Never Fear, Meena's Here!

by Karla Manternach

  But each time, he walks to the end of the board, looks across the water, and steps off.

  Maybe we should have started with the most fun thing in this place. “Want to go down the big slide?” I ask.

  His shoulder twitches a shrug.

  I look over at Mom. She’s focused on the computer in her lap. “Let’s go,” I say.

  We climb the winding staircase. I grip the railing. Water drips on us through the grated steps above. While Eli waits his turn at the top, I concentrate on filling him up with happiness. I imagine pouring it into him with a pitcher until he’s brimming over with one thrilling thought: I’m having the time of my life! Finally, when the lifeguard gives the okay, Eli sits in the rushing water at the top of the slide, gives a tiny push, and lets the current pull him down, slow as sludge.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  I plop down next. When the lifeguard nods, I put my head down and push off hard, paddling against the walls, leaning forward, making myself go faster and faster until I ride up the sides and almost flip over.

  SPLASH!

  The slide dumps me out at the bottom.

  I break the surface again and smear water out of my eyes. “That’s how it’s done,” I say to the pair of feet by the ladder.

  But they’re not Eli’s. They’re Mom’s.

  “You were supposed to tell me if you left the diving area,” she says.

  I look up at her. “Yeah, but there’s, like, one lifeguard per person over here.”

  “Just tell me if you go anywhere else.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to know where to look for you. Got it?”

  I climb out, squeeze water out the ends of my hair, and grunt.

  She gives me a hard look and heads back to her chair.

  I turn to Eli. “Want to go again? It’s faster if you lean forward.”

  He doesn’t look at me. “I’m getting in the hot tub.”

  “What? No! I can hardly breathe in that thing, and it makes me shrively.”

  “Then don’t come.” He heads to the bubbling pool of grown-ups, slips in, and wades to the other side.

  I stare at him. What the heck? He should be cheered up! Is this because Mom took the Ring? But I’ve been wearing it for a week! Some of its power should have rubbed off on me by now.

  No. I thrust my shoulders back. I am saving that boy, whether he likes it or not.

  I glance at Mom, settling into her chair again, then follow Eli.

  I plop down at the edge of the hot tub and dip my toes in the piping hot water. He stares over my shoulder and flicks his cheek with his finger to make a dripping water sound.

  And another.

  And another.

  “Meena!”

  Not again.

  Mom is standing over me, hands on her hips. “I just said—”

  “You were working,” I say. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  She rubs her forehead. “I will set it aside if I need to watch you. Now, are you going to do what I asked or not?”

  “It’d be easier to remember if I had my good-luck charm.”

  Mom’s lips pull into a line. “You’re not having trouble remembering. You’re having trouble obeying. Last chance.” She strides back to her chair, flip-flops slapping.

  I turn back to Eli, sitting in the steam, rusty hair plastered to his forehead. “Let’s get kickboards and have a race.”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Let’s see how long we can hold our breath underwater.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Let’s play tag until the lifeguard yells at us.”

  “Not right now,” he says.

  My stomach starts to bubble like the water. I clench my fists and WHOOSH a tidal wave of happy thoughts toward him: This is the best day ever!

  Eli’s eyes light up.

  It’s working!

  He stands up, looking over my shoulder, water streaming down his arms.

  I turn and see a redheaded man coming through the entrance. A little girl hands him a towel. When I turn back, Eli’s face falls. He sinks back into the hot tub.

  “Are you waiting for Riley?” I ask. “Is that why you’re sitting here? So you can watch the door?”

  His eyes flick over to me, then away. “None of your business.”

  The heat in my stomach steams up through my chest and out my ears. “You aren’t even trying to have fun.”

  He clenches his jaw.

  “He’s not coming, Eli. Everyone knows it!”

  He covers his ears. “Shut up, Meena.”

  The grown-ups stop talking and stare at us.

  “I’m trying to help,” I say.

  “Leave me alone!” Eli hangs his head and sinks even lower, the water is up to his chin. “Just leave me alone,” he says again, his voice a whimper.

  I don’t get it. Riley ignores him. He lets Eli down.

  And I’m right here! I could help him if he’d let me. I want to reach out and pull him to safety.

  But he’d rather stay in the lake of fire.

  I yank my feet out of the water. When I glance at Mom, she’s standing at the edge of the kiddie area, clapping while Rosie does a back float.

  I don’t need her watching me like a little kid. I stomp over to the high diving board and start climbing.

  Halfway up the ladder, my arms start to shake. My feet feel slippery, but I keep going. At the top, I clutch the railing, my heart beating hard. I grit my teeth and tiptoe out, forcing myself to where the railing ends and the board stretches over the water below.

  I take deep breaths, swaying a little, looking around for people to save. A toddler teeters along the edge, but then his mom hurries over and takes his hand. A girl is about to dive into the shallow end, but a lifeguard stops her in time. Two kids duck underwater in the deep end, but right when I think they must be drowning, they bob back up.

  The lifeguard tweets his whistle for me to go.

  I jump off and plummet toward the water. I might not have a cape, but I swear that for a second I hang in midair before the blue surface hurtles toward me.

  SMACK! The water closes around me. I paddle for a long time before I break through then take a big breath and swim under the ropes into the lap pool. I push off the wall, my body skimming under the water like an arrow, strong and powerful and free—like I’m flying.

  My feet kick like thunder. I move my arms through the water, imagining that I’m clearing away evil, wiping out crime. The hair bands and pennies at the bottom of the pool look like cities to protect far below. I pretend to shoot lightning out my fingers and strike down villains. When my chest is throbbing, and I can’t hold my breath any longer, I kick to the surface.

  Mom is looking around, whipping her head one way, then another. She waves frantically to a lifeguard, then turns this way.

  I take a gulp of air and duck underwater.

  Maybe she didn’t see me. I try to keep still, but my body floats up until my back sticks out of the water. Maybe I can sneak out and pretend I went to the bathroom. I kick myself to the wall, grab hold of the edge, and wipe the water from my eyes.

  Mom’s flip-flops are right in front of me.

  She’s glowering down, nostrils flaring, like she’s about to start breathing fire. “Get out,” she says. Her voice is quiet. Scary quiet. Eye-of-the-hurricane quiet.

  “Um…” I push my hair back out of my eyes. “I forgot?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I was only in the water for a minute,” I say quickly.

  Mom crouches down and leans her elbows on her knees. “How long do you think it would take a lifeguard to notice you having a seizure? How long do you think it takes to drown?”

  I feel a rush of heat through my whole body. The concrete scrapes against my knee as I climb out. My skin prickles in the cool air.

  Eli comes over, looking pale and wilty. “What’s up, buddy?” Mom asks, her voice instantly kind.

  “Would it be a
ll right if I went home? I don’t feel very good.”

  “Of course,” she says gently, putting a hand on his head. “Meena’s leaving too.”

  “What?” I say. “Why?”

  Mom shoots me a look of pure fury. Her body seems to expand to fill the whole room. “Because you aren’t listening. Because I asked you to follow one rule for your own safety, and you didn’t.”

  I shrink away, my insides withering. I slink over to the lounge chair and pull on my clothes, my hair dripping onto my shirt, my suit soaking through everything.

  Eli doesn’t look at me.

  Not that I’m looking at him.

  Mom strides over to the shallow end, says something to Dad, then comes and grabs her things. She reaches into her pocket, blinks, and pulls out my Rainbow Ring, staring at it like she’s never seen it before.

  I reach to take it back. “At least can I have my—”

  Mom holds up her hand like a crossing guard. “If I were you,” she says, “I’d think really hard about whether this is the right time to ask me for anything.”

  She stuffs the Ring back into her pocket and storms toward the door.

  10

  I’m grounded for the rest of the weekend.

  I don’t get my Ring back either, because just when I think it’s safe to ask for it on Sunday, Mom finds all the unfinished suckers I was saving at the back of my sock drawer and makes me wipe out the whole dresser!

  The only thing I can do is start working on my superhero movie poster. I start with a circle in the middle of the paper and take my time drawing a rainbow burst spreading out around it, just like the Ring. In the center of the circle, I draw the outline of a person, but I leave it blank for now, since I’m still working on my suit. When I go to bed on Sunday, my mind is swirling with color.

  But that night, I have the same dream over and over. I’m falling off the high dive. The pool below is empty, and I flail in the air, screaming, then jerk awake at the last second, right before I hit the cement.

  Without the Ring, I can’t even fly in my dreams.

  On Monday morning, I’m so tired that I fall back asleep after Dad wakes me, and the next thing I know, Mom is shaking me. Dad has already left with Rosie, and I have to pull on my clothes and run out the door. I don’t even have time to pack a lunch.

  I’m halfway to school before I realize I still don’t have my Ring.

  I don’t feel super without it. All morning, I’m groggy and mixed up. I think I even space out during our read-aloud book, because one minute Wilbur is going to try spinning a web like Charlotte, and then somehow I have a funny taste in my mouth, and I’ve missed the whole thing!

  After that, I don’t even feel like saving anybody. When Lin drops her pencil in the aisle, I watch it roll toward my foot and leave it there. When Mrs. D asks for a volunteer to pick up homework sheets while Nora is out sick, I keep quiet. When Pedro sneezes, I don’t even say Bless you.

  Eli still isn’t looking at me.

  Not that I’m looking at him.

  By the time I shuffle down the hall to lunch, my stomach is starting to hurt too. Across the table, Sofía pops open her little can of apple juice, yanks the tab off the top, and hands it to me. I slip it into my pocket then wince at my tray and push it aside.

  “You okay?” Sofía asks. She takes out her neat and orderly lunch: cheese cubes, raisins, and an applesauce pouch that squirts straight into your mouth. They all sound terrible right now.

  “I haven’t had anything colorful to eat today,” I mutter.

  Just looking at the gray puddle of Salisbury steak makes my stomach do a somersault. If I had my Ring, maybe I could blink my eyes and make it disappear.

  I close my eyes and rest my face on the table. It feels cool against my cheek, but the dirt-like smell of gravy makes my stomach clench like a fist.

  “You want some candy?” Sofía asks.

  That might help. I open my hand and feel the little round candies click together against my palm. I know without looking that she gave me one of each color.

  “You want to stay in for recess today?” Sofía asks. “I need Mrs. D to help me with math.”

  “Okay,” I say. “My stomach’s kind of icky anyway.” I pop a candy into my mouth, but right when I taste the sour burst of green apple, a wave of nausea washes over me. I sit up straight and suck in some air. My head is starting to spin now too.

  “Yeah, you don’t look so good,” Sofía says.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, but the seesaw feeling doesn’t go away. All around me, kids chatter and laugh, but the sound seems to bend in the air, like music playing in a passing car.

  I hold my head in my hands. I am not going to throw up.

  “Meena?” Sofía’s voice seems like it’s coming from far away. But I can’t answer her, because I’m sinking down onto the bench beneath me, curling up, clutching my stomach.

  “Mr. Powell!” Sofía is shouting now, but her voice just keeps getting quieter as it fades farther into the distance.

  * * *

  My head hurts.

  That’s the first thing I notice. The smell of gravy is the second, then the metallic taste in my mouth.

  I blink my eyes open. A fluorescent light panel. Someone’s face.

  “Hey, hon.”

  Mom? I try to sit up, but the sick feeling floods my stomach, and my head feels like a car that’s being flattened by a monster truck.

  “Stay still for me, okay?” She takes me in her arms and eases me back down.

  I’m lying on something hard. The floor, I think. Turning my head, I see a green bean nearby, and the underside of a long table. “Where am I?” I say in a creaky voice.

  “The lunchroom,” Mom says.

  Her face is coming into focus now. The hairs springing out of her ponytail make a frizzy halo around her head. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor next to me. I hear the dull clanging of spoons on metal.

  “Where is everyone?” I ask.

  “At recess.”

  Then why am I on the lunchroom floor? With my mom? And a headache?

  Hang on.

  “Did I have a seizure?” I ask.

  She reaches over to stroke my hair. “Mm-hmm.”

  I groan. “How long?”

  “It only lasted a minute, but you’ve been out for a while. I’ll take you home when you’re ready.”

  “Don’t I have to go to the hospital?”

  “No. The doctor said if it happened again we should just keep a close watch on you.”

  I close my eyes. This can’t be happening. What kind of a superhero has seizures?

  My eyes snap open. One without her Rainbow Ring. That’s what kind.

  I reach up and grope the empty spot by my neck. More clanging sounds come from the kitchen, along with the fake pine smell of cleaning spray. “Did Sofía call for someone?” I sort of remember. Almost.

  “Yep. Mr. Powell had everybody go finish lunch in their classrooms.”

  That must have been exciting. I’m actually sorry I missed it. “Too bad they had to finish their steak,” I say.

  Mom chuckles softly. “Let’s see if we can get you up.” She helps me stand. A blanket that I didn’t know was covering me falls to my feet. Mom picks it up and wraps it around my shoulders. “Okay so far?” she asks, putting her arm around me.

  I nod. My legs aren’t very strong, but I can walk.

  “We’ll take it slow.”

  We shuffle across the lunchroom and down the hall, my body heavy, my head throbbing. Rosie is in the main office, playing Go Fish with the secretary. When she sees us, she runs around the big desk and tries to hug me, but Mom steps in front of her. “Give her a few minutes, okay, sweetie?”

  Rosie takes a step back and looks at me with big eyes. I try to give her a little smile, but it comes out a grimace instead. As Mom steers me out of the building, the bell rings, and the sound seems to pierce through my forehead.

  As soon as we get home, I slump onto the couch. Mom tu
cks a blanket around me. Rosie runs upstairs and brings me Raymond, then leans in the doorway, sucking her fingers and looking at me the same way she looked at her baby doll when its arm popped off—like I’m broken.

  I curl away from her, my stomach starting to bubble hot, right through the ick. This shouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have if I’d had my Ring. I’m as strong and as healthy as anybody—even stronger!

  Mom sits down at the other end of the couch and pulls my feet onto her lap. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll be right here.”

  To spy on me.

  My eyes are so heavy that I can’t hold them open anymore, but I manage to whisper, “I need my Ring.”

  Mom is quiet for a few seconds. “Your what?” she asks finally.

  “My Ring. From the pool.”

  “You mean your good-luck charm?”

  I want to scream, It’s not a good-luck charm! It activates my powers! It makes me strong and special! But even the silent screaming makes my head hurt, so instead I just mumble, “I need it.”

  My legs shift as she gets up. I hear a drawer in the kitchen open and close. When I look again, she’s dangling the Ring over me. It spins and glints in the light. I try to reach for it, but my arm is too heavy.

  “Here,” Mom says, sliding it over my head.

  I lift the Ring and stare at it, then through it—through the empty circle in the middle.

  “Better?” Mom asks.

  I nod and close my eyes, pressing the Ring to my chest. I’ll be okay now. Everything will be okay.

  It has to be.

  11

  It doesn’t take long for the Ring to start working again. By the time I wake up that afternoon, I feel better—right back to my super self!

  Too bad nobody treats me that way.

  Rosie won’t stop watching me from across the room. Dad ruffles my hair more than usual when he comes home. Mom sends me to bed at the regular time, even though I already had a nap!

  Then, at breakfast Tuesday morning, Mom turns to Rosie and says, “Pop quiz. What would you do if Meena had a seizure on the way to school?”

  Rosie sets down her milk and answers so fast that I know they’ve been practicing. “Turn her on her side, and call for help.”