by Wendy Mass
After the longest fifty-two minutes I can remember, I corner Roger at his desk before he can even stand up. I’m about to pounce, when he holds up his hand to stop me.
“Before you ask, the answer is yes. My mother set up the appointment for after school on Wednesday. She’s going to call your mother tonight.”
“Oh, she is?” I say nonchalantly.
“That’s okay, right?” he asks as we leave the room together. “She does know about this, doesn’t she?”
“Of course she knows,” I reply. “Well, she kind of knows.” Then, “Okay, no, she doesn’t know.”
“Why haven’t you told her?”
“Um, she doesn’t believe in acupuncture?”
Roger looks at me sideways as we walk down the hall. “Why haven’t you really told her?”
I stop walking. “Listen, you said if it was private, I didn’t have to talk about it, remember? Can’t you just tell your mother I have permission?”
“I guess so,” Roger says, clearly not pleased. “But how are you going to pay for it then?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “I have some money saved,” I tell him, “from allowance and odd jobs and stuff.”
“Okay,” he says. “If it’s that important to you.”
“It is,” I tell him as forcefully as I can muster. I’m about to thank him, but he hobbles off before I get a chance.
We have another test in math class today. I suppose I could try to use the methods Samantha taught me, but that seems more trouble than it’s worth. After all, I’m already prepared with the markers, and it hardly feels like cheating anymore. I use the bottom of my sneaker this time since I’m not wearing jeans today.
When I get home Mom is setting up her telescope in the front yard. There’s some big planetary-alignment thing tonight that she’s been talking about for weeks. I intend to stay on her good side for a while. Then maybe she won’t ask me why I’m not coming home after school on Wednesday.
“Mia, I’m hoping you’ll get dinner ready for me tonight so I can work out here. I already made the salad, you’d just have to put up the pasta.”
“Sure, Mom,” I say. “No problem.” I step around her and head to the front door.
“Oh, Mia,” she says, her back to me. “How was the math test today?”
I stop with my hand on the doorknob. “It was good,” I tell her, holding my breath.
“Great,” she says. “I’m proud of you.”
I wait until the door is shut behind me to breathe again. My plan is to lie low for the rest of the afternoon. Since Mom is outside, she won’t need me to hand out the candy to the trick-ortreaters. I work on my Ibo report and peek out the window at all the little witches and firemen and brides and monsters. They have no idea how complicated life can be. At six o’clock I make dinner. Nobody thanks me. They all eat in a hurry and then go outside to watch Mom watch the stars. No one helps me clean up. I wring out the sponge over the sink and keep repeating one thought in my head: Wednesday cannot come fast enough.
Roger lives right near the school, and on Tuesday the four of us walk to his house together. Roger leads us into the kitchen and tells us to set up camp at the round wooden table.
“Oh, do you have a dog?” Laura asks, almost tripping over a big silver doggie bowl. Right next to it is a squeaky toy in the shape of a steak. “Because I’m allergic to animals with fur. I get hives all over my arms and legs.”
Roger slowly closes the refrigerator and sets down four cans of soda. He shakes his head. “No, we don’t have a dog, so you don’t have to worry.”
Laura glances at the bowl on the floor and then looks questioningly at me. I guess Roger’s family isn’t ready to let go yet. I can’t meet Roger’s eyes until the meeting is half over. After a while no one has anything left to say about the Ibos, so we move into the den and watch videos. Beth picks me up at five o’clock. Her friend Courtney is with her, so I have to sit in the back. The two of them ignore me and blabber on about what they’re going to wear to the junior prom, which is something like seven whole months away. I’m glad they’re not talking to me so I don’t have to pretend to care about their dresses. For dinner we have the leftovers from the meal I cooked yesterday, and again, nobody thanks me.
I’m already out of my seat when the final school bell rings on Wednesday. Roger is waiting for me by my locker as planned, looking uncomfortable. I toss my books inside and grab my backpack. He had told me to wear comfortable clothes, so I’m wearing the loosest pants and sweater I could find. I feel like I’m in my pajamas.
I climb into the Carsons’ minivan and notice that it still smells faintly of dog. Roger and I don’t say much on the way to the acupuncturist, which is fine because Mrs. Carson talks enough for everyone. All that’s required of me is an occasional “Oh?” and “Uhhuh.” She lets us off in front of the office and then goes to park. A little bell rings as we open the door, and the waiting room is very warm and inviting. I recognize the smell of vanilla incense because Beth’s been burning it recently. There’s a chart on the wall showing the points where the needles go in. I start to feel a little faint.
“I’m supposed to go right in,” Roger says. “You need to sit down and fill out a form.” He points to a clipboard on the unoccupied front desk.
“Okay,” I tell him, reaching for it. He heads into one of the open office doors, and I remain standing in the middle of the room.
“You all right?” he asks, turning slightly.
“Uh-huh,” I reply. “I’m fine.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” he says. “You don’t have to worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Then why haven’t you moved from that spot?”
“No reason.”
Just then, the doctor comes out from the back and ushers Roger into the room. She is around sixty years old and looks a lot like my last memory of Grams. This makes me feel a little better. After all, Grams would never hurt me.
The door closes behind them, and for a second I’m alone in the office. For that second I seriously consider leaving. Maybe this is a bad idea. Then Mrs. Carson enters from outside, complaining that there’s not enough parking in this one-horse town. The cool breeze from outside wakes me up a little. I sit down and begin filling out the form. It would take me an hour to answer all these questions. I skip down to the bottom where it asks why I’m here. “Earache. Both ears.” Mrs. Carson quietly flips through the pages of some kind of alternative-healing magazine. She can’t possibly read anything that quickly. After about fifteen minutes, Roger comes out of the office, limping slightly less than before.
“Your turn,” Roger says.
I smile weakly and give him my seat. I walk over to the office door and peek in. The room is very small, with a long padded table in the center and shelves along the walls.
“Come in, come in,” the acupuncturist says with a wave. “I won’t bite.”
I step in the room and close the door behind me. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good around doctors, I guess.”
She pats the table next to her, and I sit on the edge of it. “My name is Faith, and if it makes you feel any better, I’m not a real doctor.”
I look up with a start. “You’re not?”
She shakes her head and talks to me while she looks over my chart. “I am certified in the practice of acupuncture. You know how doctors study anatomy so they know how the body works?”
I nod.
“It’s very similar. I know where all the energy centers of the body intersect, and I can tell when they’re not flowing properly. That’s how I know where to put the needles in and how to rotate them. Do you understand?”
I tell her I do, even though it all sounds pretty bizarre. All the talk about energy flow reminds me of Beth’s yoga stuff. I can’t believe I’m doing something that Beth might agree with! Faith directs me to lie down and tells me that for our first session she’s only going to leave the needles in for ten minutes. I close my eyes so I can’t see what
they look like.
“That’s good,” she says gently. “Close your eyes and relax. Have faith in Faith.” She laughs at her joke, and I try to smile but I’m too nervous. My lips just twitch.
“Can you describe the earaches?”
My heart sinks. I hadn’t thought of this part. “Um, just a general ache in the middle of both ears. Usually just in the morning.” I’m going to have to do more than three good deeds for this one!
She nods thoughtfully. “I’m only going to use six needles on you today. Two will go at your ankles, two at your hips, and two in your upper ears.”
Just as I wonder what the heck I’m doing here and how I can make a graceful exit, I feel a pinch on my left ankle, then my right. But the pinches don’t go away, and I open my eyes slightly and look down. There are long needles sticking out of my ankles! Now she’s at my hip, and I squeeze my eyes shut again.
“How come I’m not bleeding?” I ask as the needles go in my hips. I try not to picture what they look like.
“The holes are so small that when I pull the needles out, the skin closes up before any blood can come out. Sometimes you might get a little bruise or a few drops of blood if I hit a small vein.” She must be used to answering that question. “But that’s not likely.”
I’m beginning to feel a little woozy. Tiny gray balls float in front of my eyes. Faith moves the hair away from my right ear, and I can actually hear the needle penetrating the cartilage. The tiny gray balls turn silver, bright silver, and now there are swirls of yellow mixed in. The needle goes in my other earlobe, and small bubbles, like multicolored marbles, enter from the left and zoom in front of my face until I lose sight of them. I’ve never seen colored shapes before without sounds triggering them. I can’t believe I can do this! The bubbles are now undulating and forming the most incredible streaks of color.
“Ohhh,” I squeak, unable to keep it in. “Wow …”
“Is everything all right?” she asks.
I try to answer but can’t tear my focus away from the visions. Faith’s voice sounds very far away. “Uh-huh,” I somehow manage to respond. I force myself to stop smiling so she doesn’t think I’m a loon. The woman who wrote the article described seeing the bubbles, but her description didn’t do it justice. She must not have seen what I’m seeing.
“If you’re okay with this, then next time I’ll use the electric current with the needles.”
I nod, still vaguely aware of the pinching in the same way that I’m vaguely aware that I’m not alone in the room. All that matters is the display before me.
Then suddenly it’s gone. Faith pulls out the last needle and rubs the spots with a little ointment. I open my eyes but don’t move. I feel like I just awoke from some amazing dream.
“You can lie here for a few minutes if you like,” she offers. “Your chi was activated, and you’ll need to release it slowly.”
“My what was what?” I ask, still staring up at the ceiling.
“Your chi,” she repeats, “was turned on. Chi is the Chinese word for our internal energy. The acupuncture needles direct it around your body to help you heal.”
I’m about to ask her how soon I can come back when I notice there is an indistinct brownish-pink cloud around her upper body. I glance at the ceiling, then back at her. It’s still there. I sit up and rub my eyes. She moves across the room to open the door, and the haze goes with her, but it also trails behind. I can still see a brownish-pink glow where she was first standing.
I force myself to get off the table and follow her and her trailing cloud into the waiting room. Roger and his mom look up. Roger is encased in a tomato-red glow, and his mother is yellow. Since Roger is a purple name, it is very unnerving to see him in red.
I try not to stare at everyone while I wait for Faith to tell me how long it will take until my chi settles back down again.
“Everyone’s different,” she says, sticking my chart on a crowded shelf. “Probably a few hours.”
Roger joins me at the desk, and we schedule our appointments for next week. I can’t help watching the red haze swirl slightly around his head. Tiny tendrils float away from him as he talks to me. As we walk to the car I look closely at the people passing us. Everyone has their own misty aura around them. Some people’s auras are very active, with tendrils and balls shooting off of them and landing on other people. How are those people doing that? How come nobody notices this? My legs feel like rubber, and I’m on the verge of totally freaking out.
In the confined space of the car the color clouds are brighter. They seem to fill all the available space. From the passenger seat, Roger asks me what I thought of my session. His voice sounds muffled, as if it’s buried under layers of red.
“It was amazing,” I tell him, my voice cracking. “Thank you so much for bringing me.”
“It was amazing?” he asks, not hiding the surprise from his voice.
Oops. “I mean, it was fine.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Roger, do you ever see anything afterward? In the air?”
“No,” he says. “Like what?”
So it’s just me after all. “Never mind. Thanks again for bringing me.”
“No problem.” He turns to face the window. I can see in the reflection of the glass that he’s blushing. His cloud grows brighter and shimmers for a few seconds. I stare in awe as a long tendril winds itself off of him, lands on my shoulder, and instantly disappears into my own green haze. I look down at myself. My own green haze! I have it too! I hadn’t thought of that. A feeling of jubilation spreads through me. I am seeing invisible things!
Beth’s friend Brent’s new red sports car is in our driveway, so Mrs. Carson lets me off at the curb. Most people who live out here have trucks since some of these roads can be pretty bumpy. Maybe Brent thinks a sports car matches his soap-opera name. Beth can’t stop talking about the car, even though she and Brent are “just friends.”
I thank both Mrs. Carson and Roger again, profusely, and practically skip across the lawn. Beth and Brent walk out the front door while I’m still a few yards away. I duck behind the big oak tree and watch them. Beth’s yellowish-brown glow is very similar to Brent’s golden-brown one. Brent says something to Beth in a teasing voice, and her colors glow even brighter and do a shimmering little dance like Roger’s had done in the car. I couldn’t hear what Brent said, but Beth must have liked it. Tiny tendrils break off from her color cloud and blend with his. My heart beats faster as I watch this. I feel like I’m watching a science-fiction movie. I get the very real feeling that Beth and Brent are most definitely more than friends! They get into Brent’s car and pull away, never noticing me. I’m happy for her. I’m happy for everyone and everything — all the creatures on the planet. Adam is not going to believe this!
I skip into the house feeling like I’m magic. I step right over Zack, who’s sitting in the hallway surrounded by his ever-expanding comic collection. His silver cloud twinkles happily. Mango slides across the freshly waxed front hallway and leaves a mango-colored streak behind him. A wonderful magical mango streak that fills my heart to bursting.
Chapter Eleven
The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is lift up the covers and stare down at my legs. No more green glow, just crumpled baby-blue pajamas. I flip over and bury my face in the pillow. My new powers lasted until I went to sleep, and that was really late because I was up watching my family’s clouds interact with one another. I could tell that when my mother agreed to host my dad’s poker game at the house, she didn’t really want to. But I could also tell how grateful Dad was. I could tell that when Zack said he finished his homework, he really had done it. And when Beth said she was at the library all afternoon, I knew she wasn’t. But I knew that the old-fashioned way — by spying from behind a tree. No one even asked me where I was after school.
Mango nudges my ear and forces me to flip back over. I miss the bright mango glow around him and rub him until he purrs. Ah, there they are, his usual small mango-colored puf
fs. Today is Thursday, I tell myself as I brush my teeth. That’s one day closer to when I can go back to the acupuncturist. Just six more days. I stop brushing and multiply twenty-four times six in my head using the process Samantha taught me. One hundred forty-four hours! That is not good! Something must be done. As I hop in the shower it occurs to me that a few weeks ago I would have been ecstatic to have multiplied numbers in my head. I guess life is all about priorities.
Right before homeroom I corner Roger by his locker and ask him if we can get earlier appointments, like for this afternoon. He says no and gives me some lame excuse, like Faith works in another office on the other days of the week. I notice as he walks away that his limp is getting better. I might have to kick him so he’ll keep needing the acupuncture.
In history class we break up into our groups. I hand each of my group members a copy of my cleanly typed research paper and collect theirs in return. Someone has to combine our four papers into one report, and it isn’t going to be me. I’ve done my share. I lean back in my seat and fold my arms.
“I think we need something more than just a written report,” Jonah says, tapping his pencil on the plastic desk to some inner beat. “How about we make a scale model of the ship? Mia, you’re the artist, right?”
“Huh?” I untangle my arms. Can’t they tell my role in this is finished?
“C’mon, Mia,” Roger coaxes. “We’ll worry about the written part if you make a model of the ship. Or a painting even!”
“But I already did all that research,” I tell them, aware of the whine in my voice. “Now you’re saying I could have painted a picture all along?”
Jonah waves my papers in the air. “You only wrote a page and a half!”
“That’s all the information there was on the Ibo religion,” I insist. “Honestly.”
“Just do the painting,” Laura snaps at me. “If I could paint, I would do it myself.”
