by Diana Lopez
True, a lot of people at Pleasant Hill had wheelchairs or walked with canes, but a lot of them went to the exercise room for aerobics. And even though Mr. Dawson had a bad knee, his wife, Mrs. Dawson, ran the marathon last year. We took a field trip to the Alamodome to cheer as she crossed the finish line. And, yes, I did have to introduce myself to some of the residents each time I saw them, but Mrs. Vargas never forgot my name. She remembered all our conversations, too, and since she could summarize a whole week’s worth of soap operas, she must have a great memory. I wanted to tell Ronnie the truth about my friends, but even though I wasn’t part of the in-crowd — not yet, anyway — I knew it wasn’t cool to correct a really cute guy.
“It was Windy’s idea,” Nina said about going to Pleasant Hill. “She likes to help old people.”
“And cats,” Elena added.
“That’s really nice,” Ronnie said again. “Old people and cats — they have a lot in common.”
I nodded even though I didn’t know what he meant.
“So did you buy anything at the mall?” he asked.
“Of course,” Nina said. “Haven’t you noticed something different about Windy?”
Ronnie studied me and scratched his chin. “Hey,” he finally realized, “you lost your glasses.”
“Well, kind of,” I said.
“Are you wearing contacts or something?”
“No, I mean, I …”
“I never noticed this before,” he went on, “but your eyes are really brown. They’re as brown as … as … as brown as the eyes on a horse.”
I blushed. Horses were beautiful, right?
“And …” he pondered.
“And?” I said, hopeful.
“And … your eyes are … they’re … squinty!”
“Squinty?”
“Yeah, like the eyes of … the eyes of … of another brown-eyed, squinty horse.”
Elena burst out laughing. This time, I did pinch her. Luckily, Nina saved me again.
“That’s so sweet of you, Ronnie. Maybe you could meet us at the mall next time. We could all go shopping together.”
“Really?” he said. “That would be cool.”
“And I’ll go, too,” Elena said.
Secretly, I didn’t want Elena, or even Nina, in the picture. Just Ronnie. We’d sit at the food court or go into a photography booth and make silly faces as the camera flashed our picture. Then he’d buy me a gift, probably something small since he didn’t have a job — a flower or coin purse or teddy bear that fit in my pocket. Then we …
Nina nudged me, bringing me back to reality. The line inched forward again as we finally reached the serving ladies.
“Well, I’m off,” Ronnie said.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked.
“You mean that greasy stuff? No way. It’ll kill you. That’s why I go to the vending machines.”
I watched him walk away. Without my glasses, he was a blur in no time.
When he was out of earshot, Elena said, “Windy, I’m going to say this straight. Ronnie’s cute, but he’s dense.”
“No, he’s not,” I blurted.
“How can you deny it? He thinks the vending machines are healthier than the hot line, and he just compared you to a horse.”
“You can’t blame him for trying to be poetic,” Nina said. “Maybe his words don’t come out right, but at least he sees the best in people.”
“Yeah,” I added. “Don’t be so hard on him, Elena.”
Elena glanced at me and then at Nina. I knew that look. She had a comeback, one that would hit me like a bucket of cold water. I waited for it, but it never came. Maybe she felt outnumbered. Maybe she was too hungry to insist on the last word. Or maybe, just maybe, when she saw Nina and me, maybe she realized we were breath sisters now. Whatever the reason, Elena swallowed her comeback and turned away.
Thursday started on a good note. Nina and I agreed to wear our new scarves, so everyone would know that we were friends. Plus, Mom gave me twenty dollars for the book fair. Mrs. Campos planned to take the class, so even though Mom ordered me to buy a book that would help me discover my interest, I was glad about the chance to skip speech.
As our class filed into the book fair, the librarian greeted us, and even without my glasses, I could see the bright ABC’s sewn on her denim vest. A few vendors had set up tables with books, stationery, erasers, cutesy pens, and key chains, and a library assistant manned the Book Swap table where students could trade “gently read” books. Each year, the librarian sponsored a contest and invited us to make dioramas or presentation boards featuring our favorite books. The best entries were showcased on a horseshoe arrangement of tables called Reader’s Row. I could vaguely see it at the far end of the library. The contest winners got a ten dollar gift certificate to the Twig Bookshop, and all participants got extra credit in their English class. I should have entered since I had a C, but that was the problem with extra credit. The kids who really needed it never bothered. Of course, Elena didn’t need extra credit. How could you bump up an A? But she’d entered the contest anyway.
“I can’t wait to show you my project,” she told Nina and me.
Two other classes were already in the library, so the teachers ordered us to sit down. We’d have to browse in shifts.
“Who’s that waving at us?” I asked, squinting to see better.
“It’s Liz,” Nina said. “She wants us to sit at her table.”
Even though Liz had been saying hello lately, she’d never asked me to sit with her. So I felt surprised until I remembered that I was wearing a yellow scarf, just like Nina. Liz had a scarf, too, white with pink swirls.
As soon as we sat down, Liz said to me, “Your new contacts look great.”
“She’s not wearing contacts,” Elena explained. “She got rid of her glasses because she’s boycentric now.”
“Boycentric?”
I gently kicked Elena to keep her from defining her latest word-morph. Luckily, she got the hint. I knew she didn’t mean to embarrass me, but still … why couldn’t she be cool?
“Can you see?” Liz asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Turns out I didn’t need my glasses after all.”
“Your vision got better?”
“Kind of. I mean, not really. I mean …”
“She ate a lot of carrots,” Nina said. “Carrots are really good for eyesight.”
Just then, Ronnie showed up and took the chair beside me. There was another empty chair, but he picked this one, with me to his left.
“Where were you?” Nina asked him. She was sitting on his right.
“Looking around. They got some cool stuff for sale. Check it out.”
He opened his hand and revealed two bracelets. One was a braid of green, gold, and red, while the other was a braid of blue, pink, and yellow.
“Those are real pretty,” Liz said.
“Yeah,” Ronnie agreed. “I couldn’t decide which one to buy, so I got both.” He placed them on the table. “Which one do you like?” he asked Nina.
“I’m not sure. What do you think, Windy?”
“I like the one with blue because it reminds me of Raindrop’s eyes.”
“Then I like the one with green,” she said.
“Take it. It’s yours,” Ronnie offered.
Suddenly my stomach twisted up. Why was he giving her a bracelet? What about the rest of us? There were three other girls at the table.
Nina glanced at me. She knew I liked him, so she pushed the bracelet aside. “That’s really nice, but I can’t.”
“Sure you can. It’s a get-well gift,” Ronnie said. “For that headache you had, remember?”
“You were feeling bad,” Elena said.
“Then it’s settled.” Ronnie slid the bracelet back to Nina, and then he turned to me. “You can have the one with blue, since you like it so much.”
He placed it in my hand, and as he did so, I felt the heat of his hand. My jealous stomach relaxed as I imagine
d slow dancing with him, how warm he’d be. Elena was right. I was getting boycentric. But I couldn’t help myself. For the first time, a really cute guy had noticed me. When I analyzed the situation, I realized that Ronnie really bought the bracelet for me. Sure, he paid for two — but probably because he didn’t want the other girls to hate me. Maybe he didn’t have enough money to buy one for everybody. Choosing to give the extra to Nina made total sense because he could use her headache as an excuse. But he didn’t need an excuse to give me a bracelet. He gave it to me because … because he liked me. That had to be the reason.
I put it on. The blue, pink, and yellow braid was very pretty. “Thank you,” I said.
“Hey, look.” Nina held out her own wrist. “We’re like twin sisters now.” She winked because we were sisters — breath sisters.
“You have the same scarves, too,” Ronnie noticed.
“I’m going to buy mine this weekend,” Elena said, “so we can all match.”
Nina turned to Liz and mouthed, “Whatever,” and Liz chuckled a little. Luckily, I was the only one who noticed. For a split second, I felt sorry for Elena. Then I got annoyed. Why did she want to be like us? Why couldn’t she be her own person?
Just then, I heard some jostling behind me and discovered Courtney and Alicia making their way to our table.
“Hi, Liz. Hi, Ronnie,” they said, ignoring the rest of us.
Nina turned to me and rolled her eyes. I rolled my eyes, too. Those girls were so immature. I couldn’t believe they still blamed Nina for the day no one clapped.
“We’ve got room over there,” Alicia said, nodding to an empty table near the reference desk. “You don’t have to sit here if you don’t want.”
“Yeah,” Courtney added. “Come join us.”
“Maybe later,” Liz said.
They glanced at Ronnie.
“Ditto,” he said.
Courtney and Alicia stood there, like two actresses who’d forgotten their lines. For a moment, I felt sorry for them because I knew how it felt to be ignored — like the time I needed a partner in science. Everyone had paired up but me. I felt like such a leftover. Then Pimple Jim walked in, so I had to work with him. And to make things worse, he complained about being stuck with me even though I was in the GP, a whole step above his out-crowd status.
I didn’t like to be on the mean side of things, even if it meant I was cool, but then Courtney told Liz, “If that’s how you’re going to be, don’t expect a seat at our lunch table.” And even though she wasn’t addressing me, I felt offended.
“Whatever,” Liz said with the famous W sign.
Alicia made the W sign with both hands, then pointed at Liz, her way of saying, “Double ‘whatever’ to you.”
Courtney just flicked her hair and turned away.
As soon as they reached their table, Nina laughed. Loud. Courtney and Alicia glanced back, and their paranoid expressions made our whole table laugh. Mrs. Campos had to tap the lectern to hush us.
Then she said, “If you haven’t looked around, please do so now.”
Elena and I stood up.
“Aren’t you coming?” we asked Liz and Nina.
Liz said, “I don’t like to read.”
And Nina said, “My mom never gives me extra cash.”
“Really?” I wondered out loud. “She gave you a lot for the mall last week.”
Nina looked away, taking a moment to answer. “She made an exception that day,” she explained, “since I was volunteering at the old folks’ home.”
“You weren’t volunteering,” Elena said.
“According to my mom, I was.” Nina’s voice was stern. She meant to end the conversation. I could tell she was a little upset, and I couldn’t blame her. Sometimes, Elena didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.
“Besides,” Nina added, glancing at Liz, “don’t we have to go to the restroom?”
Liz said, “Oh, yeah, that’s right. It’s an emergency.”
“A serious emergency,” Nina said. Then she turned to me. “Didn’t you say you had to go, too?”
I didn’t remember saying that, but I noticed that Nina was fiddling with her scarf. Was this a secret breath sister code?
“I better go, too,” I said, and before she could protest, I told Elena, “I’ll hurry back to see your project, okay?”
“Okay. I guess I can look at the books first.” She sounded seriously disappointed, so I promised myself to get back soon.
“Will you watch our stuff?” Nina asked Ronnie.
“Sure,” he said.
Elena headed toward the books, while I followed Nina and Liz to the restroom. As soon as we got there, Liz said, “Nina told me about the mall. I think it’s so cool that you’re a breath sister.”
“You told her about the mall?” I asked Nina. “I thought it was a secret.”
“It is,” Nina said, “but breath sisters don’t keep secrets from each other — just from the people who aren’t part of our group.”
I stood silent for a while as I tried to work out this puzzle.
“Are you saying Liz is your breath sister, too?”
“Our breath sister,” Nina corrected. “And not only Liz but every girl who wears a scarf.” I must have looked disappointed because she said, “Just think about all the new friends you have.”
“That’s right.” Liz laughed. “Don’t you like hanging out with me?”
“Of course, I do,” I rushed to say. The last thing I needed was to insult my new friends. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“Well, don’t be,” Liz said. “Everybody thinks you’re so cool.” She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed lightly. Then she went to the door and peeked out. “The coast is clear.”
“Okay. So who wants to go first?” Nina asked.
“For what?” I wanted to know.
“The choking game. Why do you think we’re here?”
“I don’t know. I thought we had to use the restroom.”
They cracked up, told me I was hilarious, but since I wasn’t trying to be funny, I felt a little offended. Thank goodness, they calmed down. I didn’t like being laughed at.
Nina turned to me. “Why don’t you go first, Windy? And this time, don’t tap out.”
“But I’ll faint.”
They laughed again. What was so funny? Was I really that ridiculous?
“That’s the whole point,” Liz explained.
“I know,” I said even though fainting seemed like the stupidest idea in the world. How could it possibly be fun? I remembered how I saw green dots last Saturday, how the walls closed in, how the pressure hurt my head. I had been terrified. No way was I playing the choking game again. But Liz and Nina thought it was fun. They expected me to play. I could tell that our friendship depended on it. How did I get myself into this situation? I really wanted to be part of the in-crowd. I wanted it as much as I didn’t want to play the choking game.
“I’ll have to play next time,” I said as I backed out of the restroom, “because I promised Elena I’d hurry back. Plus, my mom expects me to buy something.”
“Are you sure?” Nina said.
“Yeah. Next time, I’ll play. I won’t tap out. I promise. But if I don’t hurry back now, Elena will send over a search team.”
They laughed. “That sounds like something she’d do,” I heard Liz say.
When I got back to the hallway, I took a deep breath, relieved. I managed to escape this time, but what about the next?
As I stepped into the library, I saw several in-crowd girls with scarves. That meant they were playing, too, didn’t it? They probably didn’t tap out. They must be fainting on a regular basis, yet they seemed fine. Maybe I was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe the choking game wasn’t as bad as I thought.
I wanted to talk to Elena about it, but when I found her, she was waiting impatiently at Reader’s Row. There was no way she would ever understand. Elena knew a lot about books and numbers and science, but nothing ab
out having cool friends.
When I reached her, she grabbed my elbow. We didn’t even glance at the other contest entries. Elena had designed a presentation board and a diorama, and even though she didn’t win first place, her project was very impressive.
“I read A Skating Life: My Story,” she said. “It’s by Dorothy Hamill. She won gold in the 1976 Olympics, when our parents were just little kids.”
The presentation board had a summary of the book and pictures of Dorothy Hamill. Elena also included a chart with the gold, silver, and bronze winners of every Olympic skater since. The diorama featured an ice-skater twirling on one toe.
“Remember that old jewelry box I used to have?” Elena said.
I nodded.
“I took it apart. This is the ballerina that was inside it. I painted her ballet shoes white and used aluminum to make little blades.”
“And you used layers of white tissue paper to make the ice,” I said.
“That’s right. I wish the ballerina still twirled, but the little motor in the jewelry box broke a long time ago.”
“It still looks great. How do you come up with these ideas?”
“I don’t know. I’m always finding ways to combine things, even if they don’t seem to go together at first. Like a jewelry box and a skating rink. Who knew they had something in common?”
I remembered Ronnie’s comment the other day, about cats and old people having so much in common. I still didn’t know what he meant, but I didn’t want to ask him. He’d think I was double dense for not figuring it out.
“You know why I like ice-skating so much?” Elena asked.
“I always wondered,” I said, “especially because you don’t even own a pair of skates.”
“Well, I don’t really want to go to the Olympics. Those girls start skating when they’re four. But I love to watch them. They have to be athletic, but they have to be creative, too. When they do their routines, they tell a story. And it doesn’t matter what language they speak, because they don’t use words. They use movement. So their message reaches the whole world.”
I nodded. Elena might look and act like a little girl, but sometimes she was as wise as a ninety-year-old.
After she straightened up her display, we looked at a few other entries — a book about the assassination of Abraham Lincoln presented as a graphic novel and a diorama of whales that included a sound track of their songs. We then made our way to the vendors, and spent some time looking at bookmarks.
