A Blue Day: Rose

"My God. The dead has arisen," I say when Ang wakes.

She quints her tired eyes. "Harpo, who dis woman?" She stretches. "What time is it?"

"Time for church."

Our church was built eighty years ago by people who have long passed, and their children and grandchildren make sure we don't forget it. Normally, we stay for two hours singing praise and worship music, praying, and hearing The Word. Service is a little different today, because it's our Pastor's anniversary.

Today's the day we show our appreciation for him, but any other day he refuses and insists on not needing anything special. I framed a picture that I took when he was playing football with the youth. He's mid laugh, being tackled by three kids. I feel this best shows his love for the community.

"This is a wonderful gift!" He raises the unwrapped present, showcasing it to the congregation. "Isn't she talented? Our very own photographer!"

They clap in agreement. I blush on my way down the aisle. I don't handle the spotlight well. Ang and my grandma give me encouraging smiles when I take my seat. I wring the bottom of my dress until I'm sure no one is looking at me.

In the book of Mark, we read the story of how Jesus was on the way to heal Jairus' daughter, when a woman with blood issues touched His robe. She was immediately healed and He afterwards brought back Jairus' daughter to life. The message is that when we reach out and call on Him, He'll never be too busy for us. The sermon seems to move Angie today. She's not one to usually cry in church, but I catch her wiping away tears. I don't bring it up.

I change clothes when we get home. Angie calls a friend to pick her up once my grandma falls asleep. I call Matt and catch a ride over to Penny's house, figuring that this way she'll just assume Ang and I are together. Besides, we promised Penny that we'd be her little helpers.

"I know how to paint, Miss get the London look," Matt says.

I run my tongue over my front teeth. "My gap is sassy."

"We know, and it gives you personality."

I splatter paint on his shirt, and he returns the favor.

"Grow up!" Penny says. "This has to be finished today, so I'd appreciate it if you'd-"

A fling from Matt's brush shuts her up.

She examines the mess of baby blue paint. "You're so dead."

He tries for the door, but gets hit with a cup full. I'm hit with one too for laughing. I gasp at the betrayal, and paint a line down her side with the roller. The color blue splashes around the room.

We call a truce. I don't know how we had so much energy as kids. We used to run around like that for hours.

The plastic beneath our feet is covered, but thankfully the walls didn't get much of the crossfire. We get back to work with some motivational tunes, and after three dedicated hours we finish the room. My arms are sore from rolling, and I don't think I'll ever wear baby blue again.

"What happened to you three?" Penny's parents ask when they get home.

We're sitting on the living room floor with a half empty box of pizza that Matt ordered.

"We finished the room!" Penny says.

"Oh." Her mom does her best to overlook our blue forms.

She's a forty year old version of Penny, minus the dimples. She gets those from her dad.

"Thank you for helping, we appreciate you guys," her dad says.

"Happy to help, Mr. Davidson." Matt throws up a greasy thumb.

"Next time dinner is on us," her mom says, rubbing her protruding belly.

They say goodnight, and leave us to our pizza.

"I have some news." Penny bashfully tucks away a curl. "I've got a date this Tuesday. I haven't been on one since sophomore year."

"Is it that guy from the bonfire?" I ask. "What's his name?"

"Aaron, but he goes by A.J."

Matt drops his eyes. It's hard to read him.

"I tell myself that it's no big deal, but I get butterflies just thinking about it."

"Don't. He's the one who should be nervous. He's got a date with Penny Davidson." His words are supportive, but empty.

"Thanks, Matt." She smiles softly.

I agree to help her get ready for her date, and then we switch the topic. There's only two people in the conversation now.

Godfather II plays. He's quiet, staring off into space. His eyes never stay on the screen longer than a minute. You normally can't pay the guy to shut up during action scenes. She notices and pulls herself out of the mafia mayhem that she too loves.

"You tired?"

He shakes his head, picking up our trash. "No. I've just seen this movie a few times, and it always ends badly."

"Well, don't ruin it for me."

"I think you already know how it'll end." He throws the plates away.

She watches him. "You picked the movie, remember? You can change it if you want?"

"There's always Pretty in Pink," I say, trying to ease the tension.

His stands off to the side. "And watch Duckie get friend zoned again? That gets old."

He's not talking about movies anymore.

"Well, what do you want to watch?" She stands right under him.

Their eyes are intense, both refusing to back down.

"You wouldn't like the movie that I want to see."

"What? How would you know if you haven't asked me?" Her painted fists are clenched at her sides.

They whip around when I clear my throat. I point to the screen timidly.

"Movie's over."

Their blue chests rise and fall with heavy breaths.

He looks away, nodding to the door. "Come on, I'll take you home." He's out of the house before I can grab my stuff.

"I'll see you later, Rose," she says, mumbling.

"I'll see you Tuesday."

She trudges up the stairs, blue inside and out.