My Year of Epic Rock (9 page)

On the car ride, I checked my phone, which I hadn't been allowed to use because of hospital rules. I had, like, a million texts from everyone asking if I was okay. I checked first to see if Brianna was one of them. Amazingly, she was. She'd written, “I hope u r feeling better.” I was shocked. She probably just felt guilty for being so mean before. Or maybe her mom made her do it. I was pleased anyway. It almost made me feel like the whole experience had been worth it if she was going to be nice to me again.

Almost.

The EpiPens all messaged me, and Madison even sent me a picture of herself holding up a sign that said, “Get Well Soon!” Jody and some other kids wrote too.

The phone rang as I was texting Brianna back.

“Hello?” I said.

“Um, Nina, hey, this is Ethan.”

“Ethan?” My voice sounded squeaky.

“Yeah, I called before but your phone was off. I tried a few times.”

“You called me before?” Wow, I was sounding super smart here.

“I wanted to, you know, see if you were okay.”

“Oh, I'm fine. Totally. I'm already on my way home.”

“Oh.” Then he was quiet for a minute. “I'm glad. Your face was all blown up. I wasn't sure.”

My stomach contracted. I must have looked disgusting at the farm. He was just calling because he felt sorry for me, and because he's the nicest guy and he hasn't even realized how cute and popular he is. He wasn't calling because he liked me. Who could like someone who was so weird and couldn't even have a bite of ice cream, especially when there were so many other normal, not puffy girls into him?

“I guess I'd better go,” I said hurriedly. “Thanks for calling.”

“Well, okay, I'll…” I hung up on him before he could finish his sentence.

“Who was that?” Mom asked me.

“Ethan.”

“Ethan who?”

“Ethan Chan. You know, remember him?”

“Oh, of course! You haven't mentioned him in a long time. Monkey boy. Eep, eep.” She was staring at the road, so I couldn't see her face.

“He's not into monkeys anymore.”

“That was sweet that he called to see if you were okay.”

“Mom, he just felt sorry for me. Everyone probably thinks I'm some huge loser.”

“Nina,
no
one
thinks you're a loser for having food allergies.” She braked at a light and looked at me, sounding both concerned and annoyed at the same time.

“Well,
I
think I'm a loser for having food allergies.”

“You're being very silly.” She put her foot down on the gas pedal hard enough that we both lurched forward in our seats.

“Nice, Mom. That really felt great on my stomach. Don't get mad if I throw up all over the car. Anyway, whatever. You weren't there today at the farm, you didn't see how people were staring at me, totally disgusted.”

“Oh, well, thank you for clarifying things for me. That Ethan sure is a jerk for calling.”

Sarcasm again.

“Okay, Mom, I got the point, thanks.”

“What other horrible people are checking in to see if you're okay? Those monsters!”

I giggled, but quietly so she wouldn't hear. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

I vaguely remember getting home and my dad giving me a huge hug and Jackson staring at me and looking not at all jealous of my brush with death, just worried, and Mom helping me get into a T-shirt to sleep in, and being too tired to brush my teeth but doing it anyway because I felt so gross. I must have been out by the time my head hit the pillow, because that's the last thing I remembered until my alarm went off the next morning, more than fourteen hours later.

The worst feeling in the world is waking up happy and then realizing there's a reason not to be. It took me only a few seconds to get that awful “Wham!” punched-in-the-stomach feeling. I leapt out of bed and raced to the mirror, fearing the worst—but my face wasn't puffy or swollen or anything. I looked like myself, except I had dark circles under my eyes that were noticeable. That was weird for someone who'd just slept as much as I did.

I heard my parents talking in the hallway, and I jumped back under my dotted comforter.

No way was I going to school. Not a chance.

There was a knock and then the door was opening.

“Uh, yeah, come in?” I said. “I think I'm supposed to say that first, though, before you stroll in and make yourself comfortable.”

“Very funny, honey,” Mom said distractedly, holding her coffee mug in one hand. She was wearing her blue robe with the white fluffy clouds on it. She has a lot of bathrobes and aprons because we all buy them for her birthdays and stuff. For a while we got her a lot of coffee mugs, but last year she banned them, saying she was “all mugged out.”

“Time to get up,” she said cheerfully.

“What?! No. I can't go to school today. It'll be the worst dealing with everyone!”

“Well, you're perfectly fine. The doctor said there was no reason to stay home. Therefore, time to get going.” Mom came and stood by the foot of my bed, absentmindedly smoothing out a crease in my comforter.

“No.”

“Yes, Nina. I know yesterday was terrible, but now it's time to get back on the horse. Maybe going to school will take your mind off of things.”

“I doubt it. I bet
some
people
won't even care if I'm okay.” I crossed my arms over my chest and shot her my best attempt at the dramatic look I've practiced in the mirror.

She looked closely at my face then sat down next to me, smushing my leg a bit. “Listen, is someone bullying you?”

I wondered how to answer that.

“No, Mom, no bullying. Relax. Forget I mentioned it. I'm getting up.”

“Are you sure? Really?”

“Yes, really. There are just a few total jerks, like there always are. But no bullying.”

Mom waited a minute to see if I'd blurt out some big revealing detail. I wasn't afraid of anyone hurting me or anything like that. Just my feelings. What do you call it when your best friend excludes you from her life? It's not being bullied; it's being abandoned.

Even though I really, really didn't want to go to school, Mom was sort of right like she is more than I like to admit.

It was pretty clear I was going to have to return at some point, so getting the awfulness over with was probably the best move.

Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

Mom offered to drive me to school, and I kept dragging my feet and pretending I needed to do “just one more thing,” so by the time I got to Woodgrove's lobby, just about everyone had gone in for first period. I took a deep breath and headed upstairs. When I stepped into the classroom, it got insane, pin-drop quiet. Like the silence right after someone drops their tray in the cafeteria before everyone starts laughing and clapping.

I had hoped everyone would have forgotten about the stupid ice cream incident, but who was I kidding? When the Segal twins, Duncan and Dominick, got a stomach bug last year and threw up at almost the exact same time in the cafeteria, people talked about that for a month. Almost dying and having my face blow up like a balloon was, like, sure to be the news of the decade. I just hoped no one was fast enough yesterday to have gotten a photo of me in all my glory, or if they did, they'd be open to bribes to delete it forever.

Mrs. Cook smiled at me, a friendly smile. After saying, “Good morning, Nina,” she took attendance right away. I could tell there were a lot of people looking at me because, yes, I was freak-show girl, but at least no one said anything.

One time my mom and dad hired a local college student to come babysit us because they were going to be out at Dad's annual Biology Department Tofu 'n' BBQ Party—yeah, that's really the name. The cool thing was that Lisa the Drama Major showed up wearing silver high heels and she let me walk around the house in them. I was taller than I'll probably ever be again in my lifetime. I felt so elegant. The bad thing was that she also let me stay up late and watch this famous old horror movie
Psycho
, which was a lot scarier than I thought it was going to be. It was awful. I sat on the couch next to Lisa and bit my nails throughout the whole thing. My parents never let Lisa babysit for us again, and I had to sleep with my light on for the next three months.

The way I felt while I was watching
Psycho
was the way I felt sitting in Mrs. Cook's class right then. Waiting for something horrible to happen. I wished I could cover my face with a couch pillow like I had during the movie.

A few minutes before the period ended, I shoved all my stuff into my bag and slid halfway out of my seat. I was ready to bolt as soon the bell rang, hopefully avoiding speaking to anyone.

But it's not like I could magically teleport out of the classroom, and if someone wants to talk to you, they will find a way. Tiernan yelled, “Nina, wait!” the instant the bell rang, before I'd even made my move toward the door.

Wonderful.

I waited for him, blushing and doing everything to avoid meeting the eyes of kids walking by us. “What's up, Tiernan?”

“Um, oh, nothing, I had a cinnamon raisin bagel for breakfast, and my grandmother is coming over for dinner, and oh, yeah, you almost kicked the bucket yesterday. Otherwise, nothing much.”

“Look, I'm totally okay. I just feel stupid. I'm hoping everyone is going to forget about what happened.”

“Good luck with that. You're the talk of the school. Someone started a rumor you were in a coma.”

“A coma!” I yelled. Two sixth graders stared at us and then whispered as Tiernan and I walked through the hallway together.

“Yep. Coma city. And another person told everyone they're second cousins with the ambulance guy, and that you made out with him on the ride to the hospital.”

“WHAT?” I stopped short, which caused some kid behind me to step on my left ballet flat and scratch my ankle.

“Okay, I just made that one up.” Tiernan started laughing. “I'm glad you're not sick. We were worried.”

“We who?”

“Heidi. We hung out last night.” Then Tiernan was the one blushing. “She came over to study.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, smirking.

“No, seriously.” Tiernan looked annoyed. Good. Now there were two of us.

“It's okay, I believe you. Sure. Everyone loves
studying
together.” I used my fake voice. Like I'd fall for the old “we were only studying” line.

“Anyway, I'll see you at lunch. We can talk about more interesting things,” Tiernan said, trying to change the topic in such an obvious way.

“More interesting than your love life?” I couldn't help giving him another smirky face.

“I don't have a love life!” he said, loud enough for people to overhear. “Wait, I didn't mean that like it sounded.”

“You sounded very smooth, Tiernan. The height of cool. In fact, Woodgrove Middle School should give you a special King of Cool award.”

“Listen, just because you survived a near-death experience does not mean I won't smack you,” he said, bopping me on my hip with his backpack then running off before I could get him back.

I should have known my brilliant plan to avoid everyone by wishing them away wasn't going to work. Here's how my day went:

Person: “Oh my GOD, Nina, are you okay?”

Me: “Yes, I'm fine.”

Person: “I thought you were dead.”

Me: “Nope, it's not a big deal.”

Person: “I can't believe it. I would hate to have food allergies.”

Me: “Well, yeah, they're annoying, but it's not the end of the world.”

Person: “I feel SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry for you.”

Me: “Um, thanks. I guess.”

Person: “Wait. Can you eat sushi?”

It was the longest morning of my life, so I was really looking forward to sitting with everyone at the peanut-free table and talking about music instead of my blowfish lips.

“Guys, tomorrow we can't practice at my place,” Shane said at lunch, after everyone gave me big hugs and asked me if I was okay, like, eighteen times.

Shane took a big swallow of his lemon-lime drink box and then made a disgusted face and shook his head. He continued, “My dad's got a new band he's thinking about working with, and they're going to be using the studio, so we'll have to skip it.”

“Shouldn't we try for one final practice?” Heidi asked, chewing on her fingernail and fiddling with the sleeve of her gray sweatshirt. “I'm gone the first half of next week for my cousin's christening in Chicago, remember?”

“Yeah, it's our last time together for six days,” Tiernan said. “Six days! What will we do without you, Heidi?” he pretended to cry, putting his head down on the table and making loud fake sobbing noises. He clutched at her hand. Heidi giggled.

“Oh, hey, what about my place instead?” Tiernan asked, lifting up his head and drying his pretend tears.

“What would we practice on?” Madison said. “I mean, I could bring my flute, but drums aren't portable.”

“I'll pack up my drum kit,” I said. “It's no problem.”

“That sounds great,” Heidi said. She gave Tiernan a cute, smiley look.

“Sure, if someone can give me a ride I can go,” Shane said, pulling out his cell phone to type something. “Then I can bring my keyboard. Do you have an amp, Tiernan?”

“My mom can give you a ride,” I said to Shane. “I don't think she'd mind.”

Mind? She'd been asking me about the band and practice so much, I bet she'd be excited to get in the car with Shane and finally meet him. Hopefully she wouldn't overdo it with the enthusiasm and ask if the band sounded “amazeballs.”

“Done, and done,” Tiernan said. “Yes, we have amps. I'll give my mom a heads-up and warn the neighbors the rock stars are arriving. Roll out the red carpet!”

• • •

Mom was excited when I told her we'd be going to pick up Shane. She actually turned off her hand mixer to discuss the details with me.

“Mom, there's not much to talk about. I'll come home from school, I'll put my drums in the car, we'll go pick up Shane, and then you can drive us both to Tiernan's mom's house. Okay?”

“That sounds great!” she said.

“Or I can do it,” Dad volunteered, looking up from his computer.

“No, it's not a problem. I can make time to give Nina and her friend a ride. I'm happy to.” Mom beamed at me like I'd given her a huge present.

I rolled my eyes. It was just a car ride. We drive all the time. But I guess parents don't have much else to look forward to, and Mom is not the calm type when it comes to meeting my friends. Other parents are all, “Oh, who are you again?” when their kid's friends come over, and let them watch TV or play video games all day.

Mom, on the other hand, offered to pack up some cookies she “just happened to have baked” in case my friends wanted a snack, so I had to explain about how Shane was allergic to all foods except lettuce and corn and unless she had a plan to make a cookie using only those two ingredients, we'd have to skip the food portion of the day. She took it fairly well. She only asked, “Are you sure that's all he can eat?” three times.

“I want to say hello to Shane's father,” Mom said, as we turned on to Shane's street.

“Mom, no! He has a band over and they're busy recording or rehearsing or something.
Please
just stay in the car.”

Shane must have seen us drive up, because he came out of the front door as we were pulling into his driveway. He was wrestling slightly with his keyboard.

Shane put his equipment in the back of our car and walked around to sit next to me in the seat behind Mom.

“Hi,” Mom said, turning around to smile.

Shane reached forward to shake Mom's hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

“Ready to rock?” Shane said to me, sliding his cell phone into his long-sleeved T-shirt pocket.

“Ready,” I said.

“How's the band?” Mom asked, talking extra loud from the front seat so she wouldn't have to turn around.
Groan.

“My dad says we sound really tight,” Shane said, leaning forward a little against his seat belt, explaining his plans for us to break out. Shane will talk to
anyone
about music.

It wasn't long before I saw Tiernan's house. Made it!

“Call when you're ready to get picked up,” Mom said, waving cheerfully to us as she pulled away.

Practicing at Tiernan's was pretty much the identical experience as at Shane's place. We spent the first half hour talking about our day and complaining about homework and our teachers and whatever else we felt like. Then those of us who can eat actual food had a snack. Everyone made a big deal out of my not having something I'm allergic to. Like I'd
ever
do anything that stupid again.

Finally, when we'd killed all the time we possibly could, we got ready to play. It was sort of tricky though, because Tiernan doesn't have a rug on his bedroom floor, so the drums kept sliding away from me and I had to concentrate extra hard to keep them from jamming into the back of Heidi's legs while she was singing.