November Blues

by Sharon M. Draper

  “Any music you want to hear? I got my whole CD case.”

  “You got any blues?” November asked. “I know. I know. I can’t believe I’ve started groovin’ to my mother’s blues music either. But it’s weird—it’s got this strange calming effect.”

  “Sorry, no blues. Unless you count Alicia Keys.”

  “That’ll work, I guess.” November grimaced again and grabbed her stomach. I definitely shouldn’t have eaten that second hot dog, she chided herself.

  “Why don’t you close your eyes and try to sleep a little?” Kofi suggested.

  “Who can sleep after a game like that?” replied November. “Jericho and his macho football boys will never live this one down.”

  Kofi shook his head. “The Pink Panthers! It was just plain embarrassing! You got that song in your pile of CDs, Dana?” he asked, teasing.

  “Not my kind of music!” she retorted, laughing. “The football team are the ones who need to listen to the blues all the way home! Public humiliation requires serious music!”

  “Poor Jericho,” November said as she shifted her hips, trying to ease all her various discomforts.

  “The first half was dynamite, though!” Dana reminded them. “I couldn’t believe how cool that was! Jericho ran down that field like he had on ballet slippers instead of cleats!”

  “Ha! Jericho in a tutu. Now that’s an image I want to forget!” Kofi turned the music down.

  “Those rich kids didn’t know what hit ’em! For a while there, we were a freight train full of bricks on a mission to destroy!” Dana added.

  November felt another twinge. This time it actually hurt. She hated to admit it, but her mother had been right when she said she probably shouldn’t make this trip. I’m gonna sleep all day tomorrow! she decided.

  “Too bad the train ran off the track—it’s a shame they couldn’t keep up the momentum,” Kofi said as he switched lanes. “The rain just messed everything up.”

  “Yeah, those pink uniforms just broke their concentration. Hard to focus when you got a stadium full of people laughing at you.”

  “That was too cold.”

  “Hey, November, did you check out Arielle during half time?” Dana asked, just as she turned the music back up.

  “Yeah, I saw her. That girl is a piece of work! Besides the fact that she had rolled her skirt up so short that you could see her underwear, she was flouncing around, all up in the face of Brandon Merriweather, the dude on the track team who got the BMW for his eighteenth birthday.”

  “It’s a real nice car,” said Kofi, nodding appreciatively. He adjusted the volume of the music to a softer level once again.

  Dana turned it back up. “So that’s a good reason for her to creep on Jericho like that?” she asked, her voice rising.

  “I just like the dude’s car. I don’t care what Arielle does!” Kofi shot back at her, turning the music back down.

  “Jericho deserves better,” Dana stated, her voice softer, but the music got louder.

  “My man Brandon probably does too,” Kofi said with a chuckle. “I bet he has no idea what he’s about to step into!” Quieter music.

  “For real. Arielle gets around, just like good old Cleopatra,” November said, thinking back to her mother’s crossword puzzles. Her abdomen constricted sharply once again. She felt a little nauseous.

  “Do you think we should say something to Jericho on Monday?” Dana asked November. She turned the volume up real loud.

  “About Arielle?”

  “Yeah. He’s got a right to know, doesn’t he?”

  “Maybe not. As soon as she acted like she wanted him back, Jericho jumped so quick you could feel the breeze!” November said. “He should have known she was a snake from the last time she bit him.”

  “And he hurt Olivia something awful,” said Dana sadly.

  “I don’t think Jericho ever even noticed how Olivia felt,” November commented.

  Kofi adjusted the volume once more. “Yeah, I gotta admit—dudes can be a bit dense sometimes.”

  “Duh! You think?” Dana said with a smirk as she reached for the volume control.

  “Will you two quit playing with the CD player?” November finally said in exasperation. “It’s making me dizzy!”

  “What are you talking about?” Dana and Kofi said at the same time. Dana turned to November and looked genuinely baffled.

  “It’s loud, then quiet, then loud, then soft again. What’s up with you two?”

  They looked at each other and laughed. “We do it so much when we’re in the car together we never even notice,” Kofi admitted. “But I guess you’re right. Sorry if it bothers you.”

  November just waved a hand as if to dismiss it. She envied the closeness that Dana and Kofi had, weaving in and out of each other so seamlessly that they didn’t even notice the pattern.

  For several miles the rhythm of the music and the movement of the car lulled them all into silence. But November was feeling increasingly sick—unlike any illness she’d ever had before. She was hot, then cold, then she felt like she couldn’t breathe. And the cramps. Such odd, painful cramps. Something’s not right, November suddenly realized. I haven’t felt the baby kick all day. And these weird gut-squeezes I keep getting. I’m going to have to call Dr. Holland first thing Monday morning. I might even take the day off from school to go see her. She rolled the window down and gulped in the cool night air.

  “Rest area up ahead,” Kofi announced. “You need to make a pit stop, November?”

  She grabbed her belly, in fear this time, as it once again tightened and hardened like an overinflated basketball. “Yeah, I think I better,” she replied weakly. “I don’t feel so good. Not good at all.”

  Kofi pulled into the rest area and turned off the motor. “What’s wrong, girl?” Dana asked, turning on the overhead light. “Oh, November. You look really sick—your eyes are sunk in, and you’re sweating like crazy. Tell me what’s wrong! What should I do?”

  “I think I might be in labor, Dana. But I can’t be! It’s too soon!” November grabbed her stomach as another contraction washed over her.

  CHAPTER 44

  SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 4

  DANA LAUNCHED INTO ACTION. SHE GRABBED her cell phone from the holder on her waist and pulled Kofi’s phone out of his shirt pocket at the same time. She handed Kofi his phone and told him, “I’m calling the state and local police. You call somebody, anybody with a cell phone who’s on the Douglass Fan Van. Tell them what rest stop we’re at and that we have an emergency. Then contact the band bus and tell them the same thing. There are lots of chaperones on each one—they’ll know what to do.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Finally, see if you can catch Jericho on the football bus. I think all three loads of kids are still behind us. We left pretty early.” Dana hopped out of the car and started punching at her phone.

  November could hear Dana barking orders and taking charge, and she smiled in spite of the waves of pain. Couldn’t wish for anybody better to have my back!

  “Yes, we are at the rest area just after the Jeffersonville exit—about sixty-five miles from Cincinnati,” November heard her saying. “Please hurry. My friend is about to have a baby! How old? Uh, she’s sixteen.”

  November grimaced once more as another pain assaulted her. It felt like a volcano exploding in her guts. I had no idea it would HURT so bad! she thought as she waited for the pain to pass.

  November started shaking uncontrollably, so Kofi tore off his jacket and covered her with it. The baby can’t come NOW, she thought frantically. I’m not ready! The baby’s not ready either. It’s too soon! As another contraction hit her, she thought, What if it comes out messed up like Gus? She knew her brother’s condition was genetic rather than circumstantial, but that didn’t make her worry any less. The pain was making her irrational.

  Dana poked her head in the back window. “How you holdin’ up, little mama?”

  “Not so good, Dana. I’m scared. Can you call my mother?”
>
  “I’m on it,” Dana assured her.

  “It’s amazing how much mothers get on our nerves until we get in trouble,” November told Dana tearfully. “I really want my mom.”

  “I know, kid. Let me try her cell phone again,” said Dana as she frantically pressed buttons on the phone. “Still no answer,” she reported after a minute, “but I’ve left about five messages. We’ll hook up with her soon.”

  November knew that Dana was trying to sound soothing and reassuring, but she could hear the fear in her voice. “Are you scared, Dana?” she asked.

  November’s face was beaded with sweat. Dana took a tissue out of her pocket and wiped November’s forehead. “I do this every Saturday night after a football game. Don’t you?”

  November’s grin turned into a cringe as another pain hit her. She tried not to cry out, but it hurt so bad. “Hey, Dana?” November called when the pain had subsided.

  “Yeah?”

  “Josh should be here.”

  “Yeah.” Dana’s voice was somber.

  “You know what I’d do if he opened the back door of this car?” November said to Dana through the open window.

  “Hug him?”

  November winced through a smaller contraction. “No, I’d kick him in the nuts for doing this to me!”

  Dana cracked up. “At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor! Hey, two of our buses just pulled in to the rest stop, and here comes the ambulance. Relax, now. Everything is going to be fine.”

  All November could really see from her nest in the backseat was the twirling and blinking of the ambulance’s red lights. One technician, a woman with a huge, wind-blown Afro, opened one of the car doors, while another paramedic opened the other one. Each one quickly did an assessment of the half of her that could be reached.

  Who wears an Afro these days? November thought irrationally.

  “My name is Alma,” the woman at her feet said gently. “We’re gonna take care of you, okay? So just relax. When is your due date, hon?” she asked as she jotted down November’s blood pressure and temperature.

  “November second,” she replied.

  Alma’s face frowned in concern. “Are you sure? That would make you a full two months early.”

  “I know!” November wailed. “Is my baby gonna die?” Her heart thudded.

  “Babies survive born earlier than this, sweetie. Now, let Alma see what we have here.” She lifted November’s shirt and put a stethoscope to her abdomen.

  “Hey, there. I’m Ralph,” the other paramedic said. He had a booming bass voice, but November couldn’t see him. “How often are your contractions?”

  “I don’t know exactly.” November was breathing rapidly. “But they’re coming fast and hard. Something’s wrong, isn’t it? It’s not supposed to be like this!” She tried to sit up, but the paramedic at her head gently laid her back down.

  “Relax now. Let me finish examining you. You’re gonna be fine.”

  November was trying not to cry anymore, but another wave of pain assaulted her. She bit her lip. “It hurts!” she exclaimed.

  “I know, hon,” Alma said gently. “Babies aren’t Pop-Tarts. They come out the oven the hard way.”

  “Am I going to have the baby right here at a rest stop?” November asked, panting.

  “We certainly don’t want that!” Ralph replied pleasantly. He deftly tightened a rubber tube around her arm and quickly inserted a needle.

  “Ouch!”

  “If that’s all the pain you feel tonight, I’ll let you complain about that little pinprick,” he said as he connected a bag of clear liquid. His voice had a soothing quality that helped calm November a little.

  “Alma here has called this in to the doctors down at Good Samaritan,” Ralph explained. “They’ve instructed us to give you a tocolytic to try to slow the contractions, so you should feel a little relief soon, okay?” He turned away and began speaking into his walkie-talkie.

  November looked up at the IV doubtfully. “That medicine he gave me isn’t gonna hurt my baby, is it?” she asked Alma.

  “Not at all,” Alma told her. “If anything, it will help to keep that little muffin cooking just a while longer.” November thought the paramedic was overdoing it with the cooking references, but she was in no position to complain.

  Alma carefully slipped off November’s jeans and underwear, making sure she was shielded from any curious onlookers.

  “Why are you doing that?” November asked, alarmed.

  “Well, hon,” Alma replied with a smile as she covered November with a warmed blanket, “we want to see how far you’re dilated, and check your baby’s heart rate.” Alma placed a fetal monitor on November’s belly and recorded the data on the clipboard.

  November shivered. “I’m cold.”

  “Well, let’s just snuggle you a little more, hon,” Alma said, piling another blanket on.

  Ralph returned then and told November, “We’ve called for Air Care to come and pick you up; I want you at an ICU unit in case the tocolytic doesn’t stop the contractions.”

  “What hospital?” asked November, although she didn’t really care. She just wanted the pain to stop.

  “The helicopter is going to take you to Cincinnati’s Good Samaritan Hospital; it has the best neonatal facilities in the state,” Alma explained.

  “A helicopter?” November asked incredulously. “Is that safe?”

  Alma smiled. “It’s a whole lot safer and cleaner than the backseat of a Ford! What’s going on tonight, anyway? I see a parking lot full of high school kids—must be three buses out here. Are they all here for you?”

  “Sort of. We had a big football game,” November answered weakly. “We played Excelsior in Cleveland.” She groaned as another pain hit her.

  “Excelsior! I hear they’re a powerhouse team. Did you win?” asked Ralph.

  “Almost,” November told him, breathing hard. “Almost.” She could hear the whup-whup-whup of the rotors of the helicopter as it got closer.

  Almost as loud was the sound of Jericho’s worried voice yelling at someone who seemed to be trying to keep people away from the car. “But I’m her cousin!” he roared, stretching the truth. His large smiling face appeared in the car window the next minute.

  “Hey, Cuz,” November said with a small smile.

  “Well, you would have been if you had married Josh! Are you okay?”

  “I’m feeling a little better, but I am sooo embarrassed,” November admitted.

  Jericho made a face. “Look girl, let me tell you about public humiliation. Are you wearing pink in front of twenty thousand folks?”

  She grinned and shook her head.

  “Well, get over it. All you’ve done is go into labor on the side of the road, tie up about ten police cars, two ambulances, and three busloads of kids, stop all traffic on both sides of I-71, and have a helicopter land in the middle of the highway!”

  “Call me a drama queen! I’m just making sure I’m the center of attention,” she quipped weakly.

  “Let me talk to her!” November heard then. It was Olivia. “Is she going to be okay? What about the baby?”

  “Hey, Olivia. I know she’ll be glad to see you,” Jericho said as he stepped back.

  “Why didn’t you just say you didn’t want to ride home in the backseat of a Ford?” Olivia’s cheerful, booming voice filled the whole car.

  “I like to make a scene,” November told her with a laugh, although she grimaced as another contraction hit.

  “You scared?” asked Olivia quietly.

  “Terrified,” November admitted.

  “You’re at twenty-eight weeks—maybe twenty-nine if we stretch it. The baby could still be okay,” Olivia said.

  “But it’s so early!” November answered weakly. “I’m so scared about the baby, Olivia.”

  “Well, I heard that if a baby is three months early, things can get really scary. But you’re way past that,” Olivia said, her voice full of confidence. But as she leaned
in to the backseat, November saw fear in her eyes.

  Dana stuck her head in the window on the other side then. “Here come the EMTs from the helicopter, November. I finally reached your mom, and she’ll meet you at Good Sam.”

  “Good,” November replied with relief.

  The EMTs carefully helped her from the car and strapped her to a gurney. As they rolled her across the parking lot and out to the highway where the helicopter waited, November glanced around at what she could see from her perch on the stretcher. “Wait!” Jericho’s voice bellowed. November turned her head toward his frantic voice. “I gotta go with you! I promised I’d be there! I promised!”

  “You can’t go with her on the helicopter, son,” Alma told him. “She needs medical help, not friends right now.”

  November reached out and touched Jericho’s arm. “I have a feeling I’ll be a little busy for a while. Come to the hospital as soon as you can—I’ll see you then.”

  Jericho clenched his fists in frustration, but he nodded as they rolled November to the helicopter. Several groups of kids from Douglass huddled together, whispering and pointing as she was rolled by. Some waved. “Good luck!” several kids shouted. November smiled as she heard Crazy Jack’s cymbals.

  Dozens of cars were parked all over the grass because the emergency vehicles, and even vans from local news stations, seemed to be blocking the parking area. Almost everyone she saw had a cell phone out, calling home, calling friends, passing along this juicy bit of news.

  The last thing she heard as they lifted her into the helicopter was Olivia’s voice. “Don’t be afraid, November—you’ve got Sunshine!”