A.N.: Please review!
Rose Amongst Thorns
Chapter Three
Minefields
Rose was always an early riser. Unless she was hungover—then, she could sleep till two in the afternoon quite happily. But usually, she and Pogue were out of the house by seven a.m., walking downtown for breakfast, planning their days according to just how humid and sickly hot it was. So Rose was used to waking up early, and at six a.m. she beat her alarm-clock to it and woke up completely, blinking bemusedly as she looked around her. The room was different to hers. Very different; her bedroom at home was pale blue and inspired by the interiors of Le Petit Trianon. This room was a warm golden-beige colour, with a frosted-glass closet and a modern white desk that ran parallel to it, facing into the room, and a huge window overlooking a very natural-looking backyard, with an enormous tree close enough to the window to easily climb out onto.
Oh, yeah, Rose sighed, remembering. She was at the McGowans' house. In Boston. Massachusetts. The 'East Coast'.
And today was her first day of school in a new town. A crushing weight seemed to press onto her chest and shoulders, pinning her to the bed, and Rose's face felt heavy, as if she couldn't manage a smile even to assuage Regina's careful, guarded glances. Regina thought Rose hadn't noticed the way she looked at her; as if she suspected that Rose might, any minute, shatter into a thousand pieces. Or burst into tears.
Rose hadn't, and wouldn't. She didn't think about it enough to get upset. Because if she did think about it, she knew she would most likely break her heart.
Had her daddy been here on her first day of school, he would have woken her with a cupcake for breakfast. Every year, on her first day of school, she got a cupcake from her daddy, and her mom always made her a really special packed-lunch, something she could look forward to at lunchtime if she didn't enjoy her classes.
But here, today, in Massachusetts, with the McGowans, she wasn't woken by the sound of early golfers on the course at the end of her backyard, and her daddy didn't slip into her room with a frosting-drenched cupcake to kick-start her day with a sugar-rush. She was woken by someone playing music with extremely distasteful lyrics in one of the rooms near hers, and she could only guess it was Doug's taste in music. Thinking that if she wanted a nice shower, she had better beat the guys into the bathroom so she could actually have hot water, she collected one of the sheet towels Regina had brought her last night, grabbed her toiletries bag and stepped into the hallway, closing her bedroom door behind her. At the same moment, Finn emerged from his bedroom. His wavy hair was now rambunctiously curly in places, and stuck up at the back, and he wore a pair of faded Boston College mesh shorts and a white, paint-splattered t-shirt. Pogue slept in his boxers, if anything at all.
"Oh…hey. You going in there?" Finn asked, nodding sleepily at the bathroom door.
"Um… Yes, if you don't mind—I mean, you can go if you want to. I don't want to be in the way," Rose said, her cheeks flushing. She had always known she blushed too easily. Finn just gave her one of his easy, endearing smiles, which was made even warmer by the fact that he was sleepy and tousled-haired.
"No, go ahead. You'll probably wanna get in there before all the hot-water's gone," Finn smiled softly. "Knock on my door when you're done?"
"I will," Rose nodded, and scuttled across the hallway to the bathroom.
At home, she was used to a pristine bathroom, and spending as much time in it as she wanted or needed. Trying not to dwell on the tiny dark and blond hairs stuck to every surface, Rose quickly washed her hair and shaved, brushed her teeth and used a bit of facial scrub, then climbed out, wrapped her towel tight around herself and slipped out of the bathroom, her hair dripping coldly onto her shoulders.
She knew two things, upon exiting the bathroom; one, she would be taking bio-hazard cleaner to that bathroom within the week, and two, she was going to spontaneously combust due to excess blood flowing to her cheeks and building up pressure.
Oh…my…God…
Her foot was almost flattened by a remote-control car, and she jumped out of the way just in time, watching the thing zip down the hall and hop a makeshift ramp, and smash into a mountain of green-wrapped…tampons. Her tampons.
Rose wasn't embarrassed about her tampons; indeed, the first time she'd ever gotten her period, Pogue had cycled to the nearest convenience store and bought her a box of them, so from the start she hadn't been shy about them in front of boys. And anyway, as her mother used to say (in the days when Rose had ranted and raged about the injustice of being born a girl) getting her period was a blessing; it meant she could have children, which Rose did want. Probably not as many as Regina, but more than her mother had had.
She wasn't embarrassed about the tampons, or their implication—but it was Ian's cackle of laughter as he raced past her, wielding the controls to the car, that grated on her nerves and made her cheeks flame. That, and Doug coming out of his room to check out what was happening, stooping to pick up one of the tampons, and smirking.
"Tampax Super, huh," he smirked, seeing the now-empty box cast aside at the threshold of Rose's now open bedroom door. Rose, her cheeks burning, scowled at him and took the tampon from him, trying not to snatch.
"What're they for?" Ian asked, his forehead wrinkling.
"Go and ask your mom," Rose said, and Ian humphed softly, before running off, shouting, "Mom! What're tampons for?" just as Evan and Finn appeared at their bedroom doors. Rose stared after Ian, her jaw slack.
"He actually asked her. Amazing," she blinked, shaking her head slightly; she stooped to collect the scattered tampons and stuck them back in their box, making a mental note to lock them somewhere. At least he didn't find those condoms Pogue gave me, she thought, internally breathing a sigh of relief. Pogue had insisted that she couldn't set foot in a house with seven guys without a stash of condoms, because those boys who no doubt have friends she might consider "giving it up for."
"Wha's goin' on?" Evan grumbled, leaning against his doorframe, and looking like he hadn't had an hour's sleep. Rose flicked her eyes over him and felt herself smirk slightly; he wore no t-shirt, only an open robe, and a pair of cartoon-frog patterned boxers, which were gaping open.
"Uh…dude," Finn said, catching Evan's eye, and looking down pointedly, and then at Rose, who was trying not to smirk too much, amused. Evan went back into his room and closed the door. No shame—just like Pogue. She didn't doubt that if she put Pogue and Evan in the same room together, they'd get along very well.
"Um…bathroom's free," Rose murmured to Finn, who nodded and shuffled off. She entered her bedroom and looked around, wondering what else Ian had gone through if he had searched through enough boxes to find her tampons. She dumped the box of tampons on her bed and sighed, wondering what to wear. Her first day at a new school, she would have to have her photograph taken for her I.D. and the yearbook.
She picked out her dark-wash denim shorts, the ones with the braided white belt, and her favourite white lace La Perla bra, wondering where the pink one had gone, or if she had left it in a suitcase; she pulled on a pair of navy Zebra-print Victoria's Secret lace-waist string-bikini underwear (without removing her towel) and her bra, and discarded the towel, going to the closet to pick out one of her father's softest white cotton-lawn shirts,
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of movement, and looking at the window she screamed, and ducked out of the way, quickly donning the shirt, keeping most of the buttons undone, to go and throw open the window and glare.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, glaring at Doug and Ian, who now both sat comfortably in the climbing-tree, both armed with binoculars.
"How ya like my room?" Doug asked, snickering.
"Your room?"
"Hey, I don't mind bunking with Mill the Dill Hole if I get to check out his view," Doug called with a gleeful laugh, securing his binoculars over his eyes.
"Buy a magazine!" Rose shouted back to him, and shot him the finger, listening to Doug's laugh and Ian's incredulous gasp that Rose had cussed, and flung the heavy curtains shut. Her entire body was thrumming with indignation, and her mood worsened. She did up a few more of the lower buttons on her shirt, but kept the neckline low, billowy, and tucked one side of it into her shorts; she rolled the sleeves up to her elbow.
The room had instantly darkened upon closing the curtains, and instead of waiting for the boys to disperse, Rose turned on the lamps and set about doing the rest of her morning ritual; Estee Lauder 'DayWear Plus' SPF-cream and a tiny dusting of Benefits 'Georgia' powder, she used her favourite shimmering dark coppery-gold eyeshadow to frame her eyes and gave her lashes a quick coat of mascara, slicked some of her favourite fresh sugar-flavoured chap-stick onto her lips, and set about doing her hair; she blow-dried it fully, using her roller brush, and then did two backward braids from her side-parting along her crown and joined them with some pins at the back of her head, put some product in the rest of her loose hair and used her curling-iron to give it a bit of loose curl, looped her 14-carat gold hoops into her ears, secured her mother's favourite Hermés 'Medor' watch on her wrist with her Dogeared 'Karma' bracelet, and grabbed her favourite pair of frosted Benjamin 'Nicole' sunglasses. She rubbed some strawberry-scented Body Shop body-butter onto her legs and spritzed some of her daytime perfume, Diptyque 'Ofrésia', onto her throat and wrists.
She wasn't keen on keeping the boys waiting for her to get her things ready, so instead of going straight down to breakfast, Rose sorted out her schoolbag; using her favourite slouchy black matte-leather shoulder-tote, she filled it with her wallet, truck-keys, her cell-phone, mini address-book, her digital camera, her little cupcake-decorated cosmetics bag, her new pink iPod Nano, several of the notebooks Regina had set on the desk, a couple of her favourite pens, and her information from her last high-school, her perfume, reading-glasses case, The Blue Lagoon by Henry de Vere Stacpoole, a packet of tissues, a wad of Post-Its, a little case of emergency compact tampons, a white sports bra for P.E., a combination lock, her mini first-aid kit, and a pack of gum. Rose was always prepared for anything. She put her faithful running shoes into their drawstring dust-bag just in case there were cross-country tryouts today, and made her way downstairs.
Stepping into the kitchen, she experienced déjà vu. She had seen this scene before, once, at the zoo, during feeding-time. The kitchen was a riot of noise and flying toast and bagels, sloshed milk and spilt juice, the scent of coffee lingering heavily on the air, mixed with burnt toast, the scents of sickly-sweet cereals and Gatorade powder being mixed into sports bottles that the boys stashed in their backpacks with granola bars for break-time. Neither Regina nor John was anywhere near the kitchen, and so pandemonium reigned.
"What the? Who drank all the orange juice?"
"Did you have all the Lucky Charms?"
"Where's the Philadelphia?"
"Who drank the last of the coffee?" The kitchen was overwhelming; Rose set her bag down by the kitchen door and licked her lips nervously, wondering where she should start.
The only thing she knew was that she was astounded anyone could hear anyone else, and was surprised when Caleb came careening into the room, singing at the top of his lungs, that anyone could hear him; then she realised what he was singing, and what he was wearing on his head that took the form of cat-ears. "I got your bra-ah, I got your bra-ah!" Tied around his head, Caleb wore her favourite pale-pink lace La Perla bra, the flimsy lace cups acting like the ears of a mouse. Rose's eyes flew open, and she dived for him.
Giggling, the little sucker was too quick; he dodged her fingers, somehow managing to run underneath the table without hindrance, to the other side of the room, and then started running around and around the island, singing "I've got your bra-ah!" at the top of his lungs, giggling madly. Rose gave up. Well, when his wedding came around, she'd be there with stories of him cross-dressing when he was a little boy! She even got her camera and took photographs of him dashing around the room, grinning from ear to ear, and wearing her bra like a bonnet.
Sean appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed Caleb around the waist with one arm and hauled him up.
"Lemme go! Lemme go!" Caleb shouted over and over again, as the boys all laughed. Sean snapped the bra from Caleb's head, examined it, and with the tiniest hint of a smirk, handed it to Rose.
"There's no controlling that one," Sean said, and they were the first words Rose had heard him speak; his voice was a lot deeper than she had imagined, more Garrett Hedlund than Kevin Grevioux, and warm.
"Thanks. You should've let him wear it to school," Rose said, taking the bra back.
Sean looked at her for a moment. His brown hair—he was the only dark-haired member of the whole McGowan clan—stood straight up and there was a streak of blackish-green grease below his right ear. He was handsome in a rugged, dangerous kind of way, definitely the biker who caused trouble for the girl-next-door's parents, but there was something about him that was off-putting. Maybe it was the appraising and slightly quizzical way that he was staring at her; like she wasn't quite sure what she was.
Then, for the most fleeting of seconds, Sean grinned; it was gone in an instant, but the image of it was seared in Rose's memory; Sean had the most beautiful grin, which had lit up his whole face, starting with those dark molasses-brown eyes that had seemed so blank last night at dinner. Sean shuffled off to the coffee machine, made a fresh pot, and stood, reading Wizard's First Rule, while he waited for the coffee to brew.
Rose went to the cupboard in which she knew the glasses were kept and filled it with ice-water from the fridge door, and got near enough to the toaster to put some bread in and spread some chunky peanut-butter on it. Eating her breakfast, and waiting for the others to give her some direction as to how she was going to get to school, she pulled out her cell-phone and started texting Pogue.
Regina arrived downstairs, going straight to the coffee-machine; Sean had disappeared with his book and some mugs of coffee, and Regina saw her and beamed brightly.
"Good morning, Rose!" She glanced at Rose's outfit, at the casual and slightly sexy shirt she wore open almost to the centre of her bra, the expanse of her legs that her shorts revealed, and her hairstyle. "You look very pretty."
"Thank you," Rose smiled. "I thought I might have to have my photograph taken today."
"Oh, yeah, for your I.D.," Regina nodded. "Remind one of the boys to show you to the office when you get to school." Rose nodded and sipped her water. "Oh, here. For lunch." Rose glanced up, as Regina rustled through the contents of her wallet, and handed Rose a five-dollar bill.
"No, thank you, I have money." Rose's cheeks flushed slightly as Regina pushed the money on her.
"I know—but you shouldn't have to spend it on food," Regina smiled, pressing the bill on her. Rose tucked it into her pocket, her cheeks still warm. Rose watched the boys scrabbling around the table and island for boxes of cereal and bagels and glasses for juice and milk.
"Regina…did I take Doug's bedroom?" she asked, eyeing Doug as he sloppily ate a bowl of Cap'n Crunch.
"Why? Is he torturing you about it?" Regina asked.
"Um… No. It's just… I don't want to put anybody out."
"Sweetie, don't even give it another thought. Between you and me, Doug needed to be knocked down a peg or two," Regina said, glancing at Doug, a small frown creasing her forehead. "Oh—and I have to apologise for Ian's behaviour earlier."
"His behaviour?" Rose asked, sipping her water, and Regina tweaked an eyebrow.
"He seemed to have an interesting curiosity about the function of tampons," Regina said, and Rose almost choked on her water as she laughed, and smiled up at Regina's twinkling eyes. "I thought I'd leave that for John to deal with tonight." Rose laughed and Miller walked into the kitchen and came to stand next to his mother. He held one arm straight down at his side and gripped his elbow with his other hand, looking down at the floor.
"Good morning, Miller," Rose said. She knew that he suffered from Asperger's Syndrome, and had done a little reading when she'd had the time on the internet about the dysfunction. It was all about social behaviour; he wasn't good with new people. So she had figured the best way to go about Miller was to show him she was someone he should get used to. Rose took one of the natural Greek yoghurts Regina had offered her from the fridge and ripped off the cover, then drizzled some honey from the jar in the centre of the island into the pot.
"That doesn't go there."
Rose glanced up; Miller was staring at the jar of honey intently and gripping his arm even more tightly than before; his knuckles were pale. For a split-second, his eyes flicked up and actually rested on Rose. It was the first time Rose had ever seen them; they were a clear, sharp blue, and very beautiful, with the same thick, curling eyelashes as Finn. Rose glanced at the honey jar and then the rest of the things on the island, and realised with a jolt that everything was arranged—just as the bottles and things had been in the bathroom—in height-order, from the coffeemaker down to the sugar-bowl.
"Oh, sorry, Miller," Rose mumbled, rearranging the honey jar so it stood between the jar of coffee grounds and a box of peppermint tea-bags. Miller smiled, satisfied.
"Miller, this is Rosalie," Regina said, leaning over his shoulder. "You remember we talked about Rose coming to live here, right? Did you say hello yet?"
"Hello," Miller said to the floor. Rose smiled.
"Hi, Miller," she said softly.
"Did you know Joe DiMaggio holds the Major League Baseball record for the longest consecutive game hitting streak at fifty-six games?" he asked, glancing up brightly. "He set it in 1941 as a member of the New York Yankees."
"I didn't know that," Rose smiled. "I haven't been to a baseball game since I was here with you guys last. Do you remember, we went to watch the Sox play." Miller might have nodded, and his lips definitely twitched; he glanced up at his mother, before focusing his eyes on the floor and walking over to the table, and Regina caught Rose's eye and smiled.
"Well, Miller's clearly taken a shine to you," Regina smiled again, her eyes warm.
"He has?" Rose asked, lifting her eyebrows.
"Usually he doesn't talk to a new person for at least a week. With you it only took overnight," Regina smiled warmly, and glanced over at her son. "Miller's a real good kid if you get to know him. It's just…most people don't really…take the time to put in the effort to get to know him."
"That's a shame," Rose frowned. From what she had read on the internet, Miller could get past some of his difficulties if the people around him helped him to immerse socially.
"It is," Regina sighed. "He's such a sweet kid. Caleb, on the other hand, was a little imp the moment he was born. Sorry about your bra."
"Oh, that's alright," Rose said, shrugging. "It's been worse places than Caleb's head." Regina laughed, eyes twinkling; Rose had told her stories of her and Pogue's antics, like the time Rose had been taped to the flagpole at school on her last birthday, in her underwear. Pogue's idea. She ate her yoghurt, with the honey mixed in. "This is really good, Regina," she said, turning the honey jar so she could see the label, of which there was none.
"I bought it at the Farmer's Market a few Saturdays ago," Regina said. "I didn't know you liked honey and yoghurt."
"The honey's good for allergies; if you eat locally-produced honey it helps immunise you against allergies," Rose said, setting the jar back in place. She and Regina chatted for a little while, while the boys stocked up on food until their next opportunity to eat, at break, and Rose helped Regina straighten out the kitchen in her sons' wake.
Doug did the gangster-strut to the cupboard of mugs and poured himself some coffee. He smirked at Rose, very obviously looking her up and down, and Rose stifled a shiver of dislike and discomfort. Of all the brothers, Doug put her most on edge. Maybe because he was completely fearless. Rose noticed the leg of his jeans was heavily decorated. The entire thigh was covered in an intricate doodle of a female anime character with spiked hair and monster breasts nearly bursting out of her glossy bodysuit. The other leg featured a tough-looking male brandishing a sword. For biro on denim, they were definitely works of art.
"What're you starin' at?" Doug asked, lifting his chin.
"Did you do those?" Rose asked, nodding at his jeans.
"No, brain drain, I let some other mo-fo draw all over my leg at summer-school," Doug said, scrunching his face up. Rose sighed, sipped her water, and said,
"It's such a mystery why you don't have a girlfriend." Finn heard, and laughed, flashing Rose a very handsome grin. Doug's eyes narrowed, and he walked off, carrying his coffee.
"Sorry about him," Finn said, glancing after his younger brother. "We wanted to send him to military correctional school, but even they wouldn't touch him." Rose laughed quietly and Finn brandished a bag of Goldfish, an apple and a raspberry Fruit Leather at her for break-time snacks. Rose took a bottle of water from the fridge and tucked everything into her bag, then said goodbye to Regina and followed the older boys outside to Evan's silver Saab. She cast a wistful look at her truck, then climbed into the car, sitting beside Miller, who had taken the middle seat. She sat behind Finn, and noticed they all sat in clockwise height-order. Doug threw himself into the seat behind Evan and slammed the door, and after a short argument about whose iPod they'd link up to the stereo, Evan pulled away from the barn and drove off, (Dude) Looks like a Lady by Aerosmith on full-blast from Finn's iPod.
A.N.: Please review!
