by Bibi Belford
Sherie says, “I’m motivated by shopping.”
Nancy laughs. “Me too. So is that money?”
Samantha says, “No, that’s greed. But none of the characters were greedy.”
Nicole says, “What about fear? Ragweed was afraid of the cat. Annemarie was afraid her best friend Ellen would be sent away in Number the Stars.”
Sherie adds, “And Despereaux is afraid the rats will hurt the princess.”
“Okay,” says Nancy. “Let’s write those down.” Then she almost makes me wet my pants when she looks at me and says. “What do you think, DeeDee?”
“What about love? All the characters were scared, but if they didn’t love their family or their friends, would they bother to risk their lives?” I almost make myself wet my pants when I say this. It sounds smart, doesn’t it? Not like something Dopey DeeDee would come up with.
Everyone stares at me like I’ve sprouted another head. I bite my lip. Maybe it’s not smart. Maybe it’s really stupid.
Nancy opens the marker. “That’s really good, DeeDee. I bet that’s exactly what Mrs. Krewell wanted us to figure out.”
I think about what River said about Nancy’s family, moving into this neighborhood. The first Asian family. I bet her parents were scared, but they loved their family and were more scared about not sending their kids to a good school. I think about Nancy with such an important brother.
I think about Mami. How scared she must be about my diabetes without Papi or our trailer. But she keeps working hard and doing everything she can. Because she loves us. Then I think about me. I guess I am sort of greedy. Worrying about myself and wanting everything. And I’m afraid of so many things. Danny leaving again. Papi never coming home. Ending up in the hospital. But I do love my family. That’s why I want to find Papi. For Mami. For Danita. For Danny. So everything will go back to normal.
We’re so busy writing and drawing we hardly notice when Mrs. Cruella stops to check on our progress. “Oh, this is exceptional. Great job.”
Nancy points at me. “It was DeeDee’s idea.”
Talk about almost wetting my pants.
After lunch River’s reading group goes to the reading corner. Lucky. They chose their own book to read. Nancy says something to River. His cheeks get rosy and his eyes get wet. He rolls his hands. I almost rush over and punch her, but thinking about the sleepover stops me. Instead I just slip next door to join the reading dummies.
•
When I get home after school, I eat a snack. A healthy one. By The Way. Apples and peanut butter. It’s no fun missing art to go get tested every hour—so from now on, no cheating.
Ever since Mami gave me a phone River always texts me when he gets home from school. He walks with Colin and it takes him a little longer. Today I wait fifteen minutes. No text. Finally I text him.
RU home yet?
Yes, one minute.
Danita and Andrea are making a playlist for the quinceañera. In between “Single Ladies” and “Cha-Cha Slide” they’re sprinkling in Mexican songs, and some waltzes, “El Jarabe Tapatio,” and “El Vals De Las Mariposas.” That pinchy place in my stomach does its squeezy thing when I hear that song. That’s the song Papi is supposed to dance with Danita. I still haven’t sent the letters for Papi and we haven’t gone to his work, either. If we don’t find him, Danny will have to do the Father-Daughter dance. Unless he’s at his NGYPC training. And that will be sad, won’t it?
It’s not one minute before River comes over. It’s more like twenty minutes and when I open the door, before he even acknowledges me, his text alert vibrates and he checks his phone. Then he does some fast texting, ignoring me the whole time. Finally, he shuts off his phone.
“Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just part of the furniture,” I say.
“That was an important text.”
“Fine,” I say.
“What’s eating you?”
“What’s eating you?”
He says something under his breath. It sounds like, you can’t have your cake, but it might be I don’t live in a cave. I guess both make sense.
“So, who was it?”
“Yari.”
A little steam comes out of my ears, but I breathe deeply. River and I can be friends. River and Yari can be friends. Mi casa, tu casa. Whoops. No Spanish. My house, your house.
“Here,” I say. “I finished translating the letter. And I added my phone number.”
“Fine. I will email it tomorrow and print the copies to mail. You’ll have to pay me back for the stamps.” He sounds very business-y
“Want to go to the library tomorrow?”
River doesn’t answer. “What’s that music?”
“The quinceañera play list.”
“Danita,” he calls.
“Hola, Río,” says Danita.
“Hola chica,” says River.
“Oh My Gatos,” I say, rolling my eyes. Really? She calls him Río? River in Spanish?
River pulls a huge bag of balloons from his backpack in all shades of blue. “Here, these were leftover from a fundraiser at my mom’s work.”
“Perfect,” says Danita.
“And she says to tell you the owner of a print shop she knows owes her a favor, so once you finish your invitation design, send her the file.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Danita invited my mom and me to the quinceañera.”
“I’ll send you an official invite once they’re done,” says Danita. “Gracias, Río.”
She takes the balloons, puts them in the box marked QUINCEAÑERA, and goes back to Andrea and the playlist.
“I gotta go,” says River.
“But you just got here.”
“Chop, chop,” says River, and he glares at me. Then he closes the door. Hard.
So Noodlenose told him what I said during lunch detention. I swallow a big gulp of uh-oh. And my stomach squeezes. Hard.
I text River, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.
Are you embarrassed to be my friend at school?
No. I promise. I’ll try harder. Library tomorrow?
It’s a long time before River responds. OK.
•
All day at school I try to be River’s friend. I try to catch his eye when I come in the classroom after my visit to Mrs. Marsh, but he never looks at me. I try to casually walk by his desk on my way to turn in my homework, but he and Colin are studying a picture in a book. And at recess I stay off the jungle gym and walk around in the rubber mulch watching the soccer scrimmage. River stays on the far side of the field blasting the ball into the net every time they pass to him.
When the recess bell rings, I try to get in line near River, but he offers to pick up the soccer cones for Bull-Face since it’s starting to drizzle. Bull-Face smiles at him. I walk by the special-needs lunch table, planning to mention today’s “library” trip or say good job on the soccer field, but Yari swoops in front of me.
“Brandon loves the idea,” she says to River. “But can you meet after school? To make it work we have to start it by March first.”
No, I want to say, he can’t. Not today, but I don’t. I’m sure River will tell her.
When I get home from school I tell Danita that River and I are going to the library.
“When you get back, go to River’s. Andrea and I have orientation,” she says.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Gawd. Don’t you know anything?” Danita says. “It’s so you know about high school.”
My text alert goes off. I grab my jacket and the key. In my pocket I have the little coin purse with $23.67 in it. I get to the hall and open my text messages.
Emergency meeting after school. Postpone library.
I feel like the end of a video game when you lose. Tiny dying fireworks. Fading music. Game Over.
Now what? Nobody needs me. Not Papi. Not River. Not Danita. Not Danny. Not Yari. Not Mami. Well, maybe Mami still needs me. And we all need Papi.
I take a
deep breath. I don’t need anybody to help me. I’m Dina Dee. I can do it by myself. How hard can it be? I walk to the bus stop. I take the map from my pocket. When Bus 29 pulls up, I get on. It’s the same bus driver from my trips with Mami to La Paloma, her favorite Mexican grocery store. He eyes me suspiciously. I nod at him and plop into a seat.
Mister, I’m on detective business. Wait until the receptionist gives me the address of Papi’s big new house in Mexico. Wait until I see Mr. Villapando in the parking lot and he tells me Papi got a new better job in Mexico. Wait until I tell River I figured it out. By myself.
When the sign in the front of the bus flashes AVON STREET, I pull the cord and get off. I think I need Bus 76 now. I check the map. No. I need Bus 67. And I’m not sure which direction I need to go. I wait. And wait. My hands get cold. I put them in my pocket. I feel my phone and the little pink coin purse. Why did I steal that anyway? Do people know I take stuff? Nobody wants a friend who takes stuff.
Bus 67 rumbles up. I hop up the steps. “Excuse me,” I say. “Does this bus go to North Avenue?”
“Other side,” growls the bus driver and I get off. Before I can cross the street, I see Bus 67 fly past going the other way. Oh no. I trudge across the street and wait some more.
Is this how Mami feels waiting for a bus everyday? Why doesn’t she get her driver’s license? Did she learn to drive in Mexico? I know she was twenty years old, and already married to Papi when she moved here. Why didn’t Papi help Mami get her driver’s license?
Bus 67 finally comes. I squeeze into the only seat left on the bus. A high school boy and girl in front of me are very kissy-facey. Gross. I look away and watch the sign until it flashes NORTH AVENUE. I get off. Which way do I walk? I close my eyes. I imagine Papi and me driving to TAICO to pick up his check. Parking at a big white building with windows that reflect the sun like aluminum foil. Cashing his check. Getting gas. Buying me a blue raspberry Slurpee. Pulling through the car wash.
I open my eyes. Way down the street I see a sign—a big green flower under the letters BP. A gas station. And when I finally walk up the sidewalk, I get that little pitter-patter in my heart when I think of Papi. I’m so close to knowing where he is I can almost see him. I open the jingly door and get myself a blue raspberry Slurpee.
I stand on my tiptoes to put a dollar on the counter. “Excuse me,” I ask the cashier. “Could you tell me which way to TAICO?” I take a big slurp of my Slurpee.
The woman in line behind me leans forward. “TAICO? Hadn’t you heard? They shut down two weeks back.” Her cigarette breath stays in the air between us.
I stumble toward the door with my Slurpee. My hands freezing. My heart cold.
“Hey, it’s a dollar-twenty-seven,” calls the cashier.
I push open the door. The BP is blurry. The flower is blurry. Everything is blurry. I set my Slurpee down on the sidewalk and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. I lean against the wall and suck my Slurpee until the brain freeze stops my tears. I toss the rest of it in the trash. TAICO shut down? What happened to all the people? What happened to Mr. Villapando?
I lift my 500-pound feet and plod back to the bus stop. My stomach lurches and I wish I’d eaten a snack. While my pepita of hope slips away, so does the daylight. At the bus stop, the streetlight on the corner flickers, like it wants to shine but is afraid it’s too early. And maybe afraid the other streetlights will make fun of her. “Look at Flashy Flora, always showing off. She can’t even shine. Who does she think she is?”
I must be loopy. Talking street lights? I board the bus and lay my head against the window. Did Papi leave us on purpose? Or was River right about Papi being undocumented? Maybe Papi got deported. Or worse. What if he’s—NO. I refuse to say that word.
My brain hurts from thinking. My stomach aches from blue raspberry Slurpee. And my feet hurt from walking. I close my eyes.
I jolt awake when someone jiggles my arm. “Little miss, this is the last stop. You want to transfer, you got to get off.”
“Did we pass Avon Street?”
“We sure did,” says the bus driver. “You can catch another sixty-seven bus going back that way in about thirty minutes.”
I stand up and know I’m in trouble. My heart pounds. The floor spins while I struggle to focus. I’m shaky and hold onto the door for balance as I step down from the bus. I take tiny steps to the bus stop bench and lower myself to sit. I’m so thirsty. Where am I? I pull my phone from my pocket. My hands are sweaty. Four text messages from Danita. I squint at my phone.
What time will you be home? 4:32 PM
You better answer me. 4:45 PM
I have to leave. Get your butt home. 5:15 PM
If you don’t text me back in ten minutes I’m calling Mami. 5:30 PM
I check the time. 5:35. Oh Land O’Lakes. My head hurts so bad. But Danita will think I’m such a baby if I tell her I’m lost.
My phone rings. Danita. “Hello?” I say.
“DeeDee? Where are you? I’m going to be late for my orientation.”
“Just go. I’ll text River and tell him I’m going to be a late coming to his house.”
The minute I hear myself I know I made a mistake.
“River? You told me you and River went to the library! Mami will kill me. You have to ruin everything, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry, Danita.” I start to cry. And I hate crying. A taxi honks.
“What’s that noise? DeeDee? Are you okay? Where are you?”
I snuffle into the phone. “I don’t know. I fell asleep on the bus.”
Danita says a swear word which I won’t repeat. “Well, look at the street signs. Look at the buildings. What do you see?”
“I’m on North Avenue. And the sign across the street says Downy Place.”
“Downy and North? You’re at the library, you tonto.” Danita laughs into the phone.
I look behind me. Northlake Public Library. The library? I’m not that far away. “Danita, I don’t feel good.”
“I’m calling Danny. He’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I hear the worry in Danita’s voice. “Tell him to bring me a juice and a snack.”
“Don’t worry, Mija, don’t worry.”
“Danita?” If Papi can’t be at the quinceañera, then she needs me. She needs us. Her family.
“What reinita?”
“I want to be in your quinceañera. Is it too late?” Why did I ever act so mean and awful?
Danita laughs. “Oh mija, of course you can.”
•
When Mami gets home she thinks we should go to the hospital. My blood sugar is still really low. But I didn’t pass out. And I’m not shaky anymore. Mami wants to know what happened. Danita stares at me. Danny stares at me.
“River and I were supposed to go to the library, but he had a meeting so I tried to go by myself. And I forgot to eat my snack.”
Danita raises her eyebrows. Danny shakes his head. They know I’m not telling the truth, but they don’t know what the truth is.
Mami points at us. “Sin valores,” she hisses.
I feel about one quarter inch tall.
“Grounded,” Mami tells me and humphs on her way to the kitchen.
“But the sleepover is Friday. Can I go, please?” I beg.
“Two days grounded,” she calls with her head in the fridge, figuring out dinner.
“I’m sorry about your orientation,” I say to Danita.
“I’ll go tomorrow. I was supposed to meet somebody there tonight, but it’s okay.”
“Somebody special?” I ask and make a kissing noise.
“Oh, shut up, DeeDee,” says Danita, and she gets red in the face.
•
I’m grounded on Wednesday and on Thursday when River goes with Danny to the high school to register for the special training program. When they return, River comes over.
“Danny says you almost had to go to the hospital,” says River. “What happened?”
“I went to the library by mys
elf.” I have to use our code word because Danita’s in her bedroom and Danny hasn’t left for night school.
“Oh, no. You did? I’m sorry I stayed for SLT instead of keeping our plan.”
And he looks so sorry I have to believe him. I whisper, “They closed the plant.”
“No!” says River. “That’s terrible. And listen, DeeDee. I really am sorry. If something happened to you … well, I wasn’t being a good friend to ditch you like that. It’s just that, well,” River’s hands are rolling and his eyes flit around the room. “Um, it bugs me when you care more about what other people think than what I think.”
“I don’t,” I say, softly.
“And I don’t want you to be my friend because you feel sorry for me. Because I’m different. Like some kids at school do.”
“I don’t,” I say again, louder.
“Or think you’re great like they do for being nice to me and showing me favoritism because I have a disability.”
“Oh-Em-Gee. I don’t,” I yell.
River jumps. “Sometimes I don’t know if you really want to be friends with me.”
I fold my arms across my stomach so it won’t pinch and squeeze me. How do I say that it’s me, not him, that’s the problem? How do I say that I’m not Dina Dee and not Diva Dee, but Down-in-the-Dumps Dee?
“I do,” is all I say. “I do. I just mess up.”
“As long as you learn from your mess-ups,” says River.
Danny walks into the living room. In a deep voice River says, “Why do we fall, Bruce?”
Danny says, “So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”
“Batman?” I ask.
“Right, you are,” says River in a Yoda voice.
“Leave, I must,” says Danny and sits down to tie his shoes.
“Weird, you are,” I say and they both laugh.
“Want to go to the skatepark on Saturday if it’s nice? My mom has an errand over there, so she said she’ll drop us off if Danny can pick us up.”
“The skatepark?” I ask. “Does a bear poop in the woods? Danny, can you? Mrs. Wang is dropping me off Saturday morning at eight.”
River rolls his eyes. “Oh. The sleepover. I can’t believe you’re still going to that.” River starts to calculate in his head. “So if we go at nine, can you pick us up around noon, or do you have National Guard?”
