12.3b

Rosalyn and I didn't often go to parks, but when we did, it was an event.

In our senior year of high school, we went to a local park near Ros's house and set up our tents and camped there until a policeman came to kick us out. When the poor man saw that we weren't hardened hobos, and were instead impressionable young girls, he basically shut down. We offered him a can of our cherry pie filling, heated on our fire. P.S. if you ever want a delicacy, hang out in a tent for a three-day weekend and then take the top off a can of cherry pie filling and stuff the butt of that thing in the coals of a dying fire. I mean, minutes later, the can is too hot to touch with bare hands and the cherries inside are the best thing any human has ever tasted and you can take my word for that.
After Ros's last final, she got back to the room, threw her books at the bed, and said "I'm in the mood for a park. You?"

We gathered our supplies and went to the mall because the park was too cold. In the mall, there was an atrium with trees in it, where the soft winter light filtered through the sad green of the tree leaves a world away above our heads. We sat down with our armloads of bags underneath the largest tree in the place. My mother always said to not be afraid to spend money on the things I find important, so Ros and I had spent more than a hundred dollars on craft materials (Popsicle sticks, glue, sparkles, paper, colored pencils, crayons, foam shapes, pipe cleaners, and beads. We devastated the craft aisle of a major department store.
We started building posters (mine had a cat on it who wore top hats for a living).

Ten minutes later, our ploy worked. A teensy girl walked by, holding her mother's hand, and made noises so high and so happy I swear my ears died. She struggled out of her mother's grasp and turbowalked straight to us. She landed somewhere in the bead bags and started sorting through the bags to find the fancy sparkle bag. The mother looked mortified. "Susan! Susan, come back here. These nice ladies don't want their crafts disturbed."
That was my cue. "Actucally, we don't mind. My name's Cath, and this is Ros."
"Hi." This, from Ros, who was fastidiously assembling a portrait of her favorite rockstar, replete with besequined suit.
"We brought our crafts to the mall because it's boring to be alone with a glue stick." I had been practicing this line all morning. I thought it was rather clever.
The mother looked defeated. "Susan, what do you say to these ladies?"
"My name's Susan. I'm this old." Four fat fingers flew up. I'm pretty sure she doubled her age on accident.
"The other, Susan."
"Thank you."
The mother sighed like she was tired from living through all the years of all of time. "Say please."
"Ok." At this point, I was ready to laugh right out loud. I didn't. Susan turned her big, round eyes on me and said "Pleeeeeeese?"
"Of course, Susan. Here, take this pipe cleaner for your beads."

Susan opened the floodgates. Soon, we had a dozen kids rolling through our Popsicle sticks and sparkle glue. A set of twins was collaborating on a picture of their house. A boy had made a dinosaur of pipe cleaners. A baby had turned a huge pile of paper into a mess of squiggles that his older sister was folding into swans.

Two security officers came to make sure nobody walked over the kids. Parents filled the benches of the atrium, happy for the test from running between stores. We stopped crafting and just watched.

It was a good parking, I thought.

Of course, malls being what they are, and my luck being what it is, Marco saw us. He walked in and sat down next to me and didn't say much of anything for a solid hour. Ros and I looked and said nothing at each other forty seven times. I didn't actually count. Marco made a cathedral from popsicle sticks and glue. When he stood up, he had a piece of construction paper stuck to his butt. I didn't laugh.

"Thanks," he said. "Weird thing you're doing. I like it. See ya on Friday."

Of course, I tried to be silent, but Rosalyn poked me in the ribs.
"Cath? What's this?"
"Oh, Ros, I think it's nothing but it might not be nothing, so I didn't want to tell you about it in case it was nothing, so Marco and I met up after my final on Tuesday and he asked me on a date, and--"
"What about the skin? Did you do what I said?"
"I did! I said I can't date boys I don't know but he said we should get to know each other so we're sharing autobiographies on Friday." I clapped my mouth shut and frowned.
Ros laughed at me. "Really? Is that it? I said only use the skin defense when a boy was asking you for sex!"
"I panicked!"
Ros shook with laughter. "So, are you gonna do it? Are you gonna write an autobiography?"
I shut up and put the finishing touches on my cat poster family.

Marco's cathedral went above my computer when I got home.