by Diana Lopez
I placed my books on a shelf above the sink.
“I’m not mad about that,” I said.
“Really?” She sat on the window ledge. “That’s a relief. I want you to know, Windy — I don’t like Ronnie. He’s nice, but I just like him as a friend. And I never gave him mixed messages. Especially since you like him. I wouldn’t steal your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Never was.”
“I know. But, I wouldn’t steal the guy you liked. That’s not what breath sisters do.”
I saw an opening. “What about money?” I asked. “Do breath sisters steal money?”
“Money?” She shifted her weight on the window ledge. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone took forty dollars from Mrs. Vargas last week — the same amount you had when we went shopping.”
She laughed. “You think I took her money since we both had forty bucks? That’s just a coincidence, Windy.”
“So you did have that much?!” I shook my head. Even now, I didn’t want to believe she’d steal, but here she was, caught in a lie. “Why?” I asked. “Why would you steal from Mrs. Vargas?”
She didn’t answer right away. I could tell she wanted to turn this around, talk her way out of it.
“I didn’t,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re blaming me.”
“I don’t know what else to think. Mrs. Vargas had forty dollars before we visited, but when we left, it was gone. I know I didn’t steal it, and since you had that much money at the mall …”
“You assumed I took it. Is that it? Because Elena was there, too, you know.”
“Then at the book fair,” I continued, “you said your mother never gave you money.”
“I had saved up my allowance!”
She startled me. I’d never heard Nina raise her voice this way. I could tell she didn’t like being busted.
“Besides,” she went on, “why do you think the money was stolen? Mrs. Vargas is old. She’s probably senile or something. She probably used the money to get dentures or whatever old people buy.”
Sometimes, when I found myself walking against heavy winds, I had to lean into them and force my way through. Otherwise, I’d be swept away. The same was true now. I had to lean into Nina’s lies and force my way through.
“She didn’t spend it,” I said. “You did.”
For a long moment, she studied me, but I didn’t lower my eyes or step away or take back my words.
“All right,” she admitted. “I took the money. But what did I spend it on? Have you thought about that? I wasn’t being selfish. I spent it on you, mostly. Can you blame me? You don’t know how embarrassing it is — to never have cash — especially when your parents aren’t poor. My mom and dad are so into themselves. The only time they notice me is when I’m in trouble, and then they ground me. I’m always grounded. That’s why I snuck out that day. That’s why I took the forty bucks. I just wanted you to like me. Can you blame me for that?”
She started to cry, which made me feel terrible inside. I hated to hurt people’s feelings. Then again, why was this my fault? I didn’t do anything wrong.
Nina wiped her tears with her scarf, and for the second time that day, I saw details I hadn’t noticed before — only this time, instead of the hallway, these details were about Nina. I knew she didn’t feel bad about the money. She felt bad about getting caught. Her words and actions were all lies. If only I could shut them off. First I’d shut off the lie that made me go for Ronnie when I didn’t have a chance. Then the one she wrote about Elena in my TOP FIVE notebook. Then the one that denied stealing money. And finally, the lie about Nina being my friend, my breath sister.
“Can we put this behind us?” she asked. Already, her tears had dried.
Before I could answer, the door opened.
“There you are,” Liz said. “I was looking everywhere for you guys.”
“We decided to skip lunch today,” Nina explained.
“You aren’t missing much,” Liz said. “They’re serving gravy with a little bit of meat and fake mashed potatoes covered in more gravy. It’s really gross.”
She grabbed a lipstick from her purse and went to the mirror.
“I have to go,” I said.
“Stay,” Nina insisted.
“Yeah,” Liz said. “Besides, it’s your turn.”
She didn’t have to spell it out. I knew exactly what she meant. Last week, I had promised to play the choking game the next time we had a chance.
“She’s mad at me,” Nina admitted.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story,” Nina answered.
Liz made the “whatever” sign. Then she turned to me. “I’m bummed that you’re mad at Nina, but you’re not mad at me, are you?”
“No,” I said.
She smiled, put her arm around me, and led me to the far end of the restroom. Then, she put her hands on my shoulders. “Are you ready?” she said as she reached toward my neck.
“I, um … I, um …”
“Don’t you want to be my breath sister?” she whispered.
I nodded because I did. I liked having a whole group of friends now — of being included. True, I was angry with Nina, but did that mean I had to be angry with everyone else, too?
So when Liz started to squeeze my neck, I didn’t stop her. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, to “go all the way” like they had suggested. They had hinted that it felt good, but once again, a balloon expanded in my head, pushing against my eyeballs and eardrums and tongue. My head felt like a towel being twisted to wring the water out — but instead of water, I was losing my breath. I was going to die — I just knew it. So I tapped Liz’s arms. She only squeezed harder. Wasn’t she supposed to let go? Wasn’t that the rule? “Stop,” I tried to say, but nothing came out. I tried stepping back, but I was against the wall. So I pushed — I pushed hard. Liz let go and took a few clumsy steps backward.
“What’d you do that for?” she asked.
I couldn’t answer. I needed to catch my breath.
“You don’t really want to be a breath sister, do you?” Nina said.
“It’s not that,” I managed.
“Then what is it?”
“I just remembered. I’ve got a book on hold at the library.” Now I was a big fat liar, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get away.
“Don’t be such a schoolgirl,” Liz teased. “Besides, the book’s not going anywhere.”
I lied again. “I need it for a class this afternoon.”
Before they could say anything else, I slipped out of the bathroom and hurried to the library.
I didn’t know how I felt or what to do. In some ways, life at school was better now.
But in other ways, it was worse. As a breath sister, I was a fake. Nina was already figuring it out, and soon, everyone else would, too. Then I’d be kicked out of the in-crowd just like Alicia and Courtney had been kicked out. But even though I still wanted to be popular, I didn’t like the choices I had to make. I was scared of the choking game, but more importantly, I missed Elena.
I gazed at the books, not really looking at the titles. I just wanted to think. Should I beg Elena for forgiveness? If I did, we’d be friends again. Everything back to status quo. But what would Nina do? Would she turn everyone against me? I’d have out-crowd status for sure, and I’d probably drag Elena down with me. Then, my only hope for romance would be Pimple Jim.
“Can I help you find something?” the librarian asked.
“I’m just browsing.”
She nodded and went to help another student. I had no desire to check out a book. Maybe I should go to a table and study? I thought. Wait a minute! Where did I leave my textbooks? The last place I saw them was in the restroom, on that shelf above the sink. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten them.
I rushed back, pushed open the restroom door, and discovered that Liz and Nina were still in there. But then, I noticed that Nina … that she was … that
she was unconscious on the floor. The filthy restroom floor! Liz crouched beside her, but she didn’t seem concerned. Why wasn’t she concerned? Nina had collapsed! She looked like a rag doll thrown against the wall. Her legs were bent in backward L’s, and her eyes had rolled back, the lids flickering as if she were having a seizure.
I pushed Liz aside.
“Nina. Nina!”
I lifted her chin, tried to rouse her.
“Calm down,” Liz said.
“How could you let her pass out like this? So completely? Is this what you do all the time?”
I couldn’t think straight. I did fidgety things like straighten Nina’s shirt, brush back her hair, and tap her cheek.
Liz said, “Quit freaking out, Windy.”
“Do you want her to die?!” I exclaimed.
“That’s why we call the game ‘flatliner’ sometimes.”
“Flatliner” made me think of heart monitors, which made me think about the medical shows on TV. They did CPR, right? I’d do it then. I’d breathe into Nina’s mouth and pound her chest. I’d get her back. I had to. It wasn’t too late.
“Go get the nurse,” I told Liz. “I’m going to start CPR.”
“Will you calm down? Do you want us to get suspended?”
Just then, Nina’s hand twitched. She blinked her eyes.
“Nina?” I said, hopefully.
She took a breath, coughing a bit.
“Nina?”
She mumbled something. I couldn’t understand her, but no matter. She was coming back. She’d be okay. She had to be.
I grabbed a paper towel, dampened it, and patted her face.
“Say something,” I begged.
“Hey.” It was only a three-letter word, but Nina managed to make it last as long as a whole sentence.
“Are you okay?”
“More than,” she whispered. “More than okay.”
She didn’t sound like herself. Her words were detached, as if caught in a speech bubble floating away. Her eyes were gradually focusing, though her legs stayed oddly bent. She was the aftermath of a horrible accident that I couldn’t help watching.
Finally, she straightened herself and woozily sat up. “That was freaking awesome,” she mumbled.
“Awesome?! I thought you were going to die!” I cried. “Why didn’t you tap out?”
“Tap out?” Liz laughed. “What’s the point of playing, then?”
“What’s the point of playing if you’re not going to tap out?” I argued. “I know you say it makes you feel good, but the game’s really about trust, right? It’s how you become a breath sister.”
Nina reached for my hand. I couldn’t believe how cold her fingers were. “You’re my breath sister,” she whispered. “Both of you are.”
Her voice sounded like an old man’s. She’d probably messed up her voice box. I glanced at her throat. She wasn’t wearing her scarf. For the first time, I got a good look at her neck. Something was definitely wrong with it. A thick horizontal line ran across. Its edges were blunt, and it had overlapping bands of yellow and brown. That was why she always wore a scarf. She didn’t want anyone to see the birthmark on her neck. Like her personality, her body had its ugly side, too.
“How can collapsing like a dead person be fun?” I asked Liz.
“Because. When the blood rushes back, you get this really cool floaty feeling.”
“Yeah, floaty,” Nina giggled.
I stood up, disgusted. I didn’t have my notebook, but I knew what my next list would be: “The Top Five Stupid Ways to Get High” — smoking pot, drinking beer, shooting up, sniffing glue, and playing the choking game.
“Quit acting like a Goody Two–shoes,” Liz said. “It’s not like doing drugs. No one’s ever been arrested for playing the choking game.”
All I could do was shake my head in disbelief.
“Windy,” Nina said. “Look at me.”
I did. She was getting her voice back, her strength and her wits. I guess the floaty feeling didn’t last very long.
“I’m okay, right? And I’ve done this lots of times.”
“Me, too,” Liz said.
“See?” Nina continued. “And we’re perfectly okay. We’re not drug addicts who can’t tie their own shoes. And you know why?”
I shook my head again.
“Because the choking game’s not dangerous, that’s why.”
I thought about all the lies Nina had told me today, but this one sounded like the biggest lie of all.
After school, I went straight to my room. I’d had such an upsetting day. The only thing I wanted was some private time with my cats. They were waiting for me. They must have sensed that I really needed them right now. When I put down my things, Cloudy ran to them and stuck his nose in my half-zipped backpack. El Niño purred as he lounged in the sunlight that poured in. And Sunny jumped on a pillow and begged for a belly rub. I didn’t have to guess how they felt. Why couldn’t people be as easy to read?
I opened the window. “Raindrop!” I called. The bushes rustled when he yawned and arched his back to stretch. “You’ve been sleeping all day, haven’t you?” He sat, licked his paw, and ran it over his head as if fixing a sleek hairdo. I tapped the window ledge and he hopped in. Mom already knew he was here. So why wait till bedtime? He wouldn’t get in trouble as long as he stayed in my room.
Cloudy meowed suddenly. One of his claws was stuck in the spiral of my TOP FIVE notebook. “Crazy cat!” I said as I freed him. I shooed him away and then opened the notebook. “The Top Five Cats in the World,” I wrote, and even though he died a few years ago, I started with Cyclone. “Five, Cyclone, for being the cat I grew up with. Four, El Niño, for never getting upset or complaining. Three, Cloudy, for being curious about everything — my backpack, closet, shoes, and purse. Two, Sunny, for showing me affection and not caring how I look or what kind of grades I make, or how much money I have, or how cool I am. And the number one cat — Raindrop, for being young and innocent, for not knowing how ‘meanormous’ people can be.”
Poor Raindrop. I had two weeks till summer, two weeks to find him a home. Otherwise, Mom would take him to the pound.
I brainstormed, but I couldn’t think of anyone who’d adopt a cat. I had a bunch of boy cousins who’d probably use Raindrop for “experiments” the way they used the gerbils they once had. Elena, even if she were talking to me, had a dog who thought cats were as tasty as Alpo. And there was no way on earth I’d consider Nina after what I saw this afternoon.
I decided to make a CAT NEEDS HOME flyer and post it around the neighborhood or on the announcement board at school. I opened my backpack for some paper and discovered the book I’d bought at the fair, Careers for Animals.
“How would you like a job, Raindrop?”
I pulled out the book and flipped through the pages. Dogs had the most career choices. They could guide the blind or assist law enforcers. A bird called a cormorant helped fishermen, while falcons helped hunters. Rats identified landmines, while dolphins found mines in the sea. Horses, oxen, and elephants had jobs, too. But I couldn’t find anything for cats. They were probably too stubborn and lazy to work. I was ready to give up, but when I turned one more page, I found it — the perfect job! Research studies had shown that dogs and cats could help people who felt depressed. They were called “pet therapists.”
“I don’t know where yet, but you’re going to be a therapist! You’re going to help people, Raindrop.”
As soon as I announced my brilliant idea, I heard the front door opening.
“Mom?”
But Dad peeked in my room instead. He was wearing his fancy suit and still had his red hair and blue eyes. He wasn’t about to let Mom talk him out of his new look.
“¿Cómo estás?” he asked.
“How are you?” was probably the only question I could answer in Spanish. I said, “Así, así,” which means “kinda good and kinda bad.”
“Is everything okay, mija?”
Mom and Dad ofte
n told me I could share anything with them. But sometimes, I wanted to work out my problems by myself.
“Tough day at school,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Dad studied me for a moment. “If you want to talk later, my door’s always open, okay?”
Just then, we heard jingling keys.
“Speaking of open doors,” Dad said as Mom entered the house.
“Hello!” she called. “Alfonso? Windy?”
We made our way to the living room.
“Look what I found in the mailbox.”
She handed Dad an envelope. He opened it and pulled out a DVD.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“It’s from the TV station. I called them and told them you wanted to know why you didn’t get the job. They said they couldn’t discuss it with me, but they promised to send you the audition tape.”
I remembered our conversation at the restaurant Saturday when Mom told me we’d discover why Dad didn’t get the job. She must have already talked to the people at the station.
“Want to see it?” she asked.
“Of course,” Dad said.
He turned on the TV, put the disc in the player, and sat between Mom and me on the couch.
“Finally, you’ll understand,” he said to Mom. “I didn’t look the part back then. But if I went in today, with all these improvements, I’d look perfect.”
Mom sighed. “Let’s just watch the video.” She grabbed the remote and pressed PLAY.
The screen showed the date and my dad’s name, while a voice said, “Audition tape for position number 183485.” Then the screen showed my dad. Some people gained weight on camera, or the bright lights revealed all their blemishes and wrinkles. But Dad appeared fit and handsome. In fact, he looked better than the new guy.
“You look great,” I said.
“Yeah,” Mom agreed. “You’re very debonair on TV — kind of like a Mexican James Bond.”
Dad scratched his head. “I do look better than I thought … so why didn’t I get the job?”
At that moment, a voice on the TV said, “You can begin now, Mr. Soto.”
“Now?” my dad asked on the screen. Then he just stopped — like a hypnotized person waiting for a command. A map of Texas with major cities and temperatures was behind him, but he was staring at something right above the camera.
