new procedures—I don’t trust them—they pop up out of nowhere and you’re supposed to just put your life in their hands. . . .”

  “Whoa,” Rose said. “Did I touch a nerve?”

  “Sorry, that just came out,” Evelyn said. “Never mind.”

  “Well, on a far more important subject, it’s time to cut my hair.”

  “Cut it yourself, you mean?”

  That was what she always did, a pair of scissors and a ruler for the bangs, which fell into her eyes, and occasionally she grabbed the ends, too, and took off an inch or so. “No, I want a real haircut this time, at Sassy Cuts. No bangs, but long enough so I could put it behind my ears if I want, or have it behind one ear and not the other.”

  “That’s certainly specific. Let me give you some money.” Evelyn pulled her wallet out of her bag and gave Rose a few folded bills.

  “I’ll pay you back. I’m thinking I could get a job.”

  “Oh?”

  “Not sure what yet.” Inside the bills was a small folded piece of yellow paper. Rose opened it. A receipt from a place called Forget-Me-Not, for $1,600. That spot on her jaw began to ache again, and she winced.

  “Your cheek still hurts,” Evelyn said, concerned.

  “It’s okay. What is this?” She held the paper up.

  Evelyn glanced up quickly. “Oh, was something in there?”

  “It says Forget-Me-Not.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “You spent sixteen hundred dollars there. Yesterday. When I was at the zoo. The gorillas were so close, it was like I could touch them.”

  “It’s a flower shop.” Evelyn took hold of the receipt.

  “That’s a lot of money to spend at a flower shop.”

  “I keep an account there. I send housewarming gifts to clients. It adds up.”

  “Can I see it again?”

  But Evelyn had already put it back in her wallet and snapped her bag shut.

  CHAPTER 3

  Belle Heights High School was enormous, bursting at the seams with over two thousand students, but on Monday morning Rose found something wonderfully energizing about all these personalities in one place. Overcrowding or not, there was something new to notice anywhere you looked—a girl with silver jewelry in her braids, a guy with a forehead tattoo that said If you can read this, you’re too close. Rose hoped it was a Sün-Fade tattoo; some things just weren’t meant to be permanent. She sighed, feeling so good—never mind that that strange red light had been there again that morning, behind her eyes and still there once she opened them. How could it be both inside and outside? But all she’d had to do was blink a few times and it was gone.

  Morning classes went by in a flash, instead of dragging endlessly, and she talked to kids as if she fit right in, just like they did: “Tough math test!” “Did you finish that bio thing?” At lunch in the cafeteria, the student who worked the scanner looked at her, down at her tray, and back at her again. He had dark bushy hair and eyebrows so thick they almost formed a unibrow, and he was several inches shorter than Rose.

  “Never thought you were the scuffin type,” he said. “A scone or a muffin, maybe, but not the combo.”

  “It looked good,” Rose said.

  “Garbo talks!”

  “Garbo?”

  “Greta Garbo—a silent movie star. Silent, like you—before now, that is. When she finally made a talkie, everybody got so excited to hear her voice, the posters said, ‘Garbo Talks!’” He picked up the scuffin and tossed it around like a baseball. “This thing is dry as dust. You’ll need this.” He put a pineapple juice stick on her tray. He was talking like they knew each other. They didn’t, really, but Rose smiled at him. “She smiles! Stop the presses!” He was starting to sound like someone in an old movie himself. “Except, let’s try a second take.”

  “What?”

  “That smile looks, well . . . kind of Photoshopped or something. Hey, sorry.” He put his hands up like he was surrendering.

  The line bunched up behind Rose, and she moved on.

  She noticed Kim Garcia at the end of a long table, which was where she always sat, and gave her a big wave and an even bigger smile. But Rose wasn’t able to catch her friend’s eye. She made her way over through the crowds and sat on the bench opposite Kim, her long legs bunched up beneath the table.

  “How was your weekend?” Rose asked.

  Kim had a long, ropy braid down her back, pale-gray eyes, and light-brown skin, and she always wore colors that didn’t quite match—olive green and red, for instance. But Rose thought she looked really good.

  As usual, Kim brought her own lunch; today she had a tuna sandwich and blueberry yogurt. “My weekend?” she said.

  Rose took a bite of the scuffin. It crumbled to gravelly bits in her mouth, and she had to work hard to swallow it. Still, it was sweet, and the juice stick that turned from solid to liquid helped, she had to admit. “Did you have fun? I went to the zoo. It was really great. I never get tired of seeing the gorillas.”

  Kim blinked at her. “I wasn’t sure you were speaking to me.”

  “Of course I am! You’re my oldest friend.”

  “You got so freaked out at my place, and then you just left, no explanation—”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s long over.”

  “It was only last Friday.”

  “Feels like a lifetime ago. Speaking of which, I’d like to be called Rose from now on.”

  “Rose? Why?”

  “It suits me, like a second skin.”

  Kim sighed. “How many skins do you need?”

  “Hey, remember when we were in second grade, and we had to do that post office project, and we were supposed to write letters to kids in first grade, but we got in trouble because we only wrote letters to each other, so then Ms. Zimmer separated us and I threw a fit? My dad said I needed extra care and attention because I was ‘sensitive,’ but I don’t think Ms. Zimmer agreed with him.” Rose took another bite of the juice stick. “You remember my dad, don’t you?”

  “Rose . . .” Kim shook her head, as if brushing dust out of her hair, and took a deep breath. “Yes. Of course I remember him. He called me Kimmy—nobody else did.” She took what was left of Rose’s juice stick. “He always had these great little jokes. Like, a man wants to take piano lessons. He’s told the first lesson costs fifty dollars but the second lesson is only five. He says, ‘Can’t we start with the second lesson?’” Kim started to smile, but it didn’t turn into an actual smile. “I remember you, too.”

  “Well, I should hope so!” Rose looked across the cafeteria. “That wall video for the boys’ basketball team. Isn’t that Nick Winter? The cute one?”

  Nick Winter was one of the most popular guys in tenth grade. He was in Rose’s bio class and virtual lab, last period of the day. His hair was always messy in what looked like a carefully planned way, and he was tall, like Rose, with a diamond in his front tooth. She’d seen it once, sparkling in sunlight. He was gorgeous. What would that diamond look like up close, if he leaned in to kiss her?

  “I wonder if I should try out for the girls’ basketball team,” Rose said, thinking it would give her something in common with Nick.

  “Basketball? You?”

  “Why not? I’m tall. In middle school the coaches were all over me to join the team.”

  “The tryouts were in September. It’s way too late.”

  “Oh, too bad. Well, there’s always next year.” Rose smiled—a smile she was sure did not look Photoshopped.

  “I’ll try to remember,” Kim said, half to herself.

  “Remember what?”

  “To call you Rose.”

  In bio, Rose’s lab partners were Selena Kearn and Astrid Mills, who were best friends and the two most popular girls
in tenth grade. Selena, an ex-girlfriend of Nick’s, was all bouncy red curls and freckles; Astrid was a blond beauty with stick-straight hair and glowing skin. She always wore black; today, a black dirndl with black leather ties. Astrid was sure not to question Rose’s name change, as Kim had, because once upon a time Astrid had been Abigail; she’d changed her name in sixth grade. She’d understand.

  Rose found herself staring at Nick Winter at the next virtual lab table, willing him to look at her. But why should he notice her now, any more than he ever had? She didn’t look any different, in the same overalls and the same flannel shirt and the same bangs she had to push out of her eyes—why’d she always let them get so long?

  “Is she seriously serious?” Selena said to Astrid. “Nick?”

  Rose gave her head a little tilt. “He’s not too hideous.”

  “Oh my God,” Selena said. “Now she thinks she can just chime in.”

  “She must be ill,” Astrid murmured. She often spoke in a low voice; people had to lean in to hear her.

  “Never felt better!” Rose said brightly, and turned to Selena. “How come you broke up with Nick?”

  Astrid let out a sharp laugh. “Who told you that?”

  Selena’s face burned behind her freckles. “It was a mutual decision. We decided it would be best if we saw other people.”

  “Sure,” Astrid said, “except he started seeing other people before arriving at this so-called mutual decision.”

  “Why are we even having this conversation with her?” Selena asked. “She’s not part of anything!”

  Just then the bio teacher, Mr. Slocum, was standing before them. Rose could swear she saw her own reflection in his shiny, bald head. “I trust you’re discussing your observations on the dissection? The outline is due in fifteen minutes.”

  “No problem!” Selena said. “Such an interesting project!”

  Mr. Slocum took a moment to give Rose a hard look. “You’ve been paying attention, I hope?”

  “Absolutely,” Rose said.

  “You think I can’t tell when my students are off in la-la land? I’ve been teaching for thirty years.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Selena said. “You’re so dedicated.” As soon as he left, she said, “What observations? The whole project was a disaster!”

  “You should write the outline,” Astrid said to Rose. “You were the one who messed it up last week.”

  True, last week’s assignment had not gone well. “Okay, just catch me up on what I missed,” Rose said. “By the way, you may find this interesting, Astrid, since you changed your name a few years back. My new name is Rose. It suits me like a—”

  “Whatever,” Astrid muttered.

  That was easy, Rose thought, relieved.

  CHAPTER 4

  Everyone said Belle Heights was so boring, a big chunk of nothing in Queens, New York City. Belle Drive, the busiest street, was a museum, a fossil, a dinosaur compared to neighboring Spruce Hills, which had giant stores like Target, Home Depot, and Asteroid, and smaller, trendy stores opening all the time. But Rose decided she liked the fact that, except for the hydro-buses (and she could hear one wheezing behind her, a sure sign it was about to stall), long, winding Belle Drive had changed so little over the years. Especially now that she was changing so much. She’d spoken to a lady recently somewhere who seemed to know about these things—that Rose would change, that she would be so happy. If Rose ran into the lady again, she could tell her she was right. But how could you run into someone if you didn’t remember what she looked like?

  No matter. It rained so lightly Rose didn’t even get wet as she passed a diner with a revolving display of layer cakes, a thrift shop, a cosmetics store, and an animal hospital—little places so close together they all seemed connected, like the apartment houses on Rose’s block. Some even shared an awning.

  Inside Sassy Cuts, Rose spoke to a hairstylist whose nametag said Bridget.

  “That was my mother’s name!” Rose said, amazed at the coincidence. Rose had no memory of her mother, who’d died when she was a baby, but there were pictures, of course, and apparently her mom had laughed a lot.

  “What can I do for you?” Bridget said.

  “I need to get rid of these bangs.” Rose flicked them away as if that was all it took to rid her life of them.

  “Not a problem. They’re awfully long, anyway. You can hardly see your nice blue eyes!”

  Rose described the exact, even, almost chin length she wanted, “So I can put my hair behind one ear if I want to. Please don’t go too short or I won’t be able to do that.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “It should be dark. Can you dye it, too?”

  “Of course.”

  As Rose sat in the chair, an oldies station blasted away. She’d never paid much attention to music, but now she could barely sit still from an urge to nod her head and shimmy-shake. One song in particular really stuck with her, even though it was almost sixty years old. “Changes” by David Bowie. “Strange fascination, fascinating me . . . pretty soon now you’re gonna get older . . . ch-ch-ch-ch-changes . . .” She couldn’t wait to download it to her phone.

  Bridget gave her a quick blow-dry and said, “What do you think?”

  In the mirror Rose saw a girl with short dark hair just above her chin. She pushed one side behind her ear and left the other side in front. “It’s perfect.”

  She also stopped in at the thrift store just down the street, Second Nature. She had to have a jean jacket. But not just any old jean jacket. It had to suit the new haircut, complement it. She tried on half a dozen jean jackets, and every time she looked in the mirror and turned around to see her back, something was missing. Very disappointing, but she would keep looking for exactly the right one.

  On Tuesday morning Rose had to sign up for six hours of school service, which was a tenth-grade requirement this semester. A great opportunity, she thought, to try something new and exciting. She read the list of choices: caring for soil-free plants in the school greenhouse, after-school tutoring, assistant crossing guard. But something else grabbed her. Mr. Slocum needed a lab assistant. No students ever signed up to work with him—why would they? Mr. Slocum was the most hated teacher in school, and he seemed to have a particular dislike for her. Maybe by the end of the six hours, Mr. Slocum would tolerate her better, even like her. Which was as worthy a project as any.

  Rose sat down to lunch with Kim again. Kim, true to form, was wearing a purple shirt over maroon pants and, around her throat, a blue scarf with black stars. Rose knew she herself had to stop wearing overalls and flannel shirts, but Kim’s style was not the direction she had in mind.

  “Do you like my hair?” Rose asked. “The guy at the scanner said I look like Barbara Stanwyck, whoever that is.”

  “You mean Cooper Sosa?”

  “Who?”

  “At the scanner. He’s cute.”

  Rose glanced at him and shrugged. His eyebrows were way too thick and his hair too messy (and not in a good way, like Nick’s). Not to mention she’d be surprised if he reached her chin.

  “Maybe not conventionally cute,” Kim said. “He only transferred here last year. We hang out sometimes. He’s super nice.”

  “Really? Yesterday he said my smile looked Photoshopped.” Rose hadn’t thought that had bothered her, but here she was, repeating it.

  “And today he said you look like a movie star. He’s really into old movies. His parents own a diner right next to the old movie house—”

  “You still haven’t said.” Rose pointed to her hair.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s fine.”

  “I tried to find a jean jacket yesterday, and I couldn’t. Don’t you think a jean jacket would look great with this haircut? Also, I need red lipstick. Something between a cherry and a tomato. But not cherry tomato—ugh!”

  “You don’t wear makeup,” Kim said, suddenly agitated. “You just don’t. Even when you barely spoke to me, I noticed you don’t wear it, and I always lik
ed that, because we’re, like, the only girls who don’t.”

  Rose was fully aware that she and Kim hadn’t been that close recently. Why did she have to bring it up? “Ironic,” she said coolly, “seeing that you’re doing the makeup for the school play. You’re like a makeup expert, Kim.”

  “Stage makeup is a whole other thing. It’s not realistic and it’s not supposed to be—”

  “Do you think Nick Winter will like my hair?” Rose cut her off.

  Nick still didn’t notice her in bio. Astrid and Selena didn’t say a word about her hair, though they were whispering. Rose didn’t want to intrude; maybe one had a problem and the other was helping her. That was what friends did for each other, after all. How lonely it must be, Rose thought, to be without friends.

  On her way home, Rose stopped in at the cosmetics store on Belle Drive: Heights Belles. She wandered through a sea of red lipsticks before she found the right one—exciting, rich, deep red. When she saw the name, she had to laugh. It was called Rose Red; clearly, meant for her. She stood before the Mirror-Mirror and typed in the code of the lipstick, and it showed her how perfectly this shade fit her haircut. But something about seeing herself on a computer screen bothered Rose. In her mind she saw herself on another screen, but wider than this one. She figured maybe she’d accidentally stepped in front of a security camera and seen a reflection of herself, which could be a little disconcerting when you didn’t expect it.

  Outside, she got caught in a gentle tornado of fallen leaves; they swirled lightly around her legs and settled at her feet. You are at the center of your life, not the edge, she told herself, but the words seemed to be coming from the same lady she remembered speaking to somewhere—someone with a sort of funny, flat, generic voice.

  Rose found herself staring at the Belle Heights Animal Hospital two doors down, in the basement of a building, with windows near the ceiling and apartments up above. She’d told Evelyn she was thinking about getting a job; what a great idea, to work there! After all, she loved animals. Now this was a perfect project, too.