Me, Rosie, and the Trouble in Corona
Mama Pajama always said nothing good happened after sundown, but that didn’t stop me and Rosie, the self-proclaimed "Queen of Corona," from sneaking out every chance we got. Rosie wasn’t just any girl; she had this way about her—fiery red hair, a laugh like breaking glass, and a crown she made from soda can tabs. She ruled the neighborhood, and I was her loyal subject.
That night started like any other. I climbed out my bedroom window, careful not to let the screen creak, and ran to meet Rosie down by the schoolyard. She was already waiting, her hands stuffed into her jean jacket pockets.
“Late again,” she said, grinning.
“Blame Mama,” I replied. “She’s got eyes in the back of her head.”
Rosie laughed, then leaned in close. “You ready for tonight?”
I nodded, though I had no idea what she had planned. With Rosie, you didn’t ask questions—you just followed.
***
We crept along the schoolyard fence until we reached the old gate. It had been chained shut for years, but Rosie had a way of slipping through cracks you didn’t even know were there.
“I heard something big went down here,” she whispered, her voice electric with excitement.
“Big like what?”
“Like history,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “They don’t talk about it anymore, but this place is hiding something. We’re gonna find out what.”
We pushed through the overgrown weeds until we reached the spot Rosie was looking for—a patch of dirt near the rusted jungle gym. She pulled out a spade she’d swiped from her mom’s garden and started digging.
***
We hadn’t been at it long when headlights swept across the yard.
“Cops!” I hissed.
“Relax,” Rosie said, but there was tension in her voice now. “They won’t stop us.”
The squad car rolled to a stop, and out stepped Officer Muldoon, Fairview’s grumpiest cop. He shined his flashlight in our faces.
“What are you two doing out here?”
“Nothing,” Rosie said, all innocence. “Just hanging out.”
Muldoon pointed at the hole in the ground. “Doesn’t look like nothing. Step away.”
Reluctantly, we backed off. Muldoon bent down, reached into the hole, and pulled out a small metal box. It was old, with the hinges nearly rusted shut.
“What’s in there?” I asked.
Muldoon ignored me. He opened the box, his face tightening as he pulled out a bundle of faded papers. He flipped through them, muttering under his breath.
“This doesn’t concern you,” he finally said, tucking the box under his arm. “Go home. Now.”
***
Rosie wasn’t one to let things go. The next day, she told me we were breaking into the police station.
“You’re insane,” I said.
“Maybe,” she replied, “but I’m the Queen of Corona, and you’re my partner. You in or not?”
Against my better judgment, I nodded.
That night, we slipped through the shadows, broke into the back of the station, and found the box in Muldoon’s office. The papers inside were written in shaky handwriting. It was a confession—a scandal from decades ago involving stolen money, bribes, and names we recognized from around town.
Rosie grinned as she read. “Told you this was big.”
“What do we do with it?” I asked.
“We expose them.”
***
The fallout was immediate. Names were named. Families were ruined. Mama cried when she found out I’d been involved, but Rosie just smiled, her crown perched on her head like a beacon.
“You worry too much,” she said. “We did the right thing.”
Maybe she was right. The town was different after that, quieter somehow, like it was trying to forget what had been uncovered.
But me and Rosie didn’t forget. And every time I pass by the schoolyard, I remember that night—me and the Queen of Corona, and the trouble we stirred up in a place that thought it had no secrets left to tell.
Story was based on the following song:
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