Rosary girls

52

She is summer, this one. She is water.

Her white-blond hair is long, pulled back into a ponytail, fastened with an amber cat's-eye bolo. It reaches the middle of her back in a glistening waterfall. She wears a faded denim skirt and a burgundy wool sweater. She carries a leather jacket over her arm. She has just emerged from the Barnes amp; Noble at Rittenhouse Square, where she works part time.

She is still quite thin, but it looks like she has put on weight since the last time I saw her.

Goodfor her.

The street is crowded, so I am sporting a ball cap and sunglasses. I walk right up to her.

"Remember me?"I ask, lifting the sunglasses momentarily.

At first, she is not sure. I am older, so I belong to that world of adults who could, and usually do, mean authority.As in-the end of the party.After a few seconds, recognition alights.

"Sure!"she says, her face brightening.

"Your name is Kristi, right?"

She blushes."Yep. You have a good memory!"

"How have you been feeling?"

The blush deepens, morphing from the demure demeanor of a confident young woman to the embarrassment of a little girl, her eyes ringed with shame. "I'm,you know, a lot better now,"she says."That was-"

"Hey," I say, holding up a hand, stopping her."There's nothing for you to be ashamed of. Not one single thing. I could tell you stories, believe me."

"Really?"

"Absolutely,"I say.

We walk down Walnut Street. Her posture changes slightly. A little self- conscious now.

"So, what are you reading?"I ask, pointing to the bag she carries.

She blushes again."I'm embarrassed."

I stop walking. She stops with me."Now, what did I just tell you?"

Kristi laughs.At this age, it is always Christmas, always Halloween, always the Fourth. Every day is the day."Okay, okay,"she concedes. She reaches into the plastic bag, takes out a pair of Tiger Beat magazines."I get a discount."

On the cover of one of the magazines is Justin Timberlake. I take the magazine from her, scrutinize the cover.

"I haven't liked his solo stuff as much as 'NSYNC,"I say."What about you?"

Kristi looks at me, her mouth half-open."I can't believe you know who he is."

"Hey,"Isay in mock rage.'Tm not that old."I hand the magazine back, mindful of the fact that my prints are on the glossy surface.I must not forget that.

Kristi shakes her head, still smiling.

We continue up Walnut.

"All ready for Easter?"I ask, rather inelegantly changing the subject.

"Oh,yes,"she says."I love Easter."

"Me, too,"I say.

"I mean, I know it's still real early in the year, but Easter always means summer is coming, to me. Some people wait till Memorial Day. Not me."

I fall behind her for a few steps, allowing people to pass. From the cover of my sunglasses, I watch her walk, as covertly as I can. In a few years, she would have been what people refer to as coltish, a long-legged beauty.

When I make my move, I am going to have to be fast. Leverage will be paramount. I have the syringe in my pocket, its rubber tip firmly secured.

I glance around. For all the people on the street, lost in their own dramas, we might as well be alone. It never fails to amaze me how, in a city like Philadelphia, one can go virtually unnoticed.

"Where are you headed?"I ask.

"Bus stop,"she says."Home."

I pretend to search my memory."You live in Chestnut Hill, right?"

She smiles, rolls her eyes."Close. Nicetown."

"That's what I meant."

I laugh.

She laughs.

I have her.

"Areyou hungry?"I ask.

I watch her face as I ask this. Kristi had done her battles with anorexia, and I know that questions like this will always be a challenge to her in this life. A few moments pass, and I fear I have lost her.

I have not.

"I could eat,"she says.

"Great,"I say."Let's get a salad or something, then I'll drive you home. It'll be fun. We can catch up."

A split second of apprehension settles, veiling her pretty face in darkness. She glances around us.

The veil lifts. She slips on her leather jacket, gives her ponytail a flip, and says:"Okay."