Bluish

by Virginia Hamilton

  They went home that way, with Dreenie just ahead of them, glancing back often and telling them to be careful.

  “Hokay, ho-ney, we take care. Cuidado!”

  “Tuli, shut up,” Dreenie said. Thinking, It does sound like she’s making fun of Spanish people. Why can’t she be herself?

  They turned off of Amsterdam, going west on the street where Dreenie’s family lived. Dreenie’s building didn’t have anything fancy, like a uniformed doorman. It had Mr. Palmer, who stood at the door from the time school was out to 10:00 P.M., when the grown-ups were home. Sometimes Mr. Palmer opened the door for people if they had groceries or were older.

  The building had double outer doors and a large space before the inner locked doors. Dreenie had her key, always on a cord around her neck. Willie had an extra one in a plastic envelope taped to the inside bottom of her lunch box. In case Dreenie’s got lost somehow. It never had.

  Mr. Palmer watched as Dreenie unlocked the door.

  “Whyn’t he ever open it for yous?” Tuli muttered.

  “We’re supposed to open it with our own keys,” Willie said.

  Dreenie said nothing.

  Mr. Palmer held the door open for them once she’d unlocked it. “Student ladies,” he said.

  “Hi, Mr. Palmer,” both Dreenie and Willie said. They felt the warmth from the radiators and were happy to be inside.

  Tuli was looking around at everything in the lobby, the way she always did. When they were in the elevator, she said, “Can’t get over it. They put that little Christmas tree and lights and stuff right on that pretty table. And with pretty presents all under the tree? And nobody takes nothing? Ho-ney, hush!”

  “Those packages are just for decoration,” Dreenie told her. “They’re empty boxes.”

  They went up to the third floor. Dreenie had her key ready. At number 3F, she unlocked the door and let them in. Once inside, she led them to the room she shared with Willie.

  “So nice!”Tuli said to them. “You get to have your own room.” Tuli always said this when she came to Dreenie’s apartment.

  Someday, to have her very own room by herself, and in their own house, was another one of Dreenie’s most secret wishes.

  “Take off those wet clothes before you sit, Tuli. You can leave on your sweater,”-Dreenie said. “I’ll put them in the dryer so you can wear them home.” She took out some pajama bottoms for Tuli to wear.

  “I can put my things in the dryer,” Tuli said.

  “Just … entertain Willie.”

  “Yeah!” said Willie. “Entertain me with some food!”

  “I can make her something,” Tuli called. Dreenie knew Tuli would love to get into the things in the kitchen.

  “What can I have to eat?” Willie whined. “I’m starving, Drain!”

  “Don’t call me that! You wait,” Dreenie hollered back, on her way to the dryer. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”

  “Me, too?” Tuli called.

  Sometimes the two of them made her sick. “In a minute!” she called. I’m only ten, Dreenie thought.

  She went to a hall closet where they had a built-in washer and dryer stacked one above the other. She put Tuli’s clothes in the dryer and took off her coat. She did nothing about the damp tights she had on. They would dry on her.

  Next, in the kitchen, she found potato chips. Good, she thought. That’ll make ’em happy for a minute. She made chocolate milk and heated it. And made sandwiches. Poured the milk into glasses. Put napkins under her arm and carried a bag of chips in her left hand. Called for Tuli. “Get the hot chocolate I made for you guys.”

  Tuli ran to the kitchen to get it.

  “Sit on the floor,” Dreenie told them, back in her room. “And be careful, don’t spill anything.” They listened to her and were careful. No smart-mouth from Willie, either. “Chocolate, I love it!” Willie said. “Umm, umm, umm.”

  Dreenie got herself some orange juice. She sat back down on the space they’d made for her. Tuli was on one side of her and Willie on the other. She let herself melt down in comfort. Eased her shoulders into a comfortable sag.

  Just the three of them. Silence and calm were streaming through the windows into them. And now she could take a first deep breath.

  Dreenie saw when Tuli’s face relaxed into quiet. She didn’t have to cover up anything with the sillies. What was it? Being lonely? No mom at home?

  Covering up how she feels with noise and chica-chica-ing all the time?

  Dreenie tried to never let herself think unhappy thoughts. She held herself in. But it was kind of hard coming home each day to an empty place. All day, not knowing what was going on with your mom or dad. And it was hard to go to a new school. Tuli had been the first kid to be nice to Dreenie, to become her friend.

  Noises of the day, buses, cars, people, seeped into the room. Sounds of my city, Dreenie thought. She loved New York. Every kid she knew loved New York. It scared them sometimes. But now, in their slow time of enjoying a snack, the city sounds didn’t upset them.

  Tuli watched, doing exactly as Dreenie and Willie did. Take a bite. Put the sandwich down. Wipe your mouth. Take a sip of hot chocolate.

  How many times had she brought Tuli home with her? Not for any special thing, Dreenie thought, but because Tuli didn’t want to go to her own home.

  Dreenie was pretty sure Tuli had “staged” her slide into the slush. She probably hadn’t meant to fall down. Still, she’d done what Dreenie and her mom called a “Tuligram.” It was a message telling them that Tuli needed to be someplace, with somebody in a normal life for a little while.

  “Am I staying for supper?” Tuli asked, finally.

  Willie knew to be quiet.

  “No, Tuli,” Dreenie said. “Your granmom Gilla will be looking for you.”

  Sometimes they let Tuli stay. But today, Dreenie didn’t feel like it.

  “I can call her. She’ll want me to stay.”

  “She’ll want you home before dark. And anyway … you know how soon it gets dark now,” Dreenie said. “Winter.”

  “But I promised Willie I’d read to her,” Tuli pleaded. She looked at Willie, didn’t dare look at Dreenie. Willie kept her eyes on the potato chips.

  “Tuli …” Dreenie began, and stopped. She knew it was Willie who read to Tuli. Willie could read a lot better than even Dreenie could. Willie never stumbled over words or was stumped by them as Tuli was. Tuli would take up the book and start out. But then, all eager, Willie would take the book out of her hands. “You can read for fifteen, twenty minutes, but then you have to go.”

  “Call my granmom—”

  “Take it or leave it, Tuli,” Dreenie said. “And I’m not being mean. I’m really not.”

  Maybe I am, she thought. She sighed and finished her food. Then she carried the plates and glasses into the kitchen. Dreenie stood a moment at the sink, cleaning up. She could hear Willie and Tuli in the bedroom, laughing about something. I’d love to have some girl as a friend. Not like Tuli. But a girl I could talk things over with. Do special things with, Dreenie thought. Having Tuli around was like having a slower Willie. Yet she was Dreenie’s only close friend. And why?

  JOURNAL

  Bluish: Time Passes. She Comes And Goes.

  I NEVER KNOW WHEN she’s going to be there in class. When she is, she’ll move her chair to a study table or by the teacher.

  I figure some days she’s friendlier than others. Some kids say she’s not feeling well. Other kids don’t seem to care about her.

  Jamal tried to snatch her hat. Bluish made this bad noise in her throat. I thought she was choking. She vomited. It smelled bad! In class, in front of everybody. Ms. Baker took Bluish out and went to get a custodian. The kids went: E-ew! E-ew!

  Me and Tuli and Max the aide put paper towels over it. Made me feel sick.

  When Ms. Baker was gone, the kids got raucous. When they get rowdy they listen to me telling them to quit it, even though I haven’t been in school that long—because I’m the biggest
girl. Mommy says it’s not my size, but that I have the way of a leader. So I told all of them to shut up and sit down. And most did!

  “Who needs a vomiting kid in class?” Dassan said.

  I said, “Shut up, Dassan.”

  “Girl, you can’t tell me what to do,” he said.

  “She just did!” Jamal said. Everybody laughed. I think Jamal likes me. E-ew!! But this is not about me. It’s about Bluish.

  She’s way tired all the time. I sit next to her when we do writing. She can write okay. But mostly she does her Game Boy. Lario. And some other kind of little man—Poke’red something. Willie plays a Game Boy sometimes. But Bluish can punch it up really fast. Then she’ll drop it all of a sudden. Not even look at me.

  I can’t help watching her. She’s so pale blue.

  And she scared me. She said, “You wanna play?”

  I said—I almost stuttered— “Sh-h-hure!”

  I was going to take up the Game Boy when she said, “You can come over. My mom’ll come get us.”

  I liked to died. I thought she was asking me to play with the Game Boy. But she meant playing at her house?

  What if I catch something from her? I couldn’t move, didn’t look at her.

  She made this funny sound. Then: “Stupid dork-head.” She said it under her breath. But I heard her. Talking about me.

  I didn’t know what to do. I felt bad. Afraid of her. I felt stupid. What is wrong with me? It dawns on me maybe I really am dumb!

  And she wanted me to come home with her.

  She could’ve been my friend.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Suppertime

  DREENIE DIDN’T WANT TO hurry. She just wanted to take her time telling her mom about it. She didn’t want to tell it all at once.

  Natalie. Cool Bluish.

  “Dreenie, if you have something to tell me, then tell me, don’t fool around.”

  “Make Willie stop calling me Drain! She does it all the time!”

  “Is that it? Arguing with your little sister?”

  “No.”

  “If you have something to tell me …” her mom said again.

  “Guess you’re tired,” Dreenie said. “S’why you’re short with me.”

  Bluish. I hate her, Dreenie thought. Scary sickness, and I was afraid it’d rub off on me. Maybe she can still be my friend, but I don’t know how. All the moonglow.

  Her mom paused to give her a look. Made Dreenie laugh nervously.

  “Dreen-boat, I’m not being short with you. But, changing the subject,” her mom said, “you can set the table before your dad gets home. Dinner will be ready after that.”

  So Dreenie just started in. Bluish. Her little puppy.

  Dreenie spoke carefully to her mom while her mom made dinner. Just the two of them in the small, neat kitchen.

  “She’s the only one in school with a wheelchair,” Dreenie told her mom.

  And she described how this girl stood out, or sat out. Outside, after school, in her wheelchair. Bluish sat there in the gray while it snowed big flakes, beautiful, like Christmas. Snow on her ski jacket. Bluish had on pink mittens. Wore a pink fuzzy hat.

  “And so?” her mom asked.

  Dreenie felt funny inside. She almost couldn’t get the words out. She calmed herself. Then she took a deep breath and let it out. “Mom? It was like a cloudy day, and seeing her? Moonglow is what … what she reminds me of. And … and … scary-looking? And in a pink hat and pink mittens? Her jacket was fuchsia color. And she is so pale!”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, Dreenie.” Her mom’s expression showed she could see the Bluish child, and was caring about her.

  “Mommy! And she’s got no eyebrows, either. Her veins show through her face, all skinny trails. Picture this, Mommy. She’s got no hair. Kids say she’s way bald! So she wears these funny caps or hats down over her head.”

  Her mom looked thoughtfully at her. “Well, then, she’s sick, Dreenie. I mean, bald, her hair is falling out, or already fell out.”

  Bluish?

  “Maybe a childhood leukemia. You know? It happens,” her mom said. “She’s in school, so she must be better,” her mom said. “She lost her hair from the strong chemotherapy, I suspect. Likely, her hair will grow back.”

  Dreenie sat for a long time, looking at her mom. “What if it won’t grow back?” she finally thought to say. “Wow, wouldn’t that be so gross.” And thought, Bluish wanted me to go home with her!

  “It probably will grow back,” her mom assured her.

  “I don’t want to talk about her anymore,” Dreenie said. A kid with—cancer!

  “Being really sick is no fun for any child, Dreen-boat. And you mustn’t be afraid of her because she looks different. You could be nice to her—what’s her name? I mean, treat her like you would treat any other school friend.”

  Smirking, Dreenie said, “I saw this little third-grade kid, just like Willie? Going down the hall. And he ups and bites another kid. No kidding! Mr. Darcy saw what happened. The bitten kid was screaming and crying. Man, did that biter kid get it!”

  “Okay,” her mom said. “You don’t want to talk about the girl anymore.”

  “I don’t care anything about her. Why should I?”

  “Dreen …”

  Scary Bluish.

  “Just because she’s in a wheelchair—Dreenie, don’t single her out because of it.”

  “I didn’t!” Dreenie said. She was already on to something else. “Mommy, Tuli always wants to stay for supper.”

  “Well, let her.”

  “No! It means that her granmom Gilla won’t get to eat until later. Tuli has to fix food for her granmom! She gets on my nerves sometimes. I get tired of worrying about her.”

  “Oh, Dreenie. You sound so old. She just wants to be around a family.”

  “But it’s my family. And I want it to myself!” She pouted until she had to laugh at herself.

  Her mom laughed, too. “Set the table for me, babe,” her mom said.

  “Can I go down and wait for Dad?”

  Her mom looked at the clock. “It’s dark out.”

  “It’s not dark in the lobby. And Mr. Palmer is there.”

  “Then stay inside the locked doors with Mr. Palmer. Don’t go out in the street.”

  “I won’t. It’s too cold.”

  “Set the table, then go down.”

  “Where’s she going?” Willie yelled, coming into the kitchen.

  “To the moon, baby chile,” Dreenie said. “You can’t come. Set the table.”

  “Dreenie,” her mom said.

  “I’ll be glad when she grows up,” Willie told her mom.

  “I’ll be glad when you grow up!” Dreenie said back.

  “You two! Not another word, either of you,” her mom warned.

  They stayed quiet. Willie took Dreenie’s place when she got up to set the table. Dreenie set it in fast time. And as she left the apartment, finally, she heard her little sister tell about the nerdy stock market class, and how she loved the shapes of things, and how they changed all the time. The things that kid could think up!

  Downstairs, Dreenie told Mr. Palmer, “I’m waiting on my dad again. He’s always later when it’s zero-cold and icy. He has to come all the way up from downtown.”

  Mr. Palmer nodded, didn’t say anything. He looked sleepy, sitting in his chair by the locked lobby doors.

  “I got my key,” she told him. “I’m just going out to the front.”

  Mr. Palmer kept quiet. She knew it wasn’t his job to look out for her.

  Dreenie peered through the outer doors, up and down the street. But Mr. Palmer was to her back, and that made her feel safe. From what? From anybody, she thought. Anybody with bad plans.

  People rushed by in the cold. Huddled in their coats. Newspapers, grocery bags. Getting home faster so the cold couldn’t get them. She peered around and saw the lights of Broadway, all kinds of holiday lights. Made her jump up and down inside. She stepped outside for a fast minut
e. She looked up and down the street, but saw no one. The street was clearing of people. Winter evenings and empty streets in a city so big.

  She turned back, went inside the outer doors, took out her key. Someone came in behind her. She froze. Her mind went dead, and she felt the cold.

  “Dreenie.”

  “Daddy!” Oooh, you scared me!

  “You’re out here, and you know you shouldn’t be.”

  “But I looked up and down, and there was no one.”

  “I came across the street through the parked cars. Anybody could do that, and you wouldn’t see them. Remember what I told you? Look three ways when you look out the doors. Left and right and across.”

  “I forgot about across,” she said.

  “But you need to remember.”

  “I’ll remember. I won’t go out and look anymore, I promise.” And she meant it.

  “How’s my girl?” he asked her when they went in.

  “Fine, Daddy,” she told him.

  He spoke to Mr. Palmer a minute. About the weather, about the New York Knicks. Basketball. Then he and Dreenie took the elevator.

  Dreenie told her dad about Tuli, and about this girl who had her own chair-on-wheels.

  “I like the way you put that,” he said. “It makes her, well, maybe a new kind of individual.”

  “Yeah, that’s right!” Dreenie agreed.

  It surprised her how easily she could tell things to her dad. But then, she didn’t tell him some things, like how she felt about Bluish. “Her name is Natalie,” she said. “Mom says she has leukemia. Or she had it.”

  Her dad glanced at her. She was staring at the floor. “I bet she’s better, though,” he said. “She’s in school.”

  “Guess so,” she murmured. She asked me to come home with her was what Dreenie didn’t tell him.

  He put his arm around her. The elevator opened, and they went out.

  “Dreen, you all right? You worried about Natalie, huh? She’s your friend?”

  “She threw up in class. It was gross, Daddy! I mean, e-ew! Kids just went nuts.”

  Scary Bluish!

  “That’s too bad. But anybody can get sick. The flu. It doesn’t have to be … anything more than that.”