by Barbara Dee
“Woo, Norah!” Aria did a dance move that was mostly elbows. “Mom, can we pleeeease get these for me?” She grabbed a pair of earrings that looked like thunderbolts, and held them up to her ears. When they jiggled, they lit up and made a zapping noise. “MUST HAVE THESE FOR MY GOD COSTUME.”
I had to laugh. “You’re doing Zeus?”
“I might!” Aria answered, still dancing. “He’d totally rock thunderbolt earrings!”
“Ooh, guys,” Harper exclaimed as she peered into a glass case. “Norah, see those earrings that look like paintbrushes? They’re so cute, aren’t they?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But I really love these.” I pointed to a pair of green dragons breathing orange fire. They had red beads for eyes and purple beads on their tails, like scales.
“Mom?” Aria begged. “Momomom?”
Mrs. Maldonado sighed. After twelve years, you could tell she was used to Aria. “All right. You can have the thunderbolts, as long as you wait the full month to wear them.”
“Aww, Mom. Come on, I promise I won’t get an infection!”
“I mean it, Aria. One month of antibiotic ointment and studs, or no deal.” She glanced at Almost Ayesha, who didn’t take her eyes off her phone as she gave a thumbs-up.
And I thought: This is what it’s like for Aria. A trip to the mall, a jokey argument with your mom about ointment and earrings. Nothing life-or-death. Traffic and weather on the eights.
Then I noticed Mrs. Maldonado pointing to the dragon earrings. Almost Ayesha asked if she wanted to add them to the cost of the ear piercing. Mrs. Maldonado said yes, taking out her credit card and handing it to Almost Ayesha.
Suddenly I understood what was happening. Mrs. Maldonado was paying for the whole thing—the ear piercing, the silver studs, plus the dragon earrings—making them a gift to me. A cancer consolation prize.
“Wait, no,” I sputtered. “Thanks, Mrs. Maldonado, but you really don’t have to—”
She pressed her hand on my shoulder. “But I want to, honey. I insist.”
Was that empathy or sympathy? Maybe it was something else—relief that her own daughter was healthy—that had nothing to do with me. Whatever it was, I had a squirmy feeling in my stomach that wasn’t from cinnamon pretzels and the strawberry/banana/mango shake. And now this outing, which had been so fun, was just turning into a whole cancer thing.
It was SO UNFAIR. I could feel hot tears start to prick my eyes, so I blinked fast.
But I think Mrs. Maldonado noticed, because she tugged me away from Aria and Harper, who were laughing hysterically at some nose studs.
“Norah,” she said quietly. “This has nothing to do with your being sick. It’s just regular girl stuff, you know? I was glad to do it for Aria, and now I’m glad to do it for you. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, feeling my face relax into a smile.
Because: “regular girl stuff”?
Those were like the three happiest words ever.
* * *
When I got home, Nicole was in the kitchen. This time, instead of greeting me with a hug and chicken potpie, she yelled. “Norah, where were you?”
“At the mall with my friends.” I stared at her, shocked by the yelling. Also by the fact that she was there. “Dad said you’d be coming at suppertime.”
“I left work early. To be here for you!”
“Oh. You didn’t have to do that.”
“No, I realize that, but I wanted to. You were supposed to come straight home. What were you doing at the mall?”
Probably it was stupid of me, but I’d always thought Nicole and I were friends. I mean, she’d never acted all parent-y; she even called me “girl” sometimes. So I thought if I showed her my earlobes, she’d understand how I felt about the “young man” stuff. She’d empathize.
I pointed to my ears. With my Regular Girl Stuff silver studs.
“What?” Nicole demanded. “What are you showing me?” The earrings must have caught the light or something, because suddenly she understood. “Oh! Norah, you didn’t. No way!”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“What’s wrong? Norah, you went out and got your ears pierced? Without your parents’ permission?”
“No, no. I had their permission! Mom even said she’d take me!”
“When she was here, in New York, which she obviously isn’t! Does she even know about this?”
Now I was getting angry. Since when had Nicole taken Mom’s side against me? And why was she yelling?
“Something happened in school today that meant I couldn’t wait for Mom,” I said. “And I’ll explain that to her.”
“Go ahead!” Nicole crossed her arms like: I dare you.
“I will. I was going to Skype with her later, anyway.”
“No, Norah. I want you to call her now. And I want to listen in.”
“Are you serious?” I squealed. “Anyhow, there’s a time difference with California. And she could be teaching.”
“If it’s inconvenient, she won’t pick up. Just call her!”
“Nicole, back off,” I said, my voice shaking with anger. “This has nothing to do with you, okay? You’re not even in my family, so truthfully, what I do with my earlobes isn’t any of your business!”
“If that’s how you feel about me, fine,” she snapped. “Nice to know.”
I went to my room and slammed the door.
HERA
I didn’t call Mom right away, because first I wanted to calm down. For about an hour I plopped on my bed and drew krakens—swirly, spiky, tentacled creatures with suction cups and angry eyes. I also drew my new dragon earrings—not as earrings, but as twin creatures I named Flame and Sizzle. Although those names kind of sounded like a hamburger restaurant (The Flame ’n’ Sizzle), so I changed my mind.
Then I read D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. I told myself I was doing homework, deciding on my god for the English project—even though it never occurred to me to pick anyone besides Persephone. Because not only did I love that story, but also the whole thing about the daughter being separated from her mother kind of applied to me, in a way. I mean, it wouldn’t be super-hard to empathize with Persephone.
At nine p.m. (my time), I called Mom. As soon as I saw her nonsmiling face on my laptop, I knew she’d already heard about my ears.
“Dad texted me,” she said. “Nicole called him with the news. Why couldn’t you wait for me, like we agreed?”
I told her about the stupid sub. And then, because without knowing the rest, the stupid sub’s mistake wouldn’t seem important, I told her about Griffin. Not that I had a crush on him, not the kraken stuff, just that he was sort of a friend whose opinion I cared about. But I think she understood anyway.
Also, I told her how Astrid had laughed at me. And how Thea was all Poor you.
“Norah, you can’t let other people rule your life,” Mom said. “If that sub was too sleepy to get a good look at you, who cares what he thinks. And those girls sound nasty, anyway.”
“I know, but—”
“Are you going to punch holes in your ears every time someone says a stupid or mean thing? Because your ears are going to be Swiss cheese.”
It was such a ridiculous image that we both had to laugh.
Then Mom said she was mad at Aria’s mom for not checking with her about the earring thing. I begged her not to say anything to Mrs. Maldonado, who was only trying to be nice by doing Regular Girl Stuff. And I showed Mom my silver balls and also the green dragons, which she admitted were incredibly cool.
“All right,” she finally said, exhaling. “So here’s what I have to say about all this: I’m upset that you didn’t wait for me, Norah. But I’m much more upset that you did it behind our backs, when you’d promised Dad and me that we could trust you.”
I chewed on my lip. “Sorry.”
“Because seriously, honey, do I have to spell this out for you? If your friends do something dumb, if they get their ears pierced somewhere unsanitary, the
y get an infection. Big deal. But you’re in a completely different category, you know? You can’t just . . .” She shook her head helplessly.
I knew what she wanted to say: You can’t just make normal growing-up mistakes. Because nothing will ever be normal for you. Or for any of us. Not completely.
Because you’re not a Regular Girl.
“Mom, it was completely sanitary,” I said in a shaky voice.
“I certainly hope so.”
“And I won’t do anything like that ever again, I swear.”
“Good. Don’t. One more thing. I’m very upset with how you treated Nicole.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You told her she wasn’t in our family. But she is, and I need you to apologize to her immediately.”
I couldn’t believe this. Mom and Nicole were supposed to hate each other. Or, if not hate, then at least resent. I mean, D’Aulaires’ was full of stories about how Hera treated Zeus’s girlfriends. Like how when Hera found out Leto was pregnant, she ordered every country on earth to banish her. And how she tricked Semele into asking Zeus to reveal himself, causing Semele to burn to cinders. And how she punished Echo by taking away her ability to speak her own words.
Hera was badass. Scary. But she was Zeus’s wife, so you could understand her jealousy. Empathize with it, almost.
Versus Mom sticking up for Dad’s girlfriend, which made zero sense.
But I promised to apologize to Nicole anyway. The truth was, my stomach was still feeling sort of squirmy—and at least part of that had to be from guilt. Nicole was a good person, and she didn’t deserve how I’d treated her.
As soon as I logged off Skype, I went into the living room, where Nicole was watching the movie Alien. I sat on the sofa about a foot away from her, but she held out one arm for me to snuggle next to her. So I did, even though every time that movie was on, I switched the channel.
“Nice ears,” she said, not taking her eyes off the TV. “It’ll be fun to get new earrings once your holes are all healed. Are you hungry?”
“Not really. My stomach is feeling weird from all the junk I ate at the mall.”
“Well, junk food with friends is important. Once in a while, anyway . . . as long as it’s not behind your parents’ backs.”
“I know. I should have told them about the mall. And the earrings. And sorry I said that stuff to you before—”
“Shh, girl,” Nicole said. “This scene is gross, and I want to watch.”
* * *
The next morning I woke up feeling I’d been trampled on by a giant centaur. When Nicole called me downstairs to breakfast, I could barely move. Everything ached—even my fingers. Also, everything felt fuzzy, a million miles away. And when Nicole presented me with what she’d cooked—puffy French toast with cinnamon butter and sliced apples—I just stared at my plate, trying to remember what was so great about food.
“You don’t like it? I could make you something else,” she said, already opening the fridge door.
“No, it looks delicious. I’m just not super-hungry this morning. I think that shake I had at the mall upset my stomach or something.”
Nicole frowned at me. “Still? You said your stomach felt weird last night. Maybe you should stay home from school.”
“No!” I nearly shouted that at her, so I cleared my throat, as if: throat malfunction. “No, I can’t. We have a math test today, and I need to tell my English teacher which god I’m choosing for this project—”
“Listen, Norah, everything is secondary to your health.”
“My health is great.” I took a giant forkful of French toast to prove it. “Hey, this is yum. Thanks for making it, Nicole.”
She narrowed her eyes as if she could tell I was full of it. So I had to keep eating, even though my stomach protested Nooo, stooop.
* * *
I wasn’t lying, at least not about the math test. As soon as I saw Griffin right before first period, I could tell he was nervous about it, so I tried to cheer him up.
“I’ve been sketching krakens,” I told him. “They look really cool. Want to see?”
His eyes lit up. “Yeah, I do. But first I should look over my notes, okay?”
“Oh, of course.”
“Can you show me at lunch?”
“Today?”
He nodded. Because of course he meant today.
“Sure,” I said, thinking: Eep. Now I’ll have to skip health class. After just promising Mom that she could trust me.
Here we go again.
EVIL BUG
Except that day I never made it to lunch. Or health.
I barely made it through math. Barely finished the test.
As soon as I got to English, I told Ms. Farrell I needed to go to the nurse’s office. “Oh, of course,” she said with worried eyes. She told Harper to walk with me, “just for company.” And I felt so awful I didn’t even protest.
Mrs. Donaldson looked me over, felt my forehead, and led me to Norah’s Cot. “Lie down,” she said softly. “I’m calling your mom.”
“You can’t. She’s in California.”
“Okay, your Dad, then.”
“He’s out of town. At a baseball game.”
She stared at me like Are your parents INSANE? So I explained about Dad’s work, and how Nicole was staying with me overnight. Mrs. Donaldson asked for Nicole’s phone number, and for a minute I was a total blank. Then I remembered it was programmed into my phone, which I just handed to her.
She called Nicole. I was feeling so woozy I can’t remember what happened, how long I was asleep, or how much time things took. But the next thing I remember, Nicole was sitting on the edge of the cot in her black going-to-work pantsuit, looking at me with a weird expression.
“So I guess you really hated that French toast, huh?” she said when she saw I was awake.
“No, no, it wasn’t that—”
“Come on, silly, I was joking. Let’s get you home now, okay?”
Harper brought my stuff from my locker, and somehow I made it to Nicole’s car.
* * *
The next few days were a blur.
I was sick. Not cancer-sick, germ-sick. The evil bug that had attacked me was from school, or the mall, or Aria’s car, or the hospital. Or possibly it was from my house, even my own bedroom. There was no way to know. And no way to stop more germ attacks from beating me, as long as my immune system was still “compromised.”
This is what Dr. Choi said when Dad took me to Phipps.
“As long as Norah’s out in the world, it’ll be a constant battle,” she told Dad, even though I was sitting right there on the examining table. Dr. Glickstein never talked about me as if I weren’t there, but he was busy seeing some kid who was “having an emergency,” Dr. Choi explained. So I was being seen by a doctor who’d never even met me before this very minute, and didn’t know the first thing about my personality.
“Is Norah getting enough rest?” she asked Dad.
“YES, I AM,” I answered.
“Because that’s the most important thing. If she’s run-down, she’s much more vulnerable to whatever virus is going around the school.”
“I KNOW.”
“Would she agree to wearing a surgical mask in the halls?”
“Wait,” I exploded. “You’re asking Dad if I would wear a mask? Every time I switched classes? You should ask me.”
Dr. Choi blinked. “I beg your pardon, Norah. A surgical mask is one solution, yes. Another would be leaving class five minutes early, just to reduce the number of germs you’re in contact with in the hallway every time the bell rings.”
Dad glanced at me, nodding. “All right, thanks, Dr. Choi. We’ll discuss it.”
On the ride home, I informed Dad that I absolutely refused to wear a mask. Not a surgical mask, not a Halloween mask, not a hockey mask. No mask, period. As for the five-minute thing, maybe. Maybe. I’d think about it.
Dad sighed. “Norah, it’s not really up to you.”
“Who’s it up to, then?”
“No comment.”
“You? Mom? But it’s my body! And I’m sick of people talking about it as I’m not even there!”
Before he could say anything to defend Dr. Choi, I added: “I hate this, Dad. Why can’t I just go to school and have a regular, boring, normal life like everyone else?”
Dad reached over and rubbed my arm. “Because the evil Luke Emia still has his eye on you, baby. And he’s mad that you’ve been giving him the slip.”
* * *
I stayed home from school the rest of that week, and the whole week after that. Mom flew home for the weekend, just to make sure I didn’t need to be in the hospital, she said—even though Dr. Choi said I should rest at home. The whole time Mom was here, she kept unbunching towels and Lysoling everything, almost as if she was accusing Dad of making me sick with his germy surfaces. And the funny thing was how Nicole didn’t stay away for Mom’s sake. It was like they’d come to some kind of agreement—about me, apparently.
In the middle of the second week, Harper came over after school to give me notes.
“Aren’t you missing Afterschool?” I asked her.
Harper shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m happy to get a day off from Astrid.” She described how she’d put up her mural—carefully, over four afternoons—only for Astrid to insist she take the whole thing down.
“Why?”
“Same old criticism. It doesn’t ‘communicate.’ I feel like communicating with her.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Because what good would it do? She’s still in charge. She’s still horrible. Oh, and by the way, I saw your boyfriend.”
“What?” My heart bounced like a Super Ball. “You mean Griffin?”
“Yep. Astrid told him we were friends in Art Club or something, so he gave me this for you.” From her backpack she pulled out a folded-up piece of paper, all taped shut. A note mummy.
She waited for me to open it. When she saw I wasn’t going to, at least not in front of her, she smiled. “Also, Ms. Castro wants to know if you need anything, and Ms. Farrell says hi. Aria and Cait say get better soon. And Silas wants to know when you’re coming back.”