Choke (6 page)

Now I knew why Mom never talked about the third floor. A lot of her patients must have died over the years. When her feet hurt, her heart must hurt, too.

“Don't cry,” Elena said.

“I don't mean to ruin your visit,” Mrs. Vargas apologized. “I just wish my friends could stay on the first floor forever. I like having them nearby when I need to talk.”

“I understand,” I said. “But I'm your friend, too. You can always call
me
. That's what
we
do, right?”

Elena and Nina nodded.

“When I feel bad,” Nina said. “I bang on my drums.”

“I pet my cats,” I said.

“And I play my piccolo,” Elena added.

“Your Pinocchio?” Mrs. Vargas said.

“No.” Elena laughed. “My
piccolo
.” She opened her case and took out the instrument. “We all have to close our eyes. It's the only way to feel the music.”

We did as Elena asked, and she began to play. The notes jumped lightly up and down, and in my imagination, I saw an orange balloon. Not a helium balloon that floats away, but a regular birthday party balloon, slowly bouncing as a child played volleyball with it. Then Elena played a more energetic piece, and I imagined Raindrop chasing a ball of yarn.

When Elena finished, she asked Mrs. Vargas, “Where did you go?”

“I was the red umbrella. I was that beautiful splash of color in that puzzle over there.” She pointed above her dresser to a picture of a busy, rainy street with one red umbrella in the black-and-white scene. Nina was standing near it.

“How did you get over there?” I asked. She'd been sitting at the table when Elena began the music.

“Just felt like dancing,” she explained.

“See why I carry so much stuff?” Elena said. “You never know when you're going to need it. I made Mrs. Vargas smile and Nina dance. That's why you should always be …”

“Prepared,” I said. “Do you know you're starting to sound like my mother?”

We got back to the puzzle, and little by little, Mrs. Vargas cheered up. I knew we couldn't stop her friend from being on the third floor, but at least we could make her forget her troubles for a while.

W
e walked out of Pleasant Hill and discovered that Dad had switched cars with Mom so we wouldn't have to transfer Elena's stuff. When he saw us approaching, he got out of the car.

“Dad!” I exclaimed. “What did you do to your hair?” Normally, my dad has dark brown hair, a little long and unruly on top, but that day, his hair was superlight, almost orange.

“I went to HairQuest. Thought it was time for a change.”

I couldn't believe this. Dad wouldn't let me lighten my hair, but the first chance he got, he lightened his.

“You know I've wanted to change my hair since forever,” I complained.

He glanced at Nina. “We'll talk about this later,” he said. I figured he probably didn't want to argue in front of someone new.

Just then, Nina held out her hand and introduced herself. “Thanks for giving us a ride to the mall,” she said, all pleasant. “HairQuest is a great place. Sometimes I go there, too.”

Dad nodded, then held open the door so Nina and Elena could climb into the backseat. Once they were in, he held open the front door for me. He was acting like such a gentleman, but I was still mad.

When he started the car, I heard the familiar radio jingle of the station where he works. Then a doctor started an infomercial about a dry skin remedy. Every five seconds, Dad glanced at himself in the rearview mirror.

Did he really think he looked better? How could he betray me this way? What about
my
new style? Why couldn't I change
my
hair? I couldn't believe how ridiculous Dad looked, wearing his fancy suit on a Saturday when he didn't even have to go to work.

Elena and Nina chatted and giggled about the other girls at school, but I was too angry to join in. Instead I took out my
TOP FIVE
notebook, secretly hoping Dad would notice. But he was too busy listening to the infomercial and glancing at his new hair.

“The Top Five Reasons for Throwing a Sheet over Dad,” I wrote. “Five, his hair looks orange. Four, he looks like a traffic cone with ears. Three, rats might think he's cheese. Two, he's not looking at the road anyway, so why does he need to see? And the number one reason to throw a sheet over Dad? Can I have a drum roll, please? He's a hypocrite. A well-dressed hypocrite with Ronald McDonald hair!”

Okay, maybe his hair wasn't as bright as Ronald McDonald's, but when I got mad, I tended to exaggerate.

I finished my list just as we got to Elena's house. As soon as Dad turned off the car, she said, “I'm going to ask if I can go to the mall with you guys.” Then she sprinted to her door.

“I thought her grandma was coming over,” I said. I didn't intend to sound eager to leave her behind, but that's how it came out. Besides, I had spent the whole night and most of the day with her. Now it was time for me to spend time with Nina. How did that saying go? “Two's company but three's a crowd.” That was how I felt when Elena was around because every time I tried to be cool, she always said something nerdy.

Dad opened the trunk, and we grabbed some of Elena's things. A minute later, she came back out. She wasn't sprinting anymore. She walked like someone giving a piggyback ride to a laundry bag full of wet towels.

“My mom said no,” she told us as she brushed by.

Elena's mom held open the door so we could put the bags inside. Soon Elena returned with the rest of her stuff.

“I hate when Grandma comes,” she mumbled. “It's not like she talks to me or anything.”

“Young lady,” her mom warned.

“Well, it's true. She can barely hear anything.”

“She can hear well enough. You just have to look at her when you speak.”

My dad, Nina, and I stood around. Nothing was more uncomfortable than watching someone else's family squabbling.

“Thanks for bringing her home,” Mrs. Sheppard said.

“My pleasure,” Dad answered.

“Bye, Elena,” I called. “We'll catch you next time.”

She gave me a halfhearted wave good-bye, and then turned away.

She seemed mad at me. She
was
mad at me. After all these years of friendship, I could tell. What was the big deal about missing one afternoon?

 

Dad left Nina and me at North Star Mall. Nina's mom was going to pick us up and take me home. I couldn't wait to
meet her. She was probably double cool, unlike my silly-looking dad.

“I hope you don't think my dad's weird,” I told Nina as he drove off.

“Why?” she asked. “Because he lightened his hair?”

I covered my face with my hands, all embarrassed.

“I thought your dad's hair looked great,” Nina said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. At least he
has
hair. My dad is going bald.”

“Thing is,” I said, “my dad never cared about the way he looked. Now, all of a sudden, he's obsessed about it. It wouldn't bother me if he'd let me bleach
my
hair.”

“Why would you want to bleach it? Your hair looks beautiful just the way it is.”

“You really think so?”

“Would I lie to you?” She looked straight into my eyes.

“No,” I answered. “I guess not.”

“So it's settled then. You've got good hair.”

Part of me didn't accept this. I always thought my hair was a frizzy, tangled mess. But as we approached the glass door to the mall, I saw my reflection. My hair was a deep brown and full-bodied. Maybe it did look beautiful — kind of.

We stepped into the mall and a cold blast of air hit our faces.

“Come on,” Nina said. “Let's eat. I'm starved.”

We went directly to the food court and ordered Chinese from Panda Express. Nina got rice with sweet and sour chicken, and I got rice with sweet and sour pork.

We found a table and started eating. Then I opened my
TOP FIVE
notebook so we could make lists — The Top Five Toppings for Ice Cream, The Top Five Coolest Colors for Tennis Shoes, The Top Five Grossest Things to Find Beneath Your Fingernails, The Top Five Uses for a Packet of Ketchup, and The Top Five Embarrassing Things People Do in a Food Court When They Think No One's Looking.

“I'm going to get a refill,” I said. “Would you like one?”

“Sure.” Nina handed me her cup.

When I returned, she quickly closed my notebook.

“Did you make another list?” I asked.

“No. But I found one that wasn't finished, so I added to it.”

I riffled the pages to find it. I couldn't believe I'd left an incomplete list.

“You can read it later,” she said. “I've got a cool idea.”

“Really? What is it?”

“Let's get makeovers.”

Our drama teacher had two masks at the top corners of her door. I could feel those masks on my face as I
went from smiling to frowning. “My parents don't want me to wear makeup yet,” I said. “I've got to be in high school first.”

“It's just for today,” she said. “You can wash it off before you go home.”

She was right. I could always wash it off. If Dad could try a new hair color, then I could try a little makeup. It was only fair. Besides, getting a makeover sounded like a lot of fun. Elena
never
had good ideas like this.

We went to Dillard's. As we walked through the cosmetics department, a lady offered to squirt us with perfume, so we held out our wrists. The mist was cool, and I liked the floral scent even though it made me sneeze.

“This is really expensive,” I said, glancing at the prices on the makeup containers.

“Don't worry. My treat.”

“Oh, no. I couldn't, Nina.”

“It's not a problem. I
owe
you, remember?”

“For what?”

“For being my friend. I was the new kid at school, and you made me feel right at home. I was really lucky to meet you.”

Wow! Her compliment put me on cloud nine. If I kept
hanging out with Nina, I'd be in the in-crowd before the semester ended. I just knew it.

“I guess you can treat me, then,” I said. “But let's look at the clearance or the discontinued stuff.”

Nina agreed and bought me a brown eyeliner, a very natural-looking lip gloss, a compact that was the exact shade of my skin, and a bottle of clear polish for my nails. The total was over $20, but she paid. I figured her parents must have a lot of money.

“Let's go to the restroom,” Nina said, heading to the hallway behind the customer service counter.

The restroom at Dillard's had a parlor with a small sofa, a coffee table, an arrangement of fresh flowers, and a huge gold-framed mirror. Another door led to a room with silver stall doors, and sinks that were nestled in a black marble countertop that almost looked like a mirror because it was so clean. The whole place smelled like lavender. And everything was no-touch. Just wave the hand beneath the faucet for water or under the dispenser for soap.

First, I washed my face. Then we sat on the sofa in the parlor. Nina took the compact and brushed the powder onto my face. It tickled the way Raindrop's fur tickled when he nuzzled against my neck. Next, she told me to close my eyes as she applied the eyeliner. I could feel her body warmth as she leaned
close and smell the perfume that lingered on her wrists. Finally, she handed me the lip gloss, telling me to use just a little bit.

“You look great,” she said.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I
did
look great. Nina was right, again. My skin looked smoother, my lips fuller, and my eyes more defined.

“You think Ronnie will notice?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? He's been noticing you all week.”

It was true. Ever since our conversation at the bus stop, Ronnie had found me in the cafeteria or hallway and talked to me. A lot.

“Let's do your nails,” Nina said.

She took a file from her purse and shaped my nails, rounding the edges and making them all even. Then she opened the bottle of clear polish. For a while, the chemical smell overpowered the lavender, but I got used to it. Nina took the little brush and swept it over my nails. Then she blew on them, her breath like autumn's first cool front, the one that reminds you that the sweets and gifts of Halloween and Christmas are only a few weeks away.

I knew it was a stupid question, but I had to ask. “Is this how you become a breath sister?”

She laughed a little, and I felt like a kid who still believes thunder is the sound of angels bowling.

“I thought you knew what a breath sister was,” she said.

“I do. It's like being a blood brother, right?”

“The concept's the same.”

I stared at her, waiting for more.

She stopped blowing on my nails but still held my hands. Then she asked, “Have you ever heard of the choking game?”