Read Online Dorothea Dreams (Heirloom Books) by Suzy McKee Charnas - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Suzy McKee Charnas
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close Pinto Street next week, okay? Cut class, everything, to be there too. I’ll do that. You scared to come to a little art class with me today?”
Hell, when he put it like that — Roberto shrugged. “You’re crazy. The teacher won’t let me in anyhow.”
“Yes she will. They’re real cool at this place; nobody gets fussed up except maybe if you did dope right on the doorstep.”
Bobbie’s life, Bobbie’s kind of friends. Roberto was curious. He was a little nervous, too. Nervous about some Heights kids in some kind of playschool? No way he could really be scared of that!
“I don’t know about pictures, art, that stuff,” he said.
“So what? That’s what they’re supposed to be teaching you.”
Blanca’s sister Mina had her ride to work already. Their mother put on her long, sagging sweater-coat. She left early on the mornings that she went to work in the discount store, because sometimes the old clock in her bedroom slipped a couple of minutes.
Blanca, finishing her cereal, said nothing. She was afraid she would let out the secret if she spoke: today was the day, and Mom didn’t know. That suited Blanca. She would rather die than tell. She was furious with her mother over this asthma camp that her mother had gotten her into somehow. What a bummer — a whole camp full of asthmatic brats, and they made you go swimming and climbing and all kinds of things they thought you should be able to handle. Blanca had had enough of that with her Phys. Ed. teachers in school.
Mom insisted that these camp people were experienced, they knew. Hell they did. Nobody knew, not even the doctors. Look at all the different things the different doctors at the clinic had told them over the years: exercise, don’t exercise, take this medicine, take that one, you’re taking too much, you’re not taking enough, don’t over-protect your daughter, she’s being allowed to do too much. Nobody knew.
Blanca had refused to talk about it at all. She kept silent to avoid bursting out with the anger that would probably trigger an episode.
What if the camp people gave her the wrong medication, or they had some doctor there with a whole new plan and it was wrong? Here in Albuquerque Blanca knew the dangers. What if there were different pollens up there in the mountains to set her asthma off?
Her own mother wanted to expose her to these dangers: her own Mom, who was supposed to “understand.” Boy. She watched her mother hunt for bus tokens in the cracked sugar bowl on the sideboard. All she understood, Blanca thought bitterly, was how mad and scared it made her when Blanca had an episode. You didn’t have to be a genius to guess how sick Mom was of the whole thing, years of it now. Let’s push it all off on some strangers for a while, give the family a break.
The only one who never got a break was Blanca.
Besides, imagine leaving Albuquerque in summer, when there was so much to see — people living on the porches and in the yards of Pinto Street to escape the heat, and the exciting business today of the street closing that Mom didn’t know about and Blanca wasn’t supposed to know about, but of course she did. Knowing things was her best protection.
At the door her mother looked back. “Quita, you’re sure you don’t want to come to the store with me today?”
“I have this report to finish, Mom.”
“All right, but you stay inside, Blanquita, hear me? No running around. And don’t forget your relaxing exercises and your medicine. You know where the doctor’s number is. You sure you feel okay this morning, mi hija? I don’t like how you look.”
“I’m sure, Mom.”
At last Mom was gone, and Roberto was slamming drawers in his room looking for something. Soon they’d all be gone. All you had to do was be patient.
Blanca washed her cereal bowl and went into her own room. She shut the door and then opened it a crack again, quietly. She listened to her brother getting ready to leave. Her older sister
Hell, when he put it like that — Roberto shrugged. “You’re crazy. The teacher won’t let me in anyhow.”
“Yes she will. They’re real cool at this place; nobody gets fussed up except maybe if you did dope right on the doorstep.”
Bobbie’s life, Bobbie’s kind of friends. Roberto was curious. He was a little nervous, too. Nervous about some Heights kids in some kind of playschool? No way he could really be scared of that!
“I don’t know about pictures, art, that stuff,” he said.
“So what? That’s what they’re supposed to be teaching you.”
Blanca’s sister Mina had her ride to work already. Their mother put on her long, sagging sweater-coat. She left early on the mornings that she went to work in the discount store, because sometimes the old clock in her bedroom slipped a couple of minutes.
Blanca, finishing her cereal, said nothing. She was afraid she would let out the secret if she spoke: today was the day, and Mom didn’t know. That suited Blanca. She would rather die than tell. She was furious with her mother over this asthma camp that her mother had gotten her into somehow. What a bummer — a whole camp full of asthmatic brats, and they made you go swimming and climbing and all kinds of things they thought you should be able to handle. Blanca had had enough of that with her Phys. Ed. teachers in school.
Mom insisted that these camp people were experienced, they knew. Hell they did. Nobody knew, not even the doctors. Look at all the different things the different doctors at the clinic had told them over the years: exercise, don’t exercise, take this medicine, take that one, you’re taking too much, you’re not taking enough, don’t over-protect your daughter, she’s being allowed to do too much. Nobody knew.
Blanca had refused to talk about it at all. She kept silent to avoid bursting out with the anger that would probably trigger an episode.
What if the camp people gave her the wrong medication, or they had some doctor there with a whole new plan and it was wrong? Here in Albuquerque Blanca knew the dangers. What if there were different pollens up there in the mountains to set her asthma off?
Her own mother wanted to expose her to these dangers: her own Mom, who was supposed to “understand.” Boy. She watched her mother hunt for bus tokens in the cracked sugar bowl on the sideboard. All she understood, Blanca thought bitterly, was how mad and scared it made her when Blanca had an episode. You didn’t have to be a genius to guess how sick Mom was of the whole thing, years of it now. Let’s push it all off on some strangers for a while, give the family a break.
The only one who never got a break was Blanca.
Besides, imagine leaving Albuquerque in summer, when there was so much to see — people living on the porches and in the yards of Pinto Street to escape the heat, and the exciting business today of the street closing that Mom didn’t know about and Blanca wasn’t supposed to know about, but of course she did. Knowing things was her best protection.
At the door her mother looked back. “Quita, you’re sure you don’t want to come to the store with me today?”
“I have this report to finish, Mom.”
“All right, but you stay inside, Blanquita, hear me? No running around. And don’t forget your relaxing exercises and your medicine. You know where the doctor’s number is. You sure you feel okay this morning, mi hija? I don’t like how you look.”
“I’m sure, Mom.”
At last Mom was gone, and Roberto was slamming drawers in his room looking for something. Soon they’d all be gone. All you had to do was be patient.
Blanca washed her cereal bowl and went into her own room. She shut the door and then opened it a crack again, quietly. She listened to her brother getting ready to leave. Her older sister
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