We were deep into a drawing exercise on three-dimensionality when Rosie casually moseyed by and dropped a folded note on my sketchpad. It bounced and landed on the table between Claire and me. He reached for it, but I got there first. Opened it in my lap. “My mom's catering the KBTO Battle of the Bands on Saturday night," it read.

“She said sheʼd pay you fifteen dollars an hour if you helped. My way of making up to you for missing work. We get into the concert for free, too. lt'll just be the two of us. Wanna?"

Her handwriting was small, cramped, tiny little letters. l scribbled my response underneath, then got up and delivered it. l hadn’t made it back to my seat before she burst into laughter. “Only it you can keep your hands off me," l'd written.

***

Saturday couldn't get here fast enough. l put Kai off by telling him l had my period. That always grossed him out. l knew l had to break it off, and l would, when the time was right. When l could manufacture the words. So far I'd assembled, “Guess what, Kai. I met someone I’d rather be with. Oh, here’s the good part. She’s a girl."

God. I could never do that to him.

Rosie said to come to her house around four so I could help load and set up.

“What kind of concert?" Mom asked as I was getting ready to leave. She'd invited herself in after changing the towels in my bathroom.

"A rock concert, I think. It's a battle of the bands."

“You're going with Kai?"

I ran a brush through my hair, wishing it was longer so I could do something interesting with it. Curl it, braid it, something. “No. Rosie."

“Where did you pick up this Rosie?"

My head raised to meet Mom’s eyes. Her tone of voice annoyed me. "You make her sound like a disease."

Mom lifted a college catalog off my dresser and flipped through it. “What do you see in this girl?"

If she only knew. “She’s cool. I like her."

Mom set the catalog down and said, "I don’t really want you hanging out with people like her. After tonight, tell her to look elsewhere for friends."

My jaw unhinged.

Mom added, "And be home by eleven."

Since when did I have a curfew? And since when did my mother choose my friends? I waited until I heard her footsteps on the stairs, then murmured, "Go to hell," and flipped her the bird.

***

Rosie's house was a couple of blocks from Seoul Central, a remodeled Victorian, two stories, with a glassed-in front porch. Homey. I rang the bell, and a kid, six or seven, charged out the door.

“Hi." I smiled a greeting. She had Rosie’s cute nose. “Is Rosie here? I’m helping with the catering."

“Mo-om!” she bellowed over her shoulder through the open front door. Then disappeared inside.

l caught the storm door before it swung shut, and let myself in. The aroma hit me first — Mexican food. My stomach growled. l’d been too jittery all day to eat. Too nervous, psyched. Rosie rushed out from a rear hallway, lugging an armload of linens – tablecloths and napkins. "Jennie." She stopped dead. “Hi." Her eyes narrowed at her sister, already zoned in front of the TV. “Erica, you turd." She shook her head at me. “She has no manners. Come on in. My mom’s in the kitchen."

I trailed her through a set of arched doorways. The spicy smell was stronger in the kitchen and my mouth watered. “Mom, this is Jennie."

Rosie’s morn straightened in front of the oven, daubing sweat off her forehead with an oven mitt. “Hi, Jennie." She smiled at me. "Thanks for helping."

"Thanks for paying me so much,” l said. “That’s really generous."

Rosie’s mom slit eyes at her. “How generous am I?"

Oh, God. Rosie –

Rosie said quickly, "You can give her my share. We'll finish loading stuff in the van. Grab that box, Jennie." She indicated with her elbow.

As I passed Rosie’s mom, she looked at me, examined me.

Made me feel like an amoeba under a microscope. What else had Rosie told her?

A van was parked in the circular driveway out back. On the side it read, “Claire's Clairering.” Rosie balanced her load on her knee and rolled open the panel door. We hauled in five or six long tables, then linens, dishes, silverware, cups, trays. Finally Claire – I assumed Rosie's mom was Claire – handed us the last metal vat of enchiladas and consulted a checklist. “Go wake up your sister," she told Rosie. "Make sure she knows what time it is. Tell her we’re leaving now."

Rosie disappeared before I could move. Leaving me alone with her mother. "You don't have to pay me,” I said, fanning the flaps of my jean jacket, since I was sweating like a pig now. "I don’t mind helping."

“How much did she tell you?" Claire asked, not glancing up from her list.

I gulped. “Fifteen an hour."

Her head rose slowly. “That girl." One side of her lip cricked up, the way Rosie’s does. Then her expression darkened and she said, “Be careful with her."

What did she mean by that? “I will,” I said automatically.

A man emerged from the garage, scraping a length of copper tubing with sandpaper. "You have everything loaded already?" he asked.

“Your timing is perfect — as usual." Claire exaggerated a grin at him. “The girls helped." She reached around me and yanked the panel door shut.

I extended a hand to the man and said, "Hi, I’m Jennie Kim."

"Jennie?" He shook my hand. "Like the country?"

"Yeah, windmills and tulips."

He chuckled. He had a warm smile that extended to his eyes. "You girls have fun."

“You know it," Claire said. They kissed, then he opened the car door for her. Rosie slammed through the storm door, baseball cap on and a blanket folded over her arm with a sweatshirt on top. Claire peered out from the driver’s side window. “Do you have to wear that shirt?"

“Yes, itʼs mandatory.” Rosie sneered. It was her OUT! AND PROUD! tee.

Claire rolled her eyes at her husband. "Well, get in,” she said with a sigh, reaching over to unlock the passenger door.

Rosie said, “We'll ride in back."

Her mom’s gaze fixed on the blanket, then she shot Rosie the same look she'd gotten in the kitchen. “What?” Rosie said. "We're not going to do anything." She didn’t give her mother a chance for rebuttal before yanking open the side panel.

Rosie stepped up and motioned me inside. There was scant space, with all the food and catering supplies, but Rosie rearranged a

couple to boxes and spread the blanket. As the van pulled out, we scrambled to sit. Ended up across from each other, legs extended.

"Isn’t your sister coming?" l asked.

“My sister? Oh, you mean Alice? No, they’re leaving later." She must’ve seen the confusion on my face. She's going with her band. They’re competing."

“Really? You didn't tell me that."

“Don’t get excited. You haven’t seen them play.” She smiled a little. Then looked at me and kept looking.

My stomach was doing acrobat aerobics. “So, um,” l shifted so that our legs weren't so close, so that l could speak. "l guess your parents know about you?"

“Oh, yeah,” she answered.

"How do they handle it?"

She shrugged. “My dad's pretty cool. My mom…" She averted her eyes. Smoothed the blanket beside her. “She doesn't like it, but what can she do? My sister's a lesbian, too, so it’s kind of a double whammy."

Whoa. “l guess so. Wow. When did you, um, come out?"

She fixed on me again. “To my family? About two years ago, I guess. My sister didn’t come out until after i did. But they already knew. They had to; they just didn't want to believe it. Denial runs deep."

"Where is your sister?"

“New York. She's older than me, twenty-three." Rosie blew out a puff of air. "lt was easy for her. All she did was email Mom back and say, 'Oh, Rosie’s out? Well, guess what? l’m queer, too.’" Rosie flapped a limp wrist. Made me laugh.

“So do you bring your girlfriends home?"

She frowned. "Why do you want to know that?"

My face fried. "l just…" Why did l? Because l had to know. "Have you brought Wendy home to meet your parents?"

“Wendy?” Rosie frowned a little. "No. Why?" She tilted her head at me. “Should I?"

My brain splintered. I felt dizzy, discombobulated. Out of my realm. Swallowing hard, l asked, “Aren't you… dating her?"

“Wendy? Hell, no. ls that what you thought?"

"Well, yeah."

“No. We're just friends. She'd like to be more…” Rosie adjusted her cap, pulling it lower over her eyes.

“But you’re not interested?" I ventured. I hope so.

Rosie said, “She’s not my type."

“What is your type?"

She peered out from under the bill of her cap. “Well, let's see…" Rosie eyed me up and down. I could barely breathe. Please, I prayed, do it. Touch me. Just once. That's all it would take.

She held my eyes for a moment and exhaled a shallow breath. “I like 'em hungry. Are you hungry, because I’m starving." She scrabbled to her feet. “I didnʼt eat all day."

I pushed to my feet feeling frustrated, let down. Rosie dug out a couple of forks and we ate enchiladas directly from the pan. We filled the space between us with “mmms" and "yums."

The catered dinner was being hosted by the radio station for the DJs and their guests. We set up the buffet tables backstage in the auditorium and promptly started serving. The equipment crews needed the space, so we had to hurry. I followed Rosie’s lead, setting out and restocking metal trays, lighting sterno fires, cleaning up spilled food. What a bunch of slobs. It was the hardest physical labor I’d ever done, aside from swimming. At least in swimming you don’t sweat.

By the time we’d restacked all the tables and reloaded the van, the battle of the bands had begun. Claire said, "Listen, I have a migraine. Iʼd like to stay and hear Alice, but I canʼt. You two want to stay, I presume."

Rosie nodded and looked at me. I confirmed.

“If Alice can’t give you a ride home, call your dad.” Claire kissed Rosie. She touched my arm and said, “Thanks so much, Jennie. I'll get a check from you as soon as they pay me. Oh, and Rosie,"she aimed a stiff finger at her, “you know the house rules."

Rosie stuck out her tongue at her mom’s back. As the van pulled away, I asked, “What are the house rules?"

She stared down the road. “Stupid. Come on, let's go hear the music."

We snuck into the wings where one band, DVOX, was just starting their set. The group was two guys and two girls, and it was immediately apparent who the musicians were. The guys sort of faked guitar playing, and not too convincingly. The girl drummer was amazing. As if reading each other’s minds, Rosie and I began to dance.

I’d forgotten how much I loved to dance. The only time I ever got to dance was at homecoming or prom. And even then only with my girl friends because Kai didn’t dance.

Rosie jigged around me, rocking out, and my exhaustion evaporated. The walls dissolved and everything around us, between us, disappeared. It was just her and me. In our own place, our own time, our own little bubble. Nothing could penetrate it, no one could intrude. The set went on for like twenty minutes – one song – and by the time it ended we were both breathing hard. When a new group walked on stage, Rosie groaned, "Oh, no. Are they next?"

It must've been her sister's band. “What are they called?” I asked her, watching them plug in amps and do a sound check.

“Pus," she replied.

I looked at her. "You're joking."

Her expression didn't change. They were introduced as – Pus – and the first chord they struck, if you could call it a chord, made me cringe. Rosie pointed out her sister, Alice, who was the lead vocal. “She’s good,” I had to yell for Rosie to hear.

She said in my ear, “She sucks. They all suck. They are pus."

I laughed. She smiled. “Come on." She motioned me away from the curtain. “I need some air."

The fire escape door was propped open with a chair. We wandered out behind the building, where a couple of stage hands were smoking. They ground their butts into the gravel and sauntered back in.

Rosie leaned up against the brick wall, one sole of her shoe against it to balance herself. Her head lolled back and she closed her eyes. l leaned beside her.

Then it happened. That electric current surged between us, through me, and tugged at my core. The pull was so fierce, I couldn't fight it. Didnʼt want to. She was close, so close, her head right next to mine. I could hear her breathing, feel her heart beating. The outside air was cold, but that’s not what was making me tremble.

“Rosie." My voice sounded whispery.

“Hmm?"

I turned to face her, jamming my shoulder into the brick. “I want —" I stopped. Couldn't say it. Couldn’t take the step.

She twisted her head and opened her eyes. “What Jennie? What do you want?"

I was shaking so hard. Do it. Do it now. “I want to kiss you."

She dropped her foot, straightened up fast, and turned to me. “I wouldn't stop you." She wet her lips.

I closed my eyes. Opened them, reached out, and removed her hat. Slid it down her back. With my other hand, I threaded any fingers through her hair. It was all happening in slow motion. My hand caressing her head, pulling her close to me…

I did it.

Oh, God. Her lips were soft. She was warm, hot. I wanted all of her. I was falling, falling, with nowhere to land. I had to step away.

She stood frozen, head tilted back, eyes closed. A rush of visible air escaped from her lips, as if she'd been holding her breath, same as me. Then she seemed to deflate.

She hated it. I did it wrong. "Rosie?” My throat felt scratchy. I panicked; tried to restart my heart. “Say something."

Her eyes opened. She shook her head slowly and said, “God, Jennie. What took you so long?"