Change Places with Me (5 page)

“The thing to remember about cats,” Dr. Lola told Rose on Saturday morning, her first day at the animal hospital, “is that you can’t hold a cat that doesn’t want to be held. Cats are still somewhat wild, much more so than dogs. Dogs are pussycats.”

“Dogs are pussycats?”

“But guess what. You can fool a cat, psych her out. That’s your weapon. Never mind that a cat can run away if she tries to. She’ll stay if you make her think you’re in control.”

Dr. Lola had given Rose a pale-green smock to wear over her clothes. Rose had spent the morning cleaning out litter pans and refilling bowls with dry food and water. The whole place had a dark, musty scent.

Dr. Lola picked up a black-and-white cat. “This guy is the Great Catsby. Hello, Catsby,” she said firmly, pulling the skin on the back of his neck so tight his eyes became slits. “Don’t look so alarmed, Rose. When they’re kittens, their mothers
carry them around like this.” Dr. Lola gave Rose’s hair a careful look. “That your natural color?”

“I wish!”

“Well, at least you chose a reasonable shade. When I was your age, I dyed mine rainbow stripes. Can you imagine? My parents tried to get mad at me, but they couldn’t stop laughing!”

It sounded like Dr. Lola’s childhood had been a happy one.

That was when Rose felt it—a trickle of anger that traced a searing path along the inside of her chest.

Then Rose remembered the lady she’d talked to who knew things about her that she was only now discovering for herself, and heard the lady saying in that flat, generic voice, as if joining
in the conversation,
There’s no anger. It’s gone—like a banished king,
never to return.
Once again, she was exactly right—why be angry about the fact that Dr. Lola might’ve had a happy childhood? Rose took a long, deep, calming breath that filled her lungs.

“I bet you looked pretty,” Rose said lightly.

“Sweet of you to say. So, you’ve got him by the neck.” Dr. Lola tightened her grip. “You can’t lose confidence. Don’t go near his mouth or he’ll bite you. Wrap your other arm around his legs, like this, so he can’t scratch you.”

Rose laughed nervously.

“You should be glad we only do cats and dogs here, no exotics—parrots, snakes, ferrets. Now, Catsby needs a shot. He’s got kidney problems. Don’t worry about the needle.” The needle looked about a foot long. “He won’t feel it; cats have thick skins.” Quickly Dr. Lola let go of his legs, pinched some
skin on his back, and stuck the needle right in. After a moment the cat let out a low growl.

“I thought he couldn’t feel it.”

“It’s the medicine; it burns a little.” Dr. Lola took the needle out. “Now he needs a pill. Here’s how you pill a cat.” She popped open the cat’s mouth by pinching the corners of his jaw and tossed in a pill overhand, like a pitcher. “See how I’m stroking his throat? He can’t help but swallow; it’s a reflex. Otherwise he’d spit it right out. Ever try to shove a soggy pill down a cat’s throat? Not fun.” Then she placed him in a cage.

Dr. Lola asked Rose to take Rouge out for a walk. Unlike Cocoa and Fudge, Rouge walked like a dream. She kept pace with Rose’s every step, never budged from her side, and sat obediently at red lights.

It began to snow lightly, an early first snow of the year, little bits of fluff falling to earth and melting without a trace, like they’d never been there at all. Rose wandered through the kids’ playground at Belle Heights Park and stood next to the motion-sensor fountain, where large concrete turtles sprayed water in the summer. “My dad used to bring me here,” she told Rouge. “He held me up even though that meant his clothes got all wet. Once he ruined a really nice suit. My stepmother wasn’t thrilled, but he said it was only a suit and I was having so much fun.”

This was one reason people liked dogs, Rose realized. They were such good listeners. Trustworthy, too. She knew Rouge wouldn’t tell a soul.

That afternoon a woman named Ms. Brackman stopped in with her cocker spaniel, Candy. Stacey, the receptionist, told Ms. Brackman to please take a seat.

“Candy hates to wait,” Ms. Brackman said, not sitting.

“It’ll be just a minute,” Stacey said.

“Candy doesn’t know that. For all Candy knows, it’s forever. She’s eleven, you know. That’s seventy-seven human years. Older than me, and I’m no spring chicken.”

“Would you like to wait outside?” Stacey asked her.

“It’s snowing!” Ms. Brackman said, though it had already stopped and hadn’t stuck. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to get Candy here in the first place?” After waiting for an answer that didn’t come, she sat with a thud. “I’m staying put. Candy’ll do anything for chicken, broiled, no skin. I always have some in my purse.” Candy ate it eagerly and noisily. She had mournful eyes. Maybe that defined the breed, Rose thought, mourning dogs.

“I heard the most fascinating story,” Ms. Brackman said, turning her attention to Rose. “There were these two dogs that were always fighting. One day, one of the dogs died. You’d think the other dog would be happy—but no. He went to the site where the dog was buried and dug him up.”

“That’s awful,” Rose said.

“I’m getting to the good part! It turned out the other dog was still alive! He was in a coma, or had fainted. Now you’d think the dogs would become best friends after this, right? Because
one dog had saved the other’s life? Well, guess again. They went right back to hating each other.”

There was silence for a moment.

“I don’t think it’s true,” Stacey said then. “No one would bury a dog that had fainted.”

“Or was in a coma,” Ms. Brackman corrected her.

“Even so,” Stacey said. “When you hold the dog, it’s warm, you can feel it breathing. And, what, the dog was buried somewhere out in the open, not in a pet cemetery?”

“It’s a reliable story,” Ms. Brackman said, drawing herself up and standing. “It came from a highly reliable source. And I might watch my tone, young lady.” She walked to Stacey, leaned across the counter, and picked up an index card on Stacey’s desk. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

“It’s Candy’s card, isn’t it? It’s got a red star on it. With the letters TC, also in red. Look at that, my name’s got TCO next to it.”

Stacey pulled the card away. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course it means something,” Ms. Brackman said, “or why go to the trouble of writing it? And it’s in
red
.”

Stacey was turning red herself.

Rose had never thought of herself as fast on her feet, but the words seemed to tumble out of her. “That red star means the animal is wonderful. Just this morning I heard Dr. Lola talking about Candy. Candy’s her favorite.”

Ms. Brackman beamed. “That’s so true. Candy’s everybody’s
favorite! And the initials—?”

“TC means Terribly Cute.” Rose didn’t miss a beat. “TCO means Trustworthy, Caring Owner. That means we can count on you to give Candy the right dose of the right medication.”

“That’s certainly true too,” Ms. Brackman said.

Stacey looked gratefully at Rose.

Finally Dr. Lola was ready for Candy, who leaned back heavily and struggled, but Ms. Brackman pulled her along.

“I can’t believe she was nosy enough to read the card,” Stacey said. “I can’t believe she had the nerve to ask about it.”

“What do the letters really mean?”

“TC means Typical Cocker. They’re overbred and crazy. TCO is Typical Cocker Owner. Draw your own conclusions. The red star means bad dog, watch out. Maybe Candy’s a biter.”

“Candy—everybody’s favorite?”

“The very same.”

“What if somebody stole Ms. Brackman’s purse? The thief would find—”

“Chicken, broiled, no skin!” Stacey laughed.

Rose laughed too. Despite the age difference, Rose felt an instant connection here, a kindred spirit. Selena and Astrid would like her too; so would Kim. The five of them could do all kinds of fun things together. But what did Stacey like to do?

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Rose asked her.

“Well . . . this isn’t exactly the time or place.”

“Where were you born? How’d you get interested in working with animals? Do you like to go shopping? I’m trying to find a
jean jacket, a very particular one. I went to Second Nature four times already, but they never have it.”

Stacey just shook her head.

“You can tell me things. I’m a really good listener, contrary to what a certain bio teacher might say. What do you think about when you wake up alone in the middle of the night?”

“What makes you think I wake up alone?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get personal. I used to wake up several times a night. Some therapist told me to count backward by threes, that it would make me sleepy, but I got so good at it, it woke me up even more. I could count backward by threes from any random number. Even now I can do it—five-forty-eight, five-forty-five, five-forty-two, five-thirty-nine, see? I went to so many therapists, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Rose, this is . . . much too much.”

“How so? We’re friends!”

“We just met.”

“Technically, we met the other day, but it doesn’t matter. I’m having a Halloween party tonight. Please come! You don’t need a costume. I’m not wearing one. I’d really like to introduce you to my friends. So will you come?”

“What grade are you in, anyway?”

“Tenth.”

“Rose, I think I’m a little old for a high school party.”

“You never know—you might change your mind. Tell me your number—I’ll send you the address.” Rose opened her phone. “Don’t pay attention to the picture. I keep forgetting to
get rid of it. Do you forget to do stuff you know you should do but you just don’t do it?”

“I can’t really have this conversation right now.”

“Later, then?”

“We’ll see.”

Which sounded too much like what parents say to children when they mean no. She’d always hated it when her dad tried to tell her no.

The party was packed.

“Isn’t it fun?” Rose had to shout at Evelyn over the music.

Evelyn smiled briefly, though Rose could tell she wasn’t a big fan of parties. She liked quiet evenings, thick books, old movies. Selena had certainly spread the word—there were a lot of kids there Rose didn’t know, some she didn’t even recognize, who looked like seniors, or older. Stacey would fit right in! Nick Winter hadn’t arrived yet. Rose looked around for Kim, who wasn’t there either. Skeletons bobbled around overhead; they got tangled in each other’s arms, but someone always pulled them down and freed them. Some of the pumpkins glowed, some just flickered, and a few were entirely dark. Rose made her way over to Astrid and Selena and the group inevitably surrounding them.

“You invited Kim, right?” Rose shouted at Selena.

“I said I did, didn’t I?” Selena didn’t have to shout; her voice was naturally loud.

“She’s not here.”

“Take it easy, Rose. Maybe I forgot, whatever. I’ll invite her now.” Selena took out her phone.

Rose, making sure of it, watched over Selena’s shoulder as she opened the student directory, and said, “It’s so late now. She probably has other plans.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Astrid said. “We’re talking about Kim Garcia.” She was wearing a sleeveless black dress with a web design. She pointed to a tattoo of a small black spider slowly crawling on her arm. “It’s the real thing, none of that stupid Sün-Fade stuff for me. It’s got a three-inch radius.”

“Didn’t your mother mind?” asked a girl dressed as a cowgirl.

“She’s never home to notice. She’s in Argentina now, working on husband number nine.” Astrid, whose voice was always so low, might’ve said “five”—which was more likely, Rose thought, though that was still a lot of ex-husbands. Astrid grinned. “I got another tattoo, too. Don’t ask where.”

Dylan Beck, Nick Winter’s best friend, was dressed as a banana. He wrapped an arm around Astrid. “Want to pin the tail on the donkey? You be the donkey and I’ll be the tail.” He laughed as if this was the height of wit. Astrid pushed him off; she never went out with high school guys. Dylan said to Rose, “Who are you supposed to be, your own mother?”

Rose was wearing an old dress of Evelyn’s, the color of fallen leaves. “I’m not in costume,” she said, and then thought,
Yes, I am.
Which didn’t make any sense.

Selena had on a leather jumpsuit and love beads with a huge peace sign. “So have you seen her yet?” she bellowed at Rose.

“Who?”

“The psychic!”

Rose hadn’t even met her. Evelyn had set her up in Rose’s room.

“I barely had to say a word,” Selena said. “She told me my uncle just died, and that I have a crush on my sister’s boyfriend. The psychic knew everything!”

Somebody else said a friend of her mom’s had gone to a psychic and uncovered a traumatic episode in her past. “My mom suspects she had memory work done to help her through it,” she added.

“What kind of memory work?” asked a girl dressed as a zombie. Retro costumes were big this year, pirates, magicians, ghosts, vampires, along with cowboys and zombies.

“Oh, could be any one of these new things,” Selena answered her. “Memory wipe, like cleaning off a blackboard, or a memory replacement of your choice, or a total memory transfer from somebody else. I saw a bunch of videos. This one woman said her sister went from hating her husband to loving him like they’d just met.”

“Yeah, I saw a few of those videos,” Rose said. “Interesting but kinda crazy, you know?”

The girl in the cowgirl dress shrieked—a skeleton foot was tangled in her hair. Another girl was helping untangle it, but
not before taking a picture. “Don’t you
dare
make a video out of that,” the cowgirl said.

“It reminds me of Hypno-Friends,” said the zombie girl. “What a disaster! You got hypnotized into remembering a wonderful best friend you had when you were a kid. People said it made their childhood memories a million times better. But it turns out people would believe the best friends really existed and then try to find them, hiring detectives, placing ads—and then some creeps would answer the ads, saying yeah, it’s me, your best buddy, and oh, by the way, I need money. They had to shut the whole thing down.”

“I spoke to the psychic,” Astrid said. “She didn’t uncover any buried trauma or a Hypno-Friend, but she told me things I’ve never told anyone.” She shook back her long, glistening, skeleton-free hair. “And I’m not repeating any of it.”

“Darcy Franzen’s in there now,” Selena said. “She’s probably hearing, ‘You will take home a guy tonight.’ With her parents in Europe, doesn’t take a psychic to get that right!” She jabbed a sharp elbow into Rose’s ribs. “What’s wrong with your face?”

“Nothing.” Rose realized she was rubbing her jaw and stopped. That strange pain hadn’t gone away yet. She headed for her room just as Darcy Franzen was leaving—practically in tears.

“My personal life is none of her damn business,” Darcy said.

“What’d she say?” Rose asked her.

“Oh my God.” Darcy waved Rose away.

Rose felt bad; kids were supposed to be having fun.

Rose’s room was surprisingly quiet behind the closed door. She sat and faced the psychic—a tanned woman all in white, cinnamon-colored hair in many braids with colorful beads that clicked. Well, she certainly dressed the part. She spoke in a hushed tone, but her voice filled the room. “You live here,” she said.

“How’d you know?”

“By the way you entered. This is your room and you didn’t need to look around. May I take your hand?”

She held Rose’s hand in her rough fingers. Rose smelled peppermint. A long time passed, or maybe it only seemed that way. The beads clicked. Selena had made it sound like the details of your life would come spilling out.

“Well?” said Rose.

“Perhaps you could tell me about yourself.”

“I thought it was the other way around.”

“Please,” the psychic said.

Rose cleared her throat. “Okay, I’m a tenth grader at Belle Heights High. I live with my stepmother, Evelyn.”

“Do you two get along?”

“Lately, yes.” Rose hadn’t known she would say “lately” and instantly wished she could take it back, rub it out.

“Lately? Since when?”

“This whole week has been great.”

“Before this week?”

“Well, I was kind of moody,” Rose said. She caught sight of a bald stuffed elephant on her bed. So embarrassing, that kids
saw that when they came into her room. She should’ve hidden it away in the closet.

“Do you have friends?”

“Of course. I’m very close to a girl I’ve known since I was a kid. She’s supposed to be here. She lives in Belle Heights Tower, a hop, skip, and jump away—my dad used to say stuff like that—but another friend of mine forgot to invite her . . . well, maybe not forgot, and that’s wrong, isn’t it, when you say you’re going to do something and then you don’t? Sometimes it’s
really
wrong. I mean—”

Rose stopped short. Why was she doing all the talking?

The psychic paused too. “Where is your father?”

“He died when I was eight.”

“And your mother?”

“She died when I was a baby.”

“I’m so sorry.”

This whole conversation was heading in the wrong direction. Why such an emphasis on the past? What about the future?

“Dear girl, I should be sensing something in you, even years after such loss. The work of mourning.”

Rose had to smile—it sounded like school service. “I’m over it. I’m very happy.”

But it was as if the psychic wasn’t listening. “It’s as if you’re not here.”

Rose felt her throat tighten. “So, where am I?”

“Somewhere else.”

Rose couldn’t believe it. What was she talking about?

“I’m truly sorry. You may send in the next person.”

Rose went back to the party, telling herself she didn’t believe in psychics any more than she believed in zombies or Hypno-Friends. She started dancing, watching the other kids and copying their movements, hoping she didn’t look like one of the bobbling skeletons.

Finally—there was Nick Winter. He looked spectacular, dressed as a pirate with an eye patch. Rose went right up to him; instantly he grabbed her and held her close.

“Hey, it’s farmer girl,” he said.

She noticed, among lots of other thrilling things, that at over six feet he was the perfect height for her. “I’m here,” she said, and didn’t care how it sounded. “I’m here.”

“You don’t have to convince me.” Nick grinned. There was that diamond in his front tooth.

“Did that hurt, putting a diamond in there?”

“No nerves in the teeth. You like it?”

It sparkled like a star. “Yes.”

“I like
you
, farmer girl,” he slurred. He tilted his head at the music. “Yeah, great song!” He kissed her. Her first kiss! But she tasted something musty and sharp on his breath. He couldn’t have been smoking or drinking here, not with Evelyn keeping close watch. But maybe that was why he’d arrived so late. This wasn’t her idea of what a perfect first kiss should be, far from it. But Nick liked her. He’d said so.

By the time everyone went home, it was nearly two. At the door, Selena’s elbow managed to poke Rose’s ribs again. “Look
at you, getting all up close and personal with Nick.”

Rose couldn’t help grabbing hold of that elbow of Selena’s. “You’re not upset or anything?”

“Oh God, no. A bunch of us are getting together for brunch at noon tomorrow, or should I say later today? At Stella Dallas, that place next to the old movie house. You know where that is?”

“I’ll find it,” Rose said.

“We can plan the next party!”