Always Something There to Remind Me Read Free Page B

Camilla—who was also fifteen—was a thousand times more mature than Roxanne.
    “All right, so pink M&Ms with your picture on them,” I said, trying to rein this conversation back in. “Do you want them to say anything on the other side? Roxanne Amber Tacelli 16 , or maybe something more personal to you?”
    Roxanne wrinkled her fake nose. “Isn’t that, like, your job?”
    “Isn’t what my job?”
    “Thinking of that kind of thing. I don’t know what they should say on them! You think of that!”
    I smiled. “You might not like what I come up with.” My phone rang and I looked at it.
    There was a text from Camilla: Can I go to a concert at Verizon Center with Lela tonight?
    “Excuse me a minute,” I said to Roxanne, and texted back. No way. Last time you went out with Lela I had to pick you guys up and she puked tequila all over the car. Not an ideal influence. I returned my attention to Roxanne. “So what were you saying?”
    “Just make a list of suggestions.” She gave an airy wave toward my notepad.
    I had a few already.
    “What else do you want, honey?” her father asked, speaking for the first time in about forty-five minutes (the last time being when he asked how much to write the deposit check for, after which he had then, without flinching, written it).
    “Horses.”
    “ Horses? ” I echoed.
    She nodded. “I want pure white horses at the party. Just, you know, standing around. Decoratively.”
    “That’s not possible—” I began.
    “Wonderful idea, honey!” her mother exclaimed, like she’d just disproven one of Einstein’s theories.
    This was ridiculous. “But the party is in the water park.” One of the big draws of the resort is that it has a large indoor water park, themed like a huge, sprawling shipwreck. It’s Gilligan’s Island on steroids. And the entire thing is constructed from painted cement, plastic trees, and corridors of chlorinated water, churning through the fake foliage and down elaborate, and sometimes hidden, slides.
    I couldn’t even imagine putting horses in that environment. It would be dangerous for absolutely everyone involved. Especially the horses. Why couldn’t everyone here see that?
    “Surely you could make it work,” Roxanne’s father blustered, and I could sense he was ready to pay to make it work, even though it was patently impossible.
    “What about…” I thought quickly, trying to come up with something even more fun than horses. Something, perhaps, not actually alive . “Balloons?” If my daughter were just a little older I might have been better at coming up with age-appropriate suggestions, but nevertheless I was certain Roxanne, like every kid, could be distracted from anything as long as you presented another, shinier thing.
    That wasn’t going to do it, though.
    Roxanne looked at me like … well, like I’d just suggested balloons. Let’s face it, I wasn’t exactly an ace at thinking quick.
    “I want horses!” she cried, and turned her suddenly tearful eyes to her father.
    I want an Oompa Loompa NOW, Daddy!
    “Then you will have them,” her father said, patting her arm awkwardly.
    “And…” She bit her thumb, thinking—I was sure—of new ways to torture me. “I want to arrive in a helicopter.”
    I sighed. “Again, not compatible with the indoor pool idea.”
    “Take the roof off!” she cried.
    “You know that’s not possible, right?” I looked at her father. A man with that much money had to have at least a little sense about that kind of thing.
    “What would it take to remove the enclosure and put it back after the party?” he asked, his hand jerking reflexively toward his checkbook.
    I gaped at him in stunned silence for a fraction of a second before saying, “You saw the pool area, right? Enclosed or not enclosed, and it is enclosed, there’s no way to land a helicopter in there.” I imagine they pictured it teetering atop the volcano slide or maybe hovering over the whole works while Roxanne slid,