Choke (9 page)

“You know why I like ice-skating so much?” Elena asked.

“I always wondered,” I said, “especially because you don't even own a pair of skates.”

“Well, I don't
really
want to go to the Olympics. Those girls start skating when they're four. But I love to watch them. They have to be athletic, but they have to be creative, too. When they do their routines, they tell a story. And it doesn't matter what language they speak, because they don't use words. They use movement. So their message reaches the whole world.”

I nodded. Elena might look and act like a little girl, but sometimes she was as wise as a ninety-year-old.

After she straightened up her display, we looked at a few other entries — a book about the assassination of Abraham Lincoln presented as a graphic novel and a diorama of whales that included a sound track of their songs. We then made our way to the vendors, and spent some time looking at bookmarks.

“Liz and Nina just got back,” Elena said.

I looked toward our table but I couldn't see so well without my glasses.

“Liz looks a little pale,” Elena added.

Suddenly, I wanted to protect Liz and our choking game secret. “Really? She looks normal to me.”

“I guess,” Elena said.

I was running out of time, so I skipped the fiction and
poetry books, figuring I'd find an interest in the nonfiction section.

Pilates? No. Photography? No. Dinosaurs, galaxies, diseases, pyramids, cars? No, no, no to everything. Meanwhile, Elena had picked up a paranormal mystery, a cookie recipe book, and a poster of cute panda bears.

“Can I help you find something?” the saleslady asked.

“Do you have anything about cats?”

She showed me a book about housetraining cats, one about different breeds of cats, and a silly novel called
The Cat Who Saved the Planet Earth
. I shook my head to all of them.

“How about this?” The saleslady handed me a book called
Careers for Animals
.

“No,” I said. “I don't want to be a vet or animal trainer.”

“This isn't about careers
with
animals. It's about different jobs that they can do. Like seeing-eye dogs. I'm sure it has a section about cats, too.”

Now
that
sounded interesting. I giggled as I imagined El Niño, Sunny, and Cloudy taking the bus to work every morning.

“I'll take it,” I said. Since I had extra money, I added a crafting book for Mrs. Vargas. Sometimes she and her friends
did projects together, and I thought the book might give them new ideas.

“Five minutes,” Mrs. Campos announced. “Complete your purchases and return to your tables. I'll dismiss you when the bell rings.”

When Elena and I got to our table, I gasped. I thought I'd black out from the panic. Nina was showing Liz and Ronnie my
TOP FIVE
notebook! It wasn't exactly a secret since I often shared my notebook with friends, but some of my lists were private. And some were kind of insulting. Last night, I'd written a list called “The Top Five Things I'm Glad I Can't See Anymore” and the number one thing was armpit sweat stains. Lots of my classmates had armpit sweat stains. They'd hate me if they saw what I wrote. But worse than that, I had lists about Ronnie and Nina in there. I even had lists about my problems!

“Give that back!” I cried. “It's private.”

“Don't worry,” Nina said. “I'd never show your secret entries. I only showed the ones we wrote at the mall.”

“She's telling the truth,” Liz said. “You guys wrote some funny lists.”

“Yeah,” Ronnie agreed. “I like the one about gross stuff under the fingernails.” They laughed remembering it, and I
felt my anger dissolve when Ronnie said, “You've got a great sense of humor, Trouper.”

“Windy's got a superific sense of humor,” Elena said. “In fact,
we've
written some funny lists, too.” She took the notebook. “Can I show them?”

I shrugged. “I guess it's okay. As long as you show only the lists we wrote together.”

“Of course,” Elena said.

She flipped through the pages, pausing to read the titles, then flipping through
more
pages. I'd been writing a lot lately, so she had to go way back. Finally, she stopped. Her eyes scanned the page. She was smiling, but then she shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. She read on and clamped her lips. I'd been her friend for many, many years, so I could tell that something had upset her.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

She gave me the notebook and pointed to the title. “The Top Five Reasons Elena is a Nerd.”

“Why are you upset about that? We wrote it together, remember?”

“But we didn't
finish
it together,” she said.

That was right. My mom had come home and interrupted us. We never got to the number one reason Elena was
a nerd. But there it was: “The number one reason Elena is a nerd is because she makes up stupid words, which makes her a …” I saw three lines of scribbles and cross-outs as if someone were trying to create a word-morph that described Elena. Finally, the mystery author wrote, “mega-nerd.”

“I didn't write this,” I said.

“I know. That's not your handwriting. But this notebook is always with you, which makes you an accessory.”

“That's silly,” Nina laughed. “What's a purse got to do with it?”

“Not a purse,” Elena said. “But you wouldn't know the other definition of ‘accessory,' would you? Because you get all your vocabulary from a
thick
tionary, which is a dictionary for people who are thick in the head!”

I couldn't believe she talked back to Nina. Elena was never rude. Then, I thought about the last few days, the times I took Nina's side or chose to hang out with her instead. I thought about the comebacks Elena had held back.

Nina looked at me and said, “Is that the kind of person you want as a friend?”

I didn't know what she meant. Was she talking about Elena's looks, her habits, or the way she sassed back? And what kind of person
did
I want as a friend? What were friends for, anyway? Weren't they supposed to help you? Nina had
helped me, several times, but Elena had always helped me, too.

“Say something,” Elena begged.

I couldn't. I was still muddling through all my questions.

Elena grabbed her things. “Are you coming?” she asked, and I knew she wanted me to make a choice. But I couldn't. I stood there like a lost child at the mall.

“Fine,” Elena said as she headed out. Just then, the dismissal bell rang and a dozen students filled the space between us.

I glanced at the notebook again, recognizing the handwriting.

“When did you write this?” I asked Nina.

“When we were at the food court, remember? I told you I finished some of your lists.”

“You should have told me
which
lists. I would have erased this. Now I'm in trouble with Elena.”

“She'll get over it.”

“No, she won't,” I said, my voice cracking a bit.

How could Nina make fun of the word-morphs? Elena loved them as much as I loved my lists. That's how we expressed ourselves. Sure, it was nerdy, but we never cared. Sometimes the perfect word or list could make our frustrations melt away.

Ronnie said, “Maybe you can apologize.”

I couldn't tell if he wanted me to apologize to Elena or if he wanted Nina to apologize to me. I guess Nina couldn't tell, either, because she got defensive.

“Don't you see what Elena's doing?” she told me. “She's making you feel bad when
she's
the one who can't take a joke.”

“Yeah,” Liz said. “People always make jokes.”

She loosened her scarf a bit. Her neck looked red from the choking game. I hadn't wanted to play, yet I hated to know that Liz and Nina had played without me.

“Don't you and Elena make fun of people, too?” Nina asked.

She had a point. We made fun of people all the time — but we made fun of people we didn't like. So did this mean Nina didn't like Elena?

“Time to go,” the librarian said. “We've got other classes coming soon.”

“Come on. I'm starved,” Liz said, grabbing her purse.

“Me, too,” Ronnie said.

I followed them out. They were already talking about something else. But I wasn't finished. I didn't know what I wanted to say or how to say it — only that I
should
speak, that I would speak if I were braver. I felt guilty, ashamed,
indignant, jealous, frustrated, impatient, regretful, and betrayed. I was a rainbow of emotion — not only because rainbows were beautiful and colorful — but because they had bands that blended into each other and edges that I could never quite see.

We reached the cafeteria. I put my glasses on and scanned the room. Elena wasn't there. I took my glasses off again and sat at a table with Nina, Liz, Ronnie, and a few in-crowd kids who'd abandoned Courtney and Alicia, but even with all those people around, I felt lonely.

E
lena wouldn't take my calls, wouldn't give me a chance to apologize. So the next morning, I decided to wait for Nina's bus instead, but she was absent again. And walking through the school by myself felt as awkward as writing my name with the wrong hand.

“Hey, Windy,” I heard Liz say. “Where's Nina?” She and a few other in-crowd girls waited for my answer. “We figured you'd know what's going on.”

“Oh, yeah,” I lied. “Nina and I talk on the phone all the time. She got a bad headache this morning, but it's nothing serious. She'll be back next week.”

“Tell me about it,” Liz said. “I had a headache last night, too.”

A few other girls nodded. I guessed headaches were contagious now.

I walked with them. Hanging out with someone other than Elena or Nina felt strange and unreal, like when I dreamed I was on a trip to heaven, looking down at all the people crying over me. Only now I was alive and well. Only this
wasn't
a dream.

How mag-tastic — I mean, great — this was! Finally, being with the popular girls. And they were so nice, so welcoming — except for Courtney and Alicia. When they saw me walking with their friends, they blocked our way, crossed their arms, and said, “What's this?”

I thought Liz and the girls would disown me, but instead, they flashed the “whatever” sign. Then we all walked around Courtney and Alicia as if they were cars parked in our way.

A little later, one of the girls said, “Those two are so stuck-up.”

“Yeah,” the others replied. “They can be mean, too.”

“And those headbands are so lame,” the first girl added. “Can't they see no one wears them anymore?”

We all giggled.

“I guess they didn't get the memo,” I said, which prompted Liz to give me a high five.

“I bet they don't know anything about the choking game,” someone added.

“Even if they do,” Liz said, “they'd be too chicken to play.”

Everyone laughed again before moving on to other topics. As the girls chatted about the upcoming weekend, I thought about how sneaky transformations could be. Even though the floor in the main hallway had the same black and red checkered tile, and the creepy portrait of Horace Mann hung in the exact same spot since forever, the building somehow felt different — as if the school had both changed and stayed the same. Like the seasons of San Antonio. Spring and summer were hot, while fall and winter were not-so-hot, and the only way you could tell the difference was by looking at the trees — one day full of leaves — the next day, completely bare. And when they were bare, it seemed as if they'd always been that way, as if the idea of leaves — like the idea of school without Nina or my new in-crowd friends — were impossible.

I missed Elena, but maybe our “breakup” was a good thing. Maybe she'd been holding me back. After all, she
did
look like an elementary school kid, and she
did
invent silly words. Plus, she excelled at everything. How could I enjoy my rare B's when Elena waved her A's in my face? No wonder
Courtney and Alicia turned on us after seeing Elena's Girl Scout sash with more achievement patches than we could count. It would've taken us years to catch up. Then I thought about all the useful advice Nina had given me this past month — about makeup, boys, and friendship. But what did Elena know? She just echoed my mom.
Don't feed that new cat. Don't wear makeup. Find an interest. Do your homework.
Elena was like a pesky sheepdog, always yapping and telling me which way to go.

The more I thought about it, the more I wondered how we'd stayed friends all this time.

 

My first three classes went okay. Then it was time for speech. On Fridays, Mrs. Campos took it easy. On the chalkboard, she wrote which chapter to read and which questions to answer. I always messed up my speeches, so I liked these easy grades. I needed them. Only today, I couldn't see the board.

I tapped Elena's shoulder. She didn't turn around.

“Hey, Elena,” I whispered. “What does the board say?”

She shrugged. I couldn't believe it! She could see the board just fine because she'd already opened her book. Why hold such a grudge? It wasn't my fault she was still in the GP.

Fine then
, I thought to myself. The pencil sharpener was next to the board. I walked up, sharpened my pencil, and memorized the instructions.

When I got to my desk, I quickly scribbled the questions I needed to answer — numbers 1, 4, 5, 7, 9 — 7, 9, and … I stalled. There were ten questions, but my mind couldn't hold all the numbers. No big deal. I went to Mrs. Campos's desk, grabbed a tissue, and pretended to blow my nose while I studied the last numbers. Then I hurried to my desk to write them down. But now I couldn't remember the page. Was it 231 or 213? I checked my book. There were questions on both pages. I tried to peek over Elena's shoulder, but she purposely blocked my view. This whole process was driving me nuts, and it was all her fault.

I couldn't sharpen my pencil again or get another tissue when I didn't have a runny nose. So I squinted really hard. I was so focused on deciphering the board that I didn't notice Mrs. Campos till she was right beside me.

“Can I see you outside for a moment?”

“Um, okay,” I said nervously. She took students outside only when they were in trouble. I scanned my brain, but I couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong.

“Windy,” Mrs. Campos began as we stepped into the hallway.

“Yes, ma'am?”

“Where are your glasses?”

“My glasses?”

She waited.

“I don't need them anymore.” I knew what her next question would be, so I hurried to explain. “I'm not wearing contacts, if that's what you're wondering, and I didn't get that laser eye surgery. I just don't need glasses anymore.”

“Is that so?” She scratched her head as if working through the most difficult puzzle. “Well,” she decided, “you need them for
my
class, understand?”

I nodded.

“Starting today,” she added.

“Today? I mean, I can't. I don't have them with me.”

The glasses were in my purse, but the lie came so naturally, just like my lie about Nina earlier. For the first time, the truth-marquee on my forehead wasn't getting me in trouble.

“Okay, then,” Mrs. Campos said. “But make sure you bring them Monday.”

After trying to get the assignment and having a conference in the hallway, I couldn't answer more than six questions before the bell rang. What a double bummer! I needed every good grade I could get. I was so mad that I didn't bother to
move aside so Elena could pass through the aisle. She didn't say, “Excuse me,” or anything. She just turned around and looked for another escape route.

After she left, I grabbed my books and headed out.

“Wait up,” Ronnie said as I made my way to the cafeteria.

“Oh, hi,” I said, getting all nervous since he was walking with me. A lot of people probably noticed. This would definitely improve my standing with the in-crowd.

“I guess you're wondering why Mrs. Campos called me outside,” I began. “It was nothing, really. She, um — she, well — she had a message for my mom, a secret message. I can't really tell you what it is, since it's a secret. But, hey, I'm wearing that bracelet you gave me yesterday. It's really pretty, see? I mean, it's beautiful. I've got lots of clothes that match it. But next time I go to the mall — maybe a whole bunch of us can go together? — anyway, next time, I'm going to look for a scarf that has these colors. Something real pretty — like the kind that Nina wears.”

“Yeah, about Nina,” he said, “I was wondering.”

But I didn't let him finish. I was a car alarm that wouldn't shut off. “It's too bad Nina couldn't be here. She called this morning, so I could get her homework. She really wants to do well in school, but she gets these headaches, like the one
she had the other day. High blood pressure and stuff. That's why her eyes are red sometimes.”

“I was wondering —” Ronnie tried again.

But this time Liz interrupted. “I'll save you a seat at our lunch table,” she told me.

I felt so astounded, so grateful, that I didn't hear what Ronnie said next.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“What are you doing after school?”

“Who? Me?”

He nodded.

“Nothing. Why?”

“Because I need to talk to you. In private. I want to ask you something.”

Instead of a car with a haywire alarm, I was now a car with a dead battery. That's how dumfounded I felt. “You. Want. To. Ask. Me. Something?”

“Yeah. But I have to do my workout first. It takes about an hour.”

“That's okay,” I managed. “I'm going to the library for study hall. I can meet you in the gym when I'm finished.”

“Cool,” he said. He punched my shoulder playfully, then headed to the vending machine.

As we ate lunch, the in-crowd girls gossiped about the
Spanish teacher's date with the football coach and the counselor's face-lift last summer, but I kept thinking about Ronnie. What did he want to ask me? It had to be something romantic since he seemed nervous, since he said it was
private
. I desperately wished Nina were here. I didn't know the in-crowd girls well enough to ask for their advice, and Elena wouldn't know what to say even if we were speaking right now. But Nina was older and prettier. She probably had a lot of experience with boys. She'd tell me exactly how to act when Ronnie asked me his mysterious question.

So we were meeting after school. Did that mean he wanted to walk me home? I should take some books, see if he offered to carry them. Wasn't that what boyfriends did? Or maybe I should leave my books in my locker. After all, how was he supposed to hold my hand if he had a bunch of books in his arms? I couldn't believe he liked me! He was the cutest guy in school, and I — well — I wasn't the prettiest or most popular. But Ronnie was nice, the kind of guy who liked a girl for the person she was inside. That's what made him so special.

 

Since it was Friday, the library was nearly empty after school, but even though it was quiet, I couldn't concentrate. As I
read a myth for my English class, Ronnie became the boy character, Pyramus, and I the girl character, Thisbe. We snuck out of our parents' houses just like the story said, but instead of dying and turning into mulberry bushes, we escaped to a faraway village and lived happily ever after. In science, I had to read about space exploration, and the Mars rovers turned into the human explorers, Ronnie and Windy. Even though we couldn't kiss through our space helmets, we fell in love because we were the only two on the planet. I tried to study history next. The chapter was about the Civil War, so I imagined being a nurse who took care of a wounded Ronnie. He fell in love with me because I didn't care about his missing leg.

What was wrong with me? I couldn't stop myself. With Ronnie on my mind, even math seemed romantic. After all, what was 1 + 1 if not the equation for love?

Study hall finally ended. I made my way to the gym. My stomach turned. My hands shook. The bones in my legs felt like strings of melting cheese. This was worse than giving a speech in the auditorium, in front of the whole school!

I got to the weightlifting room. The coaches welcomed everyone, but very few girls lifted weights. Mostly, football players and wrestlers used the equipment, or guys like Ronnie who liked to exercise but didn't want to compete
on a team. I saw him gradually come into focus as he approached me.

“You're here,” he said, sounding a little surprised even though he'd invited me. “Why don't you sit on this stool over here? I've got one more set. It'll only take a minute.”

I took a seat as he went to the opposite wall where a mirror made the room seem larger than it really was. He sat on a bench, picked up something, and then lifted his right hand and waved. I waved back. He lifted his left hand and waved. So I waved back again. He waved at me two more times, alternating his hands. Was I supposed to alternate my hands, too?

When he returned to me, he said, “What are you doing?”

“Waving back.”

“What? I'm not waving. I'm doing shoulder presses with the dumbbells. Didn't you see them in my hands?”

“Is that what you were holding?”

“Of course.” He laughed a bit. “You need to tell the doctor that your new contacts aren't working.”

I didn't bother to correct him about my eyes because I felt embarrassed about misinterpreting what I'd seen.

“I was going to work out some more,” he said, “but I can take a break. I know you don't have all day.”

He grabbed a towel, draped it around his neck, and told a few buddies that he'd be back.

“You live close by, don't you?” he asked.

“Yeah, a few streets away.”

“Great. I'll walk with you.”

So he
was
walking me home. How sweet! I waited for him to take my books, but he never offered, probably because he was sweaty from the workout.

We didn't say anything. Earlier I couldn't stop blabbering, but now I couldn't speak. Why did love bring out these extremes?

“So, Trouper,” he finally said. “I can trust you, right?”

“Sure,” I said.

“I mean, you're a good, honest person. You'd let me know, right, if I were about to make a fool of myself.”

“You're not a fool,” I rushed to say, realizing he was shy about his feelings.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know what you want to talk about. I'm very observant. I can read the signs.”

“There are signs?”

“Of course,” I said, playfully bumping into him. “The bracelet. The compliments. The way you're always hanging
around. Sometimes you even stand in the same lunch line even though you aren't going to buy any food.”