Rooster by Don Trembath Page A

Dorothy-Jane-Anne.
    â€œThe pizza sauce. It’s so hot sometimes. I don’t know. It’s messy too. When it’s cold, the toppings don’t slide around so much. They just sit there on top of the crust. It’s way easier to eat it when it’s cold. I don’t know why people eat it hot all the time. That makes no sense to me. It’s not half as good as when it’s cold.” Happy with his answer and the looks he was getting because of it, Rooster relaxed in his chair and crossed his arms.
    â€œSo you like cold pizza?” concluded Tim.
    â€œIt’s the only smart way to eat it, as far as I’m concerned,” said Rooster.
    Mrs. Yuler called for the next question. “Roseann, what would you like to know about Rooster?”
    Roseann began licking her fingers again.
    â€œOh, please don’t do that.” Mrs. Yuler shook her head. “It’s so distracting.”
    â€œI can’t help myself.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI’m nervous. Like he is.”
    â€œBut he’s not licking his fingers.”
    â€œNo. Goddamn hill. Heh, heh. That’s a funny one.”
    â€œRoseann, I thought we said no more of that kind of talk.”
    â€œHe started it.”
    â€œNo more, Roseann.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œNow get on with your question. What would you like to know about Rooster?”
    â€œI won’t say it again. I’m sorry.”
    â€œWhat’s your question, Roseann?”
    â€œUhm.” She removed her glasses and rubbed them with the fingers that had just been in her mouth. “Uhm.” She put her glasses back on. “Tell me what you know about bowling.”
    Rooster smiled to himself. This was a question he’d been hoping for.
    â€œIt’s funny you should ask me that, Roseann,” he said.
    â€œIt is?”
    â€œYes, it is.”
    â€œHow come it’s so funny?”
    â€œBecause I don’t know anything about bowling.” He had to remind himself not to look happy as he said it.
    â€œYou don’t?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œYou’ve never bowled before?”
    â€œOnce. At a birthday party. I dropped a ten-pin ball on my toe and I cried for three hours.”
    â€œThree hours?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œYou cried for three goddamn hours?”
    â€œRoseann. One more time and you’re out,” said Mrs. Yuler.
    â€œI’m sorry. I won’t say it again.”
    â€œMy toe was the size of a smokie. It was all black and blue. One of the worst days of my life and it happened at a bowling alley.”
    â€œWere your mother and father with you?” said Dorothy-Jane-Anne. She had a very compassionate way of talking. Her voice was much softer and gentler than Roseann’s.
    â€œYes, they were, actually.”
    â€œDidn’t they help you?”
    â€œYes, they did. My dad picked me up. Mom bought me a pop, I think.”
    â€œThey couldn’t stop you from crying?”
    â€œApparently not. I cried for a long time.”
    â€œHow old were you?”
    â€œI think I was about five. Maybe six.”
    â€œWhy did they let such a little boy pick up such a big ball?”
    â€œI wandered away to a different lane. They didn’t see me until it was too late.”
    â€œWeren’t they watching you?”
    â€œI was pretty sneaky.”
    â€œWere they drinking?”
    â€œOkay, Dorothy-Jane-Anne,” said Mrs. Yuler. “That’s enough. Rooster answered the question.”
    â€œNo he never.”
    â€œYes, he did. Let’s move on, please.”
    Rooster smiled in relief. Truthfully, he had bowled several times in his life and had enjoyed himself each time, including many fun outings at birthday parties when he was still in elementary school. It was only a couple of months ago that he had dropped a ball on his foot, during a night out with Jolene, Jayson and Puffs. It had hurt his big toe, but it