Shooting Stars 03 Rose

by V. C. Andrews

  While I was packing, Barry called, and it occurred to me how strange and curious my sudden departure from our school would seem to all the other students. Paula would surely use it as confirmation of her theories and justification for her rumors. But what difference does all that make to me now anyway? I thought. I'll be gone from here forever.

  Barry was stunned at the suddenness of our moving. I explained how it was an opportunity for us that we couldn't afford to pass up and how it provided a solution to our financial dilemma. Mammy and I had concocted a cover story for our instant move, a story she was using with the landlord as well. According to Mommy, Mrs. Curtis was an old friend of my daddy's family and needed someone to help her with the care of her invalid nephew since the unfortunate death of his mother. It was a fiction based on some truth, which made Mommy more

  comfortable about our lies.

  "Oh, sure," Barry said. "I can understand all that. Actually, you're not that far away anyhow, Can I come out to take you to dinner Saturday?"

  "I'd like that." I said and promised to call and give him my own phone number as soon as it had been established.

  I was very happy that he wouldn't give up on me so easily. We talked a little longer. He asked questions about Evan and Charlotte, but I was able to simply say I didn't know enough about it all yet. It bothered me to have to throw up a wall of deceit between us. I was more comfortable and at ease with Barry than I had been with any other boy and I liked him very much.

  Daddy's exploits had shown me what deception could do to a relationship. It made every word uttered and every kiss given seem like just so much smoke. If someone didn't know himself where his heart belonged, how could you ever trust his promises or his claims of love? How similar had Daddy's words of love with Angelica been to the words of love he pressed with his lips into Mommy's ear? Did all men practice one set of romantic and cherished utterances on every woman they met and wanted? Without trust there could be no love. I decided, and understood why Evan had so dark a vision for himself. He surely believed he would be without love his whole life.

  Could I change that? Did I want even to try? Was I the right person for the task anyway? At the moment, still recovering from what Daddy had done to us. I was one of those crippled people I had described to Evan. How could I convince him to open his heart to anyone? How could I promise him rainbows? I was still under the dark clouds myself,

  It was very difficult falling asleep for the last time in this house. Butterflies circled themselves in my stomach every time I thought about what we were committing ourselves to do. To me it looked like Charlotte Alden Curtis was using us, as if we were some sort of Band-Aid to cover the rips and tears in the fabric of her own tattered family life. It was surely like asking the blind to lead the blind, I thought. Tommy wasn't really strong enough to be anyone's crutch. She had trouble standing on her own two feet.

  When I did finally fall asleep. I tossed and turned so much, I found the blanket wrapped so tightly around my legs in the morning it was as if I was trying to tie myself down to keep myself from rising and going through with the move.

  Mammy was up at the blink of sunlight through the veil of clouds that were daubed over the pale blue morning sky. I heard her bustling about, making final checks of drawers and closets and then marching up and down the hallway and stairs, deliberately making more noise than usual so I would get up and join her. Finally, she called to me.

  "Don't forget Charlotte is sending the car at ten. Rose. We want to be ready!"

  Ready? Would we ever be ready for this? I wondered, but rose, showered, and dressed in jeans and one of Daddy's old flannel shirts he had given me months ago.

  "Why didn't you throw out that shirt?" Mommy asked the moment she set eyes on me. "You don't want to go to a house like that wearing some old, smelly shirt. Rose.'"

  "It's not smelly, Mommy, and I don't expect we'll have to dress up every day, all day, just because it's a mansion."

  "Well. I've decided to do something about myself." Mommy explained as she poured her coffee and sat at the table. "I'm going to get rid of this haggard, old-lady look, do what Charlotte suggested and get an up-to-date hairstyle, take more care with my makeup, and dress nicely all the time. I want to look like I belong in that house.

  "She's really not any more attractive than I am, is she?"

  "No, she's not. Mommy."

  "But she looks like she is because of the way she dresses and how she takes care of herself. Your father had me thinking those things didn't matter much. He was happy keeping me locked up in this house. That's why he was never very enthusiastic about any jobs I had.

  "Now," she added, her lips tightening, "we know why."

  Despite all Daddy had done. I couldn't get myself to harden my heart against him. He was dead and gone, but his smile lingered on my eyes and his laughter still echoed in my ears. He must have loved us. He must have, I told myself.

  Charlotte's chauffeur Ames helped us load the car. Mammy had arranged for the landlord to take possession of most of the good furniture and even the kitchenware in lieu of our rental obligations. We were really leaving the house with as little as possible, which was just what Mammy, and apparently Charlotte Alden Curtis, wanted. I had the most and Mommy didn't stop complaining about it.

  When we arrived at the Curtis mansion, Ames and Nancy Sue brought in most of our things and put away what belonged in each of our rooms. Nancy Sue began to hang up Mammy's clothes first and then came in to do mine. Mammy was so excited and pleased about that.

  '"I never had a maid, even when I lived with my parents," she told me in a loud whisper. "Imagine having someone care for your clothes and clean your bathroom, making sure you have all that you require. I can get used to this fast. I surely can," she declared.

  She did look like a little girl who had been brought to a toy store and told she could have whatever she wanted,

  "I made your hair appointment," I heard Charlotte tell her in the hallway soon afterward. "Two o'clock."

  "Today!" Mammy exclaimed.

  "Why wait?" Charlotte replied, and Mommy squealed with delight.

  I came out just as Charlotte was telling her where they were going to go to lunch first.

  "I think you should wear my Donna Karan suit. Come try it on," she urged.

  Mommy flashed a bright smile at me and raised her eyebrows. "Are you settling in nicely?" Charlotte asked me.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Whatever you need, just tell Nancy Sue. Tomorrow morning. Ames will drive you to school. Everything is all set there. It will be like you've always attended."

  "I doubt that." I said. "I've been a new student in enough schools to tell you it's never easy."

  "This time it will be," Charlotte assured me. "I'm a rather big contributor to the fund."

  Fund? What fund? I wondered.

  "Isn't that wonderful?" Mommy pressed on.

  "We'll see," I said cautiously.

  "Relax, enjoy the house today. and get to know Evan better," Charlotte said. "At the moment his tutor is with him, but she leaves in less than an hour. Oh, your phone is already connected."

  "Isn't that wonderful?" Mommy asked me. I had to admit, it did overwhelm me.

  "Come along. Monica. We've got a lot to do," Charlotte insisted before I could utter another word.

  "I'm right behind you," Mommy cried, and the two of them went off.

  I stood there for a moment, listening to them giggling like teenage girls. Was I wrong in being so hesitant and doubtful? A part of me was happy for the wav in which Charlotte Alden Curtis had wiped the gray stains of depression off Mammy's eves and replaced them with a childlike glee, but a part of in still remained very nervous. I was like someone waiting for that famous second shoe to drop. I didn't know where or how it would drop, but it would. I was sure.

  Maybe I was just envious, just wishing I could be like that, too.

  I decided I would take Charlotte's advice and relax and enjoy the house. I took more time in
the library, impressed with all the books, the leatherbound editions of the classics and the collections of old magazines. The family room had a wide-screen television set and a state-of-the-art sound system, and a beautiful dark hickory-wood pool table.

  In the kitchen Nancy Sue was preparing lunch for me and for Evan.

  Instead of asking me what I liked, she was going to set out a variety of luncheon meats, breads, and cheeses. It seemed like wasted effort and even wasted food, but when I commented about it, she told me it was what Mrs. Curtis ordered. From the tone of Nancy Sue's voice. I understood that when Charlotte spoke, it was gospel.

  The pale blue sky had become more vibrantly blue with every passing hour, and the thin veil of clouds had drifted west. We were having another one of those unusually warm days for this time of the year. I strolled along the same path I had followed with Evan the day before until, this time. I reached an oak tree. I was drawn to the trunk when I spotted what looked like carving. It turned out to be Evan's initials and what I guessed were his mother's initials. I really hadn't thought much about his relationship with his mother and how deeply he must have suffered her loss. He had said so little about her yesterday. Were they close? How did she treat him? What had she told him about Daddy? I probably had as many questions for him as he had for me.

  When I turned to start back to the house, I saw him out on the patio watching me.

  "I've got to get fresh air as soon as my tutor leaves." he explained when I approached. "I actually tried spraying some of my mother's old perfume around the room before she comes, but it doesn't seem powerful enough to overcome the stink."

  I laughed.

  "Why don't you just tell her?"

  "So she goes complaining about me to my aunt Charlotte? No thanks. I'm tired of hearing how ungrateful I can be. I see you were looking at my tree. It was planted just about the time I was born."

  "Then those are definitely your initials?"

  "And my mother's. She used to bring me out there for a picnic. She'd set out a blanket and play the radio or her CDs and we'd look at the clouds and describe what they suggested to us. Often, we both fell asleep. Aunt Charlotte said we brought ants back into the house in our clothing or in the blanket."

  "What would your mother say to that?"

  "Nothing really. She had a way of just looking at her and smiling a smile that said, 'Don't be silly. Charlotte.' It was enough to shut her up."

  "I imagine you miss her a great deal."

  He stared at me a moment, his eyes glassing over.

  "As much as you miss our daddy, if not more," he finally said. "Did you bring the magic box?'

  "Yes,'" I replied, smiling.

  "Good. Put this in it for me," he said and held out his hand with a slip of paper between his thumb and forefinger. I took it.

  "What is it?'

  "A disappointment," he replied.

  "Can I look?"

  "You probably would anyway."

  "I would not. It's your personal disappointment. I'm not the sort of person who..."

  "Okay, okay. Look already and spare me the speeches." I unfolded it and read the word. Arlene. "Arlene? That's your disappointment?" He shrugged.

  "She was my cyber girlfriend until late yesterday, when she decided to break up and go into a private chat room with someone else."

  I shook my head, a confused smile on my face.

  "It's how I go out on a date," he explained. "We talk to each other in a private chat room. She and I got along really well and had some good times. I guess I wasn't sexy enough."

  "Sexy enough? How can you be sexy on the computer?"

  He smiled.

  "You'll see. One of these days."

  "Lunch," Nancy Sue announced from the doorway.

  "Good. Now that I drove Mrs. Skulnik out of my nose. I'm hungry," he said and started to wheel himself into the house.

  I hurried to catch up, wondering what he, was talking about when he talked about cyber dates.

  He asked me so many questions at lunch. I was barely able to chew my food and swallow. Mostly, he wanted to know what my school experiences were like. When I began in a new school, did I always gravitate toward a certain clique of friends? What kind of people did I like?

  And what about my classes? Was there a great deal of flirting always going on behind the teacher's back? How many school dances had I attended? Did I have a boyfriend I regretted losing so much that I was actually in physical pain? Was I ever on a team or a cheerleader or in a play and what was that like? On and on it went, making me feel he was truly like someone who had just arrived from another planet.

  "I can't imagine really learning in such a setting," he finally said after hearing some of my school experiences. "'There's so much to draw away your attention. Did you ever go to an all girls' school?" he asked quickly. "Without members of the opposite sex present, it might be easier. Well?"

  He was so impatient for my responses, he couldn't wait for me to start to talk.

  "No, Evan."

  "I can't imagine not being related to you and being in a class with you," he suddenly said, but he said it like a scientist evaluating data. "I'd be looking at you all the time and never concentrating."'

  I smiled, even though he had made it sound like cold analysis.

  "You're going to give me a big head. Evan. There were always prettier girls in my classes."

  "I doubt that. I've never been in school like you. but I've seen plenty of girls."

  "Oh?"

  "There's this personal dating service on the Internet where the girls put up pictures of themselves and describe themselves. Then boys send them their pictures and descriptions and they communicate for a while to see if it might work into anything. I've done it plenty of times. Of course. I substitute pictures so they never see me like this." he said, indicating the wheelchair,

  "What's to keep anyone from doing the same?"

  "Nothing, if that's all they want to do. But if they actually want to meet someday, they better show the truth, don't you think?"

  I nodded.

  "I have no illusions about it. The chat is as far as I'll be able to go." "You never wanted to meet this Arlene?"

  "No," he said quickly. "Maybe she dumped me because she found out the truth about me. Besides. I'm not talking about her anymore. remember. She's going into your magic box," he reminded me.

  I laughed and nodded. "Right."

  "What about that boy you're seeing? Does he know you've actually moved?"

  "Yes, and he's coming to take me to dinner on Saturday. You'll meet him. His name is Barry Burton."

  "Great alliteration."

  "P ardon?"

  "You know. B and B? The repetition of consonants?"

  "Oh. I bet you have one of those very high IQs, don't you?" "Off the charts." he said smugly.

  "What do you want to do, to be. Evan?"

  He thought a moment.

  "I guess I'll become a brain surgeon. What they'll do is make a platform by the operating table and I'll wheel up on it and lean over the patient's head."

  I stared at him coldly.

  "I don't know." he said in a softer tone. "I like to write. I've been working on a play."

  "Really? Can I read it?"

  "No," he said quickly.

  "Why not?"

  "It's nowhere near ready and it's not any good. It's just a dumb idea."

  "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

  "Oh? And you are a critic?"

  "No, but I've been in plays. as I told you. and I would be honest." He stared a moment and then he shrugged.

  "Maybe I'll show it to you later.'

  "I'd like that," I said.

  After lunch we went outside and I got him to talk a little more about his mother. I listened, practically holding my breath for fear he would stop.

  "Sometimes-- often, I should say-- I felt she was more like the child and I was more like the parent. She was so trusting and always saw the best in everyone, even A
unt Charlotte. She had a beautiful laugh, musical, and she sang to me all the time. 'I'll be your legs, Evan.' she told me. 'Forever and ever if need be, so don't feel sorry for yourself.'

  "She never thought she would die before me. I know, She thought I was so fragile I would surely pass away one day, just evaporate or something, and she would be at my side.

  "When I was young, she was overprotective, afraid I would catch every little germ. The doctors kept assuring her that aside from my, what did you call it, unfortunate situation? Aside from that. I was relatively as healthy as any other person my age. Of course. I don't have the athletic abilities. I tried building up my arms and my chest, but she was always worried I was doing too much and after a while I stopped doing that.

  "She liked it when I read to her. We read a lot of poetry together and we even read plays together and performed out there by the tree. She did a great Juliet. but I was a lousy Romeo.

  "Aunt Charlotte complained, telling her she was doting on me too much and sacrificing herself too much. She told her she should be out socializing with young men, finding someone. She could have easily.

  I suppose. She was beautiful, as beautiful as you," he added.

  "She looks beautiful in every picture I've seen of her," I said softly.

  "Yeah. Aunt Charlotte was always after her to get out, mix with people. I think she was hoping my mother would find a man, marry, and take me away so she wouldn't have to deal with all this. Poor Aunt Charlotte got stuck with me. She would send her out to meet some blind date she had arranged through one of her society friends sometimes. She would harp on it and badger her so much, my mother would finally agree.

  "What kind of a date was it where she had to go meet the guy somewhere anyway, huh?" he

  demanded, his eyes beginning to bum with hot tears. "Why couldn't he just come here and pick her up? Don't people go out on dates like that anymore?" he asked me. "Maybe Aunt Charlotte was afraid they would see me and be frightened off.

  "It was the same sort of thing the night she was killed." he said. "Why did she have to go out that night?"

  He wiped a fugitive tear from his cheek quickly."I'll write it on a piece of paper for the magic box," he said, and took a deep breath. "But I don't think there's enough magic even in that box."