Jump A Little Lighter: Chapter 1

She walks onto the screen with a bambi-stride. She hugs The Host, leaning in because she is a head taller than him in her heels, before she turns to the audience to give them a wave and a grin. The grin is genuine, she is happy to see them, but The Host knows she is there to court him and not them, so he begins. The beginning is to ask her benign questions with far too much enthusiasm: “2018 has been quite the year, am I right?!”

It’s dropping cold this week. We’re starting to see the onset of winter in Lincoln, but it’s not yet time to go get my big coat from my mom’s house. Still, I’m grateful for whoever left a throw in the TV lounge, and I wrap myself in it like a cocoon. I’m the only person here right now and I closed the door so it seems less inviting to anybody who’s just passing by. This is my show; I’ve known about it for weeks and I’m hoping I won’t have to fight anybody who wants to put the Saints game on. I wouldn’t know what to say.

She takes my breath away in that cami – more tanned than she was, and skinnier – and with her hair pulled back I’m worried she’ll be cold if the studio is heavily air-conditioned. Her silk pants look comfy, at least – then I catch myself. Why am I worried about the relative comfort of a rich and famous woman, a thousand miles away? “What’s the weather like in New York,” I’m tapping into my phone. Warmer than here is the answer. I imagine her thinking about me. I wonder what she might wonder.

She knows how innocent, how coquettish her expression is. She knows that her slight frame looks skinnier on a high chair and that by tomorrow there will be videos online telling kids all over America, all over the world, how to do her hair. Her makeup. Singing her song. That’s the thought that makes her smile. She smiles wide as an ad for dental bleach and talks about banalities: how is the tour, how about this award she is nominated for, how has the community reacted to it all?

These are good questions, and I would like to know the answers too.

Chapter 1: May 2017

“What up, homie!” Rosie slammed her lunch tray down in the seat next to mine, looked over her shoulder and smiled. “You’re coming to Lincoln with us tonight, right?”

I looked behind us and found Brett Filmore waving at us from the lunch line. “Are you just asking him because he has his own car?” I asked, fishing a grape out of the bottom of a fruit cup.

“No!” she smiled at him again. “He has nice hair. Ay, Britney, don’t look at me like that!”

Britney was, indeed, giving her a touch of stank eye. “Grace, tell Ms Headline Act over there that she can’t take a decent boy out of the dating pool just because she wants a ride.”

“If this is a date why is she still taking me?”

Rosie added nothing, just poked a knife into her tacos with all the zeal of a fully-suited lawyer visiting the coroner about a particularly old corpse.

“I’ve seen your parents, girl – don’t think I don’t know the game you’re playing. If one of his sporty friends doesn’t ask me out to prom you’d better hide yourself.”

“So, why are we going to Lincoln?” Brett said, putting his tray down and waving across the room to Scott Sinclair. Rosie didn’t even look up. “We’re going to a gig on the UNL campus.”

“It doesn’t finish too late, does it?” I asked. “I’m on reduced curfew because it’s test season soon and it’ll take forever to get back.”

“Don’t worry, hermana, I’m only the support act.” She stopped playing with her food and looked up at us. “What kind of deranged chef would put fish sticks in a taco? It doesn’t even have mayo.”

Brett looked mournfully at the leftovers of my mom’s sandwiches. “You are so lucky you bring your own lunch.”

***

“Don’t tell her we’re going to the college campus!” I had in one ear.

“You’re going to be able to quiz with Rosie on the way there, aren’t ya hon?” I had in the other. Flapping my hand to wave Rosie away I assured my mom that not only would I be able to quiz with Rosie AND Brett, we would be attending the college library at the other end.

“It will impress more on my applications if I’ve been dedicated enough to seek out bigger libraries!”

“As long as you’re home before 10:30 I can’t stop you. Remember that Rosie’s welcome to stay over but she’s gotta let me know so I can call her folks.”

“Yes, mom.”

“And make sure Brett sees you into the front door before he drives off.”

“Yes, old lady.”

“Excuse me!”

“Yes, mom.”

I could hear her smiling as she hung up too  – my mom has always been a sucker for self-deprecating humour, however corny – and Rosie looked at me accusatorily. “I’m not lying to my mom about where we are, Rosie.”

“It’s funny because you kind of just did.”

Sometimes it’s better to ignore her. “She said you can stay over but let her know so she can call your folks.” “I’ll call them later – my mom’s at work now and I told Bobby I’d be out for dinnertime.”

“Are you dating Brett now?”

Rosie shrugged, and waved at the silver Jeep rolling towards us. “If tonight goes well I might be going out quite often, and it wouldn’t hurt either of us to pretend.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I asked him because he needs to hide that he’s gay from the baseball team.” That made me look up at the guy behind the steering wheel, and decide I probably did need to get out more, as nothing about him read that way to me.

“You’re a lizard, Rosie. A cold-blooded komodo dragon sunning yourself on the roof of his car.”

She just rolled her eyes, and started picking up her guitar case. “If I were a lizard I would have better nails,” she said, and gave her full attention to her baggage.

“Welcome to the sweet-riding, curfew-extending mother-loving peace machine!” called Brett, with his shades on and his arm over the window. I rolled my eyes and made sure he could see me do it.

“Just pop the boot, fucker,” said Rosie. I left her the backseat and climbed in up front. “Nice ride,” I said, clipping in my seatbelt. “What did your parents feel guilty for?” Brett smirked, checked to see that Rosalita had her seatbelt on, and slid it into drive. “Same thing they all do. Ya’ll can pick the station if you want.”

I decided riding with Brett wasn’t so bad, as he let me find a pop station. Rosie had done a pretty good job of choosing who to swap secrets with if he had a sense of humour and would sing with us in the car.

PLAYLIST OF SONGS

• [Miley Cyrus, Malibu]
• [Imagine Dragons, Believer]
• [Adele, Hello]