My Sister Rosa

by Justine Larbalestier

  ‘They train together,’ Leilani says. ‘Sid’s a fighter. She’s already had two amateur bouts.’

  I wonder how Leilani knows that, then remember they sat next to each other at the Korean restaurant.

  ‘Fighting,’ Elon says, shuddering.

  ‘Did she win her fights?’ Veronica asks.

  ‘Both of them,’ Jaime says.

  ‘That explains those gorgeous shoulders,’ Veronica says. ‘I should start boxing lessons, get myself cut like her.’ She throws some punches. ‘Is that why you like her, Che? Because she’s a fighter?’

  I don’t want to talk about Sojourner. Talking about it could destroy whatever fragile thing there is between us. We kissed once, held hands a little, danced. And her best friend is sitting right there.

  ‘I think you like her because she’s so dark. You think she’s exotic, don’t you?’ Leilani says. She’s smiling like she’s teasing, but I feel slapped.

  ‘Of course not,’ I say.

  I’ve never called Sojourner exotic. I’ve only talked about her with Georgie. Did I think it? Sojourner’s darker than any other girl I’ve liked. She’s darker than anyone I’ve ever met.

  ‘Do you get a thrill from the contrast of your pasty-ass skin against her eboniness?’ Elon asks.

  ‘No,’ I say. They’re looking at me. Jaime too. She’s staring like she’s trying to see into my soul, to work out whether I’m going to hurt her best friend.

  We’ve barely touched, and yes, I did get a thrill. How could I not? It’s Sojourner.

  ‘You’re a mean drunk, Elon,’ Veronica says.

  I have the feeling I’m standing on a pre-existing fracture line with Leilani and Elon on one side, and Veronica on the other.

  ‘I’m not drunk!’

  Veronica laughs. ‘Ha! So you’re not denying you’re mean. Che likes her. People like each other.’ She looks from Jaime to Elon and back again. She downs the rest of her shot and waves to her friend for another one.

  Their questions do feel mean. But I’m worried there’s some truth in them. Do I think Sojourner’s gorgeous because she doesn’t look like other girls I’ve liked? But she does look a lot like them. Georgie pointed that out. I’m always attracted to girls who are tall, strong and muscled.

  ‘Sometimes people like each other.’

  ‘Says the white girl,’ Leilani says. ‘Plenty of people are into me because they think my being Korean makes me all demure and innocent and shit.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘One girl wanted me to wear my national costume. Seriously?’

  ‘Who are these people?’ Elon says. ‘Demure? You?’

  ‘You don’t even look Korean,’ Veronica says. ‘You’re not Korean; you were born here. Your mom’s white.’

  ‘This again? Ronnie, could you be any whiter?’

  ‘Wait. Are you saying you see me as white and not as, not as a…’ Veronica gropes for the word. ‘Individual?’ She sounds triumphant, like she’s made a devastating point.

  Elon looks sad. Veronica probably thinks that means Elon agrees with her, but I’m pretty sure Elon doesn’t. Jaime is rolling her eyes.

  ‘If you were truly into me,’ Veronica says, downing the next shot, ‘you wouldn’t notice the colour of my skin!’

  Elon and Leilani exchange a look. Jaime snorts.

  ‘I must have a white-girl fetish to put up with you.’ Leilani turns to Elon and Jaime. ‘I can’t deal with this right now. Let’s go.’

  They get up. Elon stumbles and Jaime steadies him. I half rise from my seat.

  ‘See you later, Che,’ Jaime says. ‘You need to school her.’

  I sink down again as they walk out, feeling whiter than I’ve ever felt.

  ‘What?’ Veronica asks. She half rises from her seat, then sits down again. ‘God. Why does Leilani have to make everything about race? It’s not like she’s really Korean.’

  ‘You said that.’ My cheeks are burning. I hate that Leilani thinks I’m the same as Veronica. At least Jaime doesn’t. But the last thing in the world I want to do is school Veronica.

  ‘Well, she’s not.’

  ‘Leilani looks like a mixture of her parents. There’s a lot of her dad in her. She speaks Korean. She’s spent a lot of time there. Korea means a lot to her.’

  Veronica waves my words away. ‘Most people think she’s white. She has to tell them she’s not. If she didn’t go on about being Korean no one would know.’

  ‘If Leilani says she’s Korean-American, that means it’s important to her. Put yourself in her shoes.’ Show some empathy.

  Veronica stares at me. ‘How long have you known Leilani? Three minutes? Let me tell you something about Leilani McBrunight: she is drama. There’s more drama if she goes on about the Korean thing. Like her storming off right now. Her dad wasn’t even raised Korean. He was adopted! By a regular American family. He didn’t go to Korea for the first time until he was like twelve. Elon is my best friend, not hers. Why’d he go off with her? Why do they always stick together?’

  I wish she’d shut up.

  She downs another shot and it occurs to me that we’ve been stuck with the bill. Fuck.

  ‘Not everything is about race. People can just be people, you know.’

  ‘What about Elon?’ I ask.

  ‘What about Elon?’

  ‘Do you think Elon’s really a boy?’

  ‘What? No. Of course not. Elon’s Elon.’

  ‘What about people who insist Elon’s a boy or a girl?’

  ‘They’re stupid.’

  ‘So Elon gets to say what Elon is?’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘We’re the only ones who know who we are, right? Not other people?’

  Veronica nods. But I’m not sure. I feel like I’m on shaky ground. If I declared I was a cowboy that wouldn’t make me a cowboy. This is different – I grope for the reason why.

  ‘Leilani says she’s Korean-American so that means she’s Korean-American.’

  Veronica downs another shot.

  ‘If Leilani let people assume she’s white, wouldn’t that be less of a hassle for her?’

  ‘I told you: she likes drama. She likes feeling special.’

  ‘Is that why Elon says Elon’s not a boy or a girl?’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘Is it? Don’t you think having people question who you are would make you feel more annoyed than special?’

  Veronica deflates. Maybe she’s getting what I’m saying or maybe she’s about to pass out.

  ‘Leilani is special, though,’ Veronica says, as though it’s a bad thing. ‘She’s smarter, more together, more everything. She started Neophyte when she was, like, seven. Whatever she does, she’s the best. I never realised how, I don’t know, dumb I am until I met her. I just want to win an argument. Just once. I didn’t win that one, did I?’

  I shake my head. Why has Leilani stayed with Veronica for so long?

  ‘I fuck everything up. She’s going to dump me.’

  Veronica’s face turns red. She’s crying. I hand her a napkin. ‘She’s sexier than I am too,’ she says between sobs. ‘I think about her all the time!’

  The bartender brings over a glass of water.

  I was starting to think Veronica is like Rosa, but she’s not. Rosa never thinks anyone’s better than her.

  ‘There’s nothing weird about your sister,’ Veronica says out of nowhere.

  I can’t help shivering. It’s as if thinking about Rosa brought her into the conversation.

  ‘You and Leilani said those things about her because you were stoned, right? ’Cause she’s a sweet little girl. You shouldn’t diss her like that. She’s a great dancer too. We’re gonna busk together.’

  ‘You’re drunk.’

  Veronica laughs. ‘Little bit. We only fight when we’re drinking.’

  ‘Leilani wasn’t drinking.’

  ‘When one of us is drinking. God. You’re right. I only ever try to be smart when I’m drinking. Elon’s going to be mad at me when I
get home. Elon’s going to tell me everything I did wrong and why it was wrong and ugh and I’ll be wondering why Elon can’t be fun all the time. I’m a terrible person.’

  She wipes at her face with the already wet napkin.

  ‘No one’s fun all the time. You’re no fun right now.’

  ‘Rude!’ Veronica says, but she’s smiling at me. ‘That’s true. They like to get deep and shit about everything and I…I don’t. Thinking about that stuff makes me squirm. Do you fancy white girls, too? Or only black ones? Do you think I’m pretty?’

  She cares what I think. Rosa doesn’t. Why does that make me think less of her? Veronica would probably be less annoying if she were more like Rosa. God forbid.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  When I get home, only a handful of guests are left, including Gene and Lisimaya. They’re sitting on the couch with the parentals, clutching glasses of wine and waving their hands around.

  They greet me briefly before returning to their important conversations.

  I open the door to my bedroom and there’s Rosa, cross-legged on my bed, wearing her party dress.

  Even if I’d already installed it, the sliding bolt would not have kept her out. I need a lock with a key.

  I turn my back on her, act like I’m checking something on my computer, and set my phone to record. Then I turn my chair around.

  ‘Where’s Seimone?’

  ‘Suzette took the twins home.’

  ‘The twins? Seimone doesn’t act like they’re twins anymore.’

  ‘That’s silly, Che. You can’t stop being a twin.’

  ‘Why isn’t Seimone talking to Maya?’

  Rosa shrugs. ‘I guess they’re having a fight. Sisters do, you know. I liked the party. I like Elon and Veronica. Especially Elon. I like that Elon’s not a girl or a boy. I’ve never met anyone like that. It’s not the same as the ladyboys in Bangkok. They like to be called she. Elon said, Elon is Elon and not a she or a he or a they and definitely not an it. Because no one is an it. Elon says mostly people assume, then get angry when they’re wrong. No one ever guesses that Elon’s not a girl or a boy. It didn’t make me angry. Does it make you angry?’

  ‘That Elon’s not a boy or a girl? No. It just confuses me.’

  ‘Elon told me Elon’s parents don’t care. When Elon was five Elon’s mom gave Elon nail polish and a tiara because that’s what Elon wanted. Elon’s dad paid for Elon’s dance lessons. They told Elon that Elon didn’t have to be a boy or a girl if Elon didn’t want to be.’

  ‘They sound like great parents.’

  ‘You don’t think Elon’s weird because Elon’s different?’

  I feel a prickle. When she asks questions like this…I can’t fall for it. I can’t say anything that will let her wriggle out of her promises: But you said, she’ll say later, all innocence, I thought that meant…

  ‘Everyone’s different in one way or another,’ I say.

  Rosa is looking at me as if there’s something in the alignment of my facial muscles she can use.

  ‘I’m different too,’ she whispers. ‘Almost as different as Elon.’

  I say nothing. They are not different in the same way. Elon is not a monster.

  ‘I’m definitely a girl,’ she says, making her curls bounce, talking in the voice she deploys for the parentals and the rest of the world. Bright and girlish and harmless. ‘I’m definitely a she. Do you think you’re a boy?’

  I nod.

  ‘But I’m not like other girls. Or other boys. I have something most other people don’t have.’

  She waits for me to ask her what that is. I’m not going to.

  ‘Are you mad at me?’

  ‘Yes. All you do is mess with me. After you killed Apinya’s guinea pig you promised you’d stop.’

  ‘I didn’t kill Apin—’

  ‘What do you want, Rosa?’

  ‘I want us to be friends again.You don’t tell me things. You know my secrets. I want to know some of yours.’

  ‘I don’t know all your secrets.’

  Rosa smiles and the hairs on my body stand up. ‘That’s true. But you don’t tell me any of yours. It’s not fair.’

  ‘I don’t trust you, Rosa. You trick your friends into doing things they don’t want to do. You’re doing whatever you can to turn Seimone against Maya.’

  ‘Maya’s mean. It would be a lot easier if she was dead. Seimone wishes she was dead.’

  ‘Jesus, Rosa, you can’t kill Maya.’

  Rosa doesn’t say anything.

  ‘If you kill Maya you’ll be locked up.’

  Still not a word.

  ‘You’re clever. But even the smartest killers get caught. Read up on them.’

  ‘I have. Those are the ones who were caught. There are lots of unsolved murders.’

  My turn to not say anything.

  Rosa stays expressionless. No dimples. No smiling. No frowning. Bile fills my mouth. I’ve never believed she’d kill anyone. She’s ten years old.

  ‘You want to live in this world with as few restrictions on you as possible, yes?’

  Rosa nods.

  ‘If you kill Maya, what do you think will happen? You’re different. You already have to work hard to hide that from people, and even then some of them don’t want to be near you.’

  ‘Like Maya.’ Rosa frowns. ‘I’m getting better at being the same as everyone else, though. You saw me at the party. I talked to everyone and they liked me. They told Sally and David how talented I am.’

  ‘They could just be being polite. I bet some of them were thinking that you’re a show-off and couldn’t wait till you stopped tap dancing already. To some you smell wrong. You make the tiny hairs on their arms stand on end.’

  ‘Do I do that to you?’

  Yes, I want to tell her. Especially right now when you’re calmly talking about killing people and your voice and face have as much emotion as a robot’s. You scare the shit out of me.

  Instead I say, ‘I’ve known you all my life.’

  ‘Do you think I’m the devil?’

  I laugh as if to say, How absurd. It isn’t. Too often I’m scared that some people are born evil, bad seeds, and there’s nothing to be done but burn them.

  ‘You don’t have much empathy. There are a million theories why some people have little empathy. Given your environment—’

  ‘I was born like this,’ she says, stating a fact. ‘But not because I lack anything – because I’m smarter than everyone else. Empathy stops you from understanding the world. Empathy gets in the way.’

  ‘No,’ I whisper. ‘It doesn’t.’ It feels melodramatic to say that her eyes are cold. But they are. Blue ice. Like those of our great-great-great-whatever grandfather in the photo. ‘Your anterior insular cortex is damaged or underdeveloped. You’re not smarter than everyone else. You’re colder.’

  ‘I’m different. I think I’m better. You think I’m not. But we agree I’m different.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Maybe if I killed someone I wouldn’t enjoy it.’

  I have no idea what to say to that.

  ‘Or I would enjoy it, but then I’d have done that and I wouldn’t need to do it again. I get bored quickly, you know.’

  ‘I’ve seen you sit and kill ants for hours.’

  She shrugs. ‘That was fun. Fun isn’t boring.’

  ‘You find the wrong things fun.’

  ‘You think it’s fun to hit people.’

  ‘That’s different. Fighters want to fight. They consent to it.’

  ‘You’re the one who says there’s something wrong with me because I like violence, but you like violence too.’

  ‘There’s something wrong with you because you don’t care. I care. I’ve looked after you all your life. I changed your nappy when you were little. I held you and cared for you and protected you and taught you. I love you. Even knowing everything I know about you, I love you. Do you love me?’

  I want to know if she feels anything for me or for Sally an
d David. Have our years of loving her had any effect?

  ‘You’re useful to me. You’re much more interesting than Sally and David. They just bring in the money. Or they used to. So I needed them. When the McBrunights stop supporting them and they’re broke, then it will be Nana and Papa’s money. Until I can make my own. You can’t exist without money.’

  I can only think of how ardently Uncle Saul would agree with that statement.

  ‘Do you love anyone?’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand what love is. It’s like good. No one’s explained it clearly. I love ice-cream. I love chess and mathematics. I love getting what I want. I love getting away with things. But not people. They’re either useful or they’re not. You’re useful, Che. But I don’t think that’s love.’

  ‘It’s not.’

  ‘Do you love Sid?’

  I’m not answering that.

  Rosa smirks. ‘I like that other people love me. I like being loved. It makes it easier to get them to do what I want.’

  Now she smiles, as warm and charming as David. Both dimples pop out. Her eyes don’t seem cold. I feel myself smile in response and press my lips together.

  Her smile widens. See how easily I can charm? As easy as popping out these dimples.

  ‘What do you want, Rosa?’

  ‘I want to be able to do whatever I want. But there are too many things I want that aren’t allowed. I like it when people are scared or in pain or drunk or angry. It amuses me.’

  ‘Why?’

  She shrugs.

  ‘Because you don’t feel pain?’

  ‘I feel pain! If you cut me I bleed and it hurts.’

  ‘Shylock? Really? I thought you hated Shakespeare.’

  Rosa shrugs. ‘Other people like him. It’s useful to know things. Even boring, stupid things.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about that kind of pain, Rosa. Emotional pain. If I told you I don’t love you and don’t want anything to do with you it wouldn’t hurt.’

  ‘Yes, it would. Who would I ask real questions? Who would help me? You’re the only one who understands.’

  ‘You just told me you only care about my usefulness. Why should I do anything for you?’

  ‘I’d be lost without you,’ Rosa says. Her eyes glisten.

  Even though I know she can cry at will, I’m glad. ‘Now, you need me. But you won’t always. Why shouldn’t I stop helping you now?’