“Rosie Has All the Luck!” Friend, Mar. 1995, 28
On the first day of school, I got stuck in the back row, smack between Mackie-the-foot-tapper and Nate-the-not-great-Wilder. But not lucky old Rosie. She got a front row seat right next to the window and the fish tank. That Rosie has all the luck.
Rosie’s mom never forgets to send lunch money on pizza day. Her dad brought a huge set of model teeth to class during dental health month, because he’s a dentist. And she was the only one who had all four grandparents come to school on Grandparent’s Day. My grandpa lives far away in Florida, and all the rest are dead. That Rosie has all the luck.
Who was the first girl to get her new front teeth? Rosie. Who can jump in and out of the jump rope without missing? Rosie. And when Mrs. Parr drew names to see who got to take the class pumpkin home, whose did she draw? Rosie’s. That Rosie has all the luck.
Rosie’s cat just had kittens. Rosie has an uncle who’s an astronaut. Rosie’s last name is Abernathy, so she comes first on all the lists. Her bus is always closest to the door on rainy days. That Rosie has all the luck!
One day I asked Rosie, “How come you’re always so lucky?”
“Me? Lucky?” She looked surprised. Then she asked me, “How come you’re always so perfect?”
“When am I so perfect?”
“All the time! Like when Wendy fell and cut her knee and everybody went, ‘Oooh, yuck!’ you helped Wendy up and took her to the health room.”
“That’s no big thing,” I said.
“Yeah, well, remember the time Nate forgot his lunch. You gave him half of your peanut butter sandwich and even one of your chocolate chip cookies.”
“That wasn’t so much, either,” I said.
“What about the time Angie lost her tooth in the library. You helped her find it. I didn’t want to look for a yucky bloody tooth!”
“That wasn’t so hard,” I said.
“And what about the day Laurie threw up all over Mackie’s desk and everybody pinched their noses and started to laugh? You stood up and told them that it wasn’t one bit funny.”
“Everybody can do that stuff,” I said.
“Yeah, but everybody doesn’t,” Rosie said. “You do.”
That day at lunch, they ran out of pizza just as Rosie came to the counter. She got cold cuts on a bun. “Hey, Rosie,” I yelled, “I’ll give you the pepperoni off my pizza.”
“Thanks,” said Rosie, “and I’ll give you one of my bolognas.”
I guess Rosie doesn’t have all the luck, and I know that I’m not perfect. I’m just glad that now we’re good friends!