She is Not Made of Roses

three: let's sit in the zen garden and work on your chakras

Ella raises an inquiring brow, “How recently is recently?” She asks.

Raj looks at her palely, “Within the last month.”

“Month?” Evan asks incredulously. “From who?”

Raj speaks up, “Well, Evan, I believe it would be from ‘whom’ – but to answer your question, it’s been mostly a mixture of that gross bronie club and the really long feminist one that I don’t care to remember.”

 “You mean the two ones that we cut last meeting?” Peter reminds him. “We don’t have to worry about that any more. We’ll just keep a tight budget and save whatever we can for the end of the year festivities.”

“Sounds good,” Raj agrees, sitting back down.

And the moment they all settle back in, a loud knocking comes from the door. Evan stops writing and looks up, peering through the window screen. “Who is that?” He asks, incredulous.

“Let them in,” Ella says sweetly, and Evan complies. He stands up, walks across the room in the dead silence, and opens the door. In its wake, Rosie stands, arms crossed, her trademark scowl set in place.  

Peter stands up, alarmed to see her, “R-Rosie,” he says, taken aback. “Why are you here? Is there a problem?”

“Yes, we have a problem,” Rosie says starkly, marching in. “You got rid of my club.”

Peter’s eyes widen. He’d been afraid before and thought there was an issue with her payment, but now a sudden wave of relief washed over him and he took a breath. “Oh! Oh, that’s it?”

Rosie looks like she could kill a man. She might. “That’s it?” She snarls, about to take a march forward until she remembers herself and tries her best to keep her composure. She thinks of Aurora and the rest of the club, sitting in the back of the dimly lit library, calling her out for being an angry ball of rage. She takes a deep breath and counts to three.

“I told her she could come,” Raj says suddenly, his voice a whisper. All eyes shift to him, wide, but before any of them can act on their surprise, Rosie’s already spoken.

“I’d like to make an appeal,” she remarks, holding herself upright.

They all look at her in disarray. “An appeal?” Evan scoffs aloud. “This ain’t a democracy.”

In a split second, before Rosie can speak, Ella Hall stands up and looks at him, fire in her eyes. “Actually, Evan, this is Senior Class Council, so yes, we are a democracy,” she spits.

He pauses before he shakes his head, “Well, we may be”—he points at Rosie—“But she isn’t.”

Rosie’s about to spring, forsaking her promise to Aurora and the others, because she’s not going to take one more word from this sack of shit and she shouldn’t have to. But again, someone beats her to it, and this time the person is Raj, appearing all at once at her side. “She’s a senior, she gets a say,” he barks at him, shooing him off. “Sit down, Ethan, you’re keeping us all here longer than we want to.”

Evan recoils, horrified. “My name is Evan—”

Raj rolls his eyes, “Evan, Ethan, you’re a prick either way”—he gestures for Rosie to go on—“anyway, why don’t you finish?”

Rosie smirks, nodding and him before she continues. “What I was saying is that it’s not right for you to just…cut our club.”

Ella looks at her kindly, like a mother might look at their child. “What are you proposing?”