By the time the bell rang for lunch, the tension lurking all morning had taken over. During Spelling Mimi’s head had begun to throb, and flashing lights that originated in the corners of her eyes gradually spread across her vision. As the class was finishing its lesson on irregular silent letters, she could barely see the blackboard to copy down the words they had to learn for homework, which Miss Lode had chosen specifically from Shakespeare to tie in with other lessons:
abhor monkey
gnaw subtle
chaos sword
honest tongue
knave wretch
“Miss Lode’s in a funny mood, choosing these words,” Jennifer muttered next to her. “They’re not even very hard! And we never use some of them. What does ‘knave’ mean, anyway?”
“A naughty boy,” Mimi replied. She and Dee had watched Romeo and Juliet on TV a few weeks before and heard the word then. Mimi had fallen hard for Romeo.
“Who did she say Shakespeare is?”
“You know! He wrote A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” The two sixth grade classes were putting on a version of the play at the end of the year. Mimi was playing a fairy. She shook her head, though she knew it wouldn’t clear her vision. “Can you read the words to me?”
Jennifer looked sympathetic. “Head hurt again?”
“Yes.” Mimi didn’t tell many friends about the headaches she’d begun having in the past six months, as she didn’t want to be fussed over, but it was hard to hide them from Jennifer, who sat next to her and seemed attuned to her pain. Jennifer covered for her, particularly when Mimi had to rush from the classroom. “Period,” she’d whisper to Miss Lode, who would nod nervously. Menstruation was a solemn topic in sixth grade, though many of the girls were still waiting for it to happen. Those who could took advantage of the teachers’ embarrassment about it. But Jennifer’s lie was closer to the truth than she knew, for Mimi had begun having headaches around the time her period started. Her mother told her it was a sign of growing up, but Mimi wasn’t reassured.
She didn’t have to rush out today, gauging that she could make it to lunch. Copying the spelling list under Jennifer’s tutelage, she ignored the squeezing on her head and the diamonds of light dancing in front of her eyes, until at last the lunch bell rang. Even then Mimi did not run off, but filed out with the others. She was about to head to the girls’ bathroom in the basement when a hand gripped her arm. Ian. Immediately she felt worse, urgently so.
“Hang on a minute,” he said. “Anyone would think you’re avoiding me. You’re not, are you?” He wore a complicated look: smiling as if he were joking, yet Mimi knew he was not. Behind the smile was an unyielding, rock-hard layer.
“No,” she said. “I just have a headache.” She tried to smile back, but her nausea was rising rapidly. “I have to go to—”
“I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Has Casper ever given Dee anything? Notes or jewelry or anything?”
“I—I don’t know. Maybe. But it’s never been like that between them, really.” Mimi couldn’t think about anything except getting to the bathroom.
“Find out, and whatever it is, get it for me.”
“All right. I really need to go…” Mimi pulled away from Ian and hurried down the stairs to the girls’ bathroom. Running into a stall, she dropped to her knees and threw up into the toilet. Afterward she flushed, then sat back on her heels, leaned against the divider, and closed her eyes. Mercifully no one was there to ask if she was all right or to go and get a teacher.
It was remarkable how being sick cleared not just her stomach: the flashing diamonds had vanished, and her head no longer hurt. The bathroom was quiet except for the slow filling of the cistern. It stank of disinfectant, and of the coarse brown paper towels you never found anywhere other than in school bathrooms. Its walls were painted battleship gray and, combined with the fluorescent lights, made everyone look ugly and ill, even Blanca and Dee. Despite the light and the smell, girls liked to hang out down here: it was one of the few places where teachers rarely came unless on patrol, for they had their own toilet next to the teachers’ lounge.
What Mimi really wanted to do now was to lie down and press her cheek against the cool tiled floor and think about nothing, simply let the river of the day wash over her.
But she could not do that. The floor smelled too strongly of bleach, and besides, someone was bound to come in, and Mimi’s friends were expecting her at the cafeteria and would notice if she didn’t appear soon. She rinsed out her mouth and splashed water on her cheeks, then peered at herself in the mirror. She looked awful. Pulling out a lipstick she had stolen from her older sister, Mimi dotted some on her cheeks and rubbed it in. Girls were not allowed to wear makeup at school, but she hoped no one would notice. She took one last look at herself, tried to smile, then said aloud, “Give him what he wants—then he’ll let you go.” That would be her strategy.
Mimi was surprised to see Dee and Osei together outside the cafeteria, their heads bent over something, foreheads touching. Dee was one of a handful of children who went home for lunch, as she lived close by. Her mother would be expecting her back on time. Over the years Mimi had gone home with her after school a few times to play, and noted Dee’s mother’s thin mouth that never smiled, the pointed looks at her watch, the lack of a snack, the liver served for dinner, the heightened tension when the father arrived home and frowned at discovering an unexpected guest. It made her appreciate her own parents more. Gradually she and Dee gravitated to Mimi’s house, where her mother gave them plates of Oreos and let them watch TV.
Now Dee glanced at the clock in the hall, pushed something into a pencil case—the pink one she had described to Mimi earlier—and stuffed it in her backpack. She spoke to O, looked around, then kissed him briefly before running off. Mimi should have been shocked by the kiss, especially since they would’ve gotten into trouble if a teacher had seen them; but after their flagrant touching on the playground it seemed anticlimactic. Mimi could still picture their arms, black and white, reaching for each other. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, even more powerful than Romeo and Juliet making out during the balcony scene.