A PAIR OF GREEN DRAGONS
The rest of the day zoomed by. When Harper told Aria our plan for the afternoon, Aria surprised me by offering to come with us. I’d never been to Mimi’s, the place where Aria had had her ears done, and I was pretty sure we could get there by bus—but Aria said her mom would drive us. In fact, her mom would come inside the store with us; for piercing, they made you have a grown-up with you, Aria said.
At dismissal, Aria’s mom was already waiting in the parking lot.
“This is such a fabulous idea,” Mrs. Maldonado gushed. “Norah, you’ll look so pretty with earrings!”
“I don’t need to look pretty,” I admitted. “I just don’t want to be called ‘young man’ anymore.”
“If anyone calls you that, just tell me, Norah, and I’ll turn them into mashed potatoes,” Aria shouted. “With gravy! What kind of earrings do you want?”
“Big fat dangly ones.”
“You know, they start you off with tiny studs,” Harper said. “You have to wear them for a month.”
“An entire month?” By then, my hair would be almost long enough. Almost.
Aria grinned at me. “Yeah, but once the month is over, you can wear whatever you like. I plan to get giant hoops with perches for birds. Or lightsabers. Or light-up Christmas trees.”
“You’re going to get regular earrings that won’t pull your earlobes off,” Mrs. Maldonado said, pretending not to smile. “And Norah, I do have to ask: Your parents are both okay with this? Because I’m a little nervous that we haven’t spoken directly—”
“Oh, don’t worry, they totally are!” I swore. “Anyhow, Mom’s back in California and Dad’s out of town right now, so thanks for taking me.”
“You’re very welcome, dear. I’m just happy to do this.”
When we got to the mall, Harper said she needed a snack, so first we went to get cinnamon pretzels. The pretzels made us thirsty, so we got shakes. (Mine was strawberry/banana/mango; it was so delicious I finished the whole thing without realizing it.) Then Aria asked if we could possibly buy some lip gloss “really fast.” I said sure—not only because it felt so great just wandering aimlessly around a shopping mall, but also because Aria-without-Kylie was a loud, fun person who knew song lyrics. Also, her mom didn’t helicopter; she kept popping into shoe stores, so it almost felt like the three of us were on our own, singing, staring at shop windows, eating junk food.
Seriously, it was the most fun I’d had in eons.
At four, we all went to Mimi’s, a store where the music was Japanese and the signs were pink and lowercase. A young woman who reminded me of Ayesha—dark skin, long black hair in a tight, high ponytail, a million studs in each ear—announced in a bored voice that to get my ears pierced I needed to have a parent present.
“And here I am,” Mrs. Maldonado announced in a don’t-mess-with-me voice. “A present parent.”
I thought Almost Ayesha would make Mrs. Maldonado show some ID to prove she was my parent. Because, I mean, she didn’t look anything like me—her skin was light brown, and she was very tall, like Aria. But Almost Ayesha just checked her watch, yawned, handed me an “ear care pamphlet,” and led me over to a pink-curtained booth labeled ear’s lookin’ at you, kid! I meant to ask how they were sterilizing the ear-piercer thing—but before I knew it, she’d punched two holes in my earlobes, and stuck in tiny silver balls.
Harper handed me a mirror. “Norah, I love it! You look incredible!”
“Woo, Norah!” Aria did a dance move that was mostly elbows. “Mom, can we pleeeease get these for me?” She grabbed a pair of earrings that looked like thunderbolts, and held them up to her ears. When they jiggled, they lit up and made a zapping noise. “MUST HAVE THESE FOR MY GOD COSTUME.”
I had to laugh. “You’re doing Zeus?”
“I might!” Aria answered, still dancing. “He’d totally rock thunderbolt earrings!”
“Ooh, guys,” Harper exclaimed as she peered into a glass case. “Norah, see those earrings that look like paintbrushes? They’re so cute, aren’t they?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But I really love these.” I pointed to a pair of green dragons breathing orange fire. They had red beads for eyes and purple beads on their tails, like scales.
“Mom?” Aria begged. “Momomom?”
Mrs. Maldonado sighed. After twelve years, you could tell she was used to Aria. “All right. You can have the thunderbolts, as long as you wait the full month to wear them.”
“Aww, Mom. Come on, I promise I won’t get an infection!”
“I mean it, Aria. One month of antibiotic ointment and studs, or no deal.” She glanced at Almost Ayesha, who didn’t take her eyes off her phone as she gave a thumbs-up.
And I thought: This is what it’s like for Aria. A trip to the mall, a jokey argument with your mom about ointment and earrings. Nothing life-or-death. Traffic and weather on the eights.
Then I noticed Mrs. Maldonado pointing to the dragon earrings. Almost Ayesha asked if she wanted to add them to the cost of the ear piercing. Mrs. Maldonado said yes, taking out her credit card and handing it to Almost Ayesha.
Suddenly I understood what was happening. Mrs. Maldonado was paying for the whole thing—the ear piercing, the silver studs, plus the dragon earrings—making them a gift to me. A cancer consolation prize.
“Wait, no,” I sputtered. “Thanks, Mrs. Maldonado, but you really don’t have to—”
She pressed her hand on my shoulder. “But I want to, honey. I insist.”
Was that empathy or sympathy? Maybe it was something else—relief that her own daughter was healthy—that had nothing to do with me. Whatever it was, I had a squirmy feeling in my stomach that wasn’t from cinnamon pretzels and the strawberry/banana/mango shake. And now this outing, which had been so fun,
