by Nikki Grimes
“It is your birthday,” said Mrs. Daniel.
They all bought Nathan’s hot dogs and washed them down with cola. Free ate ice cream for dessert, but Dyamonde chose cotton candy. Damaris skipped dessert altogether, choosing to sip some lemonade instead.
“I can have ice cream any old time,” said Dyamonde. “But cotton candy is special—like my birthday.”
Dyamonde enjoyed every mouthful of her sticky treat, especially the way it melted on her tongue.
“Yum!” said Dyamonde. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Oh yeah? Well, my ice cream is chocolaty, super yummy, mm-mm good,” said Free.
“Not as scrumptious as my melty pink cloud of deliciousness,” said Dyamonde. She tore off a big piece of it and hummed as it disappeared on her tongue.
“Whatever,” said Free. “I bet I’ll finish mine first.”
“Suit yourself,” said Dyamonde. “I don’t get cotton candy every day, so I’m taking my sweet time.”
“Hey! That’s good. Cotton candy, sweet time. Very punny!”
“Don’t you mean funny?” said Dyamonde. “As in, you think you’re so funny?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” said Free between licks. “Just forget it.”
Damaris laughed at them both, then sipped the last of her lemonade.
When they were done eating, Free’s attention turned to the beach.
“Last one in the water is a rotten egg!” said Free.
As if on cue, Dyamonde, Damaris and Free started race walking to the steps that led down to the beach.
At the bottom of the stairs, they shimmied out of the clothes covering their bathing suits and slipped off their sandals. The second their toes hit the sand, they took off, dodging beach umbrellas and picnic blankets, running toward the waves as they broke on the shore.
Damaris splashed around for a few minutes, then climbed out of the water.
“Hey!” said Dyamonde, splashing around in the cool water. “I can’t believe you’re leaving already!”
“I’ve had enough for now,” said Damaris.
“Oh, man!” said Free. “I could stay in here forever.”
“Me too,” said Dyamonde. She watched Damaris bend down to pick up shells.
She’s getting way too thin, thought Dyamonde. I have to say something, but not with Free around. Maybe this would be a good time to find those fun-house mirrors.
Dyamonde waded over to Damaris. “My skin is getting all wrinkly,” she said. “I want to go back up on the boardwalk for a while. Want to come?”
“Okay,” said Damaris.
“Hey!” said Free when he saw the girls leaving the beach. “Where’re you going?”
“It’s girls’ stuff!” Dyamonde yelled. “We won’t be gone long.”
Free shrugged and dove back into the waves. Mrs. Daniel stayed behind to watch him.
Strolling on the boardwalk, Dyamonde took Damaris right to the Coney Island Museum. When Dyamonde saw all the fun-house mirrors, she squealed.
“Look at me! Look at me!” she said, posing and making faces in front of one of the mirrors. Damaris looked at her friend’s reflection in the mirror and laughed. Dyamonde looked ten feet tall, and thin as paper.
“Now look at me!” said Dyamonde, jumping in front of the second mirror. This time, Dyamonde looked short and fat, like one of the round Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.
Damaris laughed at that reflection too.
“Now it’s your turn,” said Dyamonde, nudging her friend to stand in front of the first mirror. “Is that the real Damaris?”
“No!” said Damaris, giggling.
Next, Dyamonde led her friend to stand in front of the second mirror. “Is this the real Damaris?” asked Dyamonde.
“No, silly!” said Damaris.
Then Dyamonde locked arms with Damaris and walked her over to the third mirror, which was regular.
“That’s the real Damaris,” said Dyamonde in a soft voice. “Not super tall and super skinny. Not extra short and fat. The real Damaris is somewhere in the middle, and all you have to do to see her is to look in the right mirror.”
Dyamonde was quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in.
“Those kids at school,” said Dyamonde. “You can’t listen to them, Damaris. They’re all looking in the wrong mirror. Okay?”
Damaris gave her friend an embarrassed smile.
Damaris nodded in silence. Then she gave Dyamonde a tight squeeze.
This Little Piggy
It took about a week for Free to notice that Damaris had gone back to eating like normal.
“I thought you were on a diet,” said Free one day at lunch.
“Not anymore,” said Damaris after washing down a spoonful of macaroni and cheese with a swig of chocolate milk. “I’m done with all that.”
“That’s too bad,” said Free. “I was kind of getting used to eating your fries.”
“Free!” said Dyamonde.
“What?” Free gave Dyamonde his innocent look. “I’m a growing boy.”
“Oh. So that’s why your head’s so fat,” said Dyamonde. Free stuck his tongue out at her and turned his attention back to Damaris.
“I don’t know why you were dieting in the first place,” he said. “It’s not like you needed to.”
Dyamonde and Damaris shared a secret smile.
Dyamonde wasn’t done keeping an eye on Damaris, though. Every now and then, she still caught Damaris staring long and hard at herself in the mirror. What’s more, whenever one of the super-skinny girls from class passed by, Damaris watched them with envy. And there was one more thing. Damaris started watching Amberline.
Take yesterday. Dyamonde and Damaris were standing in the lunch line, minding their own business, reading the menu.
“I can’t make up my mind,” said Dyamonde. “Should I have pepperoni pizza? I love pizza, but I can’t stand pepperoni.”
“You could just pick them off and give them to Free,” said Damaris.
“True,” said Dyamonde. “That boy will eat anything!”
“Make up your mind already!” came a sharp voice from behind them. Dyamonde and Damaris spun around and saw Amberline. Damaris instantly sucked in her stomach.
“What’s the big hurry?” asked Dyamonde, who didn’t like being yelled at. “Just give me a sec.”
But Amberline just pushed past the girls and cut in front of them. “Oh, forget this. I’m not waiting,” she said.
The nerve! thought Dyamonde.
“Uh-oh,” said Tanya, who was at the front of the line. “Here comes Miss Piggy.” Damaris winced, waiting for Amberline to react. But Amberline acted as if she hadn’t even heard the insult.
Dyamonde shook her head and went back to studying the menu.
“Okay. Pizza it is,” Dyamonde decided. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Damaris staring after Amberline with a look of awe on her face.
“Did you see that?” asked Damaris.
“What, Amberline being rude? Yeah, who could miss it?”
“No, not that,” said Damaris. “They called her Miss Piggy and she didn’t even blink.”
“So?” asked Dyamonde.
“So, I wish I could do that,” said Damaris. “She doesn’t seem to care what other people say about her. Not like me.”
“Yeah, well,” said Dyamonde. “That girl is nobody to be jealous of.”
Damaris stiffened. “Who said I was jealous?” she asked.
“Oh, puleeze,” said Dyamonde.
“I’m not jealous. I’m not! It’s just…if somebody called me fat, it would really bother me. But Amberline doesn’t care what other people think,” said Damaris. “I wish I could be like that.”
“Well, they better not call you fat when I’m around,” said Dyamonde.
Damaris smiled at that.
“Even if they do, I’m not going to start dieting again,” said Damaris, “so don’t worry.”
But Dyamonde was worried.
“Look
, Damaris, I—”
“Hey!” said Free, joining them in line. “What’re you two yammering about?”
“Nothing,” said Damaris.
“Nothing,” echoed Dyamonde. But Dyamonde’s nothing was like a heavy stone in her pocket, weighing her down for the rest of the day.
Feeling Faint
Dyamonde studied Damaris day after day, watching to see if she would skip the french fries or the chicken nuggets or the pizza when those foods turned up on the lunch menu. But Damaris never did.
I’m still worried, thought Dyamonde, eyeing her friend in class. She’s still not comfortable with herself.
Dyamonde knew she was right. She’d noticed that Damaris had stopped wearing belts and always seemed to be trying to stretch out her shirts so they would come farther down over her hips. She may not be on a diet, thought Dyamonde, but she’s still not happy. Dyamonde wasn’t sure what to say or do about it, though.
“Well, Dyamonde?” said Mrs. Cordell. “Can you tell me the answer?”
Dyamonde looked up at her teacher, blinking.
“I’m sorry?” said Dyamonde.
“You should be,” said Mrs. Cordell. “Try to pay atten—”
Just then, the bell went off, signaling a fire drill.
“All right, class,” said Mrs. Cordell. “Line up. Quickly!”
In all the rush and shuffle, Damaris and Amberline ended up side by side. Right away, Damaris sucked in her stomach and stood a little straighter. Damaris didn’t want anybody calling her Miss Piggy just because she was next to Amberline.
Damaris wanted to talk to Amberline, to ask her if she really didn’t care when kids called her fat or if she was just pretending. Damaris wanted to ask Amberline lots of things, but Amberline kept her mouth shut tight and looked straight ahead as if Damaris wasn’t even there.
Why is Amberline like that? Damaris wasn’t sure if she’d ever know.
The class marched outside and stood for a few minutes, fidgeting, until the bell rang for them to go back to their classrooms.
On the way in, Dyamonde heard a scream.
“That’s Damaris!” whispered Dyamonde, following the voice. She saw her friend kneeling on the sidewalk, bent over someone lying still on the ground. As Dyamonde got closer, she saw that the someone was Amberline.
“Get the nurse!” ordered Damaris. “Hurry!”
D Is for Diabetes
“Coming through! Coming through!” called Ms. Matsuda, the school nurse.
“Annette!” said Mrs. Cordell. “Thank God you’re here.”
Ms. Matsuda nodded to Mrs. Cordell, then pushed past the gawking students to reach Amberline. Damaris moved aside but stayed within hearing range. Dyamonde and Free were right behind her.
“Students, stand back,” ordered Ms. Matsuda. She knelt on the ground beside Amberline and rolled the girl on her side, just in case she became nauseated. Then she pricked one of Amberline’s fingers, put a plastic strip on her drop of blood and inserted it into a small machine. She read the number that appeared on the screen, then quickly wiped a spot on Amberline’s upper right arm with an alcohol swab and injected her with some medicine.
In no time, it seemed, the girl’s eyes fluttered open.
“What happened?” whispered Amberline, surprised to find half the class staring down at her.
“You fainted,” said Damaris.
Amberline tried to sit up.
“Easy,” said Ms. Matsuda, helping her. “I’m guessing you skipped breakfast this morning.” It was not a question.
Amberline nodded, looking embarrassed.
“I woke up late, and I didn’t want to miss the bell,” said Amberline.
“You know you can’t skip meals,” said Ms. Matsuda in a low voice.
“I know,” muttered Amberline. “My mom always tells me, ‘Diabetes is nothing to fool around with.’”
Diabetes! The word made Damaris shiver.
“Diabetes,” whispered Dyamonde. She had heard the word too.
“Man,” whispered Free. “That’s some serious stuff.”
Ms. Matsuda looked around nervously. This information was supposed to be private. If Amberline had fainted in the classroom, all the students would have been sent out into the hall while the nurse treated Amberline. But this happened outside on the street, and there was nowhere to send the class.
“Okay, class.” Mrs. Cordell clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “The show is over. Head back to homeroom and take your seats.”
“But what about Amberline?” asked Damaris.
Mrs. Cordell gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry about Amberline,” she said. “Ms. Matsuda will take good care of her. Come on. Let’s go.”
Reluctantly, Damaris joined the rest of the class and filed back into the school.
Beehive
Wow, thought Dyamonde, stepping into the classroom. I’ll bet this is what a beehive sounds like.
Everybody in the room was buzzing.
“Man! Did you see that?”
“What’s wrong with Amberline?”
“She’s got diabetes.”
“What’s that?”
“I thought that was an old folks’ disease.”
“Don’t you have to be super fat to get that?”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“Amberline isn’t even chubby.”
“My grandma has that, and she’s older than dirt.”
“My uncle too. Plus he’s all roly-poly.”
“All right!” said Mrs. Cordell. “That’s enough! Please take your seats.”
The buzzing died down, but only a little.
Everyone was full of questions, including Dyamonde.
How come kids can get diabetes? What if I have it? How would I know? I sure don’t want to fall over in the street one day, like Amberline.
The very thought of the possibility made Dyamonde’s heart beat faster.
“Okay, class,” said Mrs. Cordell. “Simmer down.”
Dyamonde took a deep breath. Everyone else did too.
“Obviously, you all have questions about what just happened,” said Mrs. Cordell, “so let’s talk about it.”
Finally, the class got quiet.
“For those of you who haven’t already heard, Amberline has a condition called diabetes. Diabetes has something to do with the sugar inside your body.
“When your body is healthy, it breaks down the sugar and sends it out to all the cells so that they can use it for energy. But when you have diabetes, your body can’t break down the sugar. Instead, all the sugar stays in the plasma stream and doesn’t get into the cells, and that causes all kinds of problems throughout the body. Does that make sense?” asked Mrs. Cordell.
“Sort of,” said Dyamonde, speaking for everyone.
“But what does that have to do with fainting?” asked Damaris.
“Yeah,” said another student.
Mrs. Cordell pursed her lips, thinking.
“Fainting is one of the things that happens when you have too much or too little sugar in your blood. That’s why a person with diabetes has to be careful about what they eat, and they can’t skip meals.”
Dyamonde and Damaris traded glances.
That’s what the nurse said, thought Damaris. Amberline skipped breakfast.
“They also have to remember to take their insulin.”
Several hands shot up around the room. It seemed everybody had more questions.
“That’s it for now,” announced Mrs. Cordell.
Free groaned, and he wasn’t the only one.
“I need you to open your readers. If you have any more questions about diabetes, see me after school. Okay? Readers open.”
Dyamonde wanted to know more, and so did Damaris. They looked at each other and mouthed the word library.
After school that day, they waved good-bye to Free, who jogged home alone.
“Let me know what you find,” he said before taking off. “I have to get
home and help my gram with the laundry. My mom said she was going to call and check.”
The girls headed for the public library. As soon as they got there, they went straight to the information desk.
“We need to read about diabetes,” said Dyamonde.
“It’s important,” said Damaris. “Can you help us?”
The librarian gave them a serious nod. “Yes, I can. But there are different types of diabetes, so it would help if I knew what made you interested.”
Dyamonde nodded to her friend.
“Okay,” said Damaris. “Well, it all started this morning…”
A Heavy Heart
The next day, Amberline came back to school.
Dyamonde noticed that she wasn’t walking as tall and straight as she usually did. In fact, Amberline sort of shuffled into the room, staring down at the floor. When she reached her seat, she slumped down into it, her eyes still on the floor.
I’ll bet she’s embarrassed, thought Dyamonde. I would be.
Mrs. Cordell began taking attendance. When she got to Amberline’s name, she stopped and looked up from the attendance sheet.
“Welcome back, Amberline,” said Mrs. Cordell. The minute she said it, all eyes turned on Amberline, who slid down in her seat even farther. Mrs. Cordell immediately realized her mistake.
“Eyes front,” she ordered. Then she rushed on to the next names on the roll.
“Malik Simmons.”
“Here.”
“Gerald Thompson.”
“Here!”
The entire time Mrs. Cordell took attendance, Damaris stared in Amberline’s direction. Amberline must have felt her staring, but she never looked back at Damaris.
After lunch, Damaris went looking for Amberline in the school yard and Dyamonde tagged along. They found the girl sitting on a bench, kicking the pebbles beneath her feet.
“Hello,” said Damaris.