Thorny Rose Ch. 01

"What?" Dad asked, taking a drink of water.

"We had a new girl show up today," I started.

Mom interrupted—"Is it so dull around here that a new girl qualifies as big news?"

I could see Dad smiling, because, as he was fond of pointing out, he was once a teenage boy, and knew exactly what we would be interested in. I said, "Well, first of all, yeah, it is kind of quiet here, and we haven't had a new kid since Ivan back in ninth grade. Second, the really interesting thing was that Mr. G called me and a few other kids in to ask us to help her fit in, since she apparently has gone through some stuff."

Mom looked at Dad, and I sensed some sort of unspoken communication, but I had no idea what. Dad asked, "Did he say what sort of stuff?"

"No, he was pretty tight with the info, but we all agreed to help."

"What is she like?" Mom asked.

"Actually, I had lunch with her. She said she was from near Atlanta, but moved around. She seemed nervous."

"To be expected, I guess," Dad commented, taking a bite of his burger.

"What does she look like?" Mom asked.

"Um, blonde, kinda tall, I guess."

Dad looked at me and grinned. "Pretty?"

I felt my face get warm. Mom laughed and said, "She must be. Dale's blushing."

I smiled sheepishly and decided to spend a few seconds carefully watching the way that the ketchup adhered to my French fries. "Yeah. Very."

"So, no idea what the story is with her?" Dad probed.

"I really don't. But I suspect that in this town, the rumor mill will be starting up soon."

"I'll make some calls," Mom said.

"Please don't," I pleaded. "Mr. G asked us to keep it quiet and not start things up."

Mom frowned. She hated not knowing juicy stuff, and this had all the markings of juicy stuff. "Fine," she said. But I knew that her antennae would be up and scanning for any hint of intelligence. I finished dinner, cleared my plate and headed to my room to do the homework that a few of my teachers had cruelly assigned on the first day.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, things returned quickly to normal. The initial buzz about the new girl subsided, because she turned out to be quiet and unremarkable, beyond her looks. And it even seemed to me that she was trying to hide her beauty—she wore nondescript clothing, little makeup and always just had her hair pulled back simply. I saw her in class, and in the hall. I could see she made friends with some of the other girls, not the really social girls, but the sort of normal ones who I was mostly friendly with. I said hi to her in the hall, and even found myself having lunch with her a couple of times when Albert and Larry weren't around, and we talked about school. It seemed like Mr. G's concerns had been overstated.

Until that morning.

The day started like any other, and I was walking to second period when I heard a girl screaming. Like everyone, I ran to the sound, and saw Rose, completely unhinged, screaming at Stan Lind. Stan is a defensive lineman on the football team, and roughly the size of a French door refrigerator. He also about as smart as a refrigerator, and not one of those fancy ones with the touchscreens, and more than a little douchey. He was standing there, holding his books and looking at the screaming Rose with a befuddled look. Rose was thrashing and yelling, her face contorted and bright red. I heard "bastard," more than a few "fucks," and the occasional "cocksucker," which was not the usual conversation you heard in our hall.

Everyone was standing there, waiting for something, maybe a teacher, and I figured someone should do something, so I ran toward Rose and grabbed her, trying to stop her arms flailing. She wasn't much smaller than me, and was surprisingly strong, especially in her state, but I was able to manhandle her into an empty classroom, all the while trying to say calming things, like what you say to a snarling dog.

I held on for dear life as she screamed and writhed, until a couple of male teachers and the nurse came by. I have to admit, and I know it is weird, but even with all the craziness, it felt good to hold her body tightly, because it was a pretty incredible female body. When I let her go, she tried to run out of the classroom, but Mr. Tabor, who was the wrestling coach, was able to stop her. I knew that I should leave, but I wasn't going anywhere. This was too interesting. Eventually, she calmed down, and the nurse led her out. I guess that they had cleared the halls, because it was quiet when I walked out, and went to class.

For the rest of the day, it was the talk of the school. All I could find out was that Stan had asked Rose out, and she said no. According to Marcus Grover, who is Stan's best friend, she declined politely, but when Stan put his hand on her arm, to try to change her mind, he said, she freaked out. Knowing Stan, I suspected that there was more to the story.

Which, of course, led to rampant speculation that Rose had been abused, or raped or something, but of course we had no idea what we were talking about.

That night, while I was doing my homework, my phone rang. It was a number I didn't recognize with a strange area code.

"Hello?" I said, but there was no one there. I figured it was a wrong number, and returned to my reading. It rang again, and it was the same wrong number. I tapped the screen and said, "Sorry—still the same wrong number."

Before I could disconnect, I heard a girl's voice say, "Dale?"

It sounded a little like Rose, but I wasn't sure. "Yeah, this is Dale. Who's this?"

"It's Rose. I got your number from Erika."

I briefly flashed back to this afternoon when I was trying to subdue a crazed Rose, and I said, "Hi. Are you O.K.?"

"Um, yeah, thanks, I'm sorry," she sort of mumbled in her faint accent.

"Don't worry. It was no big deal," I said.

There was a pause, and I wasn't sure if she was still there. Then she spoke, softly. "I don't know what happened. That big guy,"

"Stan?"

"I guess. He kept asking me out. Over and over. And he didn't even know my name. Just called me 'new girl' and 'slut.' I asked him to leave me alone. He called me a stuck up bitch and grabbed my arm. The next thing I remember, I was in the nurse's office. She told me that you helped. So, um, thanks and all." Her voice faded out.

"Rose, Stan's been an asshole since we were kids. A big bully. But he's always been popular, even with the girls, who he treats like shit. Probably because he's a big athlete, I guess."

"It's nice to know that there are some gentlemen here," she said, and I wasn't sure if she was joking or not.

I felt obligated to defend my town. "Actually, I think that Stan is the unusual one here," I said, maybe a bit too defensively.

"I didn't mean anything," she replied. "Sorry. Anyway, I was just calling to thank you for helping me and for being my friend."

Now I felt like a jerk. "Rose, I'm sorry if I sounded like a jerk. I'm sorry that things went bad today. It looked like you were fitting in so well."

There was a long pause before she replied. "Yeah, I thought I was too. Thanks."

I'm not sure what that last "thanks" was for, and I said, "Anyway, I'm glad you are O.K. Let me know if you need anything else." Which seemed like the polite thing to say.

"Good night, Dale."

"G'night Rose. See you tomorrow."

"Sure," she said, and disconnected the call.

I realized that there was something about that girl that made me want to help her. And I don't think that it was only that she was pretty. There was something about her that, I just don't know, but there was something.

* * *

Rose actually wasn't in school the next day, which was Friday, and I didn't see her again until Monday. She looked normal, and seemed happy. She smiled at me in class, but we didn't speak until the end of the day. I was walking to my car, and she caught me and said, "Dale, I was wondering if you could give me a hand with some English homework. I'm having trouble with some of the stuff in 1984, and you seem to get it."

I'm a pretty good student, solid top quarter of the class, but no raving genius. I'm considered a bit of a wiseass, and probably could do better in class, if I worked harder. At least, that's what my teachers say. But I was good in English. "Sure, when is good for you?"

"You doing anything now?"

"Actually, no."

"Great. Where do you want to go?"

This was a tough question. If I brought her to my house, Mom would be all over us, and have a million questions later. But I couldn't just invite myself to her house. While I pondered these difficult questions, she said, "We could go to my house, if that's O.K.?"

"Sure."

"O.K., then follow me."

I watched her get into her white Honda, and I followed her to her house, a new construction, although one of the smaller ones, in what used to be Daley's Farm. We went inside. It was furnished pretty simply. Rose introduced me to her mother, who looked like an older, more tired version of Rose, but she perked up a little when we exchanged pleasantries. She brought out some iced tea and store cookies, and left Rose and me at the kitchen table. I got a vibe that maybe Rose and her mother had issues.

We started discussing the book, and it was clear that she was smart but wasn't all that well read. She struggled a bit, because I think she wasn't up on the history of the time when Orwell was writing, so I turned the discussion into one about privacy.

"That, I understand," she said, but her happiness about understanding the theme seemed somehow tinged with sadness.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Um, really, nothing. Just that I know that it is hard to stay private now."

"Yeah, and think about how Orwell seemed to understand that back in the 40s."

She didn't respond, and I realized that she wasn't listening. I looked at her pretty face, and saw that she was a million miles away. Although I had no problem looking at her, I said, "Uh, Rose?"

This snapped her out of her trance. She shook her head, as if trying to clear out the thoughts she was thinking, and closed her book. "That's enough. I think you really helped."

"No problem." I started to pack my stuff up.

"You don't have to leave yet, do you?"

I looked at my watch. "No, I have time before I need to be home."

"Then, want to stay a while and hang out?"

"Sure." I wasn't going to pass up "hanging out" with a beautiful girl, even if she was a bit strange.

She took her iced tea and walked into the living room, and I did the same, once again appreciating from behind the way her jeans fit. We sat on the leather couch, facing each other from opposite ends. Rose broke the slightly uncomfortable silence by saying, "So, you've lived here all your life, right?"

"Yes. I was born in the hospital over in Clearmont, and grew up here. My parents and grandparents too. In fact, our house was the house my mother grew up in."

"That must be nice."

"Yeah, for the most part. Although sometimes, it seems a little small."

"What do you mean?"

"Everybody knows everybody else. Everything just seems the same. I mean, it's kinda boring, y'know." I wasn't really being clear, but it was something that I lived so it was hard to explain.

Rose seemed to be thinking, and took a drink of her iced tea. "It still must be nice, though. Don't you feel safe here?"

"I guess so, maybe too safe. I don't know. But I am looking forward to going to college next year. Get to see new places and meet some new people."

"Meeting new people isn't all it is cracked up to be," she said. Before I could make a wisecrack, she said, "I mean, present company excepted, of course. Mostly everyone has been really, really nice to me."

"That's good," I said, thinking briefly of that asshole Stan who set her off.

We sat quietly, drinking our iced teas and trying to think of something to say.

"Dale, where are you looking at colleges?" she asked.

"I've got kind of a long list. I'm looking for a good liberal arts college. My grades and scores are good, but not great, so I think I need to apply to lots of places, and see where I get in." I paused before asking, "And what about you?"

There was a look of surprise in her eyes and she waited a second before responding. "I haven't really thought about it. I guess I'm not sure if college is for me. I've been worried so much about starting here, that I haven't really thought about next year."

It seemed like we were opening up to each other, and I figured that I might be able to push a little, and find out more about Rose's mysterious past. "What was your last school like?"

She smiled crookedly, which did nothing to lessen her good looks. "Um, I've been out of school for a while," she started. It was my turn to look surprised. "I'm going to tell you something, but you have to promise to keep it a secret." Now, we were getting somewhere.

"Of course. You can trust me."

"I think I can, actually," she said, sounding a little surprised and pleased at the same time. "I'm a little older than the usual senior."

She didn't really look it, I guess, and I said, "Really, you don't look it."

Smiling, she said, "Yeah, I'm actually 21."

I paused. "Wow," I said, completely lacking any coolness at all. "I never would have guessed. I mean, I turn 18 next month, and you don't seem 3 years older than me," I babbled.

Rose looked at me over her iced tea glass. "Yeah, I've always looked younger. Please don't tell anyone, O.K.?"

"I promised that I wouldn't and I won't." She nodded. I thought about asking her why, but I realized that probably was what Mr. G was talking about, and I suspected that if I pressed her, it would not go well. And if she wanted to tell me, she would.

* * *

Over the next couple of months, Rose and I fell into kind of a routine. We had lunch together on Wednesdays, sometimes just the two of us, and sometimes with a varied group of kids, and on Thursdays, we went to her house to work on English. It was very casual. I was happy to see that she was making friends, and although she was struggling a little in English, I was able to help some.

Our conversations were really general. It started off slow and tentative, but as time went on, we found ourselves talking longer and longer. We talked about school, she started to be able to gossip a little about our classmates, and I filled her in on people's back stories. We found a few TV shows and movies that we liked in common, and talked about them. We never talked about my (lack of a) love life, and I never asked her about hers, although I never heard about her going out with anyone from school. Although she was friendly, and told me bits and pieces about her life before Farston, she never fully opened up to me. Despite the fact that it was clear that she wasn't being completely open with me, we became friends, and I looked forward to spending time with her. And while I clearly recognized that she was by far the prettiest girl I knew even though she never did anything to highlight it, it was a completely Platonic relationship.

* * *

I was sitting at Cookie's one day with Larry and Albert, and we were discussing my upcoming 18th birthday. Larry had turned 18 over the summer, and a bunch of us had convinced our parents to let us go to the beach for the weekend. Of course, it was all guys, and even with some sneaked booze, we never got any further with any girls than the occasional chat, not even with the one girl who got really drunk. Albert, the baby of the group, wasn't turning 18 until March. We decided that we needed to have a party, as big a blowout as we could figure out how to get away with.

That evening, I asked my parents and they agreed to allow me to have a party, but not surprisingly, they said no booze. I knew that it was both nonnegotiable and that people would sneak in whatever they could, and I knew that my parents knew that, too, so I of course agreed. I got the word out to everyone, and started to think of what needed to be done.

When I was at Rose's house, on Thursday, after we did our English homework, she said, "Thanks for inviting me to your party. I'm looking forward to it."

"Of course I invited you—we're friends."

She smiled, and said, "I know, but I'm just glad." She took a drink of water, then started to talk, stopped and drank again. "Dale, I hope this doesn't offend you, but I was wondering why you don't have a girlfriend."

This surprised the hell out of me. We had never gone there, and I didn't know what prompted it. "I guess there isn't anyone here I really like that way," I said. Rose looked at me without saying anything and I continued, "I mean, I've had girlfriends in the past, but it never worked out, and it just seems so incestuous here."

She nodded, "I could see that, I guess. You're a nice guy, and I think you'd make a good boyfriend to someone."

"Thanks," I replied, and I decided to press my luck a little. "What about you, Rose? I mean, I know you are a little older than the rest of us, and all, but are you seeing anyone?"

She shook her head. "No, I've been pretty much off the market for a while, and I'm really not sure...."

"C'mon," I interrupted, "You are gorgeous and smart and nice, and...."

Rose put her hand up to stop me. "I've had some bad experience with guys, and I'm not interested. Maybe someday..." her voice trailed off, and she kind of looked out into space before shaking her head. She looked at the clock and said, abruptly, "I have some stuff to take care of before dinner. I'll see you in school tomorrow." So, I left, somewhat confused. I did see Rose in school the next day, but nothing else happened.

* * *

The party was going pretty well. We had a nice turnout, Albert had actually done a good job of setting up a playlist, so the music was good and Mom and Dad had laid in some nice food. I have to say, I have good parents. They have always been there for me, and treated me like a person, not just some dumb kid. I knew that they knew that I wasn't a perfect angel, but they have always been willing to let me do what I wanted, as long as I kept up on my responsibilities. So, as long as I went to school, kept my grades up, did my work and didn't get in trouble, the fact that I might have had a few underage drinks, or used some illegal substances—or fooled around a very little with some girls—was never a big issue for them. So, it didn't surprise me that although they wouldn't buy beer, and said that it wasn't allowed at the party that they retreated to their bedroom, which meant that it wasn't an issue when people went outside and came back smelling of beer or weed. Based on the crowd, I wasn't worried about anyone getting too fucked up or doing anything stupid, but you never know, and I kept an eye out for problems.

I had to admit that I was kind of disappointed that Rose didn't show up. I figured that she didn't want to hang out with a bunch of "kids," or something. But my disappointment was eventually forgotten when somehow, I ended up making out with Tessa Hill, a pretty sophomore who I didn't invite, but somehow found her way to the party. I mean, it is a small town, and it was no secret that I was having this party, and there were a few random people who showed up uninvited. And any negative feelings that I might have had about that were thrown out when my tongue was in Tessa's cute mouth and my hand was squeezing her small, firm breasts, over her shirt.

When we came up for air, she suggested that we find a beer, and casually taking my hand, she led me outside. As we left my house, I noticed that Rose was walking up the path to the front door. She was dressed way differently from school—in a tight red dress that hugged her surprisingly curvy body and stopped at the top of her thighs, highlighting an incredible set of legs. It was a pretty mesmerizing sight, and it was only Tessa's yanking my arm that broke the spell. I followed Tessa's lead around the side of the house where the beer was, and I guess that Rose didn't see me.