“Class,” Ms. Baker said. She put a finger to her lips and spoke softly. “Remember to bring your field trip permissions on Friday. Monday we’ll go to the Natural History Museum. It’s our last field trip and the last few days of school until your winter vacation.”
Christmas holidays. Change of seasons, Dreenie thought. Will she still be Bluish in the spring? Wish I knew more. She looks like she hasn’t one hair on her whole skin. That’s one thing. And sometimes she gives this look like she’s going to scream. Like she’s really mad.
“Its proper name is American Museum of Natural History,” Bluish said.
They looked at her. “Hi!” Dreenie said, startled to see Bluish was awake.
“You’re back with us?” Ms. Baker said, smiling. Bluish had dozed only a few minutes.
“Going to see the dinosaurs! Yeah!” Some of the kids yelled, acting up.
“Class, we’re going to see an exhibit very different from dinosaurs.”
Bluish muttered something. Perhaps she meant for Dreenie to hear her. Dreenie was close enough. It sounded like, “I get to go, too!”
CHAPTER SIX
All
IT WAS FRIDAY AFTERNOON, and Bluish had gone to the doctor. They became more worried about her each time she went. Students stood around, looking at Ms. Baker. Like Dreenie, they didn’t know exactly how they were feeling. It upset them when Bluish got sick. Each time she left suddenly for the doctor, they feared she wouldn’t come back.
Ms. Baker could tell, and began talking to them. “Natalie’s mom doesn’t want you to feel sorry for Natalie,” Ms. Baker told them. “She wants you to understand that Natalie’s been very sick.”
It was then Dreenie thought to say, “I want to know more.”
Kids said, “We want to know more!”
Ms. Baker frowned, pressing her lips firmly together. She went to the blackboard. “Natalie has ALL,” she said, writing it on the board, “which is Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. It’s a serious and painful disease.”
Kids left their seats. Slowly, they came up to the front; Ms. Baker was the lamplight they were drawn to like moths. Hearing her talk about Bluish made them stop and think about this worry they’d been having. And now they could show it, they could let it out.
Ms. Baker put her chalk down and reached out to them. Dreenie took her hand a moment. Tuli had Ms. Baker by the arm. Other students did the same, when Dreenie and Tuli let go. Milling around Ms. Baker, they all watched her expression. They knew every line of her face; knew every smile and stern reproach.
“Natalie still must take medicines,” Ms. Baker went on. “But once she’s gone through the program, she has an eighty-five to ninety percent chance of being cured. So please, her mother asks that you treat her the way you would want to be treated. And try not to feel sorry for her. Class,” Ms. Baker added, “I want you to know I’m proud of you, the way you’ve come to regard Natalie.”
“But …” Dreenie began. “But what does that mean? Eighty-five to ninety percent. Where’s the rest? That’s not a hundred percent.”
Ms. Baker spoke clearly, yet quietly. “It means that if Natalie goes from the start of her treatment through five years without a relapse, she’s probably forever cured.”
They stared at Ms. Baker.
“Five whole years?” Jamal said. “Wow … that’s … that’s long! We’ll be fifteen!”
“What’s a relapse?” Dassan wanted to know.
“A relapse is a restart of an illness that’s been in remission—that’s been halted.” Ms. Baker took up the chalk and wrote Relapse and Remission.
Their questions came one after the other. “But when did … did it start?” Dreenie asked.
Ms. Baker never answered her directly. She looked around at all of them.
“Sit down, class,” she told them. “We’ll talk about it.”
They sat down. But soon they were up out of their seats again. Ms. Baker was used to them. They needed to talk, get close, wander away, listening, and come back to the front again.
One student, Linda, was the first to comment. “I feel bad. But I feel funny, I don’t know. I guess I can’t help it. I feel sorry for her.”
Dreenie sat and squirmed. All of them, talking about Bluish. Was it talking behind her back? Is it like Us against Her? Us together and Her by herself? But she’s the sick one! And we’re not. Dreenie had the worst feeling of being afraid. Of what, she didn’t know.
Yes, I do. Of me, getting sick, she thought. Her stomach flopped a moment.
“Class,” Ms. Baker said. “Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about it?”
“Yes!” several students piped up. “Yeah, it does!”
One said, “I get scared I’ll catch it. I know you can’t—can you?”
“No, don’t worry,” Ms. Baker said.
“You don’t know how to act about it,” a boy, Nicholas, said.
Jamal said, “You think she’s going to be just like us. Only, you do something, playing, not to hurt her. Her mouth turns down. She gets all sad. And can get mean, man! Shoot, I stay away from her.”
“It seems to me you all are learning about a student who is your classmate and who has been very ill,” Ms. Baker said. “What else have you learned?”
“Well, Bluish doesn’t like fooling-around play, that’s for sure,” Paula said.
Tuli said, “She told me once she di’nt want to get bruised when kids got rowdy. ‘A bruise is bloodletting. I used to bleed and bleed,’ she said. I kid you non! S’what she tole us, di’nt she, Dreenie?”
Dreenie nodded. It was true, and Bluish had told Dreenie even more.
Ms. Baker said, “Tulithia, Natalie was telling you that when the illness started, she didn’t have tiny blood platelets. And we all have to have them. Platelets plug the blood vessels and stop the bleeding. It must have been scary—to bleed and not stop.”
Dassan raised his hand. “What stopped it, then? She don’t bleed now.”
“Blood transfusions,” Ms. Baker said. “Medicines that worked.”
Tentatively, Dreenie raised her hand. They all felt she was the one closest to Bluish.
Ms. Baker, all of them, waited. Dreenie sighed and finally said, “‘Chemo is like dying.’ That’s what Blu—I mean, Natalie, told me. She said what made her faint was this needle they put in her back into her hipbone. She said it was a long, hollow needle that drew out the bone marrow.”
“E-ew!” kids murmured. “Yuckies!”
“Class,” Ms. Baker said, shushing them.
Bluish had told Dreenie things in bits and pieces and not all at one time. Dreenie remembered, though. Doing their work, talking low now and then.
“That’s what the cure is about,” Ms. Baker said. “It’s about having no sick cells inside her bones. In the marrow.” She wrote on the board: Marrow—site of blood cell reproduction.
Dreenie nodded. “She said they often have to stick the needle way in and draw out bone marrow to look at it and check it.” It was like Bluish was in her head. She could hear her. “That’s what kills you. It hurts so bad. It sucks, man! Like sucking on a straw. It sucks your insides out. It sucks out your light.” Dreenie didn’t feel she should tell them. It was something just so deep of Bluish. What she did tell them was, “She said she didn’t want us talking about her illness. And here we are …” Dreenie looked down at her hands.
“I can understand her not wanting that,” Ms. Baker said. “I’ll take the blame. I hoped you all would learn to respect what it means to be well. To be healthy, the way you are. So that you will see more clearly what Natalie must go through.” She erased everything on the board.
“I got a sore throat,” Manny the K said.
“Oh, Manny!” Ms. Baker said.
“Am I going to die?”
Ms. Baker looked perturbed. “Stop it now,” she told him, sternly. “I’ll send you to the nurse if your throat is really bad.”
“It’s okay!” he said, alarmed. Looking ashamed of himself
.
Kids snickered. Mr. Baker said that was enough, and to get back to work.
Friday evening, after Tuli left, after Dreenie’s mom and dad were home, she called Bluish. She remembered to say Bluish’s name properly.
Bluish’s mom answered the ring.
“Is Natalie there? It’s Dreenie, from school.”
“Hi, Dreenie. Wait a minute.”
Dreenie held her breath. She tried to tell if Mrs. Winburn was upset with her. But she couldn’t tell. Why would she be? Dreenie thought, Don’t make up stuff.
Bluish got on the phone. “Hi,” she said.
“You sound okay,” Dreenie said.
“Why shouldn’t I?” she answered.
“Well, you weren’t in school.”
“I had the doctor’s.”
“Yeah, I know. Ms. Baker told us.” Instantly she was sorry she’d mentioned it.
There was a pause. “You all were talking about me,” Bluish said.
“We were worried,” Dreenie said. “Ms. Baker told us so we wouldn’t worry.”
“You worried about me? I mean, all of you?”
“Yeah, sure,” Dreenie said.
Silence on the other end. “I’m okay,” Bluish said, finally. There was a tremble in her voice.
They talked more. Dreenie told her ordinary things that happened in school. And told her that her dad and Willie had found out about a fun thing at this middle school not far from Bethune. It was an African Market. “I mean, a whole market they’ll have—it’s two days after Christmas. You want to go? Tuli’s going with me and my dad. She doesn’t have anyone to go with. Willie’s going with some friends.”
“Well,” Bluish said, “maybe. My dad usually has to drive when I go someplace like that. I can’t walk like anybody.”
“I know,” Dreenie said. “It’s after Christmas, on the twenty-seventh.”
“I’ll have to ask,” Bluish said.
“Are you coming to school Monday? Remember, the field trip?”
“I know. I didn’t forget. Wha’dya think?”
They talked a while; then Bluish said, “Thanks for calling.”
“See ya,” Dreenie said. She wanted to go over, to see how Bluish was doing over the weekend. Maybe Bluish wouldn’t feel good, though, and wouldn’t want her to see. She’d say no, you can’t come over. So Dreenie hung up the phone without asking.
Over the weekend, Dreenie visited Tuli. Well, Tuli came and got her.
Dreenie’s mom sounded cautious with them. Telling Dreenie, “Now, I want you to stay in Tuli’s house, you hear, Dreenie? I don’t want you walking to the grocery or to the pharmacy. It’s Sunday, everybody’s home from work, out and around …”
“Uh-uh, Missus,” Tuli said. “Too cold. Nobody standing out or sitting playing chess and dominoes in this weather.”
“The more reason to stay inside,” Dreenie’s mom said. “Empty streets.”
Dreenie sighed. The streets were never empty. But she knew why her mom was fearful about Tuli’s neighborhood. It wasn’t so bad; besides, Tuli was her friend. Dreenie guessed she really was. And sometimes you had to go visit whatever kind of friend you had, at her house.
“Well, can I at least go to afternoon services with her and her granmom?”
“That’s all right, you two with Gilla.”
“Well, good, at last!” Dreenie said. “We get to do something.”
“Dreenie,” her mom said, “you guys get to do a lot.”
Dreenie wore a yellow wool sweater and a gray skirt with gray tights and black boots. She wore her winter jacket, which was burnt-gold color. It was hooded and warm.
They went uptown east around the park. Tuli’s building was right there, halfway in on 112th Street. The halls were only a little warmer than the outside. Dreenie could hear people in their apartments. Radios. Television. There was no one like Mr. Palmer to greet them as they came in. No Christmas tree.
They went up. “Granmom! Open up!”
“Don’t you have your key?” Dreenie asked her.
“Sure, I got my key,” Tuli said. “But Granmom don’t like the sound of a key in the lock. Makes her nervous.”
Gilla Bennett opened the door. She was in her robe and slippers. A thin, wiry woman, she looked tired.
“Hi, Granmom Gilla,” Dreenie said.
“Hello, Dreenie. You look nice!”
“I see you’re not dressed,” Tuli said to her granmom.
“No, don’t feel much like going out today,” she told Tuli. “I didn’t get off the job until way late. But I made you your favorite soup, baby.”
Dreenie sat down at the kitchen table. Everything was neat and clean, but bare. There was not much extra in Tuli’s house. The soup smelled good on the stove. Dreenie realized she was hungry.
Tuli filled bowls with potato and meat soup. Then she sprinkled grated cheese on top.
“This is really good!” Dreenie said. There was bread that Granmom had made; Dreenie had a big piece.
“Hits the spot!”Granmom said. Dreenie and Tuli both agreed it did.
Afterward, Granmom went to take a nap. And Dreenie and Tuli cleaned off the table, did the few dishes, and put them away.
“I guess we’re not going to afternoon services, then,” Dreenie said finally.
“We could go. But you’re not supposed to go without Granmom, and I don’t want to, anyway.”
“All dressed up and no place to go,” Dreenie said. She didn’t feel disappointed, exactly.
“Well, that’s just the way it is,” Tuli said. “I lead a sad life.” Sounding like an actress.
“No, you don’t, either,” Dreenie said.
“Yeah, I do. I got up and dressed, and Granmom was still asleep.” Gilla worked a night shift, helping to guard a large business.
Dreenie was silent. Finally, she said, “You got Granmom. You got me and my family.” Tuli stared at her, eyes blank. “And you look like a model.”
That made Tuli smile broadly. “Yeah? I do?”
“Yeah, you do!” Dreenie told her. And she meant it.
They played checkers for a while. And listened to the radio. Sitting on Tuli’s bed, they painted their nails. Tuli painted hers sunlight-yellow.
“I love Christmastime,” Dreenie said, “but I can’t wait for summer to come.”
She painted her nails a deep rose.
“We ought to make a resolution to do something different each week next summer,” Tuli said.
“Maybe by then, Bluish can go do stuff with us, and walk, too.”
“You’re always thinking about her,” Tuli whined. “What about me?”
Dreenie sighed. She let it go. But soon after, she said she had stuff to do.
She went home, relieved. Soon, she’d be seeing Willie and her mom and dad.
JOURNAL
Bluish: Trip Out In The Field, The Vivarium
WELL, HOW COULD YOU guess? I didn’t. Nobody did.
We get on the bus. And Bluish, she gets to go! She’s as excited as me, only we don’t show it.
“Tuli, stop jiggling!” we tell Tulifoolie and we all laugh. Then we all jiggle and the bus goes.
We had all the kids and Max and Ms. Baker. Guess what? Mrs. Winburn! She came with us. But she sat with Max, talked to him. She didn’t bother us. Bluish told her mom she wouldn’t speak to her if she watched us or anything. Whoop! We didn’t even notice her mom after a while. But how could anyone guess, huh?
Yay! We get down there. And there! Natural History Museum Central Park West at 79th. Really great with flags blowing in the cold. We get out—I want to count the steps with the rest of the kids. But how’s Bluish going to get up so many steps?
Her mom pointed to the sign. I saw it too. It says: WHEELCHAIR ACCESS. That means Bluish—and we get to go too. Missus says we can, me and Tuli and Bluish in the chair and her mom. Not that her mom’s not nice. She’s just kind of different than my family. But this is not about her.
We went to the side of the big s
teps and went under and through a big door. We went on in that way to an elevator. And up to the second floor. We meet the kids coming in and follow them.
“Where are we going?”
Man! It’s the Great Hall of the Dinosaurs, we call it. Has this great big skeleton and murals like two stories high on each end. Story of peoples from different times.
Ms. Baker spoke about them. All these visiting fa-real big people going to different parts of the museum and getting tickets, paying money. Ms. Baker took care of us. We all stood together. Max put us in bunches ’cause we all can’t go in at once. Too many of us.
“It’s not a great big place,” Max says.
“Well, where is it?”
“In the vivarium. It’s a closed habitat.”
We went into the Oceana Hall of Birds part, they call it. Where they put the vivarium.
They told us, “You have to get through the first doors quickly—don’t let anything escape! Go through the next doors and you are in!” Her mom said, OK, I could wheel Bluish. I did! We get through the doors and we didn’t let anything out.
Nobody minded that our ten bunch went first. Almost too many kids. Oh, it was hot.
“I want to stand.” Bluish, she stood. Tuli sat in Bluish’s chair. Paula pushed Tulifoolie. Funny! Bluish is just like anybody standing.
Always some of us have our caps on just like hers so nobody knows she’s been sick. Bluish and us walking around looking at everything. It took her breath some but she loved it there. I let her take my arm, she is so very not heavy. Her mom watches. But I don’t tell Bluish. It was so hot and wet in there it curled my hair!
They call it a made-up fragile forest in the middle of icy New York. Called it: Tropical Butterflies Alive in Winter, the official name. Not just any old butterflies too. But 500 great big ones and little ones from the tropics. 80 degrees in there! Whew! The humidity is way high too. Oh the butterflies, tropical plants, and rotting food—they like it!
One landed on Max’s sweater.
We held out our arms. Butterflies came soon. It was so fun! Colors were so many! Pretty! Be gentle! So bright.
Bluish Page 5