When Rose Wakes

by Christopher Golden

  “Damn, spit it out, girl,” Kylie prodded.

  “Just shut up a second, Kylie!” Amiko snapped.

  Rose flinched, staring at her. “Maybe you’d better say whatever it is you’re trying to say.”

  Amiko adjusted her backpack. “I was at Chloe’s birthday party Saturday night when the whole thing went down with you and Courtney. I’d had a couple of drinks. When you took your shirt off, I thought it was awesome. Wicked funny and cool. But I did what anybody would do. I mean, lots of people did.”

  Rose shook her head. “What are you—”

  “She took a picture,” Kylie interrupted. They both stared at Amiko. “That’s what you’re saying, right? You took a picture on your cell?”

  “Yeah,” Amiko said. “But it gets worse. This morning before school I was showing Chloe the pictures I took at the party. I mean, it was her birthday, right? When I got to that one, she snatched the phone out of my hand. First I thought she just wanted a better look—she was laughing, y’know? But then she started hitting numbers and I realized she was texting the picture to someone. I tried to stop her, but…”

  Amiko shrugged.

  Rose felt her skin go cold. “She sent it to Courtney.”

  Amiko opened her phone, scanned for the picture, and held it out. “She did. And a little while ago, Courtney sent it back. But not just to me. To, like, everyone.”

  Rose stared at the photo of herself. Her bra, soaked through by the punch Courtney had spilled on her, left nothing to the imagination. She hadn’t even considered that when she had taken off her shirt, so angry and determined not to let Courtney get the better of her. She remembered people taking cell-phone pictures, but hadn’t given them a second thought. At the time she had not cared whether or not anybody ever saw those pictures.

  But she also hadn’t thought about the fact that the wet bra would have been almost completely see-through.

  And by now the entire school would either have seen this picture or have it waiting on their cell phones the next time they checked their messages.

  “I’ll kill her,” she whispered.

  “You won’t have to,” Kylie said.

  “Rose, I’m really sorry,” Amiko said.

  “No,” Rose replied. “I mean, I wish you hadn’t taken the picture, but I don’t blame you. Crazy new girl whips off her shirt in the middle of a party, why wouldn’t you take a picture? This isn’t your fault.”

  “I wish there was something I could do,” Amiko said.

  “There is,” Rose replied. “You’re going to come with us to talk to Sister Anna, and make sure she knows exactly how this happened, and what Courtney did.”

  “Yeah. Of course.” Amiko nodded. She looked nervous, but determined. “I’ve known Chloe a long time, but no way am I going to protect Courtney. I just wanted you to know it wasn’t me. But, yeah, I’m in.”

  Rose gave the picture a last glance, then closed the phone and handed it back.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “I’ve had enough of this.”

  It rained on Tuesday, and Rose walked to school amidst a sea of business black umbrellas, avoiding puddles and the spray thrown up by passing cars. Gusts of wind changed the direction of the falling rain, whipping at her, pattering off of her not-quite-waterproof jacket. The weatherman had claimed Boston had already reached fifty-five degrees, despite the rain, but with the wind and the damp and the cold gray skies, the day felt like a warning shot from winter.

  The cold seeped down to her bones as she walked up the front steps of St. Bridget’s school with other students who seemed similarly grim thanks to the rain. Dour faces hid beneath hoods and under umbrellas. But once Rose reached the door and hauled it open, fighting the wind, she forgot all about the rain and the churning gray sky. She stepped inside and closed her umbrella and forced herself not to hang her head. The people who had passed the photo of her around, forwarding it on their cell phones, they were the ones who should be ashamed.

  At least she wouldn’t have to see Courtney today, not if the rumors were to be believed. Even before the end of the day yesterday, the rumors had started to spread that Courtney had been suspended from school. Rose had even heard that there might be criminal charges, although that didn’t seem likely as—no matter how revealing it had been—she hadn’t been naked in the picture. But if it was true that she had been suspended, for once Courtney wouldn’t be getting away with tormenting someone.

  Rose had not said a word about the incident to her aunts. She recognized the possiblity that they might learn about it eventually, but no way would she be the one to tell them. The deed had been done and there would be no undoing it. She had no idea how they would respond to the photograph being texted around school. Would they show up in Sister Anna’s office and cause havoc, embarrassing her? Or would it force them to consider once again the possibility of returning to France? Either way, Rose would not like the outcome. Yet she knew that whatever their reaction to the picture, it would pale in comparison to the anger and panic that would ensue if they learned that she had taken her shirt off in a room full of people, guys included.

  No, the quieter the incident could remain, the better off Rose would be. She had already decided that if the police spoke to her about Courtney, she would insist that she did not want to file charges. But Kylie had explained to her that it might not be up to her, and that worried her.

  As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. Her dreams were as awful as ever, and still she had little to no memory of her life before the coma. She had begun to despair, to think that she might never remember. A part of her had already moved on, to plan for the here and now, to make a future in Boston with her aunts and her new friends, and maybe with a boyfriend as well. If she had lost her old life forever, she was determined to build a new one.

  She hurried up the stairs, the closed and dripping umbrella in her hand. There were a ton of students still arriving, which meant she had plenty of time, but she wanted to organize her locker and try to shake some of the rain off of her coat before she hung it up. She made her way through the morning rush of students, chin high, not averting her eyes. Some people looked away. Others acted as though they had suddenly become friends. Several guys gave her lascivious looks and nods. Girls snickered and whispered to each other. But Rose had begun to get used to high school now, and she only sighed and walked on, aided by the realization that the majority of people who passed her seemed as gray as the stormy day, made weary and grim by the rain, and they had no interest in her.

  She kept an eye out for Kylie—they’d been up late the previous night texting about the day’s events, Kylie being crude and making her laugh—but saw no sign of her. Amiko and several other girls clustered around a water fountain and Rose slowed down a little, hoping to catch her eye and nod hello, but Amiko didn’t see her.

  “Rosie-girl!” someone said, and she felt him bump into her.

  She turned quickly, ready to tell him off, but then she saw that it was Dom.

  “Wow, you’re jumpy today,” he said.

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  Dom smiled sadly. “Yeah. Of course. But she’s done, Rose.”

  “She’s really suspended?”

  “That’s what I’m hearing. I wouldn’t be surprised if they expelled her,” Dom said, navigating her toward the row of lockers on the left. “Listen, this is me, but I’ll see you later, okay. You’re gonna be fine. And, hey, don’t forget we have chorus after school today.”

  Rose nodded. “I’ll be there. But I’ll see you later anyway.”

  They parted ways and Rose kept moving, the hallway traffic thinning a little bit as students reported to their homerooms. She turned at a junction in the hallway and then had to wait half a minute while a monstrously huge football player named Darrell finished in his locker, which was beside hers.

  “Morning, Rose,” Darrell said.

  “Um, hi,” she said, surprised. Darrell had said only a few words to her in the days since she had arrived
at St. Bridget’s. Now she wondered if he was being nice because of the photo or because he was on the football team with Jared.

  Darrell shifted his backpack and glanced shyly away. “Listen, you seem pretty cool. And I know you and Jared are hangin’. But if anyone gives you any problems, you let me know, okay?”

  Rose stared at him, this huge, awkwardly sweet knight in shining armor. “I will. And thank you.”

  He shrugged as if it meant nothing and then mumbled something before retreating down the hall. Rose watched him go for a few seconds and then set her backpack on the floor in front of her locker, working on the combination. She opened the door, then crouched to unzip her backpack and started swapping books from one to the other, arranging the materials she would need for the day’s classes. Chemistry lab today, and a history quiz.

  “Why not do me a favor while you’re down there?”

  Rose staggered sideways as she came abruptly to her feet, bumping into her locker door with a clang. Eric leaned against the row of lockers beside hers wearing an expression halfway between a leering grin and a snarl.

  “What do you want?” Rose asked.

  Eric’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding, right? You got my girlfriend suspended. I oughta break your skull on that locker.”

  “Try it,” Rose said, steadying her breathing and forcing her hands not to tremble.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he muttered, and she knew then that he wouldn’t do it.

  “Courtney got herself suspended.” Rose returned to a crouch, lifting a final book from her locker and slipping it into her backpack.

  “Yeah, for that sweet pic of you,” Eric said. “You’ve got a hell of a rack.”

  Rose zipped her backpack and stood, slinging it over her shoulder.

  “If I’d seen that picture before the other day, I’d have had her lock me in Sima’s closet with you. You and me in the dark, that’d be something.”

  She slammed her locker, spun the dial on the lock. “I’m sure you have your best luck in the dark, that way girls can’t see the dumb and ugly written all over your face.”

  He was fast. His hand came up, gripped her throat, and forced her against the locker so quickly that she couldn’t defend herself. Eric bent close to her, his breath stinking with a terrible rotting odor.

  “You want to watch how you talk to me,” he whispered.

  Then he was grabbed, two guys hauling him away from her.

  “Dude, what the hell?” one of them demanded, even as a dozen other students came to a halt in the hallway, waiting to see what would happen next.

  “Get off me!” Eric grunted, extricating himself. He backed up a few steps, staring at her at first with hatred, before that leer returned. “Seriously, though, nice picture.”

  Then he turned and walked off as though nothing at all had happened. A teacher Rose recognized but didn’t know came toward them from the opposite direction, calling for the students to move along. One look at him was enough to tell Rose he hadn’t seen the momentary skirmish, but that was all right. She didn’t want any more attention.

  •

  Rose did not see Kylie until lunch. They waited in line together with their empty trays, but Rose had no appetite. In a low voice she told Kylie the story of her visit from Eric that morning.

  “What a pig,” Kylie said, practically bouncing in place, full of nervous energy and righteous indigation. “You should totally go to Sister Anna.”

  “No,” Rose said quickly. “No way. The last thing I need is to have more drama around me. The more of this there is, the harder it will be for them to believe I’m not at least partially to blame.”

  Kylie glanced around the cafeteria as though looking for Eric so she could do him harm.

  “I guess I see your point. Still, I’d like to stomp the guy.”

  Rose couldn’t help laughing.

  “What?” Kylie demanded. “You think I couldn’t stomp him?”

  “I’m sure you could. It’s just a funny image.”

  “Because I’m short.”

  “You’re petite.”

  Kylie grinned. “That, too. Okay, I’m small. But I could kick his ass.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  They reached the front of the line and scanned the day’s lunch offerings warily. Nothing looked good, but Rose took a chance on the baked manicotti. As usual, Kylie opted for salad.

  “Listen,” Kylie said as they walked toward empty seats at their usual table. “Courtney and Eric… they’re jerks. Total assholes. But Eric’s not going to go any further than he did today. He’s probably already freaking out, hoping you don’t narc on him, or anybody else for that matter. He’s probably worrying about getting arrested or whatever. I told you I think you should report it, but either way, I think they’re done. Neither of them is going to take this any further.”

  “You think?” Rose asked, her mood lightening.

  Kylie slid her tray onto the table and looked up at her, smiling.

  “I do,” she said.

  But she was wrong.

  Chorus rehearsal ended a few minutes before four p.m. Kylie and Dom had been working to persuade Rose that they needed coffee and muffins at a place they loved called the Sugarplum Café, and with the day still gray and drizzly, she hadn’t taken much convincing. She only hoped that her aunts would agree.

  “So we’re going, right?” Dom asked as chorus broke up and they all gathered their things.

  “I’ll call my aunts and see if they’re okay with it,” Rose said.

  Kylie nodded knowingly at Dom. “She’s coming.”

  “Probably,” Rose corrected. “I’m probably coming.”

  “So call them,” Kylie said.

  “I will! But can you just watch my stuff for a minute?” Rose asked, gesturing to her backpack, jacket, and umbrella, which were in a pile under a desk.

  “Where are you going?” Dom asked.

  Rose felt herself blush and gave him an exasperated look.

  “Oh,” Dom said, getting a laugh out of Kylie.

  Rose hurried from the room, waved good-bye to a couple of the other chorus members, and made a beeline down the hall toward the girls’ bathroom. She rounded a corner, passing the room where her religion class was held, and pushed through the bathroom door.

  It was colder in the bathroom than anywhere else in the school, a chilly draft sweeping under the stall and raising gooseflesh on her legs. The idea of a big cup of steaming hot coffee grew more and more appealing. After the week she was having, she needed some time with her friends, a chance to exhale.

  Rose finished, hiked up her underwear, and smoothed her skirt. As strange as it seemed to her, somehow her mind always seemed to clear when she was alone in the bathroom or taking a shower. Even in her bedroom, she felt preoccupied, like she ought to be doing something to busy her mind—homework or reading or just watching TV. But when she had no distractions, her thoughts settled down.

  Surely life wasn’t meant to be as tense and full of conflict as hers had been since she started at St. Bridget’s. She was searching for a life to replace the one she could not remember, but for the first time she had to wonder if maybe her aunts had a point when they were considering a move back to France. Had they all rushed too quickly to get Rose back into the world? She didn’t want her teenage years to go by without experiencing the things that most people did at her age, but somehow she had gotten on the wrong track.

  So start over, she thought. Slow down.

  It might not be that simple, but she had to do something to get control over her life.

  She flushed the toilet, unlocked the stall, and went to wash her hands at the sink. The liquid soap came out in a glob and when she turned the tap, the water rushed out in a splashing torrent that sprayed the front of her uniform.

  “Of course,” she said with an amused sigh.

  Rose glanced at herself in the mirror, reached up to fix her hair, and then saw movement off to her right, at the edge of the reflection. S
tartled, she spun around to see Courtney stepping out of the last stall by the window. The girl wore a savage smirk.

  “You really think you’re something, don’t you?”

  “What are you doing here?” Rose said, glancing toward the bathroom door, thinking about bolting. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “You think you’re so special,” Courtney sneered.

  Rose’s heart thundered in her chest. She had been made to feel foolish and awkward by this girl, but this was the first time Courtney had made her afraid. The hatred in the other girl’s eyes flickered with a bright whimsy, like she might be capable of anything.

  “You’re suspended,” Rose said warily, edging toward the door, wondering how loud she would have to shout before Kylie and Dom would hear her, all the way around the corner and in the music room. Too far to help.

  “Yeah, thanks to you,” Courtney said, starting toward the row of sinks. She paused to admire herself in the mirror. “But I don’t care about that. What I do care about is Eric.”

  A spark of anger gave Rose courage. “What about him?”

  Courtney turned slowly, her cruel smile fading to a grim line. “Oh, he’s into you now, couldn’t you tell?”

  “What?”

  “Talks about you nonstop. Loves that goddamn picture of you. My boyfriend, right? But he’s got it bad for you.”

  Rose stood her ground. “He wouldn’t even have seen the picture if it wasn’t for—”

  Courtney charged at her, cursing under her breath. Rose barely got her hands up in time, and even then Courtney batted them away. She wrapped her right hand around Rose’s throat and punched her in the face once, twice, a third time. Rose grappled with her, trying to tear her hand away, digging her nails into Courtney’s arm even as she tried to twist out of her grasp. She punched the girl once in the stomach, but when she tried it again Courtney grabbed her wrist and yanked it up behind her, then propelled her toward the sink.

  Rose stopped herself, grabbing hold of the porcelain, but Courtney followed and shoved Rose’s head into the mirror so hard that the mirror shattered. Rose fell to the ground, disoriented, trying to blink away the shadows that moved in at the edges of her vision and the blood that dripped into her left eye.