The Kissing Diary Read Online Free Page A

mope. She never even bothered telling her mother about the history project due Monday morning. On Saturday, Rosie informed her that she needed art supplies to build a castle and label its parts.
    Mrs. Goldglitt fumed. “Now you’re telling me? How the heck do we build a castle? With clay? Popsicle sticks? Papier-mâché? I’m not an architect, for heaven’s sake.”
    â€œI’m going to be doing it,” Rosie said. “‘Be inventive,’” she read off the assignment sheet. “‘Use any material you like.’” Was it her fault she couldn’t drive a car to the art store? Was it her fault that Mrs. Geller didn’t give a flying fig about ruining her weekend?
    â€œYou’re going to do it? With what?” said her mother, instructing Rosie to wipe off the table and make the labels while she went to the art store. Then she stormed out of the house, returning an hour later with poster board, cardboard, oaktag, cans of spray paint, a matt knife, and a sealed bag of clay that was supposed to harden when it dried.
    Rosie propped a picture of a medieval castle against a vase of dried flowers and began rolling strips of clay to make the base of the castle. Placing a piece of poster board on a magazine, Rosie drew a line marking the edge of the first wall, and picked up the matt knife.
    â€œYou’ll cut your finger off,” her mother barked, grabbing the knife out of her daughter’s hand. Mumbling to herself, she began cutting, but the knife veered off to the side. With more huffing and puffing than Rosie thought was necessary, her mother rummaged through a drawer in the desk in the living room and found a wooden ruler. Her face was getting redder by the minute, and when the matt knife caught against the edge of the ruler, Rosie thought her mother would have a stroke.
    â€œThis is how I get to spend my day off?” shouted her mother, running downstairs to the basement and yelling upstairs, “Call your father and ask him if he took the metal ruler! I’m not buying another one!”
    â€œMom, take it easy! ” Rosie called to her, but before she could dial, her mother was upstairs, grabbing the phone from her. She punched in the numbers and said, “Bob? I need the metal ruler to help your daughter with her damned project.” Then she said, “I’m not swearing, I just need the damned ruler,” followed by, “Please, Bob, no lectures, I’m at the end of my rope.” There was a silence, and Rosie’s mother turned to her and said grimly, “Go downstairs and look in Dad’s workroom and it should be in the drawer with the missing handle.”
    She muttered thank you into the receiver, and Rosie found the ruler, and work resumed. Her mother managed to cut a straight line without lopping off her finger, and they anchored the pieces of card in the clay. Then Rosie unrolled a roll of paper towels so that they could use the cardboard tube for the turret.
    â€œIsn’t it too small?” said Rosie, risking another explosion from her mother.
    Mrs. Goldglitt took one look and threw it in the trash can, while Rosie rolled a piece of oaktag into a cylinder, taping it together.
    â€œGood,” said her mother grudgingly.
    By this time, Mrs. Goldglitt’s lips had formed a permanent frown as she fashioned another piece of oaktag into a cone that the two of them taped to the top of the tower. Rosie carried the castle carefully outside and went back for the cans of spray paint.
    â€œI’m having a cup of coffee,” said her mother. “You’re on your own.”
    Rosie painted the water a pretty shade of blue. The sun was shining, there was a gentle breeze blowing, and she was nearly done. A cardinal flew by, and Rosie smiled at the flash of red. She had the rest of the weekend to have fun with her friends. They’d go bowling soon, and have lunch at Sal’s, maybe browse next door at the