My Sister Rosa

by Justine Larbalestier

  ‘I didn’t recognise you without your gym clothes,’ she says, which is polite of her since we’ve only just met, and not properly. Does she know my name? ‘Look at your hands. They’re unwrapped, and not red and sweaty. Your shirt has a collar.’

  I look down at my hands. They’re a little red around the knuckles. ‘I was thinking the same about you.’

  ‘Yeah. Every time I put on a dress and lipstick I feel like I’m in disguise.’

  ‘Not a very effective one. I recognised you straight away.’ Which probably sounds weird. I barely know her.

  ‘You’d be surprised how many guys from gym don’t.’

  I’m sure I’d recognise her no matter what she wore. She holds herself easily, as if her muscles move unconstricted by tension. Hardly anyone walks like that.

  ‘Where’re you headed?’ I hope I’m not staring. I’m fairly sure I am.

  ‘Church. You?’

  ‘Exploring.’ She goes to church? ‘Just moved here. I’m checking out Alphabet City.’ I could have told her I was with my family, that we’re about to meet Sally and David’s oldest friends for the first time, but I don’t want to mention Rosa. It’s not a lie. I am exploring. ‘Still learning my new neighbourhood.’

  ‘Well, you need to know only old people call it Alphabet City. This is Loisaida.’

  ‘This is Lois-what?’

  Sojourner rolls her eyes but she’s smiling.

  ‘How do you spell it?’

  She spells it for me and I put it in my phone. I’ll look it up.

  ‘I give you a pass because you’re so new.’

  I smile. Probably for too long. I’m thinking about how New York City is a total mystery and this new neighbourhood, Alphabet City, the East Village, Lois-whateveritwas, is full of streets I haven’t walked along. I’d like to walk along them with her.

  ‘There are a lot of squirrels,’ I say at the same time as she asks, ‘How long you been boxing?’

  ‘Since I was—’

  ‘Is this your sister?’

  My heart beats faster. I turn. Rosa’s walking on her toes so that her curls bounce, which makes her look like a kid from a commercial. Blonde hair, blue eyes, rosy cheeks, dimples, big smile. In case anyone doesn’t notice, she’s carrying her little white handbag with a picture of Shirley Temple on it.

  ‘She looks like you.’

  Rosa looks nothing like me. We have the same colouring, but that’s it. My hair’s straight and thick like David’s. I have David’s nose. Rosa has Sally’s. My eyes are a much darker blue, like Sally’s.

  ‘I’m Rosa Klein,’ Rosa says, holding out her hand. Sojourner shakes it. I stand there, realising I should have introduced them.

  ‘Lovely to meet you. I’m Sid.’

  Sid?

  ‘You’re pretty,’ Rosa says, dimpling. ‘I like your dress. Red and black look fabulous together.’

  ‘Thank you. I like your dress too.’

  Rosa curtseys. I wonder where that came from. Her dance classes? Do tap dancers curtsey?

  ‘Soj – Sid and I are at the same boxing gym,’ I say at last.

  ‘Do you like making people bleed?’ Rosa asks.

  Sojourner laughs.

  ‘Have you broken anyone’s nose?’

  ‘Once.’

  ‘Was it fun?’

  ‘Fun? No. But I liked winning that bout.’

  ‘What if you killed someone?’

  I wonder where Sally and David are and why they let Rosa wander off. I wish they’d show up. Rosa will stop asking questions like this when they’re within earshot.

  ‘That would be awful. It almost never happens. More people are killed playing football than from boxing.’

  I wonder if that’s true.

  ‘Boxing’s not nearly as terrible as people think. It’s about learning to control yourself. If you lose your temper or try to hit someone ’cause you’re mad, you’ll lose. Good fighters aren’t angry. I don’t want to hurt people. That’s not why I box.’

  I wonder what sense Rosa makes of that answer, given that she always wants to hurt people.

  ‘I like being in control.’

  Well, that is true.

  ‘Don’t we all?’ Sojourner says. She smiles at Rosa as if she finds her adorable, which makes my heart sink. I love Rosa, but every time someone likes her I feel sad. How do they not see what she is?

  ‘Do you have to defend yourself for liking boxing?’ Sojourner asks me. ‘Or is that just us girls?’

  ‘All the time. My parents hate that I box.’

  ‘Are there any other girls at your gym?’ Rosa says at the same time.

  Sojourner laughs. ‘Sure. My best friend Jaime and me train there together.’

  ‘You have a best friend?’ Rosa asks, injecting her words with all the longing she can.

  ‘Please,’ I mutter. I don’t think either of them hear me.

  ‘Sure,’ Sojourner says. ‘You don’t?’

  Which is exactly what Rosa wants her to say.

  ‘Our parents move around a lot and we’re homeschooled. It’s hard to make friends,’ Rosa says with the smallest break in her voice.

  Sojourner looks at me.

  ‘Sometimes we’re homeschooled,’ I say. ‘Mostly we go to regular school. Rosa likes to exaggerate. Where are Sally and David?’ I ask Rosa. ‘Aren’t we going to be late?’

  Sojourner looks at her phone. ‘I gotta go too. You be at the gym Monday?’

  I nod. ‘In the afternoon. You?’

  ‘See you then.’

  ‘Bye, Sid,’ Rosa says. ‘It was wonderful to meet you.’

  Sojourner smiles, waves. ‘See you later.’

  ‘Later,’ I say. I don’t watch her go, though I want to.

  ‘Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?’ I say as soon as Sojourner is out of earshot. ‘Where are the parentals? We’re supposed to be there in five minutes. David’ll freak if we’re late.’

  Instead of answering my question about sucking up to Sojourner, Rosa tells me she should be allowed to play chess with the men in the park. ‘David says they’re hustlers. But I bet they can’t play chess as well as I can. I’ll hustle them.’

  I don’t doubt it.

  We find the parentals arguing politics with an old white man handing out anarchist pamphlets on the other side of the park. They haven’t even noticed they lost Rosa.

  David waves. ‘Are you two ready?’

  They say goodbye to the anarchist, who grunts at them.

  ‘It’s this way,’ Sally says, looking at her phone. ‘I can’t wait for you to finally meet them. Are you excited?’

  Rosa declares that she is, dimpling to underline her enthusiasm. I force a smile. I suspect the McBrunight children are going to be spoiled brats. They’re growing up getting everything they want. They probably think people who aren’t rich are barely worth their attention.

  David slips his arm around Sally to pull her out of the way of foot traffic. She’s walking on the wrong side. Rosa and I slip behind them.

  ‘You like Sid, don’t you?’ Rosa says, watching a man with a tiny poodle in his arms push past our parents. ‘Her skin is shiny.’

  I grunt in a noncommittal way. ‘I don’t think they’re going to let you play chess with those men,’ I say, as if that matters to me more than Sojourner.

  Rosa smiles.

  The McBrunights were born and bred right here in New York City. Apparently that’s rare. Almost as rare as having been a couple since they were teenagers. Like our parents. I hope they’re better at keeping their hands off each other than Sally and David are. Having parents who are desperately in love is embarrassing.

  Gene and Lisimaya McBrunight and their three daughters are waiting to be seated when we arrive.

  Gene and Lisimaya yelp when they see Sally and David, but I would have recognised them anyway. I’ve seen a million photos of the whole family. Though they don’t quite prepare me for how pretty the twins are: big dark eyes, high cheekbones, heart-shaped
faces. They’re almost as perfect as Rosa. They’re also identical, really identical. If Seimone didn’t have shorter hair, telling them apart would be impossible. Maya’s hair is in a ponytail; Seimone’s is in a bob.

  Gene and Lisimaya let go of each other’s hands to hug the parentals. Holding hands in public. Very Sally and David-like.

  Rosa puts her hand in mine and gives it a little squeeze. She’s excited. I don’t want to know what she’s thinking. More people to manipulate?

  Gene has tears in his eyes as he draws Sally into a hug. She does too.

  ‘Thank you,’ she says fervently.

  Then they’re wiping their eyes and exclaiming and clogging the narrow entrance to the Greek restaurant.

  ‘She has your exact smile,’ Lisimaya says to David after hugging Rosa. ‘Can she get people to do whatever she wants too?’

  David smiles, confirming how similar his and Rosa’s smiles are, right down to the dimples.

  Everyone in the restaurant is staring. My cheeks grow warm. The twins look as embarrassed and awkward as I feel. Leilani looks bored.

  A waiter coughs and says, ‘Excuse me. Sir? Ma’am? Your table is ready.’

  They don’t notice. He coughs again. Louder this time. ‘Excuse me, sir. Excuse me!’

  Sally turns, apologises, and we’re led to the table. Two women at the table next to us whisper as we sit down.

  We kids don’t bother introducing ourselves. We know who they are, they know who we are. I know they’re the only people in the world with that last name. I know when their birthdays are. I know Seimone is allergic to peanuts. I know Leilani is almost the same age as me. I know—

  ‘Are you going to stare at them all day?’ Leilani asks me. ‘Yes, it’s like two little Korean princesses stepped straight out of a manhwa. So exotic! Two gorgeous chips off their Korean daddy’s block.’

  I don’t know what a manhwa is. ‘I wasn’t staring. I was—’

  ‘Yes, they’re very pretty.’

  ‘I’m pretty too,’ Rosa says.

  ‘Everyone’s pretty,’ Maya says.

  Seimone laughs. ‘We’re all very pretty.’

  Leilani snorts.

  It isn’t that Leilani is ugly. She’s pretty enough, I suppose. I can hear Sally’s lecture as if I said that out loud: Pretty enough for what exactly?

  Leilani’s looks are like mine. Nana would use the word plain. We’re in the same boat, Leilani and I: the least good-looking person in a good-looking family. I wonder if it bothers her? Or is she relieved like me? At least she doesn’t have acne.

  She’s more interesting-looking than her sisters. I can see exactly what she’s thinking without her saying a word. She’s mostly thinking about what a waste of time this is and how uninteresting I am. I wish I thought the same of her, but watching her face is mesmerising.

  Leilani and I are seated opposite each other, with the twins on either side of us and Rosa at the end of the table. The four adults are already drinking wine and talking away at each other, waving their arms around, laughing too loud, pointing. Every second sentence begins It can’t be twenty years…or Do you remember when…They’re laughing at David killing them playing poker, at a disastrous skiing trip. They are ridiculously happy.

  ‘Homeschooling, huh?’ Leilani says, dragging me back to the kids’ end of the table.

  This is going to be a long brunch.

  ‘It’s so we don’t have our brains warped by the capitalist sausage factory,’ Rosa says, egging Leilani on.

  The twins giggle.

  ‘I don’t feel like a sausage,’ Maya says. ‘Do you feel like a sausage, Seimone?’

  ‘Well, I am kinda hungry.’

  They giggle some more. Rosa joins in.

  ‘I like your gloves,’ Rosa says to Seimone. The gloves in question are red and black. Maya isn’t wearing gloves. ‘Do you play poker?’

  Seimone shakes her head.

  ‘I’ll teach you. Chess?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Is being homeschooled everything good and wise?’ Leilani asks me, while Rosa and Seimone squeal about chess.

  She manages to make it sound like I’m an idiot if I think it is while at the same time making it clear she doesn’t care what my answer is. It has to do with the way she lifts her eyebrows while curling her upper lip. If I explain that I’ve been taught at school more than at home her eyebrows will just rise higher.

  ‘Do you like your school?’ I say instead, fighting her with banality.

  Her left eyebrow arcs even higher. I can’t raise either of mine that high. It’s clear from that one elegant movement that no one in their right mind likes school or asks such a stupid question. This test she is giving me? I’m failing it. My explaining I know it’s a stupid question, that I asked it on purpose because it’s stupid, isn’t going to do me any favours with her, either. I itch to text Georgie a running account of this fun, fun brunch.

  ‘Going to ask me what I want to do when I grow up? What colleges I’m applying to? What my career plans are?’

  Those questions have occurred to me.

  ‘I’m homeschooled,’ I say. ‘My social intercourse is sporadic.’

  ‘But your love affair with the thesaurus is for all time.’ She gives a small smile that says wanker as loudly as if she spoke the word.

  ‘You should be an actor,’ I say. ‘You have a wonderfully expressive face.’

  See? I can be bitchy too. But then I remember she goes to a high school for the performing arts. She probably is training to be an actor.

  ‘I think you mean actress. Let’s not pretend there’s no difference in how much the men get paid for doing the exact same thing as the women. Not going to change a thing pretending like I’m an ac-tor. Which is why I’m going to make my own movies and television. Acting is for those who want to be exploited by misogynist assholes.’

  ‘You sound like Sally,’ I say.

  ‘And you sound like my dad. It’s a joy, isn’t it? We only just met and already we’re like family.’

  I’m tempted to tell her that I don’t want to be here either, to suggest that we suck it up since our parents want it so much, and not make this brunch any fouler than it already is. I want to ask for a truce. But I can imagine how quick she’ll cut me down.

  Rosa giggles at something one of the twins says, but I can see that she’s listening to every word from Leilani. Rosa’s eyes gleam with admiration, and I’m convinced she’s deciding that Leilani’s someone who can teach her a thing or two about messing with people.

  I’m going to have to keep Rosa away from Leilani. It’s bad enough that Leilani can give lessons in mean, but what if she’s like Rosa and can teach her worse things? Leilani is not exactly giving off empathetic vibes. Callousness – she doesn’t care if she hurts my feelings; disinhibition – she says what she wants without fear of consequences; charisma – it’s hard not to pay attention to her. Is she a thrillseeker? I’m tempted to ask if she likes driving too fast.

  Having Rosa for a sister makes me view people differently. I don’t trust charm – not that Leilani is exhibiting any, but I can tell she can when she wants. The only people I instantly trust are the ones who are uneasy around Rosa. I’m disappointed Sojourner didn’t respond to Rosa that way.

  ‘I love your agricultural shirt,’ Leilani says to me.

  Rosa laughs loudly. Leilani looks at her appraisingly. ‘Those dimples work for you, don’t they?’

  Rosa’s eyes narrow. Only briefly, but I see it.

  Well. Rosa will not be wrapping Leilani around her finger anytime soon. Like recognising like?

  My father has the same easy charm as Rosa. But he also cares. Rosa is too much like Papa and Uncle Saul. Not a gram of empathy between the two of them. Papa is constantly trying to manipulate everyone around him. Putting people in his will when they please him, taking them out when they don’t. Every favour he grants has strings attached. Uncle Saul’s a chip off the old block.

  ‘How are you all getting
along?’ Gene McBrunight asks.

  Leilani does not hide her eye roll. ‘Oh, it’s fabulous at this end of the table. Che and I are already planning our wedding. There’ll be doves. Also penguins.’

  I blush, not because I think she’s cute. The twins laugh and shoot me looks I’m sure mean they’re convinced I have a crush.

  ‘That was quick,’ Gene says.

  ‘Leave us alone, Dad,’ Leilani says. ‘We just met. We’re not best friends who’ve known each other since cell phones came in suitcases, okay?’

  ‘Fine, fine,’ he says, turning to Sally.

  ‘Mobile phones used to come in suitcases?’ I ask. Leilani doesn’t smile, let alone laugh.

  ‘In case you’ve gotten any ideas,’ she says, ‘and that blush wasn’t just your overreactive sympathetic nervous system, I have a girlfriend. I don’t go for boys. No, not even whichever movie star you were about to suggest.’

  I wasn’t about to suggest anyone. I’m too busy wondering how she knows what the sympathetic nervous system is. She’s studying to be a director, not a doctor.

  ‘If I ever found a guy attractive it wouldn’t be a boring, corn-fed farm boy from Australia like yourself.’

  Rosa and the twins giggle.

  ‘Good to know,’ I say. I’ve never been called any of those things. Well, boring maybe and Australian, definitely. But not the others. I’ve never stepped foot on a farm and I’m not a big fan of corn.

  ‘I might take you shopping, though.’ Her eyes drop to my shirt. ‘If we’re going to be forced into each other’s company as often as I suspect we are, you’re going to have to wear clothes that don’t make my eyeballs bleed.’

  ‘Sorry if mine clothes offend thee,’ I mutter.

  Leilani smiles. I’m surprised she knows how. For a second I’m certain she isn’t like Rosa.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After brunch we go to the McBrunights’ home, which towers over the street, taking up almost the whole block. It used to be a synagogue. Walking up the steps and in through the huge wooden doors is like walking into the Great Temple in Sydney.

  I knew they were rich, but seeing their home, now I really know it.