It Happened to Nancy

by Beatrice Sparks

  NANCY’S DEDICATION

  Dedicated to every kid

  who thinks AIDS can’t happen

  to him or her

  Contents

  Note

  Foreword

  Begin Reading

  Epilogue

  Questions Nancy Wanted Answered About Rape and AIDS

  Resources

  About the Editor

  Praise

  Other Books Edited by Beatrice Sparks, Ph.D.

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Note

  Names and places have been changed at the request of Nancy’s parents.

  “We are trying to keep our precious Nancy with the laughing eyes in our hearts and minds exactly as she was during her happy, excited, nothing-can-stop-me, invincible life, before HIV-AIDS. However, common sense tells us that cannot be. Therefore, we share Nancy’s difficult times as well as her joyous times with you, hoping that her experiences will educate and enlighten adults and perhaps safeguard some young people. That was her deepest and most sincere wish!”

  It Happened to Nancy was first published in 1994. In the decade since then, new discoveries about AIDS have been made and new treatments have been developed. The section at the end of this book, “Questions Nancy Wanted Answered About Rape and AIDS” has been updated to include new information.

  Foreword

  Precious little fourteen-year-old Nancy’s tragic battle with AIDS becomes all the more tragic because of her extremely lowered natural immune system, which allowed the virus to so quickly ravage her delicate body. Ordinarily the latency period from infection to symptoms for AIDS is considered to be from five to ten years.

  The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that, to date, “At least 10 to 12 million adults have been infected with HIV.” I worry about all the beautiful, innocent young Nancys.

  —Dr. Dathan Sheranian

  (one of Nancy’s doctors)

  Saturday, April 14

  8:01 A.M.

  I can’t believe it. Tonight’s the night I’ve been waiting for forever. At least it seems like forever since February 10, when El’s Aunt Pauline picked up the tickets. Imagine me going to a concert. A Garth Brooks concert! A few months ago El and Red and Dorie and I whined and nagged and groaned and moaned because we weren’t allowed to go to the U2 concert. Now we’re going to see Garth! Garth! I heard on television that he’s loud-loud-loud and that he jumps off a high platform, grabs a rope and swings high out over the audience, with strobe lights flashing in all different colors and everything looking sort of smoky. Plus all sorts of other wild, woolly and wacky stuff. It’s going to be almost like going to a real rock concert, which, boo-hoo, none of our mothers will allow us to attend.

  6:45 P.M.

  Oh chips, isn’t it strange how slowly time goes by when you want it to go fast and how fast it goes when you want it to go slow? Anyway…for now…life is great!…it’s good!…it’s wonderful!…it’s fun!…it’s fab!…it’s sunshiny inside!—and why don’t they come? Why, why, WHY? WHY don’t they hurry up and pick me up? I’ve tried on everything in my closet, plus every combination of everything in my closet, and I’ve redone my hair 97½ times.

  Oops, there’s the doorbell. My chariot and my friends have arrived. I, Cinderella, am off to the ball.

  2 A.M.

  It’s 2 A.M., and I can’t sleep. I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again. I can’t believe what happened tonight. It was like a movie, only better and louder and more exciting than any movie could ever be! Red and El and Dorie and I walking into the concert auditorium trying to look like we weren’t excited! So excited that we could hardly keep from jumping up and down and squealing!! We were also pretending Aunt Pauline wasn’t with us. And grown-uply endeavoring not to giggle—but that was impossible! There was so much excitement in the air that you couldn’t help feel it. I mean REALLY feel it, like it was crunchy fall leaves or soft cloth or something…maybe solid but squishy or gauzy and wispy and changing, ever changing, like a planet or galaxy weaving through space.

  When the strobe lights turned on, they flashed absolutely through my body. We were sitting next to a big speaker, and the music pierced every molecule in me. It was mag! Really magnif! I was part of it, and it was part of me, a new dimension!

  Then, uggggg, about halfway through the concert a couple of rednecks came in and tried to sit in front of us. They said those were their seats. The people sitting there said they weren’t. A scuffle started. Almost immediately cops appeared from nowhere and literally surrounded the area. Aunt Pauline tried to herd El and Red and Dorie and me away from the confusion, but, wouldn’t you know it, I fell down. For a moment I was panic-stricken because people were almost walking on me, and someone grabbed my purse. Then I didn’t even care about that. I just wanted to crawl out of there alive. When I finally got out of the line of fire, I tried to get the attention of a policeman to tell him about my purse, but they were either trying to get people to sit down as they dragged the two nutsos away, or they were trying to get back to their own posts.

  Amazingly, most of the auditorium wasn’t even aware that there was a problem—they kept it so isolated. I leaned against a post, trying to become invisible, because I had started to have an asthma attack. I was so terrorized I couldn’t breathe, and I was alone! More alone in those thousands of people than I had ever been in my life. I was hyperventilating and about to pass out, and no one seemed to care. They didn’t want me, or anything else, for that matter, to interfere with their wild and woolly enjoyment.

  Just as I was beginning to feel the blackness dragging me completely under, I sensed a soft hand on my shoulder and a gentle voice whispering in my ear, “Relax, relax. I’ll get you out into the center hall, where you can sit down and get some air…shh…relax…relax. You’ll be all right…. I’ll take care of you.”

  He put his arm around my waist, and we walked down, down, down, down the endless rows of stairs. It hadn’t seemed like there were nearly as many when we came up.

  By the time we got out into the foyer, I felt better. My hysterical terror was being replaced by a calm peace. The guy said he was Collin Eagle. He sat me on a bench and brought me a Coke, then began softly rubbing my back and quietly telling me to “relax…relax”…and I did! How could I not with his soft voice and his positive presence?

  We moved over by the fountain, and it was nice. The music from the concert drifted out to us, and the dripping and the splashing of the water seemed to take over the melody line.

  Collin and I talked like we had known each other forever, and I, who have always felt uneasy with boys, felt completely comfortable and comforted.

  How could I have felt any other way? He had saved me.

  We talked for a long time, waiting for Aunt Pauline to come down. Collin said she eventually had to come into the main hall looking for me.

  Collin confided in me that he had a sister, Betsy Mae, who had asthma also; that’s how he’d known what to do. He said he’d done for me exactly what he would have wanted someone to do for Betsy Mae if, God forbid, something like this ever happened to her.

  We talked about how much we both loved South Carolina and joked about how the South was different from any other place on earth; about grits and red gravy and sweet potato pie and collard greens, which neither one of us could stand. He was like the big protective brother I’d never had, but had always wished I had had!

  He told me he was eighteen and a freshman at the university, that he lived on campus but couldn’t afford to belong to a fraternity. He said he’d come to school on a full scholarship; then he shyly let it slip out that this first semester he’s on the Dean’s List. I was sooooooo impressed. It was great that he was a kind, g
ood-hearted Samaritan and handsome as any human hunk I’d ever seen. To be a brain on top of all that was super impressive.

  I told Collin how my parents were divorced and how I lived with my mom in South Carolina during the school months and with my dad in Arizona during the summers. I told him I loved my dad, but I didn’t love Phoenix, where sometimes it got so hot that the roads seemed like sticky tar instead of asphalt, and some people had green gravel rocks in their front yards instead of grass.

  Collin asked me more and more questions about my parents. He loved hearing about them because both his mom and dad were killed in a car crash just last year. I felt sooooo sorry for him, but he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He said it hurt too much.

  Isn’t life funny? I can’t remember a fraction of what my teachers tell me in school or what my parents tell me ever, or what I read, but I can remember distinctly every word that dear, dear Collin said.

  After we talked a while, Collin got worried about Aunt Pauline not coming to find me and went to the office to see what we should do. When he got back he seemed really concerned, because Aunt Pauline hadn’t checked in with the office or any of the officers. I broke down and started to bawl like a baby, of course. It was embarrassing, but I couldn’t help it. It’s scary to be at a big concert in another part of town with no money to even call Mom or El’s mom or somebody. Collin saved my life again. He was so sweet. He put his arm around me and patted my shoulder like fat Mrs. Gomez, my Spanish teacher, does, and said he’d be happy to take me home if I wanted him to. Did I ever want him to! I wanted him to become part of the rest of my life. Already he was almost like family.

  Collin assured me that Aunt Pauline would be sure to call my house, and she’d be relieved to find I was home. Relieved was not quite the word! Aunt Pauline and Mom were as mad as wet cats when I got home. Aunt Pauline said she’d reported me to the office and the guards, and then they had sat in the crumby little ticket office for hours waiting for some word. I tried to apologize to Aunt Pauline and explain, but she just said coldly that she was glad I was home and safe and hung up.

  Oh wow, I just looked at the clock, and it’s almost 4 A.M. I’d better get some zzzzzs. I’ve got a million things to do tomorrow.

  P.S. I’m sorry I ruined everybody’s evening, but I wouldn’t give up mine for anything in the world!! There had to be some misunderstanding somewhere; with so many people that probably happens a lot.

  Sunday, April 15

  9:40 P.M.

  Went to Columbia with Mom on business. Wasted the whole day! Had car trouble on the way home.

  Monday, April 16

  3:50 P.M.

  I thought I’d be dead today at school. I only had about two and half hours’ sleep, but I’m more alert and alive than I’ve ever been. Collin called to see if I was okay, just before I ran out to take the bus. Mom started lecturing me about taking rides with strangers and all that rehashed garbage, but thank goodness I didn’t have time for much of it. Actually, I know she’s right, but this is different. I wish I could talk to her about it, but of course I never can. She always has to tell me how she feels instead of ever letting me tell her how I feel. Why can’t parents understand that kids have feelings too and brains?

  At school I wanted to tell Red and Dorie and El every single detail about what happened, but they had been so worried about me, I couldn’t let them know I had been having a wonderful time while they were thinking about the worst things in the world that were happening to me, kidnapping…and killing…and ugggg. Geez, I’m so sorry, but at least we all agree that it really was an exciting night that we’ll never forget and that we’ll probably all bore our kids and our grandkids with, when they get old enough to go to concerts themselves.

  I ran all the way from the bus to my house, because I knew Collin was going to call me. I just knew it! And sure enough, just minutes after I got in the door, the phone rang. Collin! It was so mag! He just wanted to know if I’d recovered from the shock and my asthma attack and everything. Oh, heart, stop fluttering and trying to pop out of my chest and fly away. Collin asked me to meet him in the park at the far west by the little lake where they’re just finishing the new section at 5. He said he’d never met anyone as verbal and open as I am and as gentle and that I reminded him of his family, especially his sister, Betsy Mae, who has had to live with their grandma since their parents died in the car crash. He misses them sooooooo much. Poor, poor dear Collin. My mom and dad bug me a lot, but I don’t know how I’d ever stand it if they both died. Collin needs me. If I can just give him a little comfort to replace that which he’s lost, I’ll feel so privileged.

  I’ll leave a note for Mom saying I’m going to the mall to pick up something for one of my classes…. Ummm, I’ll tell her I might be a little late because we’ll pick up a bite to eat. I hope so!

  9:30 P.M.

  Sweet, wonderful Collin, he’s so lost and lonely here in a town where he hardly knows anybody. He says it’s hard for him to talk to people, but that with us it’s almost like we’re both just thinking out loud.

  We sat and threw rocks in the lake and picked buttercups and talked about everything under the sun. I think he knows almost as much about me as I know about myself. I hated to tell him that I was only fourteen, but he said he knew it anyway, because that’s how old his sister is, and it’s his very favorite, special age for “his girls”! Imagine him calling me HIS GIRL, putting me in a category with his very own sister! Isn’t that the mag and magnif of all magnificents?

  Oops, I’ve finished the last three months of my diary in the last few days. Guess I’ll just use my new loose-leaf. I don’t want to forget or lose one precious thought about my right-now life!

  Mom just called. She is working on selling a big, new 143-unit complex. She’s so busy she hardly has any time for me at all, except to nag me about my room and the dishes and stuff—stupid things!! How much are any of them going to count in the overall of life?

  Collin’s time and attention are like cream to a starving, scruffy little unimportant kitten—me!! Deep inside, I guess I know that both my parents love me and try to give me “quality time,” but “quality” time can NEVER match real, real, REAL TIME, no matter what anybody says! I think Collin and I are both very lonely, lost creatures!

  Tuesday, April 17

  9:10 P.M.

  I can’t believe it. Today I was called into the office, and I went there with fear and trembling. Crazy things buzzing through my mind. What had I done? Did the whole school know about Collin? Did they think that we had…that because he was four years older than me that he would be just after—you know. I wouldn’t let myself think about it. It was too disgusting and degrading, and un-Collin. I decided I wouldn’t let them say one bad thing about him! I’d drop out of school and go to Arizona with my dad first! Miracle of miracles, the desk girl just handed me a plain brown-paper-wrapped box. Shaking, I ran into the girl’s room to open it. At first I was scared, because, like on television, I thought it might be something sinister or menacing, but it wasn’t. Oh no, no, it wasn’t at all! It was the most mag thing that had ever happened in all my life. Be still, my heart. A single white daisy lay in the bottom of the little box with a scribbled note: “In celebration of the third-day anniversary of the most precious day in my life, Your White Knight, I hope.” It wasn’t signed. It didn’t need to be.

  I was crying so hard that someone reported me to the counselor, and she suggested I go home. She had no idea that I was just unraveled with joy. I wish I had some way to get in touch with Collin, but he doesn’t have a phone in his room. He has to use the pay phone in the hall. I guess I’ll have to wait…but I can’t…I can’t…I can’t…I’ll pop.

  Dear Collin. You are my dearest confidant, my valiant hero, my trusted friend, my future! Literally my happy, happy, forever future!!!

  Friday, April 20

  Time? What is mere time to me now?

  I met Collin again today after school. In fact, I didn’t even come hom
e first. He called me really late last night and asked me to. He said he’d called twice, and Mom had answered, and he’d hung up because he was too shy to talk to her, and she might think some crazy thing, and she probably would. There is no way she can understand how much we can communicate with each other—how good we are for each other.

  Collin doesn’t talk too much about himself. He just likes to hear about me, and he likes to live through my mom and dad, his folks being dead and everything. I love to tell him. In fact, I think I’m getting closer to my folks through talking to him about them, and I’m learning more respect and compassion and everything for them now that I’m giving a little thought to how it would be without them.

  Collin brought a soft blanket, and together we spread it out on a cement pad nestled in some trees. Collin said he thought the city would probably eventually build a little toolshed or something there, but for now it would give us a place to be comfortable and safe from the chiggers and no-see-ums.

  It was so peaceful and lovely: birds singing, bees buzzing, water lapping, fish jumping, a little breeze blowing the branches that almost reached down to touch us. Us lying there eating potato chips and drinking Cokes, and Collin started rubbing my back. It felt good, warm, relaxing and belonging. I realized that I didn’t get touched much by my mom anymore; she was so busy. But it was a different touch too. I felt happy little noises, almost like purring, splattering out of my mouth. The sounds came out without my even trying to make them. Collin laughed and rubbed my arms. It felt so, so, so good. When he got to my legs I felt a little bit uncomfortable, though. A strange little quivering shot through me, and I popped up suddenly. It embarrassed me, and I think it embarrassed him too…but again, it probably didn’t. He probably didn’t feel what I felt at all.