One more year of high school to get through, I told myself. Then I’m out of here for good.
My parents knew something was wrong, but they assumed it was my cold that was bothering me. I let them think that. I kept complaining about my cough and how tired I felt.
One afternoon, I had my books spread across the couch in the living room. I was studying for a math quiz, and there was a problem I couldn’t figure out. When Raymond walked by, I asked him how to solve it.
“Thanks,” I said after he showed me what to do.
“Sure. So where’s Simon been lately?” he asked suddenly.
“Uh … He … uh … ” I stuttered in surprise. “He’s been busy, I guess.”
“I heard he’s been busy,” Raymond said, scowling.
My heart skipped a beat.
“Are you two still going out?” he asked.
“No,” I mumbled, afraid to look at him.
He stood up and went into the kitchen to get a drink of water. “That’s what I hear. Actually … ” He took a long sip and turned his back to me. “I’ve been hearing lots of things about Simon and you lately.”
“That picture,” I started to say. “I was stupid. I didn’t—”
He held up a hand, cutting me off. Then he grabbed his keys and his sunglasses. “I have to go to class. I’ll catch you later.”
That night, I went downstairs to see if my parents needed help in the bodega. It was pouring rain outside, and the store was pretty empty.
“It’s okay, Daisy,” my father told me. “We’re closing pretty soon. Go back upstairs and finish on your homework.”
I had started back toward the apartment when I heard somebody coming up the back stairs.
“Daisy?” It was Eddie. He was carrying his sax in one hand and clutching a bouquet of daisies in the other.
“Hey,” I said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Your parents said you were up here studying,” he said. “Here.” He handed me the daisies. “These are for you.”
“Oh. Wow. Thanks a lot.”
He put down his sax and flashed me a smile. “You’re welcome. I thought … ” He shrugged. “I thought they might cheer you up. I don’t know what kind of flowers you like, but daisies seemed like a safe bet.”
“Thanks a lot,” I repeated. “That’s really sweet.” I got a vase and filled it with water. “Have a seat.”
Eddie dropped down in the big blue armchair, and I sat on the sofa. “I’m from the persuasion committee,” he said.
“Huh?”
“It’s a subcommittee of the talent show committee,” he went on. “It was formed by myself, along with Laurel King, Nora Thomas, and a few others. And our mission is to make sure that Daisy Garcia hula-hoops at the talent show.”
I gave him a sad little smile. “Thanks, that’s really nice. But I’m not going to perform.”
“Why not?”
“Because … ” I flushed. Wasn’t it obvious? “I just don’t want everyone looking at me right now.”
“I hate to tell you this, Daisy, but … ” He gave me a rueful smile. “Everyone is already looking at you.”
I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“Come on, Daisy,” he said. “We miss you.”
“I think the persuasion committee sent the wrong guy. That’s not enough of a reason, Eduardo.”
“Okay, well, how about this: We need you. Nora especially. Same with Mr. Kim.”
“I know. I’m letting her down,” I said. “But I don’t have any other choice. Besides, there are plenty of acts. It’s not like it matters if I don’t hula-hoop.”
“Come on, Daisy. Why won’t you do it?”
I was starting to feel impatient. “Don’t you get it? If I get up onstage, everybody will stare at me and think of those photos.”
“That’s not the only thing I’ll think about,” he said. “I’ll think about how we’ve been friends for like three years, and how you’re funny and nice and a little crazy and … ”
His words trailed off as I started to cry. He came over and sat next to me on the sofa. Soon I was sobbing, and Eddie was rubbing my back. “It’ll be okay,” he said a few times. Just like Nora and Laurel kept saying to me.
But when? I kept thinking. I thought I knew the answer—never.
I think Eddie finally got scared by how hard I was crying. He hopped up and opened his instrument case.
I grabbed some tissues and blew my nose. “What are you doing?”
“Well … Since you’re not going to be at the talent show, I wanted to play you what I’m performing. It’s my favorite song to play on the sax. I don’t want you to miss it.”
I smiled at that. Eddie liked to perform as much as I did. Or as much I used to like it.
“What are you playing?” I asked him. When we’d rehearsed before, he was still trying to decide.
“It’s called ‘Baker Street.’”
I leaned back and listened as he started playing. I didn’t know the song. But he played it kind of slow and cool, closing his eyes and swaying a little. The notes sounded clear and sweet, and they seemed to sail right through me.
I clapped when it was over. “Wow. That was amazing.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Look,” he added quickly. “I can play lots of songs. Including some faster stuff. So if you want, I could play the music while you do your hula act. That way you wouldn’t be alone up there onstage. I’d be up there too.”
Tears streamed from my eyes again. That was pretty much the nicest offer anyone had ever made me.
“I don’t think I can, Eduardo,” I whispered. “I’m too embarrassed … ”
“The talent show has nothing to do with what happened between you and Simon,” he said. “And think about it—what will Mrs. Frank and Mrs. Lee say if you drop out? They’ll get all suspicious and ask around—maybe find out about Simon and the photos.”
I blinked. I’d never thought about that.
“Besides,” he went on, “if you don’t hula-hoop, what will people talk about around the water cooler the next day?”
He’d made me laugh again.
“Well, first of all, we have water fountains at Southside. And second of all, I don’t want anyone there to talk about me ever again.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
“Anyway, they’ll talk about your fantastic performance on the sax,” I continued. “And Eternity’s hip-hop dance, and Mr. Wood’s stand-up comedy routine.” I paused. “They probably won’t be talking about Marquise’s trombone number.”
“True.”
We both laughed at that.
“Come on, Daisy,” Eddie coaxed me again. “We need you. And Mrs. Kim really needs you. Promise me you’ll think about it.”
He held out his fist, and I bumped it with mine.
“I promise I’ll think about it,” I said.
But my mind was already made up.
On Friday evening, my friends kept texting me from school while they got ready for the talent show.
Nora: Help! We need u.
Laurel: Missing only one thing—an act with a hula-hoop.
Eddie: You left yet?
I wanted to reply, but what could I tell them?
Sorry I’m an idiot who is letting u down. Or, Sorry I’m an idiot whose boyfriend is a bigger idiot.
I tried to think of something more positive—Break a leg!
But even that message didn’t seem right. So I didn’t reply at all.
Around seven o’clock, I decided to head downstairs and help my parents in the bodega. But Raymond suddenly appeared in my room.
“I’ll drive you to school,” he said.
What was he talking about? “I’m not going to the talent show,” I told him.
“C’mon, Daisy. It’s important.”
“They have plenty of acts,” I argued. “They don’t need me.”
“You said it was your idea,” Raymond said. “You can’t just run away from everything because of Simon.”
>
I flinched. Before, I’d wondered how much Raymond knew about Simon and me. I realized he knew the whole story.
“I was just going to do a stupid Hula-Hoop routine,” I mumbled. “Besides, I told Mom and Dad I’d work tonight.”
“They’ve got it covered. I already told them you’re going to the show, and they’re cool with it. Now move.” He grinned. “It’s late.”
I stood there helplessly for a minute. I didn’t know what to do or how else to argue back. So I nodded. “Okay. I just need a few minutes to change clothes and get my hoop.”
Raymond was parked on the street outside the bodega. As we drove toward Southside, I could feel myself growing more and more nervous.
That stage is huge, I thought. And the auditorium would be filled with hundreds of people I knew. Hundreds of people who knew Simon.
Inside my bag, my phone kept buzzing.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to clear away all the bad images lit up inside my mind.
Me in a red bikini.
Me not in a red bikini.
People whispering.
Simon glaring.
I kept my eyes shut, and one by one the images seemed to fade away, until all I saw was blackness.
A blank slate, I thought.
We kept driving. And soon I started picturing new images.
Bright white daisies.
Pedro’s orange fur.
The blue water in Mexico.
Nora’s freckles.
I opened my eyes. Then I fished my cell phone out of my bag so I could text my friends.
On my way.
By the time I got backstage, the first act was almost over. The audience was going crazy as the Shea twins performed their magic tricks. People clapped like mad when Tara pulled a yellow duck from a hat with a fishing pole, and when Kelly tried to make a teacher’s money disappear.
As the emcee, Hunter Pyle, announced the next act, I spotted Nora. She was standing near the curtain, holding a clipboard, her glasses sliding down her nose.
Her face lit up when she saw me. “Whew! You’re finally here!”
Eddie came over with his sax hanging from his neck strap. He held out his fist for a fist bump. “My offer still stands,” he said. “I can always play while you hula-hoop.”
“Thanks, Eduardo. But I think I’m okay.”
Being in school plays has taught me that every audience has its own kind of vibe. And the vibe at our talent show was a very enthusiastic, you-guys-can’t-do-anything-wrong type of vibe.
Everyone knew we were trying to help Mrs. Kim, and they cheered and clapped wildly for all the performers. Even Jackie Brando, who sang off-key. And Marquise Owens, when he squawked his way through the trombone piece.
Finally it was my turn to go onstage—the last act of the night. My hands felt clammy, and my legs were weak and rubbery.
Nora got Eddie’s iPod and found the right song. Then Hunter announced my act.
“And now, ladies and gentleman, for the final act of the night, the most talented hula-hooper at Southside High School. Let’s raise the roof for Daisy Garcia!”
“Bring it on, girl!” somebody yelled as I ran onstage. “Show some moves!”
The music started. I dropped the bright pink hoop over my head and let it fall toward the floor. Then I started it spinning upward, past my ankles, my knees, my hips …
Once I heard a guy on TV say something like, “Fake it until you make it.”
And right then, that phrase came back to me. After just a few seconds of hearing the crowd cheer me on, I sank into the music. I just did my thing, and the next thing I knew, it was over.
I bowed as everybody clapped for me. I had done it. I had gotten onstage with my Hula-Hoop.
The auditorium lights rose a little, and suddenly I could recognize the people in the front rows. Mr. Kim was there in his wheelchair. Mrs. Kim was next to him, along with their three kids. Everyone was still waving at me and clapping like crazy.
I smiled and bowed again.
From the wings, Nora was waving me offstage. Hunter stepped forward, and I started to move toward Nora. But then something—or someone—caught my eye. In the dim light from the exit sign I could see Simon heading for the door.
And then I saw someone else—my brother, Raymond.
My heart thudded. What’s he doing here? I wondered. He had dropped me off out front. He’d said he’d come back when I texted him for a ride. Has Raymond been here the whole time?
I didn’t know. What I did know, though, was that Raymond was hurrying after Simon.
Watching my brother start to run gave me a bad feeling. I headed for the steps instead of the wings, where Nora was waiting. By then all the lights were on and people were starting to leave the auditorium. I slipped through the crowd, weaving my way toward the exit sign.
A bunch of people stopped me to say something about my act.
“Good job, Daisy.”
“No idea you could hula-hoop like that!”
“That was pretty cool.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, trying to keep my eye on the back of Raymond’s head. But it was gone.
Oh no …
“Daisy!” Mrs. Kim saw me and grabbed my arm. She pulled me over to meet her husband. “This is Daisy Garcia. She’s the girl who had the idea for the talent show. Wasn’t the show wonderful?”
“Marvelous,” Mr. Kim agreed. “Very entertaining.” He bowed toward me. “Thank you, Daisy. Thank you very much.”
“It was fun,” I said politely. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
The Kims’ words swirled around me like white noise. I would have felt bad brushing them off, but I had to keep moving. Where were Raymond and Simon? What was going on?
Finally, I told the Kims goodnight and pulled out my phone to text Raymond.
Are u ok? Where r u?
No reply.
I burst out into the hallway and looked around. A lot of kids and parents and teachers were milling around, but I didn’t see anyone I knew. Then I spotted a senior named Barry who knew Raymond.
“Have you seen my brother?” I called.
“Uh … yeah. Yeah, just a second ago,” Barry said. “I think he went outside.”
I rushed out the front doors and looked toward the parking lot. There was a line of cars pulling out and turning onto the busy road in front of school.
I dashed around the side of the building. Then I heard voices—angry voices—coming from one of the bike racks.
My brother had Simon backed up against a concrete pillar. He was yelling right in Simon’s face. “Give me your phone!”
“No way!” Simon spat back.
“Raymond!” I yelled. “Just leave him alone. Forget it. It’s over!”
“Not until I get his damn phone!” Raymond said. Simon lunged forward, throwing Raymond off-balance. But Raymond recovered fast and grabbed Simon by the collar of his shirt.
Simon is tall and strong. But my brother is bigger—and right then, he was very angry. Raymond pinned Simon against the school building.
“Daisy!” he shouted. “Here!” He tossed Simon’s phone toward me, and it fell in the grass. I scooped it up and then looked for the on switch.
I scrolled through the phone, remembering what Simon had told me.
And now I’ve got a special ‘Daisy’ folder on my phone … for those red bikini photos.
“It’s a little late to delete the pictures, Daisy,” Simon muttered. “Just give me my phone. This is stupid.”
I tried to ignore him, but I knew he was right. Taking his phone was pointless. I’m sure Raymond knew that too. But I think my brother just wanted to do something. He wanted to get back at Simon somehow.
Simon slipped out of Raymond’s grip and swung at him. Soon the two of them were wrestling in the grass, grunting loudly.
People began to gather nearby. I heard someone yell out, “Fight!”
“Come on, Raymond!” I pleaded. “We’ve got the phone. Let’s just go.”
Then I heard people running toward us. “Hey! Cut it out, boys!”
It was Mrs. Frank and Coach Gannon, the athletic director. They pushed between Raymond and Simon, and Gannon yanked them apart.
“What is going on here?” Gannon shouted. Simon and Raymond both stared down at the ground, sweaty and still breathing heavily.
I froze as Coach Gannon looked from Simon to Raymond. “What’s the story, guys?” he asked.
“Explain. Now!” Mrs. Frank added.
Neither of them said a word.
“We’re waiting,” Coach Gannon said.
I swallowed hard. Then I stepped up to Gannon and handed him Simon’s phone. “I can explain how this all started,” I said softly. “It’s my fault.”
I slumped in my chair in the principal’s office. Raymond sat on one side of me. Simon was on the other.
Mrs. Núñez had been at the show too. After Coach Gannon filled her in, she had called our parents. We sat waiting for them to arrive.
“Buenas noches,” my father mumbled to Mrs. Núñez. “Hello.”
“Hello, Principal Núñez,” my mother said, her voice quavering. “I’m very sorry for the trouble tonight.”
Mrs. Núñez greeted them and then waved at two empty chairs. My mother sat down, then turned to me, her brown eyes boring into my face.
I looked away. Wait until she hears the rest of the story, I thought.
My father kept his eyes on the floor. I was sure that he had had to close the bodega early to come here. He looked nervous and upset.
Tears pricked my eyes. I wiped them away with the back of my hand.
After Simon’s parents arrived, Mrs. Núñez ran through the story in a flat tone.
“Apparently, Daisy sent an inappropriate image of herself to Simon. After they had an argument of some sort, Simon sent this image to dozens of people. He did this without Daisy’s permission.
“Tonight, during the talent show, Raymond and Simon exchanged some words. Raymond decided it was his job to defend his sister, and a fight broke out on school grounds.
“As I’m sure you’re aware,” the principal went on, “sending lewd images and disrupting a school activity are violations of school policy. So I’m going to suspend both Daisy and Simon for five days. Raymond, you will not be allowed on school property for at least the rest of the year.”
Overexposed Page 4
