The Survival Kit (18 page)
Authors: Donna Freitas
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Death & Dying, #Love & Romance
“Thank you,” I whispered to Krupa when we were ready to say our goodbyes.
“Of course,” she said, and turned one way, toward her house, as I turned the other, toward mine, slowly moving forward, one foot in front of the other.
ARE YOU GONNA BE MY GIRL
Valentine’s Day arrived and by late morning I was carrying a dozen red roses. Well, almost���there were eleven so far. As I came down the corridor toward our locker, Krupa eyed the bouquet with suspicion. “I know those aren’t from Will—he’s not the showy type.”
I shook my head.
“Please tell me they aren’t from Chris. Tell me that he’s not still trying to get back together with you after that mistletoe debacle.”
“I’m as surprised as you and a bit overwhelmed. I thought he’d given up.”
A worried look came over her face. “You’re not going to consider—”
“Definitely not.”
“So it’s settled: you will give them back.”
The fragrance of the flowers was almost overpowering. “Krupa, I’m not going to be mean about it, and besides, I haven’t even seen him yet.”
She slid one rose from the bunch and mashed the crimson petals against her nose so hard a few fell onto the carpet. She made a face. “Then how did you get these?”
“You don’t even want to know,” I said.
Krupa began to pluck the petals on the rose she held. “You love him, you love him not, you love him …” she said, watching them fall softly to the ground. She plucked the last. “You love him
not
.” She rolled her fingers across its velvety red surface and smiled. “I guess that decision’s made.”
not
.” She rolled her fingers across its velvety red surface and smiled. “I guess that decision’s made.”
“Hilarious.”
She slumped against the wall and sighed. “All right, tell me how he did it.”
“He orchestrated some crazy, football-style ‘Rose and Roses’ blitz—that’s what Tony told me when I demanded an explanation. Eleven different football players have walked up to me today, one after the other, each one handing me a single rose.” I gestured toward the little white tags around the stems. “Take a look.”
She grabbed the paper and read. “Oh my god, you are kidding me: ‘For my one and only Rose.’ How cheesy!”
I dropped my arm so the bouquet swished toward the floor, the petals rustling in the air. “I know, but that’s Chris.”
“Just promise me you won’t fall under his spell again.”
“We’re over, okay?”
“Good,” she said.
I offered her the bouquet. “Please take them.”
She made a face. “
I
don’t want them.”
I
don’t want them.”
“I don’t either.”
“Why don’t I toss them?” Krupa suggested with a grin.
“You never liked him, did you?”
She just shrugged.
“How about this? You give them to a freshman who looks forlorn and lonely today. Or eleven different freshmen. You decide.”
Krupa’s eyes lit up and she grabbed the bunch from me. “Ooh, I like the idea of playing Cupid. And, Rose, make sure you look inside our locker before you go to class. There’s something there for you and it’s way better than these,” she said, shaking the bouquet so hard that dark red petals rained onto the floor. “Anyway!” She skipped off leaving a trail behind her.
“Remember to take the tags off first,” I called after her, and dropped my bag to the ground. When I unlocked the door and saw what was there, I gasped.
A single red gerbera daisy was on the very top shelf.
Its black center was surrounded by row upon row of red, radiating outward. The petals were long and thin, the color vibrant. I brought it close to my face and smiled, the silky feel of the flower tickling my chin. My heart beat so quick and hard I thought my pendant must be pulsing against my chest. I thought back to that morning in September and the flower I’d picked, remembering how Will had been there in the yard, working. Spinning the stem in my hand like a pinwheel, I watched the blur of the red twirl.
What a sweet gesture. So thoughtful, so special.
So
Will.
Will.
I had to find him.
Before I could go anywhere, before I could even get away from my locker, Chris found me. I saw him turn the corner and come down the hall, smiling. His blond hair looking like he’d just gotten it cut, wearing a tight short-sleeved T-shirt that made him seem even more imposing than usual. He carried a single red rose in his hand to complete the dozen. When he saw that I didn’t have any roses, but instead a single daisy, his smile twisted in confusion. He stopped short and waited for me to explain.
I didn’t, though. I just turned and walked the other way, certain that Chris and I were truly and finally over. Maybe someday in the future we could find a way to be friends.
That weekend, Kecia had a party and I was excited to go. Instead of the prepackaged fantasy high school life I’d had with Chris, I was beginning to have one of my own making. When Kecia opened the front door, Krupa and I found ourselves looking up into three stories of airy, open space with only a sparkling crystal chandelier to fill it.
“So, your house is kind of nice,” I said.
Kecia laughed. “Ostentatious, you mean.” She beckoned us to follow her upstairs. “I love your outfit,” she said to Krupa,
whose shirt, made from sari material, was a burst of swirling pink and silver threads.
whose shirt, made from sari material, was a burst of swirling pink and silver threads.
“My mother made it.”
Kecia seemed surprised to hear this. “I wish my mom was that talented.”
Tamika appeared, leaning over the banister. The top of her cheeks shimmered, iridescent blush giving her skin a subtle shine, and she’d twisted her long, thick, nearly permanent braids away from her face into an updo. “Hi, guys!”
“You look amazing,” I said.
“Thanks! Hurry up. People are going to start arriving.” She turned and stalked off, the sound of her four-inch heels muffled by the thick carpet.
“Tamika gets bossy when we throw a party,” Kecia explained, and led us down a long hall to the back of the house. We turned right into the bathroom, which was palatial. The floors and countertops were marble, the fixtures crystal, and there was a giant hot tub below the windows. Fluffy towels were piled everywhere and five sinks lined one wall, each with its own set of mirrors, where Mary and Tamika were fixing their makeup.
“I guess we don’t have to fight for space,” I said.
Kecia shrugged. “My parents are over the top. Pick any spot you want.”
“I don’t need one,” I said. “I came here ready.”
Tamika turned. “Rose Madison, you are not going to our party dressed like that.”
I looked down at my sweater, jeans, and boots. “Why not?”
“I have the perfect thing for you,” Kecia said, and ran out of the bathroom, returning with a long, red, frilly top dangling from her fingers by spaghetti straps. She held it out to me.
“Um, that’s nice,” I said, when inside I was thinking there was no way I was wearing something that flimsy. “But isn’t it kind of summery?”
“The party is indoors,” Mary said.
“But—”
“Just try it,” Krupa urged. “If it doesn’t work, you can wear what you have on.”
“Or something else from my closet,” Kecia said quickly. “Rose, trust me. It will look amazing.”
“Fine.” I held out one finger and she let the satiny straps, thin as threads, slide onto it. “As long as I can keep the jeans.” I slipped inside the changing area and pulled my sweater and T-shirt over my head. I stared at the fancy tank top—it looked so tiny and not at all warm.
“I can’t wear a bra with this, can I?” I called.
“You don’t need one. It’s tight,” Kecia explained.
“All right, all right.” Off came my bra and I shimmied the shirt down over my torso. I was already tempted to throw a sweater over it, but then I saw my reflection in the mirror. Each short layer of red chiffon cascaded from one to the other. It reminded me of a 1920s flapper dress. And it was the very same color as the daisy Will had given me. “Okay,” I said, thinking
that maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “You guys were right. I kind of like it.” I peeked my head out from behind the door.
that maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “You guys were right. I kind of like it.” I peeked my head out from behind the door.
“Show us,” Kecia prompted, and I stepped outside.
“Oooh,” everyone gushed.
“That heart pendant is perfect,” Krupa said, and reached for it to get a closer look. “I’ve noticed you wearing it lately, but this outfit really shows it off. It’s beautiful.” She looked hard at me. Maybe she thought it was a gift from Will. “Perfect for a V-Day party,” she added, just as the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the first guests.
One after the other we headed downstairs, a train of five girls—five friends—ready for a party. Happiness coursed through me. For a long time I’d thought this part of high school was over for good, that I’d never want to do things like be at a party or fuss over an outfit with friends, that after my mother died it just wouldn’t seem right. But here I was, doing just these things, and with each step the crystal heart bounced against my bare skin. Tonight I was wearing my heart on the outside, in plain view, for anyone to see.
Krupa joined me on the soft white couch, where I’d been sitting for the last half hour, my eyes focused on the sliver of front door I could see from here. People milled around the room,
cups of beer from the keg in their hands. A group of girls nearby were whispering, and a burst of deep laughter came from some guys in the corner. Krupa laid her head on my shoulder, her long, thick black hair cascading down my arm. Her wide eyes blinked up at me. “Who are you watching for? Hmmm?” she asked.
cups of beer from the keg in their hands. A group of girls nearby were whispering, and a burst of deep laughter came from some guys in the corner. Krupa laid her head on my shoulder, her long, thick black hair cascading down my arm. Her wide eyes blinked up at me. “Who are you watching for? Hmmm?” she asked.
“Like you really need to ask.” I shrugged her off me. “He isn’t here yet and maybe he won’t come at all.” The longer the party went on without Will’s appearance, the more disappointed I became.
“Why don’t you text him and see where he is?”
“Will and I don’t communicate like that.”
Krupa looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“We always settle everything in person. When we see each other we make a plan for next time and that’s it—nothing happens in between. It’s sort of this weird, unspoken rule we have. I’m not sure why.”
“But half the fun is in the constant messaging.”
“What? You mean the waiting around to see if he texted or didn’t, and then what he said if he did, and then what to say back, and blah, blah, blah to infinity? Honestly, it’s kind of nice, having a friendship without all that extra drama to worry about.”
Krupa scoffed. “Friendship? Please. Admit it, you are completely in love.”
“Shhhh,” I hissed. “Nothing has happened—” I began.
A mischievous look crossed Krupa’s face and she lowered her
voice to a whisper. “Well, I’d better go refill this drink,” she said, and popped up from the couch, grabbing her glass off the coffee table.
voice to a whisper. “Well, I’d better go refill this drink,” she said, and popped up from the couch, grabbing her glass off the coffee table.
“But we were—”
“Back in a while,” she said, and disappeared into the next room.
When I turned back, I saw Will on the far side of the room, looking uncomfortable, his thumbs hooked into his jeans pockets, something I knew by now that he did when he was nervous. His expression was blank, closed off, even as people said hello. Sometimes he mustered a small smile that would disappear the instant they moved on. But when our eyes met he smiled for real and started making his way through the crowd toward me.
Butterflies took flight inside me. “You’re here,” I said, returning his smile with an even bigger one. It was becoming difficult to hide how I felt.
“We’re all here,” he said, and sank down into the cushions next to me, leaving quite a bit of space between us.
I considered shifting toward him but stayed put. “We?”
“The hockey team. We almost never get to go to parties during the season so everyone jumped at the chance to go to this one. Though, soon all of my weekend nights will be free,” he added, looking at me with curiosity. Next weekend the play-offs for the state hockey championship would begin, marking the end of the season. Maybe Will was nervous about what would happen between us once our regular routine was gone.
“I think it’s a good thing,” I said, staring right back. “Won’t
it be nice, to be able to do whatever you want again? Whenever you want?”
it be nice, to be able to do whatever you want again? Whenever you want?”
“It’s not like I go to parties much anyway. I haven’t been to one in …”—he paused, counting—“over two years.”
“Seriously?” I asked, though I shouldn’t have been surprised since I didn’t ever remember seeing him at one.
“When was the last time
you
went to one?” he countered.
you
went to one?” he countered.
The answer was last March, almost a year ago, but before I could respond a bunch of hockey players rushed by us. “Will’s got a girl,” one of them said, and punched him in the shoulder. Will tried to grab his arm but his teammate was too quick and was already on his way into the next room. When he turned to me again there were two red spots on his cheeks. “Don’t mind them,” he began, but was interrupted again.
“Will, Will, Will,” Tim Godfrey, a senior I’d seen after games but had never formally met, was chanting Will’s name over and over like a fan at a game. He squeezed onto the couch between us and put an arm around Will’s neck, in a friendly sort of headlock—if a headlock could ever be considered friendly. Tim grinned at me. “Rose Madison, I don’t believe we’ve ever had the pleasure. Will doesn’t like to share.”
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