Furious Rose

Part 1

 

Outside, sitting on the balcony railing, enjoying what amounted to a perfect night, Jemina smoked a cigarette. Carly watched, resting her head on the palm of her hand, playing with her glasses by removing and replacing them and noting the difference in the world. Both of the girls were still wearing their school uniforms, even though it was late.

“You’re lucky,” said Jemina. “Your dad doesn’t imprison you. My dad catches me having a smoke and he grounds me for a month. Which is all of my life, if you think about it from my perspective.” She took another drag. Cigarette smoke rose (fittingly, because Jemina’s last name was Rose) to the sky.

“Not really,” said Carly. “You’re just being a baby about it. One month is nothing.”

“I said from my perspective. The statement justifies itself. It is my perspective. So according to my perspective, my perspective is correct.”

“I see. But that I were endowed with the wisdom of Socrates, I’d give you what for over that.”

Jemina rose.

       “What did we have to do for English tomorrow?” she asked, walking over to the beach chair that Carly was sitting in.

       “You can check the syllabus as well as I can,” Carly said. She would actually have preferred to be home that night, doing the very English assignment that Jemina was asking about, but for some reason, she always came when called.

       “Or I can ask you,” said Jemina. “Easy enough.”

       “Why don’t you try doing your own work for a change?”

       “I can’t work right now!” Jemina plopped herself down on the floor next to Carly. “I’m too distraught.”

       “Distract yourself.”

       “I prefer to destroy myself, instead.” To prove the point, Jemina took another puff of smoke.

       “Well, if you’re really so furious, find something to take it out on,” Carly suggested. Then, removing her glasses to polish them on her shirt sleeve, she amended with, “something other than me.”

       “I wouldn’t take it out on you,” Jemina scoffed. “You’re no fun.”

       “Better to be boring than boorish,” Carly said, reperching her glasses on her nose.

       “Well, whatever. I’m going out tonight.”

       “Good idea. That way you can get grounded even longer, and I won’t have to deal with you.”

       “I can’t be grounded,” Jemina proclaimed. She rose to her feet, turned around and ran towards the balcony, taking a flying leap and landing on top of it. She managed to keep her balance perfectly.

       “Obviously not, I guess,” said Carly. “But I still think it’s a stupid idea.”

       Jemina spat out her cigarette, which had almost dwindled to nothingness, and watched it fall to the street below. “This is my parapet,” she announced. “Upon it I stand and gaze at a world that can’t keep up with me. It could be mine, if I wanted it. But I don’t. This world is too short-lived, too fickle, too earthy for me. It’s too everything. More or less. Too concerned with morality and lessons. I’m just bored with everything.”

       “Quit being dramatic,” said Carly.

       “I’m sharing my being with the world.”

       Carly stood up. “Alright,” she said. “If it’ll get you to shut up, we’ll go out. But I still think it’s a stupid idea.”

       “I cast off the weight of prudence a long time ago,” Jemina replied.

       “Yes, I can see that,” Carly said, as she watched Jemina teeter precariously on the edge.

 

       The hallway was dim and silent, save for the softness of the girls’ footsteps on the carpet. Theoretically, most people in the building were probably asleep, but that may have changed thanks to the fury with which Jemina had closed the apartment door.

       Jemina hit down on the elevator. When it dinged, she was reminded of the ringing of the bell at school, the sound of freedom. Carly was simply reminded that they were supposed to be moving stealthily.

       “Couldn’t we have slid down the banisters?” she asked when the doors had shut. “You’ll be lucky if your dad isn’t awake.”

       “My dad wouldn’t wake up if the whole building fell over,” Jemina scoffed. She hit the ground floor button, and the elevator obediently began to descend. Jemina took out her cigarettes and started lighting a new one.

       “Not in the elevator, you asshole,” Carly said. “Do you want to get caught?”

       “Oh yeah,” said Jemina, taking a drag on the fresh light. “Because I’m the only person in the entire building who smokes.”

       “No, but you probably do hold the record,” Carly muttered.

       The elevator door began to open, and once again the ding was heard. The front lobby opened up before them, ready to be conquered.

       The girls took a quick left exiting the elevator, straying from the front desk. The security guard may or may not have been awake at such a late hour, but it didn’t matter even if he was asleep—he’d surely be awakened by the sound of the heavy front doors opening.

       So instead, they took the window at the end of the first floor hallway. The ceiling was very high, and the windows were near the top, serving primarily to let light in during the day. But someone had placed the vending machines directly underneath one of them. For Jemina, it was an easy climb. She put out her cigarette on the side of the machine, scampered to the top, and then reached down to help Carly with her more awkward ascent. Her feet clanged against the side of the machine a few times.

       “Be careful,” Jemina complained. “You’re going to get us caught.” She started to push up on the window, but it didn’t want to budge. “Hey,” she said. “This worked last time.”

       “Maybe somebody figured out that you use it to escape.”

       “They’re not that smart around here.” Jemina gave the window a vigorous shove, and it jerked upward, producing a noise not unlike squealing tires.

       “Oh, yeah,” Carly whispered, rolling her eyes. “I’m going to get us caught.”

       “Shut up,” said Jemina, and she turned around and started to descend backwards through the window.

       “Aren’t you going to even look and see if anyone’s outside first?” said Carly.

       “Apparently not,” said Jemina, whose butt was already hanging out the window. She dropped somewhat awkwardly, landing on the very same butt.

       “Graceful,” said Carly.

       “Come on, get down here!” Jemina called, a little too loudly.

       “Alright, alright,” Carly muttered, turning around and preparing to descend the same way. She managed to land on her feet.

       Once they were out the window, so was stealth. “Ah, that’s much better,” said Jemina, starting to stroll briskly along the sidewalk. “I belong out among my people, not cramped up in some hellhole.”

       “Whole hell of a lot of good it’s going to do you at this hour,” Carly said. “Nothing’s even open.”

       “Nothing except a window of opportunity.”

       As they neared the corner, Carly turned around to see a man in a leather jacket watching them from the other side of the street. She wondered if he had been observing their escape.

       “Don’t you think we’re walking rape targets out here at this hour?” she asked nervously as they crossed the street.

       “Bologna,” said Jemina. “You ask that every time. Have we been raped yet? Besides, you know that if some fat ugly rapist comes along and tries to kidnap us, I’m going to make him sorry.”

       “Yes, I know,” said Carly. She rolled her eyes. “You’ll kick him in the junk.”

       “You catch on quickly.” Jemina lit up a cigarette. “We’re both quick learners. You learn things, and I learn people. I learn ‘em good.”

       “It’s a shame you don’t understand them as well.”

       “Let’s go to my palace.”

Carly sighed. “Whatever you say, my queen.”

      

       Jemina’s palace, the Stop ‘n’ Shop, was open all night. It had everything a pair of late-night wanderers could possibly need: light, food, coffee, cigarettes, payphones, and a roof to climb on. It even had a tall metal railing that ran along the end of the parking lot, to divide it from the store’s walkway. Jemina considered this the parapet.

       Jemina walked in by pushing both swinging doors open simultaneously. Carly sauntered in after her.

       There were a couple of guys already in the store. They looked like college students, and seemed to be stocking up on energy drinks. They kept looking over at the girls as they browsed the aisles.

       Jemina went straight up to the counter. “Evening, sir,” she said.

       The fellow who manned the register at this hour was an Indian who hardly spoke any English and always sold cigarettes to minors. He grinned at her, and pulled down a pack of cigarettes. He knew her brand.

       Carly, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, came up behind Jemina as she was paying. “Those guys are staring at you,” she said.

       “I think they’re staring at you,” Jemina said, much too loudly, as she took her change.

       Carly rolled her eyes and handed the Indian guy some money. “Keep it,” she said, and she and Jemina started to head outside.

       “What do you suppose his name is?” Jemina asked as they emerged onto the street again.

       “Who?”

       “Indian guy.”

       “Jeremy.”

       “That’s not very Indian-sounding.”

       “Alright, his name is Brahman then. I don’t know.”

       Jemina started to giggle.

       “What?” asked Carly.

       “He’s a bra man,” said Jemina, and then she giggled again, snorting a little bit.

       “You’re incredibly juvenile.”

       “You are correct,” said Jemina. “I am what results when you combine a Jew, a van, and the Nile.”

       “Oh, not now,” Carly murmured. She leaned back against railing that ran along the walkway in front of the building, and took a despairing sip of coffee. “How old are you?”

       “No, I am not Hawold. As we’ve alweady discussed, I’m a Jew, a van, and the Niwe.”

       Carly did not respond. Jemina lit up a cigarette.

       The doors opened, and the two college-looking guys emerged. “Hello, gentlemen,” said Jemina.

       “Hey,” said one of the guys.

       “What’s up,” said the other one.

       “My cohort here is being a whiney bitch,” said Jemina, blowing a cloud of smoke in Carly’s direction. “Would you please explain to her how rude that is?”

       “You’re such an asshole,” said Carly.

       “Why are you being a bitch?” asked one of the guys. The other had started to head for their car.

       “I am not the one who snuck out of her apartment while she was grounded, dragged her friend along, and proceeded to make ridiculous puns,” said Carly.

       “I can’t be grounded,” Jemina said, and she took a running leap onto the top of the railing, landing the maneuver perfectly.

       The guy just looked at her like she was kind of weird, then shrugged. “So do you guys wanna come to a party?” he asked.

       Jemina started laughing.

       “Uh, okay, I guess not,” said the guy. The other college-looking guy rolled down the window of his car and started shouting. “Hey Mark! Stop trying to pick up teenage hookers! I wanna go home!”

       “What?” Jemina cried. With surprising fluidity, she turned on her perch to face the car. Her jaw had fallen open, leaving her cigarette to fall anchorlessly to the ground. Carly just snickered.

       “Hey, come on man,” Mark shouted back.

       Jemina leapt off the railing and began stomping over to the car. The guy inside stared her down as she approached, as though daring her to come any closer.

       “What the hell did you just call us?” she asked.

       “Couple of teenage hookers,” said the guy.

       “Who the hell do you think you are?”

       The guy shrugged. “Two teenage girls walking around in schoolgirl uniforms at three A.M.,” he said. “Screams hooker to me.”

       “Would you care to take that back before I learn you?”

       “Before you what?”

       “Learn you, asshole. If you were up to a fourth grader’s literacy level you’d understand me when I use perfectly good English.”

       “That’s not correct English,” Carly shouted.

       “Whose side are you on, anyway?” Jemina shot back.

       The guy laughed. “The hell are you gonna do about it, anyway? Give me a higher rate?”

       Mark had come over to the car. “Hey, take it easy man,” he said. Then he turned to Jemina. “Forget him, alright? We’re gonna take off. Have a good night.”

       “I appreciate your attempt to diffuse the situation,” Jemina said, “but I’m afraid it’s far too little and far too late.” She reached through the open window of the car, and, faster than even Carly would have expected, unlocked the door, opened it with her other hand, and let loose with a tremendous roundhouse kick that found its mark perfectly on the top of the college guy’s nose. Drops of blood splashed on his shirt, the dashboard, and Jemina’s sneaker.

       “Oh, you fucking bitch,” the guy said, starting to get out of the car, holding his bloodied nose. He was wobbly, obviously not having regained his composure. Jemina kicked him in the junk. He let out a sound one might expect to hear from a dying weasel, and crumpled to the pavement. He was a sight to behold, lying in the fetal position, moaning softly, one hand clutching his wounded manhood and the other his bleeding nose. Mark, meanwhile, was staring at his fallen companion in abject horror.

       “Sorry to have had to do that,” Jemina said to him. “But he really was asking for it.”

       “Please don’t hurt me,” said Mark.

       Jemina laughed, and turned around, heading back to where Carly was still leaning on the railing.

       “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” said Carly.

       “Why do anything with me?”

       Carly snorted. “An excellent question.” Then she turned and looked back at the wreckage that Jemina had left in her wake. Both men seemed incapable of movement, one in the greatest pain of his life, and the other in morbid fascination.

       Jemina just lit up a fresh cigarette.