Will the Real Raisin Rodriguez Please Stand Up? (9 page)

“We were just talking about CJ,” Pia said.

“And his talking deficiency?” Vivvy asked.

It bothered me a little that Vivvy felt so comfortable bringing up CJ's faults. And also, maybe I'm imagining this, but she said “talking deficiency” like it was a bad thing. Instead of just a fact. I wish I had remembered to think of typo. Then maybe her comment wouldn't have bothered me so much.

But then she actually said something helpful. She told me that sometimes Jackson comes down with Talking Deficiency too, and she just says to him, “Jackson, honey, talk to me, and then he does.”

“CJ, honey, talk to me,” I said, just to hear the sound of it. “Not bad, maybe I'll try it.” Now the three of us were circling the rink. I decided not to let her get to me and to do the polite thing and make conversation with her.

“When is Jackson getting here anyway?” I asked.

“Soon. He's playing basketball with some friends, so when he's finished with that,” she answered, and then she suggested that we all go get some hot cocoa.

As the four of us sat around the table drinking our chocolatey deliciousness, I felt myself warming to Vivvy. Maybe I was seeing her through hot cocoa goggles, but I was beginning to get why Pia and Claudia thought the two of us were so similar. We both have divorced parents, we both love Pia and Claudia, we both have boyfriends (one talks, the other one doesn't; I'm still counting it as a similarity), and we both share a love for Vivvy's hair. Not that she ever said she loves it, but how could she not?

Pia was just finishing up telling us about this girl in her ballet class who eats cotton balls dipped in water to fill herself up so she won't eat food—“That is so yuck,” I said. “Excuse me while I go Purell my brain”—when a very cute boy with brown hair and blue eyes walked up behind Vivvy and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“I'm Jackson,” said the boy as he extended his hand to me. “Nice to meet you, Mervis.”

I stiffened. Vivvy, Claudia, and Pia looked a little panicked. “That is a very impolite thing to say to someone,” I barked. “Why are you calling me that?”

Jackson looked very confused. “What else would I call you?”

“What else would you call me?” I barked again.

“I don't think you understand, Rae,” Claudia said.

“That's right, I don't understand. Why would he call me that? What did I ever do to him?” I asked.

“Raisin, he's not calling you a Mervis. He's calling you Mervis because he's confusing it with your name,” Vivvy explained.

“Oops,” said Jackson.

“Ooooooooh,” I said, realizing what had happened. I'd gotten so used to referring to that part of the body as Mervis that when I hear it, I automatically think vagina. In the exact same way that I think vagina when someone says vagina. I forget that the rest of the world just thinks of it as a regular old first name.

“I'm sorry,” I told Jackson. “I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. When I hear Mervis, my mind goes straight to . . . something else.”

“I'm sorry I forgot your name. I just know Vivvy said I was supposed to meet up with her and Pia and Claudia and then some other stuff about a girl and something about Mervis. . . . I'd forgotten the Mervis story. But now I remember . . . I mean, yeah . . .” His face was so purple he could have passed for a Muppet.

And that's when it finally registered. I had every reason to snap. Just not at Jackson.

“And how does Vivvy know the Mervis story?” I asked, staring down Pia and Claudia. “The same way she knows about CJ's talking deficiency? And my ballet flats?”

“You read my blog, didn't you?” I shouted at Vivvy, shooting tiny missiles out of my eyes. Then I turned to Pia and Claudia. “You let her read my blog!” I took a moment to decide what to do next.

“I'm out of here,” I said.

And then I bolted.

Actually I didn't bolt as much as I got up, took one step, tripped over my own ice skate, and fell on the floor.

But then I bolted.

As soon as I rolled over, got up on all fours, and used the hand-over-hand method on the table leg to help me back up on my feet.

But then I really did bolt.

Except I went in the wrong direction. I headed for the bathroom when I should have headed for the skate concession. And when I turned around and headed out the door, I bumped smack into Claudia's head as she and Pia were headed inside.

“Has your head gotten harder since you moved?” asked Claudia. But she could tell by my expression I wasn't in a joking mood. “Sorry. We're really sorry, Rae.”

“It's not as bad as you think,” said Pia.

“Did you let Vivvy read my blog?” I asked.

They both nodded.

“Then it's exactly what I think,” I said.

“Can we at least explain?” Pia asked.

“Maybe later. Right now I just want to get out of here,” I said. And then I got my shoes and clothes and got into one of the taxis in front of the rink and had him drive me home.

Dear Fippy and Lynn,

A Christmas carol for you:

 
I'm not even joking. I'm going to spend the rest of this week in bed. That way everyone can act like I'm not here and go back to the way their lives were before I came. Pia and Claudia can spend every minute with Vivvy and my dad can take the boat ride with Daniela and I'll just pretend I'm not feeling well and we'll all live happily ever after.

Hey, if I were Pia and Claudia, I'd also like Vivvy better than me. They keep telling me how alike Vivvy and I are, and I started to believe that myself. But the truth is that she's a better me than I am.

 
We both have to fight the frizzies, but she actually wins.

We both have boyfriends, but hers talks to her.

We both know about fashion, but she knows the difference between footless tights and leggings.

We both ice-skate, but she can do a milliontuple lutz.

And most importantly,

We both love Pia and Claudia, but she gets to have them all year long.

 
So there it is. The ugly truth. But still, I don't understand how they could have let her read my blog. Even if she's ten times better than me at being me, that still doesn't give them the right to betray me. Even if they like her better, that's no excuse to treat me poorly. And even if she's more important to them than I am, I still have feelings. And yesterday, they didn't even stand up for me. It's like they didn't notice Vivvy's little comments. Or they did, but they wanted to pretend everything was going smoothly.

Oh—there's my dad calling for me. He says I have a phone call. I should have told him that I'm sick and can't get out of bed.

I just told him.

He just said I looked fine a minute ago when I was making myself a salad bowl of Cap'n Crunch with Crunch Berries.

I just said I'm heartsick, and it hit me thirty seconds ago.

He just told me that's silly.

I just said it's not silly when it's true.

He just said—Oh, wow. Um, scratch that. Change in plans: Looks like I am getting out of bed.

Remember how I used to think my mom was the strict one?

 
1:51 PM, PST

That was Pia on the phone. And then she conferenced in Claudia. Made me feel so grown up and professional. Like I should be wearing a pair of smart trousers and Chanel heels. Inviting my client out for a three-martini lunch. Then having my secretary take dictation and asking her to “read that back to me, please” before rewarding her for a job well done by having her take the rest of the day off.

Anyway, they were very apologetic and had a good explanation for letting Vivvy read the blog.

Here are the highlights:

Pia: I started printing out the first one so Claudia and I could read it together. And then I kept the printouts so I'd have a complete set of all the pages.

Claudia: And we gave it to Vivvy because she was so worried about meeting you. And she was afraid you'd get annoyed if she kept asking you to explain things that we already know about because of the blog. We gave it to her so she wouldn't feel so intimidated.

Pia: We really didn't think you'd mind. Especially because we knew you'd love her as much as we do and end up telling her most of that stuff anyway.

Claudia: But if you want, we can make her give it back to us and swear to forget everything she read. We could even hit her on the head and see if it gives her amnesia.

How could I stay angry with them after that? For one thing, I was really impressed with Claudia's amnesia plan. It demonstrates her ability for thinking on her toes and also for creative problem solving. You wouldn't want to give up on a friend who possesses such useful and important qualities.

And for another thing, PIA PRINTED OUT MY BLOG EVERY DAY SO SHE COULD READ IT OUT LOUD TO CLAUDIA. HOW CAN I NOT LOVE THEM?

I CAN'T NOT LOVE THEM. THAT'S HOW I CAN NOT LOVE THEM.

They also said that Vivvy was sorry for telling Jackson about Mervis in the first place. Which is funny because I felt a little sorry for Vivvy for having to discuss Mervis with Jackson. Doesn't she know that Jackson's a boy?

“Jackson seems nice. Like the kind of boy who would write a song for her and sing it at Black Christmas,” I said.

“Yeah, I could see that. Anyway . . . will you please forgive us and meet us at Déjà Vu as soon as you can get there?” Pia asked.

I told them that I would. Hopefully all the drama rama ding dong is behind us and we'll all get along better from now on.

 
Logged in at 2:17 PM, PST

Pia and Claudia never would have told Vivvy that story voluntarily. They wanted her to like me.

Just like they want me to like her. So starting now, that's what I'm going to do.

I, Raisin Rodriguez, do solemnly swear, to the best of my ability, on this day forth, to stop feeling angry toward one Siobhan Vivvy Don't Know Her Last Name So We'll Have to Just Settle for O'Typoson. (But I don't mean the name as an insult. Just as a place-holder.)

Because if Pia and Claudia feel the way they do about her, that must mean she's a great person.

 
5:17 PM, PST

A GREAT PERSON ON PLANET OPPOSITE!

When I got to Déjà Vu, I found Pia and Claudia in the dressing room, which essentially was part of the main room of the store with a chair and a full-sized mirror leaning against the wall, sectioned off with a giant curtain. Claudia was wearing a bobbed blue wig, and Pia was wearing the same wig in pink. Both of them were wearing miniskirts with shiny white go-go boots and Pia, ballerina that she is, was doing that sixties dance the Swim.

“Aren't we just faboo?” Pia said as she held her nose with her fingers and pretended she was shimmying underwater.

“Totally mod,” Claudia added. “Which wig do you want, Raise?” She held up a rainbow afro and a long blond wig.

“Blond, please,” I said, and Claud threw the wig to me. I pulled it on, stuffed my hair in all around the sides and the back, and gave the wig a final tug.”How do I look?” I asked.

“Fantastic!” said Claudia.

“Beautiful,” said Pia.

I looked in the mirror. I wasn't bad as a blonde. Especially because since the hair wasn't real, it wasn't affected by the humidity.

“Ladies, it's true what they say. Blondes have less frizz. Now, where can I find a pair of boots like those?” I said, pointing at Pia and Claudia's feet.

They directed me to a bin by the checkout counter. Right next to the rack of minidresses.

Within no time, I was back in the dressing room, carrying a pair of white patent leather go-go boots, hoop earrings the size of Lola's head (Lola! I miss that meaty little Thanksgiving Butterball!), and the minidress of the century. An EMILIO PUCCI minidress! A baby-doll halter dress, with a psychedelic pattern of turquoise, purple, and pink swirls. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. And like everything at Déjà Vu—they were practically giving it away!

I modeled the outfit for Pia and Claudia.

“Something's missing,” said Pia.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like boobs,” said Claudia.

She had a point. There were miles of space between the dress and my chest.

I tried stuffing the dress with socks, but there wasn't enough material to keep the socks from falling out. I tried to see how it would look if I shortened the straps, but that made it so short it was practically a blouse. So I tried that over my jeans, but it wasn't as much fun that way.