Will the Real Raisin Rodriguez Please Stand Up? (17 page)

“That's okay, I stuffed some of them in my pocket and forgot to put them in the basket,” he said, fishing one out. He looked at the watch and then he smiled at me. “Guess what time it is?”

Suddenly Jeremy looked different to me. His freckles had taken on a whole new light. I don't know how I missed it all these months, but the guy's a looker.

“Twelve o'clock?” I asked.

“Eleven fifty-nine,” he answered.

So we did the countdown, and then, against all odds, I had my New Year's Eve kiss.

How could I not have known all this time that I liked Jeremy? I mean, I know that no one knows everything. For instance, I have no idea how to answer problem number twelve on our geometry homework. (Which reminds me, I better get on that.) Or whatever gave Galenka the idea to wear argyle socks with her caprilength jeans. But liking someone? That seems like something a person would know.

Maybe it started over winter vacation. When CJ wasn't really getting me and Jeremy was. When CJ didn't have any good advice about Vivvy's gift and Jeremy did. When CJ wasn't really saying much and Jeremy was saying a lot of things. Loud and clear. And especially when CJ wasn't making any Typo jokes and Jeremy was.

And even though Lola should be more careful about getting on buses and going to movies by herself, I can't even think about how awful it could have been if Jeremy hadn't found her. The chubby little straphanger.

I guess I was so distracted by everything that was going on in Berkeley, I didn't really notice that I was starting to like Jeremy.

“So does this mean we like each other?” he asked after our official New Year's Eve kiss was over.

“I think so,” I answered.

“Weird,” he said.

I nodded.”Weird.”

Then he gave me my watch back and we went back to the party so he could return the other watches before people started leaving.

When I left the party, I said goodbye to Jeremy. But we didn't kiss.

I would have felt funny if CJ and Lynn had seen us. Siobhan . . . I guess that's what you meant about Je-re-my. . . .

So . . . that was my New Year's Eve. How was yours?

 
Logged in at 12:35 PM, EST

 
Logged in at 2:37 PM, EST

Um . . . excuse me for interrupting whatever it is you might be doing, but, I WAS JUST ON TV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As in TELEVISION! As in that little box you turn on to watch the fabulous people be fabulous.

Which means I too am now fabulous.

I mean sure, it was the news. And sure, it was on the local channel. And sure, sometimes the most fabulous person they have on their show isn't even a person but a panda from the local zoo or some guy who's trying to get the dry cleaner to pay up for the shirt they ruined. But some times there are very fabulous people on the local news, like Demi Moore, or the Hiltons, or even The No Way Josés, I bet. I mean, maybe not yet, but if they're still together by the time their tour hits Philadelphia, they will probably be on the local news.

So, after breakfast, the local news called my house to ask if they could send us all to the movies to see Space Monkeys for free and then do a story on us. My mom and I both picked up the phone at the same time, so I heard the man telling her all about it. I knew I had to act fast. Left to her own devices, my mom will always say no to anything fun or even pleasant. I ran downstairs to the kitchen, where she was having her conversation. I tell she was trying to turn the man down by all the “Yes but's” and “That's very kind of you's.”

I waved my hands at her furiously.

She held out her index finger as if to say, One second, please. The problem was that the one second would actually be just enough time for me to say no and shatter your dreams of ever appearing on television or being fabulous in any way.

“But I have to talk to you,” I said, interrupting her conversation. Which was very risky since one of her biggest pet peeves is when I interrupt her conversations.

“This better be important,” she said with her hand over the phone's mouthpiece. Then she asked the guy if he could hold on a second.

I had to think quickly. It wasn't going to be easy to convince my mother that letting us see the movie was important. Nothing pleasant or enjoyable was likely to pass her important test. And especially nothing fabulous.

But I have to say, I outdid myself this time. I don't know how I came up with this argument, but I told her that being on the local news with our family would make Lola and me feel like we're a part of this city and that we belong here. And that if Jeremy could come, it would be a nice way to thank him for being so helpful to Lola in her time of need. And lastly, that if Lola saw how unrealistic those clay monkeys look, she'd learn her lesson and never risk her life for a low-budget movie again.

“Okay, Raisin,” my mother said. She had tears in her eyes. “That was important. I'm very proud of you.” She gave me a quick hug and then got back on the phone and told the guy we'd do it as long as Jeremy Craine could join us.

“I just hope Lola will say something this time around,” she said after she hung up the phone. “I'd feel terrible if the news station went to all the trouble to do this story and then Lola didn't even give them a sound bite.”

So I called Jeremy and told him to meet us at the movie, which was actually better than I thought it would be. Maybe because Jeremy and I held hands the entire time.

After the movie, we did an interview with the reporter. He gave Lola a Space Monkeys T-shirt, baseball hat, and a full set of action figures. Then he asked everyone questions about the movie and we all said nice things. But when he got to me, he said, “I understand you recently moved here from Berkeley. Which place do you like better?”

“Well, my dad lives in Berkeley and so do some of my closest friends. I love them all, but right now, Philly's my home,” I said. Which made my mom cry again. And Sam. Even Horace got a little choked up.

And Lola? She must not have liked seeing me get all the attention because as soon as I finished answering the question, she broke her silence and yelled, “Me too! Me too!” into the camera.

Oh—I better go—the five o'clock report is about to begin.

 
PS—I tried holding a blow dryer up to my eyelash curler before using it and I almost burned my eye.

 
PPS—It'd be better if they made miniature curling irons instead.

 
PPSS—Or tiny little electric rollers—and you could set your eyelashes before you went to bed!

Like Raisin, Judy Goldschmidt is into boys, fashion, and, on occasion, snooping around. Unlike Raisin, Judy has never shown up for a date with a
Family Guy
Band-Aid over her mouth.