Young Writers Society

That morning I'd awoken with the most awful cramps in the pit of my abdomen. The dreaded "Monthly Gift" had returned to spoil my whole week. It was punishment enough that I had to endure yet another week of pain, humiliation and torture, but my period always seemed to make things much worse for me.

That gross, uncomfortable feeling between my legs told me that I my self esteem would be at its lowest that week. I had a feeling that I was going to have a bad day, even before I'd gotten out of bed.

"Mami… I need you," I moaned in anguish, clutching my stomach.

That searing needle-like sensation was too much for me to handle. Almost immediately, my mother rushed into my room with a baby attached to her hip, and took a seat beside me.

"¿Qué pasa, Chiquita? Are you sick?"

"Yeah… and I have cramps too," I whined, putting on my "greenest" face.

She tended to the few strands of hair that stuck to my sweaty forehead, and placed the baby onto my bed.

"Ohh, my poor baby. Do you think Tylenol will help with the cramps?"

I shook my head with another whine in hopes of persuading her into letting me skip school. But she was only two I.Q. points higher than me. She had an I.Q. of 163 (I told you we were geeks!).

"Are you sure you can't wait another day? Today's Friday, and you have early release. You'll have plenty of time to rest tomorrow…" she suggested, fully aware of the fact that I hated school.

"Mooommy, but I don't feel well. And like you said, it's a short day. Please?"

I was determined to make up as many excuses as I could to avoid going to school.

My mother sighed as she leaned back on her arm for support.

"This is the second time for the week you've asked me to stay home. I'm sure they won't be at school," she said quietly, which of course angered me because she had no idea what her daughter had to go through on a daily basis.

"They will be there. They're always there. The only reason they come to school is to torment me, Mami. You just don't understand, do you?"

The guilt in her eyes was evident, but then she told me the one thing that I always knew would someday benefit me.

"You shouldn't worry about what they're doing. Just focus on keeping up your grades because you're moving forward. They're not going anywhere, honey. I know you don't like school now; I know your life doesn't seem meaningful right now, but I promise that you're going to get everything you deserve out of life, okay?"

As much as I tried to fight back tears, my insecurities broke me down. I hid my face in my mother's shoulder, afraid to let anyone else hear my sobs.

"It's not getting any better, Mom. They just won't stop bullying me. I never did anything to them."

"I know you didn't, baby. It's not your fault they're threatened by you..."

We stayed embracing for almost ten minutes, and I was still hopeful that my mother was going to let me stay home. Whatever hope I had never lasted long because I knew that at any minute, the rug could be pulled from under me.

"Get ready, okay? I'll pick you up later if you don't feel like taking the bus," she said, as if the past ten minutes meant nothing to her.

I glared at her back as she picked up my sister before leaving the room. There was no use in begging my mother, because she was going to send me to school no matter how sick I was.

Sluggishly, I tore myself from my bed and made my way towards my closet. I observed the full wardrobe of gorgeous outfits I owned. I never wore any of them, of course, but picked out my usual school attire: a pair of jeans, and a tank top, covered by an oversized sweatshirt. My clothes were baggy so that my figure would remain hidden.

I was afraid to think that Maya would find something else to make fun of: like my so-called "blessed" curves. They were more like cursed.

One day in school, I'd found myself in an awkward predicament in having to removing my sweatshirt after a bottle of soda was thrown at my back. Unfortunately for me, I had to walk around wearing a low-cut tank top, and endured raunchy stares and obnoxious comments for the rest of the day.

I also wore sweatshirts for warmth. Since my imbecilic teachers didn't seem to know what real heat was, they would blast the air condition even when the weather was 60 degrees.

Living in such freezing temperatures for most of the year always turned me towards heat. Oddly, I never broke a sweat in 90 degree weather. Summers in Puerto Rico—now, that was where I had to draw the line. My classrooms were always freezing, and I'd literally shiver until my back began to ache. I'd glance around the room avoiding threatening scowls, and find that I was the only one suffering.

Now, I would like to gush about the good times I've had while attending school, but sadly, there was no such thing as having a good time at Philip Randolph high school. If there was some way that I could provide an abridged version of my torment, believe me, I would. However, that was just impossible.

My siblings and I resembled zombies while Papa treated us to breakfast. My mother emerged from the bathroom wearing her nursing bra. My little brother, sensing that he was going to be fed, called to her from his playpen. I watched her with a full mouth and cringed as she plucked him up before opening the left flap of her bra.

"Mami, why do you like to breastfeed standing up? You're supposed to be sitting so the baby can relax."

"He's relaxed," my mother insisted, cradling André like she always did: her hand up his crotch while the other gently rubbed his back. I hated when she held him that way. It just looked uncomfortable. His body remained tilted in an awkward position, and his fingers curled into a fist on top of her breast.

"Sure, Mom. I guess he told you himself," I said sarcastically.

In the mornings, I would move as if I were stuck on slow motion because I wanted to spend as much time out of school. As expected, it never worked.

"Rápidamente, chica. You're going to miss the bus if you don't hurry!" she announced, clapping hastily.

I want to miss the bus, I thought with a scowl.

"Mamá, why can't we have a second car? I hate taking the bus," I complained, just as my father had kissed us all goodbye and left for work.

"Because we can't afford it, Raquél. Maybe if I had three kids instead of six, we could, but that's just not possible right now."

My younger sisters squealed with laughter from the couch, still dressed in their pajamas as they watched television. I watched them with envy knowing that they had a ride to school. However, that was because their school began at 8:15. I had to use the bus, the subway, and another bus with my baby siblings. Not to mention that I had to make it in time for my first class.

When the principal found out about my interesting morning commute, he arranged to have the nearby daycare call me in for attendance. My mother and I were grateful for the change, but that only brought me more ridicule.

"She's always running late because she's too busy dropping off her two kids at the daycare," Maya would mutter to her friends just as I would arrive near the end of first period. "Her baby daddy works at Kmart, so they can't afford a car…"

That cruel remark would only be the beginning of my inevitably hellish day.

André and A'sharía cried out from their strollers in distress, growing hot in their bulky winter jumpsuits.

"Okay, we're going now," I told them, hurriedly collecting my book bag and bus pass.

My mother leaned down to plant a kiss on my temple, and gave me a tight hug for reassurance.

"Be careful, honey. Have a great day and I'll see you later. I love you."

"I love you too, Mami," I replied, swallowing the growing lump in my throat.

I wanted to cry because she always told me to have a great day. I wanted to cry because she was sending me off by myself. Despite my problems in school, and did her absolute best to cheer me up.

My hands were full with one baby in my arms and one walking beside me. My book bag hung from one shoulder, while the diaper bag hung from the other. I had to keep shrugging to keep them from sliding off. I held Ria's hand tightly as we carefully navigated the empty corridors.

"Step on, honey," I encouraged my sister to step into the elevator.

This was an obstacle that she faced every morning. Her fear of elevators almost caused me to miss my bus.

The receptionist greeted me with a polite good morning, his eyes never leaving his newspaper.

"Good morning, Raquél," he declared cheerfully.

"Hi," was all I said.

Lucky you, my thoughts retorted bitterly.

At least he didn't have to go anywhere. I wished that I could sit behind a desk and answer phones all day long. Anything was better than school.

The bitter winter air stung my eyes once the heavy doors swung open, and the noise that followed made my ears ring. The usual chaos of Manhattan was nothing new to me. This was my typical morning routine.

I guided my sister through the crowded sidewalks, lifting her over the bumps and cracks in the pavement. Stares forced my eyes to the ground as I approached the bus stop one block ahead. As if having people think that these two babies were my children was humiliating, the woman who sat comfortably on the bench stood up to offer me her seat.

Scarlet in the face, I shyly turned down her offer, and continued to wait with the rest of the throng. After a few short minutes, I felt that there was something wrong. Something I'd forgotten at home. I placed André onto his feet and patted the top of my jeans to check my items.

House keys: Check. Locker key, my second locker key (for gym), bus pass, train pass; daycare pass: Check.

The roar of the bus caught my attention, and I lifted my brother onto my hip and took my sister's hand to board the bus. It was only until after I scanned my bus pass in the machine did I realize…

Oh-no! my brain cried. My school I.D.!

I was contemplating whether to turn back and go home to get my I.D., but my hopes of having lunch that day were lost. Frustrated, I inched my way towards a tight corner. Some complaints were thrown at me, as both my backpack and diaper bag bumped the passengers who stood in the aisles. I never liked to be a burden to others, but I couldn't help bumping into other commuters on a crowded bus.

"Thank you," I quietly acknowledged to the high school girl as she stood up.

She flashed me a warm smile as she crossed in front of me. She must have been from a different high school, because she was actually nice to me. Her smile widened when André began to coo.

"They're cute. Are they… yours?" she asked cautiously, reaching out her hand to touch his arm.

I shook my head silently, and explained to her that they were my siblings. I had to explain this to every person that asked me that question.

Once the girl and I began to chat for a few minutes, my morning was starting to get better. Her name was Aurora, and she went to school in Brooklyn. But once she told me that her stop was coming up, the despondency I'd been putting aside for the moment had returned.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Raquél," she waved to me, before turning to go through the back doors.

"Bye."

It made me angry. Why couldn't more teens be as accepting as her?

The next stop over was at the bus stop near the subway entrance. A few good Samaritans helped the bags onto my shoulders and wished me good luck as I exited the bus.

I could hear the oncoming train from the top of the stairs, and wove my way through the crowd and onto the platform. Above the deafening squeals of the breaks, my siblings began to fuss, which was never a good sign. You could just imagine the sight that was met by the passengers once I'd stepped onto that train with two screaming children. Some glared at me in annoyance, while others gazed at me with sympathy in their eyes. Most of them saw a flustered "teenaged mother" struggling to calm her babies. People were such idiots for judging.

In the midst of all this confusion, my crippling cramps returned, and I nearly doubled over in my seat in pain. To make things worse, A'sharía kept climbing onto my stomach.

This is not the time, I told myself.

With every small tremor of the train car; with every jerking stop it made, the pain grew worse. I fought back the urge to cry once I approached my next stop. I carefully rose from my seat, collected my bags and siblings once again, and paced back onto the platform. The pain was so severe that my back remained slightly bent over as I crossed the station.

"Mama," André called to me, tugging at the hood of my coat.

"No, I'm not your Mama, sweetie. I'm your sister," I gently reminded him.

He only called me "Mama" when he was tired or hungry, but I wasn't going to stop until I'd caught the next bus. Unfortunately, he wouldn't let me off that easily. I had to cram his mouth with Gerber snacks so that he would stop shrieking in the train station.

"No, André! Detener gritando (stop screaming)," I scolded in a firm voice, similar to that of my mother.

My siblings and I continued onward to higher ground. The blinding light brought water to my eyes as I climbed the last step. Luckily I immediately found the bus, and rushed to catch the driver's attention before he sped off.

I scanned my pass and spun around only to find several of the football players from my school.

I groaned inwardly as their faces curled into menacing grins. My stomach curdled with dread, and my heart raced with anxiety. They usually drove their cars to school, which seemed strange to me that they were taking the bus. Among the group was Maya's boyfriend, who just stared at me with that blank, scrutinizing gaze. He always stared at me like that, which truthfully, annoyed the hell out of me.

A'sharía seemed to call me the worst name possible as I walked towards my seat, keeping my eyes to the floor.

"Mama…" she fussed in hunger, which caused the boys to snicker.

"Your baby's daddy still working at Kmart? Don't worry, you'll get that car… if he stops spending money on drugs, that is," the wide receiver, Mike remarked.

"And, look, she's wearing her extensions down today. Why do you even try? Eveyone knows your hair doesn't reach down to your butt," Sean sneered.

I tried my best to ignore those laughing jackasses while I searched for her bottle. They continued to badger me with relentless sneers and insults as I fed her a bottle of milk. My brother and sister didn't seem to notice my distress. A'sharía calmly suckled on the rubber nipple, her eyes drooping with exhaustion while André silently sucked on his pacifier beside me. They definitely had it easy compared to me. I tried to calm myself by looking into her eyes, stroking her face, and whispering to her in Spanish.

"Why don't you breastfeed her? Are your tits that small?" Derek chortled, to the delight of his teammates.

Now, the ridicule was starting to get to me. That burning lump in my throat was starting to rise again. I cleared my throat. My eyes began to sting, and below me, my sister's face grew blurred. Laughter buzzed around my head like a swarm of bees.

Do not cry. Not now; not today.

My stop was coming up. If only I could not cry in front of them until I was out of their sight. I tried to blink back tears before rising from my seat. At that moment, Ricky gave me a slight shove, which caused the diaper bag to slip from my shoulders just as the bus came to a stop. I quickly fell to my knees to collect my things and rushed off as my tears finally fell.

Their stop was another block away, which gave me the consent to let out silent sobs. I reached down a shaky hand to my siblings, and walked them towards the building. I momentarily stopped in the lobby to regain my composure. My tears were wiped, my long hair was tied up in a messy bun, and I walked towards the receptionist, managing a smile.

"Good morning, Barbara."

"Ah, good morning, Raquél? How are you?"

"… I'm fine," I lied, hiding the crack in my voice.

"All right, then. Go ahead. I'll call the office right now," she said, flashing me a cheerful smile.

"Thank you. See you later."

The atmosphere of a daycare center always brought me back to when my mother used to drop me off at her school's daycare. I loved how the halls were decorated with posters of babies and I loved the smell of heated milk bottles. It was so quiet, so peaceful. I enjoyed this moment of comfort while it lasted.

A door swung open, and their caretaker Katy emerged. She placed her hands on her knees and gasped in dramatic surprise at my siblings. I let André run towards her, and she lifted him off the ground and threw him in the air.

"Good morning, André! How's my big boy?" Katy cooed to my brother, causing him to squeal with laughter.

"Hey, Katy."

"Good morning, Raquél."

We shared a friendly hug once I placed A'sharía onto the floor.

"Getting in a little late today, are we?" she said jokingly.

"Well, I had to stop to feed André on the way. He wasn't going to let me go without feeding him," I laughed.

For just a moment my mood had lifted. I savored the feeling because I knew that the rest of my day would be stressful.

"That's okay. You want to say goodbye to them before you leave?"

"Sure," I replied, handing her the diaper bag.

Saddened to leave my brother and sister, I knelt down and pulled them close to me.

"Be good for me, okay? I love you two," I spoke to them, running my fingers through each head of hair. Both babies cleverly leaned in and kissed me on the lips.

I waved to Katy and blew them a kiss as I made my way towards the exit.

"Have a nice day, honey," Barbara called to me once I passed her desk.

"You too."

My mood declined once again as I pushed through the glass door. The school sat a block away, which gave me plenty of time to get out all of my nerves and prepare for another day of torment. My hands continued to shake, and as I took a deep breath, the exhale came out in a quaver. As much as I tried to convince myself to remain positive, the negative thoughts would not go away.

Just around the corner, a group of kids that were cutting first period began to sneer at me.

"Hey, it's the slutty Mulatto. Goin' to class, Niggerrican?" the tallest girl laughed after blowing a puff of smoke in my direction. I held back a disgusted cough.

That stupid name: "Niggerrican."

A few months ago, Carlos thought that it would be funny to make up a cruel name out of two nationalities: Puerto Rican and Jamaican. If I'd ever gotten my hands on the person who came up with that awful nickname, I would kill them. Period.

The metal handle stung my palm as I tugged open the front door. The hallway was empty, except for a wandering student on her way to the restrooms. She sent me a short, friendly grin while I walked past, but I quickly shifted my gaze and glanced down. Eye contact was always something I struggled with. The thought of looking into someone's eyes frightened me because I always felt that I could see the criticism in their eyes.

First period on my schedule rotation was English today, which meant that I was going to have gym class after lunch. How would I survive gym without food? Even though I was petite, I sometimes felt as though I could eat an elephant when I was at my hungriest. When I was hungry, I was hungry.

"Oh, God," I muttered to myself once I noticed that my English class was divided into groups through the window of the door.

Group discussion day was the most brutal because no one wanted to work with me. Everyone would pair up with no problem at all, and since I was too insecure to ask anyone, I often relied on my teacher to place me into a group at the last minute.

My teacher Mrs. Brown approached the door with a smile and pulled it open for me. The 31 pairs of eyes directed their attention towards me, and I shrunk under their scrutinizing gazes. Some lit up with cold amusement, others narrowed with hatred.

From their group, Maya and Carlos flashed me an icy smirk.

"Glad you can join us, Raquél. We were just in the middle of our Tell-Tale Heart discussion. Take a seat with Carlos's group, please," she said, and my mouth nearly dropped in shock.

I was sure that she knew of my problems between Maya, Carlos and their friends, so why would she put me in a group with them?

Defeated, I hauled myself to my seat while keeping my eyes to the floor, and plopped down in the chair.

"Hey, Raquél, we wanted to work with you so bad that we asked Mrs. Brown to put you in our group. I hope you don't mind," Maya chirped in that sickeningly sweet voice.

Her group members suppressed their laughter. I couldn't help a quiet scoff as I unzipped my bag to pull out my binder.

"Whatever."

The discussion went through the rest of class, but my group wasn't really discussing anything about the story, just themselves. I had to sit through class listening to Carlos and his friends' discussion of which girl had the best ass or the biggest breasts; or who screwed who on the weekend. It absolutely disgusted me. Meanwhile, Maya found amusement in my pained expression. As always, she knew that I was on my period.

"Aww, suffering from cramps? Look on the bright side! At least we know you're not pregnant."

My worksheet was marked with abstract doodles as I tried to tune out her comments with the music in my head. From the moment I had awoken, one of the songs from my favorite movie, Mamma Mia replayed in my mind.

I smiled inwardly because my mother had sung the touching song for me the night before. She had such a beautiful voice; much better than me. I couldn't sing even though she kept telling me that I had perfect pitch. If anyone had perfect pitch, it was my mother.

"You should try out for your school talent show. With that voice, you'll definitely win!" she constantly encouraged me, but I felt the pressure, because I knew I had the potential. I just never believed in myself.

Self-esteem was one of the many social qualities that I lacked. These were all symptoms of my SAD (Social Anxiety Disorder), which included excessive blushing, sweating, trembling, nausea, and stammering. My guidance counselor diagnosed me when I was seven. I also suffered from panic attacks when I felt intense fear or discomfort, and had to go to a psychotherapist for several years for these problems. But the moment she considered using medication to treat my SAD, my mother walked out of the office in a huff, pulling me behind her.

Eventually, I was relieved of my minor anguish, and the bell rung, dismissing the class.

Carlos caught me finishing my math homework, and hovered over me.

"Oh shit! That was due today? I completely forgot to do it!" he exclaimed dramatically.

I knew what was coming, but continued to pack up my things. He swiftly snatched the paper out of my grip and studied it, as if he actually understood AP Trigonometry. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead for letting him see.

"Looks about right. I hope you don't mind me borrowing this for period 5. Thanks, Morena."

He gave me wink before casually strolling through the door, chuckling to himself in satisfaction.

Great! Now I was going to have to spend my afternoon making it up after school.

Having my homework stolen had been a problem from the very beginning. Why else would Maya and Carlos, of all people, be accepted into AP Trig?

Could this day get any worse?

Thankfully, my next class was AP Italian, and only two of my tormentors were in that group: Maya's airheaded friends, Lynn Rodríguez and Rosa Marquez. Together, they had the combined intelligence of an ostrich. "Dumb Brunettes" was what I described them to be.

Maya wasn't even a real friend to them. She belittled them, called them names, even talked about them behind their backs. Poor Lynn. If only she knew that her "best friend" was the one who had started that rumor about her and Mike…

Hoping to blend in with the thick crowd, I quickly maneuvered towards my locker, but I should have known not to go there because, guess who stood there waiting for me?

It wasn't my nonexistent friends if that's what you were thinking.

"Hey! Where's that $300 dollars you owe me?" Maya demanded loudly, causing me to flinch.

I dared to speak up, and replied in a small, trembling voice, "W-what $300?"

Before I could turn away, she had Carlos pin me against the hard lockers. The loud metallic bang caught the attention of every student in the hallway. I was literally in the air, hanging by my backpack.

"You know the money I gave you so you could have that abortion? I gave you that money and you promised to give it back."

Maya put emphasis on the word so that it was loud and clear to everyone. With that act, she could have won an Oscar. She seemed pretty convincing. Lynn and Rosa's eyes glittered with excitement at the birth of this new scandal.

"Don't give her that bullshit! Where's the money?" Rosa jumped in, pushing through the crowd of students. A corner must have been calling my name, because I was tempted to crawl there, curl up and die.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered, my voice cracking.

I was close to tears, and I didn't want to cry in front of the crowd. Before I could make an attempt to wriggle free from my backpack, I was blindsided by a harsh slap to the face. The hall erupted with stunned gasps by the students, then fell unbearably silent.

"That's the last time I do you a favor! You better have my money before Monday," she yelled, obviously aware that she had never done a favor for me.

The confrontation ended as quickly as it began, and Carlos dropped me. I landed on my feet, but they buckled under the pressure, and I fell to the floor.

"Let's go, Carlos... ¡Puta!" she sneered.

I had to dodge a bullet of spit as they stormed away, leaving me exposed to the huge wall of students. No one even tried to help me. They all walked away, without looking back and without acknowledging me any longer.

My tearful eyes cast to the floor in shame, and I was no longer worried about being late for Italian. Now my only concern was getting to the guidance counselor's office before she went on her lunch break.



Despite my best efforts to spend the rest of my day in the guidance counselor's office, she encouraged me to go to my next class, which was gym. Since it was early release that day, it was my last class before dismissal. And although I had missed lunch, Mrs. Doherty was kind enough to split her lunch with me. That sushi was delicious.

I shook my head in protest from the leather couch where I sat, my knees to my chest.

"I can't face them again. They'll laugh at me," I murmured, lifting my head.

"Well, I don't know what else to tell you, sweetie, but you can't stay much longer. If you miss gym, that'll count as a cut class. Here, I'll tell you what: maybe we can go to the principal and—"

"No! That'll make things even worse by telling. Please, Mrs. Doherty, I won't ask you to do anything else but this," I pleaded.

She sighed to herself as the shut her notebook.

"All right, Raquél. I won't. But do me a favor and go to class. I really don't want to be responsible for getting you a detention."

My tears had dried up moments before, but I had a feeling that they would resurface again. I was fortunate not to have a panic attack, because I never recovered from those.

"Okay," I muttered, letting my feet drop to the floor. "I guess I'll see you on Monday."

"Raquél," Mrs. Doherty called to me, just as I was about to exit her office. I spun around, and was taken by surprise when she engulfed me in a tight embrace.

"I know that you're a much stronger girl than this. Just keep your head up and don't ever let anyone, anyone stand in your way."

"Th-thank you, Mrs. Doherty," I replied, nearly at a loss for words.

"You're welcome, sweetie. Have a nice afternoon."

"You too," I said, opening the door.

I watched Mrs. Doherty as she walked back to her desk, and she glanced up and sent me a wave.

Now I was on my own again. My hands tightly clutched the written pass once I turned the corner to the locker room. I reluctantly tread down the stairs, afraid of having to face my class. I hated the attention; the feeling of eyes piercing through my skin, condemning me as if I was some kind of criminal.

The locker room was empty, and I was glad for having avoided an awkward run-in with one of my classmates, or worse. I hastily changed into my gym sweats, but not after tying my waist-length hair back. The ceiling above me rumbled with footsteps of people running and basketballs bouncing.

Reluctantly, I slowly ascended the stairway leading to the gym. Shouts and whistles from my coach echoed through the cracks in the door. I fixed my hair, wiped my eyes, brushed off my clothes; and then pushed through, letting the stream of light hit my face.

One by one, each head turned in my direction and the gym grew silent. Basketballs dropped, students jogging on the track stopped and stared at me as I awkwardly made my way towards the coach. He was the only person who didn't seem to mind my late appearance.

He took the pass from my hand, looked at it and simply said, "Alright… go run the track for 2 minutes, then get yourself a basketball."

"Okay," I replied timidly.

The students resumed their actions, but of course, Maya and her Superior friends grinned at me with amusement from the far end of the gym.

I began my jog around the long track. My face grew red with embarrassment as I heard quiet snickers from a group of kids. I suddenly felt nauseous with every step I took. My cramps were beginning to return, and this time, my stomach began to churn.

The nausea grew even worse by the time I'd circled the track, and was about to pass Maya. I ignored their calls and sneers, and kept running.

"I'm talking to you, bitch! Where are you going?"

My eyes straight ahead, I never noticed Mike sneaking up behind me. But once I did notice, I froze, paralyzed with fear.

"Where were you so long? Did you let someone bag you?" he taunted, the vibration of his laugh beating down on me.

"No," I murmured, and tried to walk past him.

He grabbed me by my upper arm, and I couldn't escape as he dragged me towards the shark pit. Meanwhile, I spotted Maya's boyfriend chasing after a basketball.

"Look what I found, Maya. She still doesn't have your 'money.' What do you suggest we do with her?" he asked.

I was starting to get dizzy, and the group in front of me grew distorted. The voices were unintelligible to me, and the sudden blow to my stomach by a basketball brought me back, forcing a gag from my throat. It was like hitting a start button. I clamped my hand over my mouth as the gush of bile climbed up my esophagus.

"Ohh look, she's gonna puke!" an indistinct voice called as Mike let go of me.

I doubled over, placing my hands on my knees as I threw up onto the basketball court. The boys jumped back from me as if I had a contagious disease, and the coach ran over to help. The vomit never seemed to stop spilling onto the floor. My eyes watered, and my nose burned. I wanted to cry, but I was too tired. I waited until the fifth spew and stood up so that the coach could escort me out of the gym.

Kids plugged their noses and scattered as we shuffled past, all groaning in disgust at the sight of the mess. The coach rushed me to the nurse's office, and before I knew it, they had my face down in a blue basin.

It's a little too late for that, don't you think? I thought bitterly, as I coughed up remnants of my sushi lunch.

After I'd gone to the bathroom to wash out my mouth and blow my nose, the nurse offered me a cup of water, then asked me for my mother's phone number.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Richmond, this is the nurse. I've called to inform you that your daughter has had an incident in gym class…"

She paused for a moment, which created a comforting silence in the office. The coach had returned to class some few minutes before. My mother was worrying. I could tell.

"No, no, she's fine. She just threw up… I don't know, it must have been something she ate at lunch," she said, glancing over at me. The paper beneath me crinkled as I slowly shifted on the mattress.

"Okay, hold on… Raquél, dear? What did you eat for lunch?"

Oh, boy. This should be good, my inner voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I didn't go to lunch because I left my I.D. at home. But when I was in Mrs. Doherty's office, she let me have some of her sushi," I explained weakly.

After the nurse described to my mother the reason for my sickness, she came down in a flash.

School had finally let out, and the coach had returned with my gym bag and books.

"I'm so sorry, honey," my mother kept repeating, smoothing my hair.

"It's okay, Mami. I'm fine."

But I was far from fine.

She planted a kiss on my forehead and rocked me back and forth in her arms.

"I shouldn't have sent you; I should've listened. But after we pick up the kids, we'll go home and I'll prepare a nice, hot bath for you, and fix up some Asopao. Does that sound good?" she asked.

I silently shook my head and held onto her hand.

"All right, baby. Let's go."

The nurse called well wishes to me as my mother and I disappeared from the office. I remained in the car while she stopped to get my brother and sister, and only then did the tears fall again. The ride home was so long and comforting. We inched into traffic on the highway, and I fell asleep listening to peaceful soft rock, while the toasty heat warmed my chilled bones.

It was safe to say that I was never going to try sushi ever again.