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"I mean, not everything."
"Well, Jane Austen's a pretty popular and famous British author, right?"
"Yes," I acknowledged.
"So how many times was she married?"
"I don't know if this is a trick question, Oliver, but Jane Austen was never married."
"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Really," I said, staring at him, wondering did he know the answer to that? And was he trying to see if I knew, or was he really that oblivious? "She was in love, though, probably," I said, rubbing my forehead.
"Oh, and what was his name?"
"Oliver," I said with a small smile, "Oliver Twist."
He started laughing then and shook his head. "Very funny. I do know that Oliver Twist is a character who Charles Dickens created."
"Well, kudos to you, Oliver."
"Yeah, yeah. So you were saying, Jane Austen was in love."
"Yeah, she was in love with one of her neighbor's nephews. His name was Tom Lefroy. But"—I sighed—"it wasn't to be. Circumstances kept them apart."
"Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, he wasn't of the right stock. A marriage seemed impractical between the two because neither of them came from money. Quite sad, really." I took another bite of my taco.
"Yes, that is sad," Oliver said, and I couldn’t tell if he was being facetious or not.
I watched as he ate part of his quesadilla, then grabbed his cerveza from the table. He chugged it down, and I tried not to look at the way his fingers gripped the bottle. So strong, and tan, and manly. I could feel my stomach twitching as I gazed back into his face. His blue-gray eyes surveyed me curiously.
"So you do know nonsensical facts, then."
"They're not nonsensical. They're important."
"They're not so important that they will help you get a job."
"I mean, I could get a job if I really wanted to."
"So then why don't you? Why are you living with Foster and me?"
"I just got here. I haven't been able to find a job yet."
"And what do you think you'll try to do?" Oliver was starting to get on my nerves with all of his questions, and I figured I’d play around with him.
"I'm going to be an actress," I said. "I think I'd like to be on Broadway."
He stared at me for a few seconds, and I could tell he wasn't sure if I was serious or not. "Um, an actress? You don't say."
"Or maybe I'll be a singer. I heard some auditions forAmerica's Got TalentandAmerican Idolare coming up." I paused, took a sip of water, and then cleared my throat. "La-ti-do-so-fa-re-me," I sang quickly, my voice cracking on the higher notes. His eyes widened, and I stifled a smile. "Doe, a deer, a female deer, ray, a drop of golden sun," I sang even louder and slightly out of tune.
"What?" His eyes looked incredulous, and it took everything in me to stop from laughing out loud.
"That's the song I'm going to sing at the audition. Or should I sing something else? Maybe Whitney Houston? What's that really famous song that Dolly Parton wrote? I know, ‘I Will Always Love You.’" I started singing, and my voice cracked with every note.” I rubbed my forehead and stopped. "Oops, I guess I ate too many tacos today. It ruined my throat."
"Um, Rosalie," Oliver said with a look of panic on his face. I knew that he was debating whether or not to be honest with me about my singing skills. I also knew that I wasn’t going to be able to hold my laughter in for much longer.
