Choke (13 page)

“I know,” I said, my voice cracking a bit. “I found Nina passed out on the bathroom floor yesterday. I was so scared. But she and Liz thought it was fun.”

By now, Elena had a free arm, so she gave me a hug. I felt ashamed but relieved, too. I had jumped in the air, and Elena had caught me.

After a moment, I said, “You really love ice-skating, don't you?”

“Yes. And I love my piccolo, too, so give it back now. I still have to go to the band hall.”

I handed it to her. “I wish I had interests like you,” I said.

“You
do
have interests. I've told you a million times. You like old people and cats. If you didn't have such a severe case of nerdaphobia, you'd admit it.”

“You're really on a roll with the new words this morning.”

“Like I said — you inspire me.”

I smiled. I didn't care how dorky her words were. I had more fun listening to Elena's silly vocabulary than listening to the in-crowd's gossip. I was going to write a new list, a list of reasons Elena was cool. And the number one reason would be? Word-morphs!

I stopped.

“What's wrong?” Elena asked.

“You're a genius!” I exclaimed. “You're always morphing things — words, ideas, interests.”

“Yeah. So what?”

“Old people and cats,” I went on. “I like old people and cats, right? Maybe I can morph them together and solve both their problems. Mrs. Vargas has been feeling sad lately, and Raindrop needs a new home. Maybe he can be her pet therapist at Pleasant Hill!”

“What's a pet therapist?”

I didn't answer. I was in the middle of a brainstorm. “If he becomes her pet therapist, I can see him whenever I want, so I'll have
two
reasons to visit the home! My mom wants me to volunteer this summer. I can volunteer at Pleasant Hill! And the first thing I'm going to do is fix the courtyard. That way, Raindrop could have a nice environment, and Mrs. Vargas and her friends could go outside again and enjoy a great view from their windows.”

I felt so excited. The morning flew by as I imagined how much fun I'd have working at Pleasant Hill. I couldn't wait to tell Mom. Finally, she could stop bugging me about getting an interest.

I had made up with Elena and found a solution for Raindrop and Mrs. Vargas. The only thing bothering me now was Nina. I couldn't pretend she didn't exist. I had to face her and tell her I couldn't be her breath sister anymore. I got nervous every time I thought about it, but since she was absent again, I had an extra day to work up the courage.

Soon, it was time for fourth period. Mrs. Campos stood at the door, and when she saw me, she called me over. She had a very concerned look on her face.

“Windy,” she began, “can you go to the principal's office? I'm excusing you from today's assignment.”

“Why do I need to go to the principal?”

“Don't worry. You're not in trouble. He just wants to talk to you.”

“About what?”

Mrs. Campos caught a few students eavesdropping and waved them away. Then she whispered, “About Nina.”

I swallowed hard. “What about her?”

“I'd better let the principal explain.”

I felt as stunned as my dad when he saw that red light above the TV camera. Had Nina been in the principal's office the whole morning? Was that why I hadn't seen her today? Did she get in trouble for something and try to blame
me? If she stole Mrs. Vargas's money, then maybe she stole something from the school. No, that couldn't be it. Maybe the principal didn't know about her headaches. Nina was absent a lot. She'd been held back a year for poor attendance. Maybe the principal thought she was skipping school and hoped I could tell him where she went when she wasn't in class. This was the only explanation that made sense, but as soon as I walked into his office, I knew this meeting wasn't about Nina's truancy. The counselor was there, too, and she and the principal looked worried.

They asked me to close the door. Then they pointed to a chair, so I sat down.

“Do you know why you're here?” the principal asked.

“Something about Nina?”

“Yes,” he said. “Your teachers say you're her friend. How well do you know her?”

“I met her after Spring Break, about two months ago. So I don't really know her that well.”

“But at this school, you know her better than anyone else, right?”

“I guess,” I said.

The counselor took off her glasses and leaned toward me. With a real gentle voice, she said, “Windy, did Nina mention any problems she might be having?”

“What kind of problems?” My shaky voice surprised me.

“Problems at home or with kids from her previous campus.”

I thought a minute. “She had a lot of friends at her other school. She really misses them.”

“And her home life?” the principal asked.

“She was mad at her parents. She said they had grounded her for infinity.”

“And she was upset about this?”

“Yes,” I said. “I'd be upset, too. Wouldn't you?”

He nodded and scribbled something on a form.

“What's this about?” I asked. “Is Nina in some kind of trouble?”

The counselor glanced at the principal as if asking for his permission. He said, “Go ahead.”

“Something happened last night,” the counselor began. “It's very hard for me to tell you this, but you are her friend, so you should know.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Last night … well, last night …”

She couldn't finish her sentence, so the principal finished it for her. “Last night, Nina tried to kill herself.”

T
he principal and counselor had spoken to a few in-crowd girls, too, so by the time school ended, everyone knew about Nina's “accident.”

“Mr. Hamilton got after her for messing up the beat,” one of the band kids said. “I guess she felt really bad about it.”

“No, she had brain cancer,” someone else said. “That's why she got headaches and those bloodshot eyes sometimes. She probably didn't want to go through brain surgery.”

Liz added, “I think she had a boyfriend at her other school, and he broke up with her when she got transferred.”

And the other in-crowders said, “We knew something was wrong. That's why we got scarves, so she wouldn't feel left out.”

I couldn't believe all the theories and lies. Nina had never mentioned cancer or a boyfriend. People were making stuff up, and they seemed to enjoy it. Weren't they her friends? Shouldn't they act sad and worried instead of excited by a chance to gossip?

On the way to the bus stop, Elena asked, “Why do
you
think Nina did it?”

I shrugged. “It doesn't make sense. Nina was popular. She was confident. She seemed happy.”

“And she
never
messed up the beat in band,” Elena added. “She was the best drummer in the school.”

We reached the back lot, but Elena's bus hadn't arrived yet.

“Trouper!” I heard.

I turned. Ronnie stood at the gym door and waved me over. I still liked him, but I wasn't going to chase him around anymore.

“You come over here!” I called.

He did, which surprised me.

“Did you hear about Nina?” he asked. “Did you know something was wrong? Why didn't she talk to us? I mean, we're her friends. We could have helped her. Did you tell her how I feel, so she'd know she wasn't alone?”

“Yes.”

“But did you make it clear? Because she didn't act like
she knew. She was kind of ignoring me yesterday. Did you say, ‘Ronnie likes you,' exactly like that, so she could, like, understand that I care?”

“I said it exactly like that. She knew
exactly
how you felt.”

“I don't get it, then,” he said. “Why would she hurt herself? She should have talked to me. I could have helped her. I could have been like Romeo, and she could have been Juliet.”

“Romeo and Juliet both died in the end,” Elena said.

He didn't seem to hear her. He looked truly hurt.
Pobrecito
, my mom would have said — poor guy. I was jealous about the way he cared for Nina, but I felt sorry for him, too.

“Look,” I told him. “We can't know how another person
really
feels, even when a bunch of hints are in front of us.”

Elena put her hand on my shoulder. She knew how true this was — how I meant it about Nina but also about the crush I had on Ronnie.

He sighed. “Yeah. I guess you're right,” he said.

Then he walked back to the gym, hanging his head like a whipped dog.

 

The next morning, the principal asked the teachers to escort us to the auditorium for an assembly even though the Spring Concert and the Awards Ceremony were scheduled for the
last week of school. As far as we knew, nothing else was on the calendar. But we hoped we were in for a treat because the year before, the famous Spurs player, David Robinson, made a surprise visit to give us a pep talk about going to college someday.

As soon as everyone took a seat, the principal stepped onto the stage.

“I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here,” he said into the microphone. “As many of you know, we received terrible news about one of our own, Nina Díaz. Last night, we learned some new details. Nina did not try to commit suicide as we first thought.” He paused to let this settle in. “She almost died,” he continued, “because she was playing the choking game.”

I heard murmuring that got louder and louder as my classmates started to talk. Some were saying, “What's the choking game?” and others were saying, “Do you think the principal knows that we play, too? Do you think we'll get suspended?”

“Students,” the principal said. “Students!” he said louder. We all got quiet. “I'm sure some of you are familiar with this game,” he began. “Maybe you think it's fun. Maybe you think it's safe. But as you can see, it's not. Nina's in the hospital right now. She suffered severe brain damage, and she's never going to be the same. Other kids have suffered brain
damage, too, and some have even died. Playing the choking game is as risky and foolish as playing Russian roulette.”

I glanced around and caught Liz touching her throat as if to make sure she could still breathe.

“So please give your full attention to Nurse García,” the principal said. “She has some important information to share.”

Nurse García took the mic from him. As she talked, the teachers passed out brochures about the choking game. I took out my
TOP FIVE
notebook. I called the new list “The Top Five Choking Game Facts.”

1. Nina did not have an ugly birthmark on her neck. She had a ligature mark, which is actually a bruise from the times she choked herself.
   
2. “Hypoxia” means “no oxygen in the brain.” You can have brain damage and seizures even after a few seconds without oxygen.
   
3. “Asphyxiation” means strangling.
   
4. “Retinal hemorrhaging” is a fancy way of saying bloodshot eyes. People with bloodshot eyes might be playing the choking game. Headaches and clothes that hide the neck are also warning signs.
   
5. American dream game, necktie challenge, blackout game, trip to heaven, gasp, flatliner,
   hyperventilating, and suffocation roulette are all different ways of saying “choking game.”
   

“The choking game is addictive,” the nurse said. “Apparently, Nina played often, even when alone. She was alone two nights ago, and the ‘game' went too far. Luckily, her mother found her before she died. But let me make this clear. The doctors say she has permanent brain damage. She will not be able to return to school. She will not be able to play the drums during the Spring Concert or go on field trips or attend the end-of-year dance.”

The auditorium was silent. I heard sniffling. Some people wiped teary eyes with the backs of their hands. I gripped the armrest, hoping to keep back my own tears. I knew we were all wondering what Nina was feeling, what she was thinking, or if she could even think at all.

“If you suspect any friends or family members are playing this game, too,” Nurse García continued, “please report them. They might be angry at first, but remember, you could be saving a life.”

If only I had reported Nina. She would have hated me. I would have been dumped into the out-crowd, for sure. But at least she'd be okay.

I
started volunteering at Pleasant Hill immediately after the school year ended. I didn't want any down time, because whenever I had a quiet moment, I thought about Nina — how guilty I felt for not reporting her and how sad I felt about the way her life had changed. I needed to keep busy. I couldn't help Nina anymore, but I could still help Raindrop, Mrs. Vargas, and her friends.

“Here he is,” I said when Mrs. Vargas opened her door.

She peered inside the cat carrier. “He's adorable!”

I unlatched the cage, and Mrs. Vargas reached in. Immediately, Raindrop purred, and when she lifted him to her shoulder, he nuzzled her neck.

“He's so soft,” she said, “and so warm and friendly.”

“He loves it when you scratch behind his ears.”

She did so, and Raindrop purred even louder.

“My goodness,” Mrs. Vargas said. “He sounds like a miniature lawn mower.” She cradled him as if he were a baby. “I'm glad you talked to the director and got permission to give us your cat.”

“I hate making presentations,” I admitted. “But Mom said I'd have to convince the director if I wanted Raindrop to be a pet therapist. Luckily, I had to give a persuasive speech in one of my classes, and my teacher made us get statistics and put them on graphs or pie charts. So that's what I did. I got some facts about pet therapy and made a chart. When I showed them to the director, I stuttered and said a whole bunch of filler words, but I managed to get my point across. After my presentation, the director said that bringing Raindrop sounded like a great idea.”

“You owe your teacher a thank-you.”

“She'll be surprised,” I said. “I made C's in her class. I never thought I'd have to make speeches in real life.”

Raindrop's whiskers tickled Mrs. Vargas's neck and she smiled. So far, the cat was doing an excellent job. I hadn't seen Mrs. Vargas this happy in a long, long time.

We spent the next hour introducing Raindrop to the residents. I learned that many of them had pets before moving
to Pleasant Hill, and they missed having a furry friend to talk to.

“Cats are good listeners,” Mrs. Oldman said. “They never interrupt you.”

“They make good heaters, too,” Mrs. Hernández added. “Nothing like a warm cat on your lap when it's cold.”

“Get that thing away from me!” Mr. Rollins said. “I'm allergic.”

He was the only one who complained, but since he complained about everything, no one paid attention.

After a while, Raindrop got restless.

“He likes to be outdoors,” I explained.

We took him to the courtyard, and he ran straight to the fountain. Then he started sniffing around.

“He's going to love it here,” I said, “especially after I fix it up.”

That's what I had volunteered to do — fix and maintain the courtyard. I got a roll of trash bags, gardening gloves, a bucket of soapy water, a rake, and a broom. First, I cleaned the benches. I dipped a rag into the soapy water and scrubbed. I couldn't believe how much dirt had collected on the seats. I spent over an hour cleaning them. Because it was sunny, the benches dried quickly, and soon, some residents came to sit outside. One even brought a pitcher of icy
lemonade, the perfect treat. After the benches, I decided to rake and sweep the dead leaves. Mr. Rollins came outdoors and said, “It's about time someone cleaned up this mess!” Then, he grabbed an extra broom and started to help. I felt grateful even though he kept saying, “Haven't you ever raked a yard before?” and “Pick up the pace. I've got bad knees, but what's your excuse?”

Every now and then, Raindrop pawed at my shoes, wanting to play. I'd shake him off. At one point, he looked at me, his giant blue eyes full of questions.

“I've got work to do. We'll play later.”

Just then, one of the ladies called, “Here, kitty, kitty!” She dangled a bell tied to a string. Raindrop sprinted over and pounced on it. The lady swung the bell higher and higher. He jumped for it, then pretended to stalk it. The residents laughed at his antics. This was his first day as an official pet therapist, and he was already a pro.

After scrubbing the benches and spending the entire afternoon with the rake and broom, all I could do when I got home was plop on the couch and take off my shoes. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the air-conditioning. Mom disappeared to her bedroom, so the house was peaceful and quiet. I would have fallen asleep, but Dad walked in.

“How was your first day as a volunteer?” he asked.

“Perfect, but I'm really tired.”

He nodded. “Like mother, like daughter,” he said.

I noticed he wasn't as dressed up as usual. “Where's your coat and tie, Dad?”

“I didn't wear a coat today. Too hot. And I must have left my tie at work. It got a bit stuffy in the office, so I took it off.”

Just then, Mom stepped into the room with the VibraSpa. She filled it with hot water and turned it on.

“Put your feet in there,” she said.

I did and immediately felt soothed by the water and soft vibrations.

“This feels great!” I said.

“Now do you see why I love my job? Even when it makes me really tired?”

I
completely
understood. Helping others was hard work. Some, like Mr. Rollins, were always in a bad mood, but others were grateful and kind. Spending the day on my feet was exhausting, but at least I accomplished something. The courtyard benches were clean and the dead leaves had been cleared out. These small improvements delighted the residents. Seeing them happy made
me
happy. Who cared if I felt tired? Working at Pleasant Hill was a lot more fun than sitting at a desk all day.

I thought about my future. I didn't want to be a nurse like Mom, but maybe I could look into different kinds of therapy jobs, especially those for old people.

“Can you think of five types of therapy jobs?” I asked Mom.

She paused a moment, then counted with her fingers as she said, “Physical therapy, speech therapy, occupational therapy, respiratory therapy, and massage therapy.”

“Why do you ask?” Dad wanted to know.

“It's for a new list — a list of possible careers.”

They smiled. They didn't say anything, but I could tell they were happy to learn that I had finally discovered an interest.

 

Elena went to band camp during the first month of summer. I didn't see her often, but we talked or texted nearly every day. When band camp ended, I took a break from Pleasant Hill, so Elena and I could spend the day together.

After my dad dropped us off at the mall, Elena said, “Your dad's hair isn't red anymore.”

“He's letting it grow out,” I explained. “He's not wearing blue contacts, either. Or suits. He says the hair coloring, contact lenses, and suits aren't worth the trouble.”

“Is he still bummed about that TV job?”

“No. In fact, he
loves
being on the radio now. Remember those rainstorms a couple of weeks ago?”

Elena nodded.

“When the power went out, no one could watch TV. So they took out their radios, and guess who they listened to?”

“Your dad?”

“Yes! He worked overtime that week, giving frequent weather updates and news about road closures. Now he gets a lot of fan mail.”

“That's great!”

“It really is,” I agreed. “It's nice to see Dad happy again, but it's weird, too.”

“Why?”

“Because his life hasn't changed. He's right back where he was a year ago. Only now, he likes it.”

“Well,” Elena said, “sometimes you have to try new things to appreciate what you already have.”

That was so true. Like how hanging out with the in-crowd girls last spring made me learn that Elena was the best friend I could ever wish for.

We reached the main corridor of the mall where sales-people tried to lure us to their kiosks with promises of free samples.

“No, thank you. No, thank you,” we kept saying.

Once we got to a quiet place, I asked, “What do you want to do first?”

“I've been saving my allowance for three months,” Elena said, “and since I made straight A's, my parents gave me some bonus money. So I'm treating you to lunch, and then we're going to every department store till I find a nice bathing suit and sunglasses.”

“That's going to take all day.”

“I know, but at least we won't get bored. Besides, walking around the mall is good exercise.”

As it turned out, we didn't walk around very much. We ordered Subway sandwiches at the food court, found a table, and spent the next few hours catching up.

I told her all about the courtyard at Pleasant Hill. “We put in plants that attract butterflies,” I explained. “And in one corner, we're making a cactus garden. We've got three bird feeders, too. Now that the fountain is running, there are a lot of birds.”

“Does Raindrop hunt them?”

“Not really. He stalks and charges, but so far, he's been too slow to catch them. He'd rather take naps and sunbathe. Mrs. Vargas calls him
flojo
.”

“‘
Flojo
'?”

“It means ‘lazy.'”

Elena laughed. Then she shared pictures from band camp. One face kept popping up.

“Okay,” I had to ask. “Who is that cute guy? And why do you have a hundred pictures of him?”

“I don't have a hundred pictures. Only eighteen.”

“You counted?”

“I couldn't help it. I'm a hopeless guy-mantic.”

“Guy-mantic?”

“Romantic about guys,” she explained. “I've got a serious case of Mark-mania right now.”

“Is that his name? Mark?”

She nodded, then giggled, then told me how he's the drum major at Irving Middle School, how he's been texting her every day.

“And on the last day of band camp, he gave me this.” Elena reached into her purse and pulled out a bookmark. Two teddy bears held hands, and in the heart that floated above their heads, it said, “Love is forever.”

“Do you think it means something?” she asked.

“It
totally
means something,” I said.

She smiled. I could tell she had a serious crush on Mark, but before she could say more, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Ronnie. “Hi, Trouper. Good to see you.”

He still had the cutest smile. Normally, my heart raced when I saw it, but today, I felt a bit annoyed.

“Don't call me Trouper,” I said. “It makes me feel like a Boy Scout.”

Ronnie laughed. “I didn't know girls could join Boy Scouts.”

“They can't.”

“Then why do you feel like one?”

“Because you're always calling me Trouper.”

He stared at me, the blankest expression on his face.

“Troops,” Elena tried to explain. “Boy Scouts have troops.”

“I know,” he said. Then he turned to me. “But you're not a Boy Scout. I mean, 'cause you're a girl, right?”

I sighed. Had he always been this dense?

“Forget it,” I said. “Forget about the Boy Scouts. Just don't call me Trouper anymore. My name's Windy. So call me Windy.”

“Sure thing, Tr … I mean, Windy.”

He punched my shoulder in a playful way, and I punched him back. Then he took a seat to visit us for a while. Normally, the idea of sitting at the mall with Ronnie would be a dream come true, but now it didn't feel like a big deal. I still cared about him, but he didn't make me boy crazy
anymore. I'd been too busy these past few weeks to think about him, and now that I saw him again, I couldn't find those feelings I once had. They had disappeared as surely as a puddle on a sunny day.

After a while, a shadow fell over the table. I looked up. Ronnie's uncle. He had a bag from GNC, a store that sold vitamins and protein shakes.

“Ready?” he asked Ronnie.

“Sure thing,” Ronnie said. “See you girls later.”

We waved good-bye as he walked off. When he was out of earshot, I said, “That man is Ronnie's uncle, his idol. I used to think I couldn't live without Ronnie, but I don't feel boycentric about him anymore. He's still cute, but all he talks about is going to the gym.”

“You're just figuring that out
now
?” Elena said, and then she cracked up. I should have felt offended, but I had to admit that I'd been a bit blind about Ronnie. He was nice and cute, but dense. A boyfriend, I decided, should be someone you could talk to,
really
talk to.

After we had a good laugh, Elena said, “Let's hurry. My mom's coming in an hour, and I still need to find a bathing suit.”

We walked toward Dillard's, but we didn't get too far before running into Courtney and Alicia. A whole pack of
in-crowd girls followed them. I couldn't believe it. They were leaders again, which meant life at school would be miserable next year. Courtney and Alicia didn't have their usual headbands, and none of the girls wore scarves. Apparently, the new dress code for popular girls called for big, jangly bracelets.

Once again, Courtney and Alicia cornered Elena and me.

“Hey, noose-heads,” they said.

“Excuse me?” I sassed back.

“You're a noose-head because of Nina and the choking game.”

“Yeah, I get the reference,” I said. “But for your information, I was never into that.”

“That's not what
we
heard.” They nodded toward Liz, who stood behind them. As soon as she caught my glance, she turned away.

“You know what else we heard?” Courtney asked.

“I don't really care,” I said.

She was determined to tell me anyway. “We heard that Nina slobbers all over herself. She's got to wear a beach towel as a bib.”

They all laughed. They thought it was so funny. I knew they were mean, but this was outright cruel. Then again, picking on someone who couldn't defend herself was easy,
and Courtney and Alicia liked easy targets. When someone challenged them, they backed away. Didn't that happen when Nina stood up for Elena and me the very first day we met her?