Bluish (8 page)

“Did you have fun at your grandmother’s?” Dreenie asked quietly, only for Bluish to hear. They sat together in the backseat of the Winburns’ car.

Bluish made a face. “My grandma
hovers,
like a helicopter,” Bluish told her, right in her ear. “Mummy tells her, ‘Don’t hover over Natalie. She doesn’t like it.’ I hate it!”

“Guess she worries about you,” Dreenie said.

“She keeps telling me how skinny I am. And made me weigh myself. I didn’t want her to see so I got off the scale before she could. Mummy was mad. I don’t weigh much! Mummy told Grandma that we would leave if she didn’t stop. Grandma presses on my arms and shoulders. I don’t have any fat, and it hurts—my bones …”

“Sorry you didn’t have a good time.”

“Well, I did, mostly,” Bluish said. “I got nice things for Hanukkah
My mom’s relatives came. Aunt Millie and Uncle David, Mummy’s brother. They have two boys, older. One’s a freshman in college. They’re always really nice to me. They talked to me like … like I am a person … not a sick person.”

“We had fifteen people for Christmas dinner,” Dreenie said. “My mom’s sister came from Long Island City with her family. And my cousins came,” Dreenie said. “Just my family. Not Tuli.”

“You like Tuli? She had somewhere else to go?” asked Bluish.

“I like her. But it was Christmas. I … don’t like having to take care of her so much. I can’t help worrying about her granmom. They went to her aunt’s.”

Bluish stared at Dreenie. “You worry about me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“You worry about me because I’m sick.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No! I mean, I want to help—I mean, be your friend.”

“You don’t want to help Tuli?”

Dreenie sighed, and thought about it. “I wish she didn’t need me all the time. I wish she’d depend on herself. Maybe I’m wrong …”

Bluish had been looking right into Dreenie’s face. Now she looked straight ahead. “I think you and I are a lot alike,” she said.

“I think so, too,” Dreenie said. “My mom says you have to care about people, if you want people to care about you.”

“When I was real sick, I thought I didn’t care about anything,” Bluish said. “I thought for sure I wanted everything to be over.” She stopped. “Let’s not—” She broke off, looking out the window. Her mood had changed.

Dreenie tried smiling, humming Christmas music. But Bluish frowned and leaned farther away. She stared out the window the rest of the time, leaving Dreenie wondering what she’d done wrong.

At the apartment, Dreenie’s mom had everything really nice. Willie stood in the doorway as they came in. She looked cute in her Christmas jeans and new sweater. New Air Jordans.

“Everybody, we have to do introductions!” Willie announced loudly.

“Oh, Willie! Mom, tell her to calm down.” Dreenie was completely embarrassed. They weren’t even out of their coats.

“Dreen, it’s okay. Willie, help take people’s coats,” her mom said.

Mrs. Winburn was smiling. “Hi, Willie,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Hi, Mrs. Winburn. Happy Hanukkah!” Willie said, like she said the greeting every day. Maybe she did, Dreenie thought. Nothing shy about Willie!

Dreenie’s dad introduced her mom to Bluish’s mom and dad.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Anneva,” Dreenie’s mom said, extending her hand to the Winburns.

“And I’m Natalie,” Bluish said to Dreenie’s mom. She was standing. Mr. Winburn folded her chair and lay it in a corner. “All the kids like to call me Bluish!” Bluish said. She glanced at her mom and shook hands with Dreenie’s mom.

“I’m glad to meet you, Natalie. I like your hat!” Dreenie’s mom said. “I heard you made them for all the kids in your class. That’s just great!”

Mrs. Winburn smiled, pleased.

They all took off their coats for Willie and Dreenie to carry to the bedroom. Everyone had a chance to admire Tuli’s new coat before she took it off. There was something about Tuli that made you want to give her compliments, Dreenie decided.

Her mom was saying how great the coat looked on Tuli. “I wish I could get a coat to look like that on me!” They all laughed.

They went to the living room. The table was set, and they would have food later. Next, Dreenie’s mom explained to everyone that Kwanzaa was a new celebration for them. One that was fun and interesting. “We always celebrate Christmas. This is something new and informative. We light seven candles.”

“We light candles for the Hanukkah holidays,” Bluish said. “It’s my mom’s tradition. We have Christmas, too.”

“I like the idea of candles even when it’s not a holiday celebration,” Dreenie’s mom said. And she began by lighting the black candle in the center of the kinara of the Kwanzaa candelabra. “This represents
Umoja,
the first principle of Kwanzaa,” her mom said. “It means unity and helps us work together in our family, in our community, and in our nation.”

“That’s very important,” Mrs. Winburn said.

“I like that the best,” Willie said.

Dreenie’s mom and dad both took up explaining how the red and green candles and the black one in the center symbolized the seven principles of Kwanzaa. They tried not to sound as if they were giving a lesson, but they did. Mr. and Mrs. Winburn, Bluish, Tuli, Willie, and Dreenie all got to light a candle. As they did, Dreenie’s dad told them what each candle stood for.
“Ujima,
the first candle, work and responsibility.
Kujichagulia,
the first red candle, for self-determination. All these words are Swahili words. This is a seven-day ceremony starting on December 26 and going through January 1. By lighting all the candles, we demonstrate the ceremony and the meaning.”

“It has many parts,” Dreenie’s mom continued. “It’s a celebration of past, present, and future. A proverb is often quoted: ‘I am because we are; because we are, I am.’”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mrs. Winburn said.

Her mom and dad explained more until, finally, her mom said, “I’ll leave the candles burning. Let’s have dinner! You all come to the table.”

Everybody oohed and ahhhed over the dinner. Her mom had called and invited Bluish’s family to come. The dinner was like a traditional holiday feast. Lots of food, only instead of turkey, there were breaded herring filets. Baked chicken. Wonderful baked corn. Salad, white beans and red beans, and black-eyed peas. Cake and ice cream.

“Have you ever seen children pile their plates so high?” Dreenie’s dad said.

At first, Bluish seemed hungry. She ate the fish and corn. She didn’t want salad. She had a tablespoonful of the white beans.

“You did good!” Willie told Bluish.

“You did!” Dreenie told her.

“It smells so good!” Bluish said. But she didn’t smile. She stared at all of them, their heaping plates. And looked as if she might be getting sick.

Her mom kept her lips tightly sealed and tried not to watch her daughter.

No one expected Willie, Dreenie, Tuli, and Bluish to sit and talk with their parents over coffee. In their room, Willie showed them her different Game Boy games. Bluish sat in a chair. She looked tired. “You can lie on my bed,” Dreenie said.

“I don’t need to,” spoken almost in a whisper.

“Yes, you do,” Dreenie said.

“Here, I gonna carry you,” Tuli said, joking lightly. Bluish didn’t object to Tuli and Dreenie helping her out of the chair.

“I coulda done it by myself!” Bluish said. Her mouth turned down. Her face screwed up, as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. She lay still on her back on the pillows. Willie closed the door. “You feel bad?” Dreenie asked her. She came over and kneeled beside the bed.

Tears seeped out of the corners of Bluish’s eyes. “Not the way you think I feel bad,” she said. And then she cried with her mouth wide open. It was an awful-sounding cry.

“What hurts you?” Dreenie asked, alarmed. “Please don’t cry!”

“Shall I call her mom?” Tuli asked.

“No, don’t,” Bluish said, gasping. “I get like this. …”

They waited, watching her. Willie came up, touched Bluish on her cap.

Dreenie got some tissues. Bluish wiped her face with them. “It … takes just so long, to get like you guys again.”

“Are you going to die?” Willie asked.

“Willie!” Dreenie was outraged. She almost slapped her little sister. Made a move to do something to her, when Bluish said, “Don’t. It’s okay.”

“You ain’t gonna die, no time,” Tuli said. “Nuh-uh, ho-ney, not with us around!”

Dead silence. And then, Bluish giggled. Dreenie laughed. Tuli always could make them laugh.

“We won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Dreenie said with a lump in her throat. She nearly cried herself. She held Bluish’s trembling hands, so small and bony.

“Let’s make a pact!” Willie said.

“Yeah!” Tuli said. “How you do that?”

“I know,” Dreenie said at once. “Everybody hold hands.”

Bluish turned somewhat on her side. Dreenie and Tuli held her hands, and held Willie’s. Suddenly, it came to Dreenie. The proverb her mom had recited sounded in her mind. Dreenie made one for them: “Bluish is, because we are; we are, because Bluish—is—us!”

“We, us,” Willie said.

“We, us.” They all said it.

Bluish whispered it, “We, us.” Then they lifted their hands and let go.

They stayed in the room, close, talking, sometimes laughing. Bluish sat up. She didn’t look at them. Then she reached up and took off her knit cap.

They stared.

Silence, until Willie gurgled.

Dreenie’s mouth fell open. She screeched; she and Tuli screamed. And laughed! Peals of laughter.

Willie spun around and around. “Oh, muh goodness!” she said.

“Bluish!” Tuli said.

“No! No! Reddish!” Dreenie hollered.

They jumped up and down. “You have hair!” Dreenie shouted. It had to be the shortest copper-red hair anybody’d ever seen.

“Looks just like peach fuzz,” Willie said.

“No, it’s shiny, and curlier than fuzz. It’s gonna be ringlets. It’s cute!” Dreenie said. “Bluish!”

“No, Reddish!” They all yelled it at once. And the color of a new penny. Hollering and laughing, until Dreenie’s mom knocked and opened the door, to see what in the world was going on.

N
OBODY KNOWS ABOUT THIS
journal but me. I write in it when Willie’s watching her TV shows. I hide it in my drawer that locks.

I guess I always meant to give it to you. Only I didn’t know till now. See, because the only way it’s right to have it and still be friends is if you own it.

This journal never was about me. This record of Bluish is
YOURS
. I’m giving it over to you to keep or throw away. A record from the very first time I saw you. I didn’t mean this to be bad. Not for you to be real mad at me—I hope not. We walk right in to the New Year—Dreanne and Natalie.
GFF
. Good Friends Forever.

And you don’t know it yet, but I got something special for Christmas. Only, after Christmas. My dad said he would get me one big special gift! He knew what I wanted. But I didn’t get it for Christmas. I was so sad! But I never said a word to him that I didn’t get it.

But I did! I did! On New Year’s Eve I got home from Tuli’s after school. We went and got her nightclothes and stuff. Tuli had to spend the night to watch Times Square. She just wouldn’t take no! I should have called you, but I didn’t know she was coming. We go to my room. And guess what? GUESS! You can’t!

A DOG! A real little PUPPY! All mine! Not Willie’s. Not anybody else’s. You and me can walk our dogs when it’s summer. Pretty dark brown with kind of white patches. Spaniel, they call it. It’s a girl! She has her own bed.

I get to run home at lunch and pet her and feed her, Mommy says. Daddy says we have to train her. Will you help me?

Right now Poochie is asleep on my lap. Little sweet Poochie. You like that name? I think it’s nice. Here comes Willie to bother me.

So this is it. I signed my name, see?
Dreenie.

End of journal.

I’ll bring it over.

I hope we can still be friends.

I have another one to write. This one has to start out earlier. Guess who? Hint—Movie Star. Leather. …

Then I’ll do mine.

Virginia Hamilton (1934–2002) was the author of forty-one books for young readers and their older allies, including
M.C. Higgins, the Great
, which won the National Book Award, the Newbery Medal, and the Boston Globe-Horn Book Award, three of the most prestigious awards in youth literature. Hamilton’s many successful titles earned her numerous other awards, including the international Hans Christian Andersen Award, which honors authors who have made exceptional contributions to children’s literature, the Coretta Scott King Award, and a MacArthur Fellowship, or “Genius Award.”

Virginia Esther Hamilton was born in 1934 outside the college town of Yellow Springs, Ohio. She was the youngest of five children born to Kenneth James and Etta Belle Perry Hamilton. Her grandfather on her mother’s side, a man named Levi Perry, had been brought to the area as an infant probably through the Underground Railroad shortly before the Civil War. Hamilton grew up amid a large extended family in picturesque farmlands and forests. She loved her home and would end up spending much of her adult life in the area.

Hamilton excelled as a student and graduated at the top of her high school class, winning a full scholarship to Antioch College in Yellow Springs. Hamilton transferred to Ohio State University in nearby Columbus, Ohio, in order to study literature and creative writing. In 1958, she moved to New York City in hopes of publishing her fiction. During her early years in New York, she supported herself with jobs as an accountant, a museum receptionist, and even a nightclub singer. She took additional writing courses at the New School for Social Research and continued to meet other writers, including the poet Arnold Adoff, whom she married in 1960. The couple had two children, daughter Leigh in 1963 and son Jaime in 1967. In 1969, the family moved to Yellow Springs and built a new home on the old Perry-Hamilton farm. Here, Virginia and Arnold were able to devote more time to writing books.