A.N.: Okay, I made a slight change to chapter eleven, with the girls telling Rose that Finn is on the varsity football team, as fullback, which is instrumental to a plot point in this story later on (I've been watching Friday Night Lights and wanted Finn to play Riggins' position).


Rose Amongst Thorns

Chapter Twelve

Rose Plays Dr Phil


Somehow Rose survived cross-country practice. She hadn't had any trouble with the run, or with her pace or endurance or anything.

One of her teammates was trying to kill her.

It might have had something to do with Hailey's mood, and the conversation Rose had overheard on her way to the locker-room after Math;


"…know I don't mean anything by it." Evan.

"It doesn't matter if I know that. They don't know that," Hailey's voice replied; they were standing behind one of the columns keeping up the courtyard cover. "Half the girls in school are looking at me like they know something I don't know. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"I don't understand. What do they know that you don't?" Evan replied.

"They think that you like them, Evan!" Hailey replied. "They think they have something over me because you flirt with them right in front of my face, like they're winning some competition by it." There was an exhalation of breath. Rose glanced around; the small courtyard area between the gym and locker-rooms was empty, and she was hidden out of sight. She knew she shouldn't spy, but given Hailey's attitude toward her, and Finn's encouragement to get involved with his brothers' lives, this was good stuff. Maybe she could talk to Evan about it, help him or something. Give him a female perspective for what Hailey was feeling.

"Hailey, that's just the way I am," Evan said earnestly. "I'm a friendly person."

"Yeah, right," Hailey said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"I am! And you knew that going in," Evan replied. He sounded like he might be frowning. "Come on, don't you trust me?" Nice move, Rose thought. Nothing like a little guilt-tripping to solve problems in a relationship.

"Of course I do," Hailey said. "It's just…well…imagine how you'd feel if it seemed like every guy in school wanted me." Rose blinked; Hailey actually sounded vulnerable there. Either she was just as sensitive as Rose was and better at hiding it, or she was the world's most talented actress.

"Well, they do," Evan said lightly. True enough; Rose rarely saw Hailey in the corridors without a gaggle of sexually frustrated teenage boys ogling after her and the belts she wore as skirts.

"Evan, I'm trying to be serious here!"

"Fine! Fine! What do you want me to do? Stop talking to girls entirely?" Evan asked, and Rose smiled to herself; he sounded frustrated and sarcastic, not like himself at all.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Hailey replied. Rose's jaw dropped.

"I don't believe you," Evan said calmly, his voice even and, Rose realised, quite dangerous. Rose shook her head, reached for the locker-room lobby door and darted inside. She knew it wasn't easy dating someone like Evan. She had dated—not for very long—a guy a lot like Evan; popular, extroverted, flirtatious, beautiful. So she knew it wasn't easy, that there was always someone looking to find chinks in the armour of the relationship and exploit it to take the guy away for herself. But if she had learned anything from that short relationship, and watching the way Pogue worked with girls, she knew that if Hailey had to work this hard, something just wasn't clicking.


So Hailey's frustration and anger at Evan was channelled ruthlessly on Rose. But no matter how many times Rose bit the dirt, no matter how many bruises she would wake up with tomorrow, no matter how bloody her knees and palms got, no matter how much dirt got into the wounds from constant tripping up as they ran through the woods and fields and brooks behind the school, Rose did not give Hailey the satisfaction of seeing her angry or upset.

Rose's indignation at being treated so gave her the adrenaline she needed to keep pace with Jake, and get best time—again—for their long run. Rose was covered in dirt, bloodied, bruised beyond belief, but exhilarated by a combination of adrenaline and righteous indignation at Hailey. That exhilaration—and the adrenaline that caused it—rendered the pain Rose should have been feeling almost numbed, until her shower, when the water hit the open wounds and washed away the dirt and muck and stung like hell. Miss Smith bandaged Rose's bloody knees, covered the cuts made by the teeth of Hailey's running shoes with a large sticky band-aid on the back of her left thigh where Hailey had run over her after knocking her to the ground, bandaged and taped her right elbow, which had been battered and bruised painfully, but could do nothing of the pain in Rose's left hip, which rendered walking, after she had warmed down, very painful. Miss Smith gave her a band-aid for the cut on her jaw and hauled Hailey into her office after Rose had left, hobbling like an eighty-year-old woman in desperate need of a hip replacement.

"You look like you've done five rounds with Mike Tyson," Aimee cringed in sympathy.

"I don't think I'd last even one round with Mike Tyson," Rose grumbled, pain battering every single inch of her body, as she hobbled to her locker to get her bag and things. "But I did survive a round with Hailey, so I think I might have a shot."

"Rose, I am so sorry," Aimee said, wincing again when Rose tucked her bag over her shoulder and wobbled when pain shuddered through her and made her feel dizzy, her bag having knocked against her hip. "Are you okay?"

"I'll live," Rose mumbled, but I really don't want to right now, she added.

"Hey, wait up; we'll carry you," Aimee said, and she and Pearl scampered up to her, locking their arms together like a seat, and they wouldn't budge until Rose had perched her bottom on their arms; they lifted her into the air and carried her like Cleopatra to the front of the school.

At the steps, they lowered her so she could climb effortlessly off their arms, and Rose smiled, a little embarrassed, but she had laughed most of the journey with Pearl staggering and giggling like mad, Aimee's backpack threatening to trip her up when it slid down her arm.

"Hey, here; these are all the girls' cell-numbers," Aimee said, handing her a slip of paper on which several phone numbers had been scrawled by their respective owners; Pearl, Ria, Jenna. She already had Aimee's. "I'll call you about the trip to the mall. If Jenna and Ria can make it, we could go tomorrow after practice."

"Yeah, that sounds cool," Rose smiled.

"The party is gonna be so cool," Pearl sighed, her eyes glowing with expectation. "I heard they got that new hot DJ from Quay Club to play."

"You know, Aimee, I don't think Rose is gonna be able to make the party," Hailey said; Rose glanced at the doors and saw most of the cross-country team, half the lacrosse-players, most of the football team and some swimmers had spilled out. Hailey strode up to them. "Shouldn't you be working on your stamina? We do have a meet coming up."

"My stamina is just fine, thank you," Rose said, bristling.

"Please. You were tripping over your own feet to keep up with me and Salvatore," Hailey scoffed. Rose's eyebrows flew up. "It's hard to believe you made All-State on your last team. Or did you just make that up to impress all of us?"

"She only kept tripping up because you kept shoving her, Hailey," Aimee scowled.

"It's alright, Aimee," Rose said, laying a hand gently on her friend's arm. She turned to Hailey. "If you're having problems with thinking your boyfriend's a skirt-junkie, deal with it with him; don't take it out on me."

There were Ooohs and gasped laughs and giggles; Hailey turned an unflattering hue of splotchy eggplant mixed with sour milk.

"Hey, Chibs; we gotta go." Evan strode up the steps, took a swift inventory of her bandages—easily seen because she was wearing her second-skin shorts and a pretty lacy camisole and leather-cuff sandals—twirling his keys around his finger. He barely glanced at Hailey.

"Go where?" Hailey asked.

"We have to pick up dinner for the family," Evan said tersely. "I can give you a ride, but you're gonna have to wait at Casa Orozco." Clearly fuming, Hailey barely managed to keep her voice level.

"Thanks anyway," she said tartly. "Aimee, I'm coming with you."

"Oh...kay," Aimee said, eyes wide. Hailey stalked off; Rose could practically see the heat rising from her like a cartoon character in a rage.

Aimee offered her arms for a hug; she captured Rose and hugged her tight. "I think I love you," Aimee whispered, giggling. "Nobody's ever spoken to her like that before."

"Well, I'm paying for it now," Rose grimaced, when they broke apart; the pain in her hip actually almost knocking her knees together. "I think I need a hip replacement."

"Ouch. Did she knock you down that hard?" Aimee winced in sympathy. "Well, we'll buy you some reusable ice-packs tomorrow when we're at the mall."

"And maybe a bottle of tequila to numb the pain," Rose added, and Aimee laughed.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," Aimee smiled. "Take care of you."

"Take care of you," Rose said, giving Aimee another little hug, before groaning and hobbling off after Evan. She turned and tried valiantly not to wobble and fall down the stairs when she realised the pain in her hip had only worsened during her Cleopatra-style ride from the locker-rooms. Aimee scurried off after her sister; Evan stared after them stoically, still jangling his keys, then frowned down at Rose.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked, taking inventory of her bandages. "The football team use you for tackling-practice?" He slipped into the car and jammed the keys into the ignition, cranking up the air-conditioning. Rose remembered what Finn had said about her integrating into the family.

"No," Rose sighed, cringing as she tried to lower herself into the passenger seat. "It seems I'm not too popular in the Boston area. And your girlfriend is just a little bit angry."

"Hailey did all this to you!" Evan said, and his eyes flashed. "Why would she do that?" Rose shot him a look. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I overheard you arguing earlier," Rose admitted quietly, and he let out a huge sigh, before putting the automatic car in drive and pulling out of the drop-off loop. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Evan grumbled. Rose shrugged slightly and checked on her left hip.

"Oh my god!" she gaped, horrified.

"What is it?" Evan asked, jumping. Rose stared down at her hip, where she had peeled her shirt and shorts away from her skin. The entire side of her hip was covered with an enormous bruise; reddish-brown, spotted with green and yellow.

"Ouch!" Evan cringed. "Jesus, how the hell—are you sure you're not a haemophiliac? 'Cause, Finn said you weren't…"

"How d'you know about that?" Rose asked, glancing up at Evan, smoothing her clothing over her bruise. Ouch. Evan shot her a look and grinned.

"He told me about the swooning damsel in distress moment last week," he said, his lips twitching with amusement. Rose didn't doubt that; the McGowan boys were gossipier than any cheerleader she had ever met at her old school. She'd listened to Finn and Doug chatting about a girl called Tina who'd blown one guy off to go out with his best-friend for like twenty minutes the other day.

"I don't do well with blood-loss," Rose said, blushing.

"I figured that. You should see some of the guys on the football team; they're complete babies. Last year one guy broke some of his fingers during a game; he had a gurney cart him off the field, and an ambulance took him to hospital with an oxygen mask because he passed out," Evan laughed. His expression turned serious. "I can't believe Hailey did that to you."

"Well, indirectly. It was actually the enormous boulder I fell onto when she shoved me onto the ground and ran over me," Rose said, wincing when she flexed her legs, forgetting her knees were bloodied and bandaged.

"Rose, I'm so sorry," Evan winced. "I can't believe she'd take all this out on you."

"All what?" Evan sighed heavily, turning off Bernal onto Sunol Boulevard and into the plaza, driving around the parking-lot toward Jim's Diner and Casa Orozco, the Mexican restaurant where several couples were already eating an early dinner outside on the patio out front under umbrellas. Evan sighed again and turned the key in the ignition. The air-conditioning shut off, and the car was quiet.

"It's like…if I spend all my time just talking to her, she says I'm being clingy, right?" Evan frowned. "And when I talk to other girls, she says I'm an uncontrollable flirt. I just can't seem to do anything that makes her happy." Rose sighed.

"You know, I used to date a guy like you," she said quietly, and Evan glanced up. "Actually, a lot like you. And guys like you are complicated, and…and enigmatic. And usually worth it. But if you're not completely confident in who you are, it can be challenging dating someone like you."

Evan was watching her face solemnly.

"You're not as bashful when you've got something to say," he said quietly. He blinked, looked out through the windshield, and sighed, before glancing back at her. "Is that why you and that guy broke up?"

"Er—No," Rose said quietly. "We broke up because I walked in on another girl giving him head."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Rose said, sighing. "Anyway—are you gonna pick up that food or what?"

"Oh, right!" Evan laughed. "We don't want the runts to get hungry. Trust me." Five minutes later, Evan staggered back to the car with a cardboard box filled with tubs of cheesy nachos, Mexican rice and refried beans, foil-wrapped enchiladas, tacos, quesadillas, burritos, and bags of nachos; he handed one to her and they snacked on the way back to the house.

"Okay, so…so what can I do, then, to stop her feeling so insecure about us?" Evan said, rummaging in the bag in Rose's lap for another nacho chip. Rose crunched on her own and swallowed.

"Um, well…I guess…if she's getting upset about you talking to other girls, and if you see her getting annoyed about it, go over and give her a kiss or something," Rose shrugged. "I know you guys spend a lot of time screwing, but do you—"

"What? How d'you know that?" Evan blurted, blinking very fast at her, on the verge of a grin. Rose laughed softly.

"At Darnell's party, you disappeared upstairs as soon as we got there," Rose said. "And at Logan, you spent two hours in the woods with Hailey, instead of hanging out with your friends, which, by the way, is probably why you got caught sneaking into the house." Evan sighed heavily.

"Yeah, that's true I guess," he admitted. "What's your point?"

"My point is—do you ever just hang out and talk?" Rose asked. Evan winced. That was a no.

"We used to, you know, when we first got together," Evan shrugged. "We started dating in August last year."

"Well, when you hang out, go somewhere where you can't sneak up to a bedroom, and not with a bunch of your friends around," Rose said thoughtfully. "If you're having trouble, get in a room together and talk it out. No distractions, no insults, just talking. Figure out what each of you wants from the relationship and work on that."

"How'd you get so smart on relationships? How many boyfriends have you had?"

"Only two. Stuart-Gordon was my boyfriend when we were two," Rose said lightly. "His parents were English; they lived in Paris near us. And apparently we were going to get married. But then Stuart-Gordon developed a deep love of tea-sets and we broke up." Evan laughed, and it did Rose good to hear it; he wasn't as terse as he had been upon meeting her out front at school, which was good.


A.N.: Please review!