I try to keep my eyes away from my teenage father getting an 80's rendition of classroom action when he's supposed to be taking notes on the lecture. I don't know why, but, even though I hardly see this man, I feel oddly protective of him, and of his well-being. I grit my teeth and both of my hands become fists as I watch Blondie put her right hand onto Dad's leg, and caress it slightly to let him know that she means business.
"What the hell is the matter with you?!" David hisses from beside me. "It looks like you could scream! What's up?!"
I move my fists so as they're hidden under the desk and cross my arms, knowing that I have to keep quiet. "Nothing, it's nothing," I whisper back, though I do not look away from Blondie's outlandish behavior. "Be quiet. Mr. Pitt's lecture really is fascinating, and maybe I won't have to take physics next year, if..."
The bell suddenly rings, and Blondie hastily withdraws her hand from Dad's leg as we all four get to our feet. I walk up to him and he grins and gives me a hug before turning back to Blondie, and guiding us out all out into the hallway. He gives me a rather large smile that is identical to mine.
"Rose, you remember Roxy, don't you?" he asks proudly. "This is my girlfriend, my better half, all that. Rox, this is my cousin, Rose, obviously."
I put out my hand automatically, and stare into Roxy's eyes, which clearly resemble glaciers. It is then that I remember, as I shake her hand, that Roxy is Amber Seymour's mother. I plaster a fake smile on my face as I tighten my grip slightly so as Roxy will not think my hand is as limp as a dead fish. "It's so nice to see you again, Roxy," I say, and I have to admit that I sound sincere. "This is my boyfriend, David."
David steps around me and puts out his hand as soon as I release Roxy's. "Nice to meet you, Roxy," he says, putting his arm around my shoulders, so as to act the part convincingly. "I always knew, based on everything that Rose has been telling me, that Rodney would find a good girl for him."
It is at this moment that the glaciers in Roxy's eyes melt to a self-indulgent warmth. "I must say, David, it's nice to meet you, too. I'd ask if you were named after David Bowie, but that really wouldn't make sense. Did you change your name to David for David Bowie?" she asks him then, and I feel tempted to smack her.
David chuckles. "No. I've actually never really listened to him."
"We like Heroes," I say quickly. "I mean, I think it's got to be the best song of his that I've ever heard, personally."
Roxy chuckles and looks at her sparkly watch. "Damn," she says, wrinkling her lips in a manner that I'd often see Amber do.
"What is it, Rox?" asks Rodney.
"I have to go to Home Ec.," she says in an annoyed tone.
"What's wrong with that?" I ask, deciding to amend my next statement slightly for authenticity purposes only. "I took it last semester and got an A. It's such an easy class it's funny."
Roxy makes a face as if I am gloating. "It's like the teacher is in some frozen time warp in the '50's. It's awful!" she cries, her voice whiney.
Rodney puts his arm reassuringly around her waist and kisses her cheek, which makes me want to vomit. "It's okay, babe, really." He looks at me and then nods. "Why don't you go with Roxy, Rose? Maybe you can help her." He turns then to David, almost as if the conversation is over. "I actually have band right now. Do you play any kind of instrument?"
"I play guitar," David replies.
"Normal?" asks Rodney, grinning.
"Electric," David admits.
"Let's go to the band room, then," Rodney says. "I play electric guitar, too, but my parents try to make it just a hobby."
"Screw them!" I cry out suddenly, without thinking, hardly believing that I am essentially cursing my own grandparents.
"Rose!" cries Rodney, obviously shocked.
"I mean it," I say, getting out from under David's arm. "Don't be something like a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher just because they want you to be! You should just...I don't know...follow your dreams. Haven't you ever thought about what you want?" I ask.
Roxy weaves her arm protectively through Rodney's, which instinctively seems to make my skin crawl. "Rodney has already been accepted to Columbia," she says in a nails-on-a-chalkboard voice as if she is speaking to a child. "He has told them that he is going, and he will be going, come September."
"Rodney, what about what you want?" I say, trying my best to ignore Roxy, and the institution in which my father received his PhD in Medicine.
Rodney sighs, conflicted. "I want to go to band practice with David, and I want you to go to Home Ec. with Roxy," he says firmly. He gives Roxy a kiss goodbye and David moves to follow him. "David."
"What?"
Rodney shakes his head. "You won't see Rose for an hour, you know."
"And?" he asks, not getting his meaning.
Rodney blinks, raising his eyebrows at David's apparent disregard for leaving my side. "Are you two, like, really old-fashioned, or something?"
"Old-fashioned?" David asks, confused, as Roxy and me—genuinely confused about it all—look at each other.
"Aren't you going to kiss Rose goodbye?" asks Rodney.
I look at David, a lump in my throat. "Well," I say, hardly knowing how I am managing to form the words, "aren't you?"
David puts on a fake smile and chuckles lightly. "Of course I am!" he says gallantly, crossing the hall back to me. He puts his finger gently under my chin and his lips descend onto mine. It is as if these lips mold perfectly to one another, as if they are made for each other. His lips part mine with ease, and I am not resisting him as another part of his anatomy slips between them, and I force back a squeak of surprise, determined to play the part.
I feel like this moment could last forever, yet I know it cannot. As my knees threaten to give way, I pull away from him and caress his cheek. I am simply playing the role, but I can see that there is something in his eyes that show that he does not want to let me go, as his hands—which were originally on my shoulders—have gone down to my waist, and tightened.
"David," I say in a light, scolding tone as I break away from him to join Roxy. "I'll see you later—you know that," I go on as I turn away from them and walk down the hall with my father's girlfriend.
"He loves you," Roxy says, and I can detect a tone of envy in her voice. It is almost as if she is saying, You're ugly; you don't deserve that love.
I shrug. "I guess."
Roxy keeps walking when suddenly someone comes hurriedly around the corner and bumps into her. Roxy's few books go flying, and the other girls' papers and various notes and things endlessly clatter to the ground. "Marnie Donnelly!" cries Roxy in disdain.
The face that greets mine is so startlingly familiar that I almost lose my footing entirely as I try not to make direct eye contact. "Gee, nice to see you, too, Abernathy," she mutters, bending down to pick up her scattered belongings.

There is something so familiar about that black hair and the pale, pale skin that makes me want to shrink back in fear and knowing. It takes all my strength for me not to shout, "Mom!" and throw myself into her arms. I want to slap Roxy for her rudeness, but I merely make my hands into fists, allowing my nails to bite at the palms of my hands to distract myself.

"Home Ec. is in Room 117, right, Roxy?" I ask.
Roxy nods, picking up her last book. "Yes."
"I'll be right there," I say softly, bending down to assist Marnie in picking up her books and things. Her handwriting is identical to mine, I realize, and each page is riddled with numerous ideas from things that range from bimolecular research to her opinion on world hunger. I gather them up, quickly alphabetizing them in the process—something that she herself had taught me—and hand them back to her. "Sorry about Roxy," I say softly to her. "I just hope she didn't ruin any of these."
Marnie nods, initially shocked at me alphabetizing her paperwork, before raising her eyes and regarding me closely then. "So, you're the infamous cousin, Rose Radcliffe, aren't you?" she asks. "Rodney Radcliffe's cousin?"
I nod. "Yes. It's good to meet you."
Marnie immediately takes my offered hand and manages to shake it cordially. "Marnie Elizabeth Donnelly," she says, and I know then where my best friend got her name. "It's very nice to meet you, Rose."
"Where are you off to now?" I ask.
"Band practice," she replies.
"You play?" I inquire.
She smiles. "I sing," she says, pushing up her oversized glasses, which I'm discovering are commonplace here.
"Sing, really?" I ask, grinning. "So do I."
She checks her ordinary watch. "I've got to be there now, actually."
I nod. "I understand." I get to my feet from the excruciating kneeling/crouching position and smile. "I hope to see you soon," I say before walking down the hall in the direction of Home Ec., and away from my mother. It is odd, because now I am the one leaving first.