Freaked Out (6 page)

“No. No stories, Lourdes.” Mama shook her head. “Don't encourage them. What are you arguing about, girls?”

Isabel shook her head and placed some of the tamale
casserole on her plate. The spicy smell of corn, tomatoes, and shredded chicken filled her nose and she took a big bite. Perfect. Aunt Lourdes was such a good cook. Her homemade tamales were almost as good as Mama's chicken empanadas.

“Actually, Isabel and I were discussing a party she wants to go to. It's at Julie Faber's house. I don't think you should let her go, Mama.” Elena Maria smiled sweetly at Isabel.

“Aie, wait a minute, Elena, who made you the mother here?” Isabel felt the cayenne pepper in the casserole go straight to her head. “You can't decide what I can or can't do. You just want me to stay home so—”

Mama put out her hand to hush Isabel. “Why do you say that, Elena Maria? I would like to know.”

“I've heard some really bad things about Julie's older brother Bobby and his parties. They're totally out of control, and there's alcohol.”

Isabel gasped. She couldn't believe that Elena Maria was trying to sabotage her party plans. Elena knew it was only a junior high party and there was no way it would be out of control. She was just trying to scare their mama into saying that Isabel couldn't go, and so that Isabel would have no excuse not to baby-sit. It was totally unfair.

“This is not Julie's brother's party. And Bobby won't even be there. It's Julie's birthday party. Why don't you just stay out of it? It has nothing to do with you.”

“I'm just warning you. I've heard that Julie gets her way on everything she wants.”

“So I'm supposed to stay home because you've heard some rumors?”

“Girls, girls,” Mama pleaded.

Aunt Lourdes jumped up and got Mama water. “You shouldn't get excited, Esperanza. See what you've done, girls. Your mother needs to eat, rest, and stay calm.”

Isabel and Elena Maria looked guiltily across the table at each other.

Isabel knew better. Both of them knew better than to make Mama upset. She was having a hard enough time just fighting her MS. She didn't need squabbling daughters to upset her.

“Sorry, Mama,” Elena Maria said. “Are you all right? Try to eat. We'll stop fighting.”

Isabel shot Elena a look that said, “It's your fault,” but she apologized too. “
Lo siento
, Mama. Let's all enjoy Aunt Lourdes's good tamales. And thank you again, Aunt Lourdes, for inviting us to live here with you. For putting up with Elena and me as well as taking care of Mama.”

“It is my privilege to take care of my sister when she needs help,” Aunt Lourdes said, “but I need everyone's cooperation. You girls have to love each other and solve your problems quietly. I'm sure that's possible, isn't it?”

“
Sí
.” Both Isabel and Elena ducked their heads down and concentrated on eating.

After dinner, while the two of them were washing dishes, Isabel said, “Okay, Elena, I'll baby-sit for you.”

“Go—I'll finish up the dishes. You can use the computer.”

Isabel dried her hands and hurried to her half of the bedroom. She turned on their PC and entered her password.

Everyone logged off. Isabel was glad she didn't wait to tell her friends that she wasn't going to the party. It wouldn't have been fair to pull out at the last minute.

Isabel got ready for bed, then ran downstairs to give her mother a big hug. No party mattered as much as Mama. Nothing was as important as her getting better…and she was getting better. Papa would be so happy when he came to visit. Maybe they could all go to the movies together. Mama loved the movies. She said that she wished she had been an actress. Isabel thought her mother was pretty enough to have been a movie star.

B
y third period on Friday, Maeve had a headache, a queasy stomach, and was sure she was coming down with something really lethal. Maybe malaria, yellow fever, or even bubonic plague.

“How do you get bubonic plague?” she asked Charlotte, who had traveled so much, surely she knew about every disease in the world.

“From rats to fleas. Ancient Europe had such bad sanitary conditions, rats and fleas were everywhere. That's why so many people died. Why are you asking, Maeve? Are you writing a report on world diseases for history?”

“Does Marty have fleas?” Maeve had a one-track mind.

“No. We keep him really clean, and he has a flea collar.”

“Then maybe it's yellow fever.” With a dramatic sweep of her hand, Maeve took out a tissue and wiped the perspiration from her brow. “Like in that old movie
Yellow Jack
,
where Major Walter Reed and all those doctors went to Cuba and let mosquitoes bite them to prove they carried yellow fever. Of course, they all got sick and some of them died as heroes for science and medicine.”

Maeve got most of her history from old movies. She just had to hope the stories were accurate. It was a lot more fun learning that way. She especially enjoyed the old black-and-white movies her father picked for the film festivals.

“Yellow fever comes from mosquitoes, but I don't think anyone has had it for a long time. Now West Nile—”

“That's it! I must have West Nile virus. Look, I have a mosquito bite.” Maeve pointed to a small red bump on her arm. “How long does it take from the time you get a bite until you're in bed dying?”

“A few days. But not many people die of West Nile, Maeve. Plus, it's too cold for mosquitoes now. This doesn't have anything to do with today's math test, does it?” Charlotte held back a smile but Maeve saw it.

“You can laugh all you want, but I'm sick. I'm really sick. I think I need to go home right now.”

“You want me to go to the office with you?” Concerned, Charlotte looked at her watch. “I think we have time, but I'll need to get to my math class so I have the full fifty minutes for my test.”

If Maeve went to the office now, she'd miss the test, but then she'd have to take it later. Another week of not sleeping. Maeve agonized over her choices, taking the test now and failing, or taking the test next week and failing. At least after this last tutoring session, her dad had called Mr. Sherman and reminded him to let Maeve take her test
untimed in the resource room. That might help take the pressure off.

“Do you have any mints? I guess I'd better go take the test and then see how I feel.”

“That's probably a good idea.” Charlotte searched and handed Maeve a peppermint she found at the bottom of her purse. “It may be a little bit linty, but these are good.”

“I don't care if it has mud on it.” Maeve grabbed the mint, unwrapped it, and let the minty flavor run through her mouth and slide down her throat. “Thanks, that's good.”

The Crow greeted her at the door. Maeve thought she saw a glint of something diabolical in his eyes when he looked at her. When everyone was seated, he walked to the front of the room. In a great show of crowlike excitement, he began to wave a stack of tests about.

“Good morning, class. I know all of you are as
eager
as I am to see just how much math you've learned so far this year. I have great expectations for all of you. If you finish early, I suggest you go back over your test carefully and make sure you've answered every question. Remember, even if you get stumped, show your work. Partial credit is better than none. Any questions?” The Crow was so excited; his eyes looked like two lumps of burning coal. Maeve wished—hoped, really—that he would just start melting like the Wicked Witch of the West. Then, the test would be cancelled. She could go to the cafeteria and socialize with her friends, maybe even get to say hello to Tim. Her dance partner had been very friendly lately, saying hi to her in the halls.

“Ms. Taylor-Kaplan, are you with us?” The Crow was standing over her desk. Was he smirking at her? Maeve's palms began to sweat.

Lisa Chen waved her hand. “But what if we do finish early, check over the test, and feel very satisfied that we've done our best?” Isabel gave Maeve a quick smile. Usually, Maeve loved The Lisa Show. Today, however, she could only manage a wan smile in return.

“Then, by all means, Lisa, find something to read.” Mr. Sherman smiled his toothiest smile at Lisa, while his big black unibrow bounced up and down. She was probably his favorite student in the entire world.

Everybody was so stressed about the test that even the class cutups—Dillon, the Yurtmeister, and Billy T.—couldn't manage their favorite imitation of what they called “the Crow Brow Bounce.”

Maeve had heard little past the word “eager” and then Lisa asking if they could leave early if they were finished. Peppermint saliva ran down her throat the wrong way and she choked. She coughed uncontrollably until Dillon reached over and pounded her on the back.

“Maeve is so eager,” Joline said, only loud enough for those around them to hear.

“Eager to find a way to escape before she even looks at the test.” Anna laughed as did everyone around them.

“Maeve will be taking her test in another room,” Mr. Sherman said, making a big show of handing her a sealed envelope that felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Great, Maeve winced. Not only was she singled out by the Queens of Mean, but now the Crow had just announced
that she was the biggest math idiot in the class. Why didn't he just tell everyone that she was “special” and had to take her test somewhere else. So much for just walking quietly out of the room.

“The rest of you, time to get to work.” Mr. Sherman cruised the room, watching people. He was getting ready to swoop down on anyone he thought was cheating.

“He lives for stuff like that,” Dillon had once said.

“Better get started, Maeve.” Maeve almost jumped out of her seat. Mr. Sherman's voice was so deep and scary. Why couldn't he sound like one of those chipmunks that sing holiday songs? Maybe that would lighten everything up and she could relax.

He handed her the test, which looked like it had been kidnapped by packing tape fanatics. The Crow had wrapped so much tape around the envelope that Maeve would need ten pairs of scissors to free the test. Did he actually think she was going to cheat on her way to the study room? She was suddenly furious. She might be math-impaired, but she was no cheater.

Gathering up her notebook, Maeve felt as if she was crossing the Sahara Desert, her throat was so parched. She dug out a water bottle from her backpack, took a big swig, and hurried out of the room and down the hall to the library where someone would supervise her.

She got to work and she tried, she really tried. Matt had told her not to spend too much time on one problem. Skip it and come back to it later. Go through and work all the easy problems, answer the easy questions, then start back and try the harder ones.

The problem was there were no easy problems, no easy questions. She remembered to breathe like Matt told her, and she found a few she understood and worked those. She wasn't even halfway finished, though, when the buzzer made her jump and drop her pencil.

Ms. Curtis, the media librarian, walked over to where Maeve sat. “You have fifteen more minutes, Maeve, or even a half hour if you need it,” she said. “Fortunately it's lunch time.”

“I'm not even half finished,” Maeve managed to say in a panicked voice. She wished she could vanish like a rabbit in a hat. Like Marty in the magic hat at the talent show. She wished she could run out the back of the school through a secret, hidden tunnel.

And at the mention of lunch, Maeve swallowed the lump rising from her stomach to her throat. She had to get away from this test. Feeling very weird, she shook her head, grabbed her things, and ran, leaving her test on her desk. Ms. Curtis could give it to Mr. Sherman. She didn't even know if she'd put her name on it, but he'd know it was hers. She had scribbled all in the margins. No one else in the class would turn in a half finished test.

She stopped short of running all the way to the office. Her heart was pounding, her breath coming in short panting huffs.
Please, please, don't let me faint in the hall. Let me be humiliated in private.

“Maeve?” Ms. Sahni, Mrs. Fields's secretary, ran to help her as she stumbled into the office. “Are you sick?”

Maeve nodded her head. She pointed to Mrs. Fields's office door.

“Maybe the nurse's office would be a better place to go. You can lie down.” Maeve could tell that Ms. Sahni was afraid that she was going to throw up, and that she wanted to turn Maeve over to the nurse rather than send her in to Mrs. Fields.

Maeve shook her head and pointed to the principal's door again. Fortunately, the door opened like magic, and Principal Fields stepped out.

“Why, Maeve, come in. Are you sick?” Mrs. Fields took one look at Maeve and knew something was very wrong.

Maeve nodded, walked past Mrs. Fields, and collapsed in a chair before she could faint dead onto the floor.

Mrs. Fields brought a cup of water and placed it before her. She watched as Maeve drank the entire cup. Then Maeve got out a tissue and mopped her head again.

“I—I—”

“Don't try to talk for a minute, Maeve. Just relax.” Mrs. Fields closed her door, walked around, and sat in her desk chair. She gave Maeve another couple of minutes to compose herself and then began to talk softly.

“You know, Maeve, I am sitting here doing the budget for next semester. These figures are making my head swim. I can't make any sense of them. Would you like another glass of water?”

Maeve nodded. Her heart was slowing down and her throat was beginning to feel like normal.
It must be the water
, she thought. Avery told her once that water had amazing healing powers.

“Did you take your math test today, Maeve?”

Ruby Fields had been a junior high principal forever.
She read kids' minds. Seldom did they actually have to tell her their problems. She knew before they spoke. She knew that Maeve struggled with math, that she had a math tutor, and that she had dyslexia, since she had been the one to give permission for Maeve to use a laptop in class.

Maeve nodded in between gulps of her “healing water.” She promised herself she was going to start drinking more water every day. It couldn't hurt, she reasoned. Maybe it would even help her with math.

“Yes, math tests can be very stressful sometimes. I can't tell you how many kids come in here worried about failing.”

Maeve's eyes widened. She wasn't the only student who was freaking out about math. “Math makes me sick.”

“The test made you sick? Or the idea that you may not have passed the test?” Mrs. Fields asked.

“Both. I'm sure I failed the test, Mrs. Fields. I didn't even get it finished, but I just couldn't work any longer. Does that mean I'm going to flunk seventh grade, that I have to take it over again next year? I'll just die if I have to stay back and all my friends go to eighth grade without me.” Maeve slumped back in the chair.

“I'm not sure it's gotten that dire, Maeve. I'm going to call both your parents and arrange a conference. Do you want me to have one of them come and get you, take you home for the rest of the day? How much sleep did you get last night?”

“Not much,” Maeve admitted.

“Let's do that. You go home, have a nice nap, and see if
you don't feel better. Then we'll find a time to talk at length, and see if we can't get to the root of this problem.”

Maeve listened to Mrs. Fields call her mother. Part of her wanted to go home, part wanted to go to lunch with her friends. But she didn't think she could handle all of them asking her questions about the test and how she thought she did. Even though she was relieved to know that there were other kids who were bad at math, she was still embarrassed. No one likes to feel like they are at the bottom of the barrel. She sighed. Mrs. Fields suggested that she lie down on the couch and close her eyes for a while until her mother came. Maeve thought that was an excellent idea. When the principal placed a soft blanket over her, she felt relaxed for the first time in she didn't know how long. Katani was lucky to have such a sweet grandmother, Maeve thought, as her eyes began to shut.

“Maeve?” Ms. Kaplan looked in the door in what seemed like a very short time. “Sweetie, it's time to wake up. Are you all right?”

“I think Maeve would benefit by taking the rest of the day off, Ms. Kaplan. When you have a chance, could you give me a call? I'd like to arrange a conference with you and Maeve, her father, and Mr. Sherman. Let's see how we can work out this problem.”

The word problem flashed larger than life for Maeve. She saw it in brilliant Technicolor spread across a movie marquee.
Problems with Maeve. Maeve and the Math Monster. Mother and Father Disown Daughter for Failing Math Test. One on One with “The Crow
.”

Staying Loyal

Katani found the BSG at their cafeteria table. She flopped down, set her tray before her, and sighed.

“The math test made Maeve sick.” Katani took the lid off her cup of strawberry yogurt.

“How do you know that? Maybe she just went to the library,” a concerned Charlotte offered.

“I'm sure. I saw Ms. Kaplan come and get Maeve from the office. Looks as if she's going home for the afternoon.”

“Made her sick?” Avery said. “Really sick?”

“Well, she's going home isn't she? People don't get to go home in the middle of the day unless they are sick. What can we do?” Isabel asked.

It was so Isabel to want to help, Katani realized. She gave her friend a quick smile.

“I hope she can come to the sleepover tonight,” Charlotte said. “The evening won't be the same without her.”