by Bibi Belford
My chest feels broken—my breath is caught in my throat and I can’t suck in. I start to run. Freddie calls after me but there’s a buzzing in my ears. Like a freight train roaring in my brain. I knew it. Something bad has happened to Papi. He didn’t make it. He must be dead. Freddie knows because his Uncle José knows. Everybody knows but me. I pretend I don’t hear him and run to the car. I pretend I’m deaf.
I get in the back seat and slam the door.
“What’s her problem?” asks Danny.
“I don’t know,” says River.
I’m deaf. Don’t talk to me. What’s the sign for that?
“Is it your diabetes? Should we check?” asks Danny.
I’m Deaf DeeDee. Dopey DeeDee. Out my window the sun flashes between the buildings. But I’m in a shadow. Who wants to hear anyway? What good are words?
Danny keeps looking in the rearview mirror.
“Is she sick?” he asks River. “Or hurt?”
“I don’t know. I heard her talking to a high-school kid just before we left.”
“Maybe she’s tired. That was a long day of skating after a sleepover.”
They talk as if I’m not here and can’t hear. Hear. Here. Yes. Not hearing can make it seem like you’re not here.
I feel Danny watching me. Waiting for me to thaw. To be okay. To regain consciousness. But I’m frozen in a deaf coma and I will never be okay.
The car is silent all the way home. What’s wrong with me? I don’t want to care anymore. About anything. Sleepovers. Skateboarding. Friends. Family. Nobody can make me care. Starting now.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
D IS FOR DISGRACE
Danny drops us off and goes to work. River walks past me without a word and slams his door. I don’t care if he’s still mad at me. I don’t care about anything anymore. I open the door to our apartment and wish I had my own room for the zillionth time. A room with a door that locked. A room with soundproofing. A room for being alone
Pieces of fabric, paper, envelopes, pictures of dresses, markers are spread all over the couch and chairs and table. Music is blaring. Danita and Andrea are giggling.
“Yay! She’s here. DeeDee, look, isn’t this the perfect color for everyone? Andrea’s grandma is going to make our dresses. I’m going to invite River to be in my court, and he can be your escort. Unless you want to be my pajes, but flower girls are usually little. Want to help? We’re writing notes to my quinceañera court.”
I point to the hall and go right back out. As the door closes I hear Andrea. “She must have forgotten something at River’s. She’ll be back. Don’t worry. She’ll love it.”
I don’t know where I’m going. A cocoon place where I can be numb. My skateboard carries me without asking questions and in a few minutes I find myself at Rub-a-Dub-Tub. I go in and find a chair way back in the corner. I put my backpack on the floor. It’s not quiet, but it’s a silent kind of noisy. The washers hum. The dryers thunk. The kaleidoscope of colors swirl. And I sit in my deaf world. A girl without her Papi.
That’s where I am when the washers are mostly empty and the sun sets behind the streaky windows. And that’s where I am when Danny sits down across from me.
I look straight into Danny’s eyes. “Papi’s dead, isn’t he?”
“He’s not dead.”
These are the first words Danny says to me.
My deafness falls away from my ears. “How do you know?”
“Freddie called me. He said you ran away while he was talking to you. Said you looked upset.” Danny pulls his phone from his pocket. “I texted you.”
I forgot about my phone. I unzip the little front pouch of my backpack and see six text messages from Danny and Danita. None from River. “Freddie said he was real sorry about Papi. He said he didn’t make it.”
Danny stands up. “Mami is waiting to talk to you.”
“I thought you went to work,” I say, picking up my skateboard.
“Yes, twice in one week I had to tell my boss my little sister needs rescuing.” Danny pats my cheek and picks up my backpack. “After Eddie called me I called Danita and she said River told her he followed you to Rub-A-Dub-Tub. He was worried about you.”
I smile. Crazy-detective River. It might not be too late. I want to make it up to both of them. Show Danny how much I love him for being my big brother. Show River I’m sorry about everything and thank him for worrying about me.
Mami and Danita are sitting on the couch when I open the door. Andrea is gone. The TV is off. I don’t smell cooking. A bad sign at dinnertime. Mami is holding a tissue and Danita’s face is blotchy red from crying.
I want to say something funny. Something to make everything go back to normal. “Why so serious?” I say in Joker’s voice, the one from the Batman movie.
“Oh, DeeDee. Estaba preocupadísima. I was worried to death.” Mami blubbers, then blows her nose in a tissue. But when she lifts her head from the nose blowing she turns on me. A rabid dog. Her voice is hysterical. “Casco? Helmet? No tienes casco?”
Oh, Land O’Lakes. I didn’t think she’d find out I left my helmet at home. Is that why she’s crying?
Danny pushes me toward Mami. I smoosh into the space between her and Danita. Danny sits on the arm of the couch.
Mami lets out a whole stream of Spanish in between sobs, and Danita pats her and Danny hands her tissues. She’s talking about Papi. I hear two words over and over. Deportado and indocumentado. I also hear policía.
“Did you understand all that?” asks Danny.
I wrinkle my nose. “Not all of it.”
“Papi got pulled over for a speeding ticket on his way to work with Freddie’s Uncle José in December. But when the police ran his license they found he had been arrested a long time ago before any of us were born, for leaving the scene of an accident, which is a felony.”
Mami interrupts. “No fue su culpa. La culpa era del otro carro, pero se fue.” Not his fault. There was another car that caused it and left.
Danita sniffles.
“But that was a long time ago. I’m almost eighteen. What’s the difference?” says Danny.
“Didn’t he pay a fine to get out?” I ask.
Mami looks at Danny. Danny crosses his legs, then uncrosses his legs. “The difference is, Papi is undocumented. No green card. So he received deportation papers all those years ago, but he never left.”
Mami wails when he says this. “Estaba embarazada con Daniel. Y él no quería salir.” I was pregnant with Daniel and he didn’t want to leave.
I don’t know what to do. I lean up against her and put my head on her shaking shoulder. My Papi. Undocumented? But he has a wife and three kids and a job.
“Remember how Papi wanted to go to Mexico when Uncle Tito moved back there? Well, that’s why,” says Danny, running his hands through his hair. “I didn’t know.”
Danita sniffles again and says, “And before Thanksgiving when he wanted us all to go, I told him he was ruining my life. I told him I hated him.”
I think about what I said. All you care about is yourself. When really all he cared about was keeping our family together.
“ICE picked him and Freddie’s uncle up the day after he got the ticket. And Mami hasn’t heard from him.”
“But what about his cell phone? Why didn’t he call us? What about mi bisabuelita and Uncle Tito? Why don’t they call us?”
“He doesn’t have his cell phone, or it’s not working. I checked to see if he’s made any calls from his number.”
“What about our relatives? Don’t they have cell phones?”
Mami and Danny share a look. It’s the DeeDee-istoo-young-to-know look.
“Oh My Gatos. What? I’m old enough to know everything you know about Papi.”
Mami speaks rapidly in Spanish and I catch a few words. “Guerrero. Very dangerous. Very far away.”
Danny says, “Papi is from Tixtla. Close to the capital of Guerrero. Almost two thousand miles from the border. He left when he was a teenager
. Met Mami in Jalisco and they immigrated here. Mami doesn’t think he has enough money to get back there, and doesn’t want to.”
“Why?” I ask. If Papi is all alone in Mexico his family should help him.
“The capital of Guerrero, Chilpancingo, has so many murders they close the morgues—you know, where they keep the bodies”
“Where’s Uncle Tito? Can’t he help Papi?”
“He’s in Mexico City. And if Papi doesn’t have his phone …” Danny trails off.
Poor Papi. Did Mami know this would happen? Why didn’t we just go with him? My heart is still beating in my stomach. Thud. Thud. Thud. What’s going to happen? How do we know he’s okay? It’s been so many weeks. “Did you check the trailer park?” I ask. “Maybe he sent us a letter.”
“Sí, sí, pero no sabían a dónde nos mudamos, they didn’t know where we moved.” Mami blows her nose. “Las devolvían, they returned it.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I ask Mami. “I thought he was dead.”
Waves of Spanish words crash from Mami’s mouth and I’m not sure I understand.
Danny says, “She didn’t want us to think less of Papi. To think he was bad for getting arrested and having a felony and being undocumented. For him to disgrace the family.”
Mami looks so sad. “Lo siento, mijos. I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, I wrote to him,” I say. “River and I did. We sent emails and letters to every hospital and mission and church in all the border towns.”
My whole family stares at me. Like I’ve grown another head or turned purple with pink polka dots. Then Mami grabs me and squeezes me so hard all that air that was trapped in my throat rushes out.
Danita squeals, “Oh, DeeDee. Oh, DeeDee.”
Danny stands up. He rubs his tattooed wrist. “Way to go Gordita.”
And silly me, my eyes get wet, and you know how I feel about crying.
•
I don’t start waiting for River to text me until Sunday afternoon. I know he’s got church and sometimes family get-togethers. I go out to the parking lot and check for his mom’s car over and over. But it’s not there. Where did he go? He didn’t tell me he was going anywhere.
After dinner Danny takes Danita to a basketball tournament at the high school. Mami goes to bed. I stay up and wait for them to come home. I still hope for a text message from River. But nothing. I think about texting him to tell him the news about Papi. But I don’t.
When my text alert goes off, I jump. It’s a number I don’t recognize.
This is River. I think I left my phone in Danny’s car. Ask him if I can check.
Me: He’s not home. I’ll bring it to you when he gets back.
River: No. I’ll get it myself.
Me: If it’s late and I find it I’ll bring it to school. Where have you been?
I wait for him to text back, but he doesn’t. He must be using his mom’s phone.
I get ready for couch and I’m drifting off to skateboard dancing heaven when the click of the lock startles me. Danny tiptoes in and hangs his keys on the hook.
Danita whispers, “She’s so cute when she’s sleeping, isn’t she?”
Danny mumbles something about high maintenance not being cute.
Danita whispers back, “Yah. Cute as a pain in the butt.”
I grit my teeth and pretend to be asleep. It’s not Papi who’s a disgrace. It’s me.
I don’t want to bother Danny for River’s phone, so once I hear him finish brushing his teeth and close his bedroom door, I grab his keys and do my own tiptoeing out and down the hall to the stairs. It’s spooky being in the parking lot in the dark and I hope nobody sees me in my princess pj’s. When I get to Danny’s car I dig around in the front seat and sure enough, I find River’s phone jammed in between the seat cushions. It’s after ten-thirty. Too late to call or knock. First thing in the morning I’ll bring it to him.
But when I get back to my couch a voice in my ear says, “Yoo hoo. You there. Don’t you want to sneak a peek at his phone? You know his pass code. Now’s your chance. I won’t tell.” Actually disgrace should be my middle name.
And I know it’s a rotten thing to do. Creeping around on his phone. Don’t judge. First I look at his photos. They’re mostly selfies of us. Skating. Drawing. At the library. And a few of him and Yari at SLT and him and Colin.
Then I see a new app called Padlet. It sounds like a farm game or maybe something like Minecraft. When I open it there’s a list of dates, and each date opens a new bulletin board. Each bulletin board has a jumble of poems, diary entries, photos, graphics, emoticons. I pull up the first one and scan over it. A little text box has the words:
I met a girl today
On the balcony.
A colorful girl.
One who hears.
Will she want
To be friends with me?
There’s a scan of the drawing he gave me in the hospital. And a link to an article about diabetes. I don’t know what to think. It’s cool, but it’s weird.
I hit another date, this time in February.
It’s a journal page.
All I want in the world is to be a normal boy. But if I can’t be a normal boy, then I want to be a good friend. I’m scared about going to Robert Frost tomorrow. I’m scared I won’t be able to do things like the hearing kids. I’m scared I might get hurt without adaptive equipment. And I’m scared the teachers might be frustrated teaching me. But at least I have one friend already. I know she will help me make a good start. She’s so creative and funny. I like that she says what’s on her mind and wants to try new things. I’m so lucky DeeDee moved next door.
I have to close my eyes after I read that one. And squeeze them tight. I was a horrible friend. I made everything even worse for River. But he was still a good friend to me. What a disgrace I am.
Another date in February.
I don’t forgive people because I’m weak.
I forgive them because I’m strong enough
To understand people make mistakes.
A drawing of the jungle gym. A girl sits at the top. Me. A girl stands at the bottom with her leg out. Nancy. And two boys hold a soccer ball together. River and Colin.
Then I open a date from a week ago. In the text box it says:
I found out DeeDee made fun of me with her friends.
I never should have trusted her in the first place.
She’s as shallow as a kiddie pool.
Forgiving someone is easy, but being able to trust
them again is a whole different story.
There’s a few photos of the latest skateboard shoe advertisements with his speech bubbles added—saving my money, and can’t wait until my birthday. There’s also a really cool drawing of a kid on a shark-shaped skateboard doing a vertical on a cloud. The shark has a piece of the cloud in its teeth. I can’t believe how good River’s art is.
I go to the first date in March. A drawing of the Starship Enterprise, the Star Trek ship. Under the drawing River wrote:
“ Resistance is futile.”
And under that he wrote:
I will not let my distinctions make me feel weak or afraid. I will not let others force me to be someone I’m not. I will accept myself. I’m doing the best I can.
I open the last entry.
Today’s the saddest day.
I told myself everyone makes mistakes.
I told myself at least I had one friend,
Even if it was only for half the time.
But my mom always says
People don’t deserve second and third chances
Until they learn from their mistakes.
So after today I will be one friend less.
What is wrong with me? I don’t deserve any chances. I’m a disgrace to the human race. I shut down Padlet.
I almost shut down his phone, but it’s as if I have no control over my fingers.
I scroll through his text messages until I see one from Yari.
&n
bsp; Yari: Do you know DD?
River: Yes. Why?
Yari: Did you see her freak out in the lunchroom?
River: No, but she’s my friend.
Yari: Oh, sorry. I get tired of all that drama, don’t you?
River: I guess sometimes.
I turn off the phone. I want to throw it out the window. I can’t believe Yari bad-mouthed me to River. At first I’m boiling mad, then after a few seconds it comes to me that River never really said anything bad about me back to Yari. He could have. There’s plenty of bad to say.
I put my face to the back of the couch and let big drops of water come out of my eyes for all my lost pepitas. No seeds of friendship. No seeds of hope. No seeds for seeds.
I started this. It’s all my fault. Everybody hates me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
D IS FOR DECISION
I wake up with a headache, and it gets worse when River’s phone alarm buzzes on the coffee table. I throw the phone in my backpack for safekeeping. Sometime in the middle of the night I made a decision. I want to plant my seeds again. I’m done with lying seeds and stealing seeds. And I’m done with two-face disgrace seeds.
I lift up the couch cushion and push my hand way down the back where there’s a little fabric sling. I pull out all the things I’ve stolen. It takes four fistfuls to get it all. I stuff them all in my backpack. Done.
I know you’re thinking about that hoodie, aren’t you? The one I stole on my first day? Well, I’ll have you know I already left that in the hall. It didn’t even fit me.
Mami rushes in with my insulin. “Gordita, se me olvido. No me levante en la noche.”
She forgot to test me in the night? That explains the headache.
By the time I take care of everything and eat breakfast I know I’ve missed the opportunity to stop by River’s. I will just have to give him his phone at school.
Yari is her usual cheery self in peer tutoring. Blabbing about her weekend and River’s Lucky Shamrock Fundraiser idea. When she goes to print my report I put her pom-pom back.
“Are you ready for tryouts?” Mrs. Marsh asks when she tests me.
