Tell Me Something Real Read Online Free PDF Page B

the color of bruised plums under his eyes. He is one of the leukemia kids, his chemo buzz cut growing out like the jarheads sprung free from Camp Pendleton. He looks tall and older than me.
    Now that it’s summer, the sick kids avoid the outdoors. They wither in the heat. So we litter the courtyard with nail polish bottles, back issues of Seventeen and Tiger Beat , and beach towels. We don’t bother picking up.
    The sick guy leans against the wall as if waiting for a bus. He tries to act casual. He may have been cute before the cancer, but his patches of hair and zombie skin ruin him. I stretch my legs on the picnic bench and apply Coppertone to my bare shoulders.
    â€œYou’re not allowed out here, sick-o,” Adrienne says. “Off limits. You’re trespassing. Go back inside and let the nurses take care of you.”
    He ignores her and glances around the courtyard. His eyes meet mine, but I look away and screw the cap back on the suntan lotion. My nose fills with the scent of creamy coconut.
    â€œWhat’s the big deal if I hang out here?” he asks.
    â€œYou get the hospital. We get the courtyard. Comprende? ” Adrienne says.
    Guadalupe hollers from an upstairs window. “ Mijas , come up to visit your mamasita . She’s ready for you.”
    I stand and wipe dust off my clothes. I’m wearing my new shorts, the ones with the seam arching rainbow-style across my butt. All I want to do is stroll down Tijuana’s streets so I can turn heads and let my ears ring with whistles. Adrienne is teaching me how to walk like her, the girl everyone wants.
    â€œYou better be gone when we get back,” Adrienne says to him.
    The three of us assemble a line, falling into rank according to age. Adrienne leads the way. Guadalupe cruises downthe hall toward the one open door and waves us through. My mother rests with her back against several pillows, propped up with her eyes closed.
    â€œIris,” Guadalupe says. “Iris, your girls are here.”
    My mother blinks three times, reminding me of one of my favorite shows, I Dream of Jeannie . She manages a hint of a smile and waves hello. “ Gracias , Lupe,” she says. “What have you girls done today?”
    â€œSame as every fucking day,” Adrienne says.
    â€œLanguage, Adrienne. Please at least try. Sit down, girls. I need to talk to you.”
    Marie occupies the foot of Mom’s bed, and Adrienne and I plop down on the vacant one. Adrienne continues to flip through her magazine. Marie, tired from the heat and still young enough for an afternoon nap, yawns and stretches out on the mattress.
    â€œI talked to your father a little while ago,” Mom says.
    That gets Adrienne’s attention, and she tosses the magazine to the floor. “About what?”
    â€œGiven that the FDA’s banned Laetrile in the States, a lot of people are coming to Mexico to treat their cancer. Most aren’t as lucky as we are, living in San Diego so close to the border. The clinic is getting calls from people all over the country. What do you think of having people stay with us? Not a lot, but on occasion? We’d be a safe house.”
    â€œNot in my bed,” Adrienne says.
    â€œYou’d have to share rooms,” Mom says.
    â€œWhy?” Adrienne narrows her eyes. “It’s bad enough we have to hang out here all the time. Now you want to bring them home with us? I can’t believe Dad said yes to this.”
    â€œPlease stop,” Mom says before coughing. Her cough grows louder as it progresses.
    â€œNow look what you’ve done.” I climb off the bed to get water. I hand a plastic cup to Mom, who drinks, takes several deep breaths, drinks some more, and returns the cup to me.
    â€œThis is important,” Mom says. “Even if you can’t see it, we’re very lucky. There’s a family who needs help right now. A teenage boy and his mom need a place to