After Rose drives us to the hotel to grab David's things, we pay the bill and stop to get some burgers from McDonald's. I will admit that David and I share a laugh at the sign. It doesn't really give a clear depiction over how many people have been served, but it does advertise something else. It is announcing that chicken nuggets are now on the menu.
We go inside, and I walk right up to the counter. I order a cheeseburger with ketchup, mustard, and pickles; medium fries; a chocolate milkshake; and a hot fudge sundae. Rose doesn't bat an eye and orders the same thing, along with David, making the grand total eleven dollars and change. I pick a round table in the back for us so as we can talk about anything and everything without drawing too much suspicion.
We chew our burgers slowly, yet Rose gives us strange looks when we remove the top off of our milkshakes and begin dipping our fries. We urge her to try it, although she is unconvinced that the salt to sweet ratio would be any good. I threaten to hold her down while David feeds it to her like a baby. Finally, Rose tries it of her own accord and ends up thoroughly enjoys the experience as a whole.
We all finish in about twenty minutes before disposing of our trash and departing from the restaurant, if you could really call it that. Rose quickly reminds us how lucky we are that she never goes to McDonald's, nor does she know anyone who works there. We get back to her car and make off with stomachs full of unnecessary trans-fats and other bad products and head back to the University Park area, back to Rose's house.
We enter the house, my bag on my arm and David's backpack slung over his shoulder. Dianne announces that she and Barry will be preparing a steak dinner in our honor, before leaving to go to the store. Rose shows David the guest bedroom and leaves him to get settled while I follow her down the hall and into her lavish bedroom. She points to the other bed—pretty much identical to hers—and gestures for me to drop my stuff.
I do as I am told and lie on my back on the bed. My limbs pop a bit as I stretch out on the full-sized mattress and I feel at ease. I turn and look at Rose, and find her staring at me. "What?" I ask, although I can tell by her eyes, identical to mine, what she is thinking.
She sighs. "I just can't get over it. Why do you look so much like me?"
I shrug. "Maybe because we're related?" I ask.
She nods slowly. "I know that," she replies, a little defensively, and moves so as she is sitting with her legs crossed. "So, we've got to make a plan."
"Yes," I agree. "Operation part one—get Rodney to dump Roxy."
"Fantastic!" David says from the doorway. He enters the vicinity and proceeds to plop himself down into a bean bag chair. "I do have an idea, but it may be stretching things a bit."
"What?" I demand.
"I saw a sign for the Spring Fling at Tempus," he says quietly. "So, what I was thinking is, you and I go there together, since the real Rose is supposed to be close to the other Radcliffe household anyhow. Then, you ask Rodney for a dance once we're there, and then I'll be obligated to take Roxy out onto the floor. You saw how she was checking me out all during yesterday. Clearly, she finds me attractive."
I nod. "Yes," I reply, trying my best to keep the tightness from my voice. "She does clearly find you attractive."
"I'll tell her that I plan on breaking up with you for her or some variation of that, because she's charmed me or something like that." He turns then to Rose. "Tell me, has she ever said something to you like, I don't know, 'prove it'?"
Rose nods. "Many times," she replies.
"Excellent," David says. "So, I'll drag her into the hallway and somewhere private and make out with her. Then, you, 2013 Rose, will suddenly notice that we're gone and you'll unexpectedly fall into our path."
"Well, that solves them breaking up," I say softly. "But, David, what about my mother? How will Rodney go from Roxy to her in time for us to manage to get back to a present where I exist?"
David shrugs.
I sighed. "Look, if there's one thing my mother always was, it was trustworthy. I propose that if you hang out with Rodney and keep him occupied, you know, have some male bonding time with him. Maybe you can get him to realize that there is a life outside of Roxy. Bond with him in band class or something..."
David grins. "Good thinking," he says.
"And while that's happening, I can find out Marnie's schedule and get her to change her wardrobe and hair. This way, she'll be all pretty for the dance! And we can get them to bond during band class!" I cry, clapping my hands together at my thinking. "Tell me, how was my mother's voice?"
Rose looks away from me.
David sighs. "She's...not horrible," he says at last.
"She's just no Joan Jett," replies Rose.
"Can somebody please tell me who this Joan Jett is?" I cry out then, annoyed. "I mean...I've got all of these shirts of hers, and I only just figured out who David Bowie is. Could I have a little insight here, please?"
Rose sighs. She pulls out a cassette player and some cassette tapes from under her bed, which look like they are in mint condition. "CD's only just came out," she says to our perplexed faces at this foreign music type. "But I'm sure CD's have got to be the biggest thing in music in 2013, am I right?" she asks, popping open the cassette player and slipping in a white cassette tape, as David and I smirk at one another. The words Joan Jett are stamped to the top, while I Love Rock 'n' Roll is stamped to the bottom.
The room is then filled with a guitar slashing the quiet. Then the voice of what I would describe as an angel gone punk filled my ears. "I saw him dancing there by the record machine; I knew he must have been about seventeen..." I almost can't breathe; it's such a wonderful voice, and the notion that I'd never let it fill my ears haunts me. I cannot speak until it's over, and then I am staring open-mouthed at Rose.
"It's number one on the Billboard Hot 100," Rose says to my surprised face with a grin, clearly amused at my shock. "Could you sing like her?" she asks.
"Maybe," I say softly. "If I improve her wardrobe, introduce her to makeup, fix her hair, teach her to sing, and get rid of those god-awful glasses, do you think she'd have a shot at Rodney by the time Spring Fling rolls around?"
"Maybe," Rose says. "David? What do you think?"
"Two weeks," he says.
"Two weeks...?" Rose asks.

"What?" I comes my own question.
"You'd have two weeks, because that's when Spring Fling is. Well, actually, thirteen days, because Spring Fling is on a Friday, so..."
He is silenced by Rose and me hitting him with pillows.