Choke (11 page)

I was still thinking about all this when I left Pleasant Hill.

“I can't believe I agreed to work two Saturdays in a row,” Mom complained as we drove home. “My feet are killing me. I've only had one day off in two weeks. I'm so glad your dad's at Abuelita's. She always sends back food. At least I won't have to cook dinner or do any cleaning. I just want to shower, soak my feet, and watch movies.”

She kept talking, but her voice was behind many walls. I kept wondering about Nina. Was she my friend, or not? I considered my
TOP FIVE
notebook, but this time, I didn't want a record of my doubts. So I mentally made lists instead — all the nice things Nina did against all the times she seemed a little mean. Immediately, the thugs I'd pictured earlier turned into Nina. She didn't have a mask. She didn't make a mess. She wasn't brutal. But, somehow, Nina's way of breaking in seemed worse. She caught me off guard, like a day that started out sunny but then got cold.

“Home at last,” Mom said as she pulled the car into the driveway.

We got out of the car and made our way to the porch. Mom unlocked the front door, and when we stepped inside, we gasped. White Poly-fil stuck out of a ripped cushion. Coffee from an overturned cup dripped off the edge of a TV tray. A plant stand had toppled over — the ceramic pot broken, its dirt and ivy leaves littering the ground. Store ads, newspaper pages, and my homework were all over the floor. A confused road of toilet paper crisscrossed the room. And the house stunk. There was definitely poop in here.

“What happened?” Mom cried.

Just then, Raindrop peeked from beneath the couch. He ran to me, rubbed the back of his ears against my leg, and
purred like the happiest cat in the world. I'd forgotten to let him out this morning! I must have been too rushed and sleepy. No wonder there was a mess. Even though I didn't witness it, I knew he'd spent the day dashing from room to room, corner to corner, like a rocketing pinball.

“Are you serious?” Mom said. “Another cat, Windy?”

“I can explain.”

“Oh, no. Don't bother. I've heard it all before.”

“But, Mom …”

“Let me guess. He was lonely. He was starving. He needed a home.”

She was right. She
had
heard it all before.

“We had an arrangement,” she said. “No more cats. Remember?”

I nodded as I picked up Raindrop. He felt so warm and soft. I really loved him and couldn't imagine life without him. A lump formed in my throat, a sign that I was about to cry. I tried to brace myself, but the tears came anyway.

Mom was not moved. “I'm sorry,
mija
, but you have to get rid of that cat. Rules are rules.”

“I can't abandon him in the street,” I cried. “And if we take him to the shelter, they'll gas him!”

Raindrop jumped out of my arms and scratched at the door.

“Since you decided to make him your responsibility, you'll have to find him a home,” Mom said. “Staying here is out of the question. I have to be firm on this. We already have three cats. That's enough. I mean it.”

“But I can take care of him, too!”

Mom opened the door, and Raindrop sprinted out. “Look at him,” she said. “He's not an indoor kind of cat.”

I knew it made no sense, but part of me felt like Raindrop had betrayed me.

Mom headed toward her room. “You have till summer to find him a home. If he's still here by the time school ends, I'm taking him to the shelter, understand?” She turned into the hallway, but before she disappeared behind the wall, she said, “Make sure you clean up that mess.”

I could do it. I could sweep the floor, wipe the tables, and try to mend the ripped cushion. I could get this room looking normal again. But what about the other messes in my life? How could I ever clean up those?

W
ear your glasses!” Mom said as I left for school on Monday.

She'd promised to e-mail my teachers to make sure, so I reluctantly put them on. When I walked into the building, I was amazed by the details I'd overlooked before — smudges on the trophy case, faded letters on the bulletin boards, a missing
F
on the
OFFICE
sign above the counselor's door. Our lockers were gray, but where the paint flaked off, I saw maroon. Some were dented; others, rusted. Mine had a purple squiggle. When did it get there? I saw the coach patrolling the hall. He wasn't as muscular as I thought — just big and soft, like the grand prize of a carnival game.

“Hey, Windy!” Liz beckoned me, so I followed her to the courtyard where we found the other in-crowd girls at a picnic table. Everyone talked excitedly about the weekend, but I couldn't pay attention. I was too busy noticing that some of the girls had pimples beneath their makeup. One even wore braces, and another had on glasses, just like me. So why did everyone think they were prettier than the rest of us?

“Look! There's Nina,” one of the girls said.

As soon as I saw Nina, my stomach got tight and my foot started tapping the ground — just like each time I gave a speech in Mrs. Campos's class. I inched away, hoping to escape before she reached us, but it was too late.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I, um — I, um — you see, I forgot something in my locker.”

“Okay. I'll go with you.”

“No! I mean, thanks for offering, but I'll only be a minute.”

She looked slightly confused.

“Hurry back, then, okay?” she said.

“Sure,” I answered.

But I had no intention of rushing back. I hurried down the hall, looking for a place to be alone, to figure things out. I needed to know if Nina stole Mrs. Vargas's money. I
couldn't ask her directly, could I? Then again, I couldn't pretend like everything was fine. This mystery had to be solved.

“Trouper, wait up!” Ronnie called.

I turned. As he approached me, I wondered if he had pimples or crooked teeth like I'd seen on the in-crowd girls, but even with my glasses on, Ronnie was supercute.

“Remember what we talked about Friday?” he said.

As if I'd forget!

“So have you talked to Nina?”

“I just got to school,” I said, unable to hide my impatience. “What do you want me to do? March up to Nina while she's with her friends, and say, ‘Ronnie's got the hots for you!'”

I was mad. I
know
I was mad, but Ronnie didn't hear it. He had a built-in audio mixer, one that muted the sounds he disliked and boosted the ones he favored.

“Good thinking, Trouper. I'm glad you're going to mention it deceitfully.”

“You mean ‘discreetly'?”

“Yeah. Isn't that what I said?”

“No.”

“Sure, it is.”

“No, it isn't,” I snapped. Then, I did an about-face and walked away.

But there was no way to hide, especially when Nina waited at my locker after each class.

“How was your weekend?” she asked after first period.

I shrugged.

“Did we have any homework for speech?” she asked after second period.

I shrugged again.

After third period, she said, “You're acting weird today. Did something happen when I was absent?”

This time I
did
answer. “You could say that.”

“Really? Was it one of the girls? Did somebody say something?”

“No. They were very nice to me,” I said.

“Then what? Did Elena act like a brat again? Because it's not your fault she's mad about that silly list.”

“It's not Elena.”

“Then why are you so moody?” She paused a moment and studied my face. “Is it
me
?”

“You could say that,” I repeated. I didn't offer any details. I just took off again.

Nina followed me. She had to, since we were both in Mrs. Campos's class. I went straight to my seat. Elena had already left a piccolo case and lunch box on her desk, but
since she wasn't around, Nina pushed them aside and sat down. While I settled into my chair, she absentmindedly bunched one end of her scarf. Today it was a dingy white — like a T-shirt that had been dirtied and washed a dozen times. It had a few snags, too, and a stain near the edge as if it'd been dipped in coffee or tea.

“Talk to me,” she said.

I turned away as I reached into my backpack for supplies. Then Ronnie stepped in. He didn't approach us, but he went, “
Psst
,” and threw me a thumbs-up.

“What is
that
all about?” Nina asked.

“He likes you,” I said. “Not as a friend, but as a
girl
friend.”

“Are you serious?”

“Double serious.”

She looked at him. He looked at her. Their gazes locked. Only he looked like a gushing puppy, while Nina looked like a bothered cat.

“Alphabetical order!” Mrs. Campos called as the tardy bell rang.

Nina went to her seat in front of Ronnie. Normally, she sat sideways, but today, she gave him her back. He glanced my way and gestured, “What happened?”

Before I could answer, Elena bumped into me because, in addition to the piccolo case and lunch box on her desk, she had her own backpack as well as the presentation board and diorama from last week's book fair.

“Excuse me,” she said as she tried to organize her stuff.

“That's okay,” I answered. Then, “Did you have a good weekend?”

“It was okay.”

I was hoping she'd answer with one of her word-morphs, but at least she said
something
. Mrs. Campos started to lecture, but I couldn't concentrate. In fact, I hadn't been able to concentrate all morning. If I wasn't careful, my C's would slip to D's. I thought about the panoramic pictures in my living room, the lightning, the strong winds. I had lightning and wind inside of me, too, but I wasn't the sky. I couldn't tear through my surroundings whenever I felt like it. So I sat quietly at my desk even though my emotions were a storm.

Finally, the dismissal bell rang. Lunchtime. Normally, this was my favorite part of the day, but right now, I wasn't in the mood for Nina and the in-crowd.

“Are you going to the cafeteria?” I asked Elena.

“No, I'm eating in the band hall today.” She strapped on her backpack, tucked her poster beneath her arm, clutched
her diorama, piccolo case, and lunch box, and then discovered that she still needed to get her purse.

“Here.” I looped the strap around her neck.

“Thanks,” she said. She took a few steps toward the exit, but then she turned around. “I'll probably eat in the cafeteria tomorrow, okay?”

I smiled. “That would be coolicious.” Maybe the chain latch to Elena's heart was still locked, but at least she'd opened the door as wide as the chain would allow. Maybe tomorrow she'd open it all the way.

I glanced toward Ronnie and Nina's aisle. Ronnie was trying to start a conversation. Nina ignored him, so he gave up and left. I grabbed my things and tried to sneak out, but Nina caught me and grabbed my elbow.

“Come on,” she said, leading me toward the restroom. “We need to talk.”

Part of me still wanted to hide, but the other part knew I had to talk to her.

Luckily, the restroom was empty. Toilet stalls lined one side of the room, their doors barely connected to the hinges. The walls were covered with patches of gray paint struggling to hide graffiti. One of the windows had a square of plywood instead of glass. A couple of sinks were stopped up with hair or bubble gum, and paper towels littered the floor.
This restroom was a pit compared to the one Nina and I went to at Dillard's.

“I can't believe Ronnie likes me,” she began. “No wonder you're so mad.”

I placed my books on a shelf above the sink.

“I'm not mad about that,” I said.

“Really?” She sat on the window ledge. “That's a relief. I want you to know, Windy — I don't like Ronnie. He's nice, but I just like him as a friend. And I never gave him mixed messages. Especially since
you
like him. I wouldn't steal your boyfriend.”

“He's not my boyfriend. Never was.”

“I know. But, I wouldn't steal the guy you liked. That's not what breath sisters do.”

I saw an opening. “What about money?” I asked. “Do breath sisters steal money?”

“Money?” She shifted her weight on the window ledge. “What are you talking about?”

“Someone took forty dollars from Mrs. Vargas last week — the same amount you had when we went shopping.”

She laughed. “You think I took her money since we both had forty bucks? That's just a coincidence, Windy.”

“So you
did
have that much?!” I shook my head. Even now, I didn't want to believe she'd steal, but here she was,
caught in a lie. “Why?” I asked. “Why would you steal from Mrs. Vargas?”

She didn't answer right away. I could tell she wanted to turn this around, talk her way out of it.

“I didn't,” she said. “I can't believe you're blaming me.”

“I don't know what else to think. Mrs. Vargas had forty dollars before we visited, but when we left, it was gone. I know
I
didn't steal it, and since you had that much money at the mall …”

“You assumed I took it. Is that it? Because Elena was there, too, you know.”

“Then at the book fair,” I continued, “you said your mother never gave you money.”

“I had saved up my allowance!”

She startled me. I'd never heard Nina raise her voice this way. I could tell she didn't like being busted.

“Besides,” she went on, “why do you think the money was stolen? Mrs. Vargas is old. She's probably senile or something. She probably used the money to get dentures or whatever old people buy.”

Sometimes, when I found myself walking against heavy winds, I had to lean into them and force my way through. Otherwise, I'd be swept away. The same was true now. I had to lean into Nina's lies and force my way through.

“She didn't spend it,” I said. “
You
did.”

For a long moment, she studied me, but I didn't lower my eyes or step away or take back my words.

“All right,” she admitted. “I took the money. But what did I spend it on? Have you thought about that? I wasn't being selfish. I spent it on you, mostly. Can you blame me? You don't know how embarrassing it is — to never have cash — especially when your parents aren't poor. My mom and dad are so into themselves. The only time they notice me is when I'm in trouble, and then they ground me. I'm
always
grounded. That's why I snuck out that day. That's why I took the forty bucks. I just wanted you to like me. Can you blame me for that?”

She started to cry, which made me feel terrible inside. I hated to hurt people's feelings. Then again, why was this
my
fault? I didn't do anything wrong.

Nina wiped her tears with her scarf, and for the second time that day, I saw details I hadn't noticed before — only this time, instead of the hallway, these details were about Nina. I
knew
she didn't feel bad about the money. She felt bad about getting caught. Her words and actions were all lies. If only I could shut them off. First I'd shut off the lie that made me go for Ronnie when I didn't have a chance.
Then the one she wrote about Elena in my
TOP FIVE
notebook. Then the one that denied stealing money. And finally, the lie about Nina being my friend, my breath sister.

“Can we put this behind us?” she asked. Already, her tears had dried.

Before I could answer, the door opened.

“There you are,” Liz said. “I was looking everywhere for you guys.”

“We decided to skip lunch today,” Nina explained.

“You aren't missing much,” Liz said. “They're serving gravy with a little bit of meat and fake mashed potatoes covered in more gravy. It's really gross.”

She grabbed a lipstick from her purse and went to the mirror.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Stay,” Nina insisted.

“Yeah,” Liz said. “Besides, it's your turn.”

She didn't have to spell it out. I knew exactly what she meant. Last week, I had promised to play the choking game the next time we had a chance.

“She's mad at me,” Nina admitted.

“Why? What's going on?”

“It's a long story,” Nina answered.

Liz made the “whatever” sign. Then she turned to me. “I'm bummed that you're mad at Nina, but you're not mad at me, are you?”

“No,” I said.

She smiled, put her arm around me, and led me to the far end of the restroom. Then, she put her hands on my shoulders. “Are you ready?” she said as she reached toward my neck.

“I, um … I, um …”

“Don't you want to be my breath sister?” she whispered.

I nodded because I did. I liked having a whole group of friends now — of being included. True, I was angry with Nina, but did that mean I had to be angry with everyone else, too?

So when Liz started to squeeze my neck, I didn't stop her. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, to “go all the way” like they had suggested. They had hinted that it felt good, but once again, a balloon expanded in my head, pushing against my eyeballs and eardrums and tongue. My head felt like a towel being twisted to wring the water out — but instead of water, I was losing my breath. I was going to die — I just knew it. So I tapped Liz's arms. She only squeezed harder. Wasn't she supposed to let go? Wasn't that the rule? “Stop,” I tried to say, but nothing came out. I tried
stepping back, but I was against the wall. So I pushed — I pushed hard. Liz let go and took a few clumsy steps backward.