Chapter Text
The sun beat down on the cement, reflecting off the basketball court’s faded white lines. At the sound of Calvin’s laugh, Meg looked up from her Ken-Ken puzzle book and watched as he tried to steal the basketball from Jaime. His friend dodged with a laugh of his own, then faked to the left and threw the ball to Veronica. Before Calvin could turn, Veronica tossed the ball at the basket. It sailed through the air and swished through the net without hitting the backboard.
Lunchtime basketball games had become a regular occurrence, even though Meg and Calvin had reclaimed their spot under the maple tree. Meg enjoyed doing her puzzles while the others had fun messing around on the court. It was nice to spend time out in the springtime sun, and since Elle Blumenthal’s return to school, both Meg and Veronica preferred to spend as little time in her presence as possible. As such, the cafeteria, which was Elle’s domain, had become a place to avoid.
Jaime gave his girlfriend a high-five, a wide smile on his face. She returned the smile, but it was strained. While Calvin retrieved the ball, Veronica plodded over to where Meg was sitting against the chainlink fence surrounding the courts.
“Ten minutes left in lunch,” Meg told her, closing her puzzle book and handing her a water bottle.
Veronica gave a quick nod and brought the bottle to her lips. Her skin was pale and sweaty and she looked more exhausted than she normally did after a playful game with the boys.
Meg tilted her head. “You okay?”
“Of course,” Veronica replied, voice sharp. She’d been rather snippy today, even with Jaime, though she was far quicker to apologize to him than to Meg. Things might have been smoothing out between them, but there were undoubtedly a few rough edges left. “Just—I didn’t sleep well last night, okay?”
Rolling her eyes, Meg reopened her book and clicked her pen. “Whatever. Nice basket, by the way.”
Veronica paused. Her shoulders relaxed and she gave Meg back the water bottle. “Thanks. Ten minutes?”
“Yeah.”
“Enough time to get a few more baskets in,” she remarked before walking back toward the boys. But as Meg was in the middle of scribbling in a number in her puzzle, she noticed the other girl falter at half-court. Veronica turned around like she had forgotten something or was confused. Her eyes flickered and grew unfocused. She swayed, then stumbled a step forward before collapsing.
“Veronica!”
The boys turned at Meg’s cry and saw Veronica crumpled on the ground. Jaime shouted her name and rushed to her, followed closely by Calvin. By the time Meg ran over, she had regained consciousness.
“I’m…I’m fine…” Veronica tried to sit up. “I just got a bit li…lightheaded.”
Calvin gently pushed her back down. “Don’t get up. You could’ve hit your head.”
“I’m fine,” Veronica insisted. “My head’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
“Babe, you’re shaking like flan,” Jaime said. He squeezed her hand.
Gingerly Calvin checked her skull for signs of bleeding, then asked her a few questions to determine whether or not she had a concussion. With each question, Veronica grew more and more irritable until she finally smacked his hands away.
“Knock it off! I said I’m fine!”
Voice calm, Calvin replied, “Veronica, I think you might have a concussion. We gotta get you to the nurse.”
He and Jaime carefully helped her to her feet. Long strands of hair clung to Veronica’s sweat-streaked forehead and her face had grown eerily pale. A few students from the other games met them on their way off the courts, expressing their concern, but she continued claiming that she was okay.
Calvin cast a solemn look at Meg. In unison, the couple whispered a single, seemingly-unsuitable word:
“Happy.”
“Well…” Nurse Ayala shone a tiny flashlight in Veronica’s eyes and clicked her tongue once before switching the light off. “I don’t think you have a concussion.”
Veronica, who was sitting atop a cot in the corner of the cramped nurse’s office, raised her eyebrows at Meg, Calvin, and Jaime. Nurse Ayala had allowed them to stay, and now they stood near the door, watching the examination anxiously. “See, I told you. I’m fine.”
“Oh no, you’re definitely not fine,” rebutted the dark-skinned nurse, placing her hands on her hips. “Do you have diabetes, Veronica?”
“No? I can’t have diabetes; I’m on a no-sugar diet.”
Nurse Ayala nurse eyed her warily. “That’s a common misconception. Sugar doesn’t cause diabetes. But what you’ve just said probably explains your symptoms.” She set down her clipboard and dug through a nearby drawer, producing two small devices; a lancet and a meter. “Give me your hand, please.”
Veronica held out her hand and yelped when Nurse Ayala promptly pricked her finger with the lancet. Blood beaded on her skin and the nurse placed it atop the black strip that stuck out of the meter. After a few seconds, the device displayed a number: 44.
Nurse Ayala sighed. “You have hypoglycemia.”
“Hypo—what?” Jaime asked, his voice pitching with concern.
“Hypoglycemia,” Calvin said quietly. “Low blood sugar.”
Veronica’s eyes practically bugged out of her head.
“Blood sugar is also known as glucose,” began Meg as she fiddled with the zipper of her jacket, “which we get from carbohydrates and sugar. Our cells convert glucose into energy, and our red blood cells and brain rely mainly on glucose for energy in order to function. That’s why you have to eat sugar and carbs, even if magazines and diets might say to just cut it all out, y’know? I mean, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with eating a healthy amount of sugar or carbs or starches or—”
Calvin cut off her rambling with a nudge and a warning glance before she could betray how much they knew about Veronica’s dieting habits. How could they explain that they knew all this because of an extraterrestrial seer’s vision?
Nurse Ayala, however, nodded as she bandaged Veronica’s finger. “She’s right. You need to get off that diet. Normal non-diabetic blood sugar levels don’t usually fall below 70 if that provides any context to how low yours is. I’ll have to call your parents, and school procedure demands that I call 911 for a hypoglycemic loss of consciousness—however brief—as well.”
“No!” Veronica shook her head, her eyes wide and frantic. “Please, don’t call my parents. Don’t call 911. I feel fine!”
“This is not up for discussion, missy. You three”—she pointed at Meg, Calvin, and Jaime—“don’t let her leave. Come find me immediately if she faints again. I’ll be right back.”
They nodded. As soon as the nurse left, Veronica clambered to her feet.
Jaime stepped in front of her. “Ay, where are you going?”
“Class. Gym started like, two minutes ago.”
“Are you crazy?” Jaime exclaimed. “Did you not hear a word the nurse just said?”
“I did, but she’s wrong. I’m perfectly fine. There must be something wrong with that little reader.”
Calvin blocked the door. “We can’t let you leave. Look at yourself. You’re as white as a ghost and you’re still shaking. You need a doctor.”
“I’ve only been on that diet for a couple weeks.” Veronica tucked her trembling hands under her arms. “It’s nothing to freak out about.”
Meg and Calvin exchanged a troubled look. That was a blatant lie. Not even Jaime seemed to believe her. “Babe, what…what else haven’t you been eating?”
“I…just sugar and carbs. And fats and, um, starches. And my mom says lactose intolerance runs in the family, so I can’t have dairy either. But it’s just a crash diet, it’s no big deal!”
Meg spoke up. “Veronica, my mom is a microbiologist. I’ve grown up with her warning me about diets like this. Severe hypoglycemia is dangerous. You could have a seizure, or slip into a coma—it could even kill you!”
Jaime blanched. “Madre mía…Veronica…”
He tried to hold her, but she shied away and couldn’t meet his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m perfectly fine. Perfectly.”
Meg stamped her foot. “Veronica, stop lying to yourself!”
“What do you care?” Veronica snapped back. Hostility suddenly overtook her tone. “You hate me.”
“I don’t—”
The door swung open. Nurse Ayala came back inside, a can of Mountain Dew in one hand. When she saw Veronica on her feet, she tsked.
“What are you doing? Sit back down. Here, drink this.”
Veronica recoiled. “I—I’m not allowed to drink soda.”
“Forget that for a moment. You need to raise your blood sugar levels. Drink. Now.”
Veronica took the can, holding it as if it might bite her, and slowly took a sip. Her face screwed up and she coughed. “Gah, that burns!”
Nurse Ayala watched her like a hawk as she drank. “I called your home and no one answered, so I called your mother’s listed mobile number. She’s on her way. An ambulance is going to come pick you up and take you to the hospital.”
“But—”
The young woman gave her a no-nonsense stare. Veronica slumped against the wall behind the cot. As the time ticked by, Jaime crossed the room and sat next to his girlfriend. Meg watched him bow his head close to Veronica’s and whispered to her, but she only fussed with the soda can’s metal tab, her fingers trembling.
“Princesa,” Meg heard Jaime say, “you know you can talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“That’s not true.”
“I’m fine. Why won’t anyone just listen to me?”
Plucking at the dyed-blond patch of curls at the front of his head, Jaime sighed and said, “’Cause it’s obvious you’re lying. I just didn’t think you would keep lying to me.”
Jaime left her to stand next to Calvin, who patted his buddy on the back and mumbled encouragements into his ear. On the cot, Veronica finally looked at Jaime, her mouth opening and pursing back together like she wanted to say something. Her gaze met Meg’s for a brief second, and in her eyes Meg saw an ache that she couldn’t describe. But then Veronica’s eyes darkened and she looked away.
Six tense minutes had passed when a knock sounded at the door. When Nurse Ayala moved to open it, it swung opened to reveal a tall, lithe woman with copper-brown skin.
As soon as Veronica saw her, she tucked her knees close to her chest and attempted to hide the Mountain Dew between her legs and her stomach. “Mom?”
“Veronica, there you are.” Mrs. Kiley’s gaze flickered to Jaime, narrowed, and then landed on Meg. A smile blossomed across her face, but no warmth filled her eyes. “Maggie! Long time no see.”
Meg tried not to scrunch her nose. “Hi, Mrs. Kiley.”
“Tch, Mrs. Kiley is my mother-in-law. Karin is fine.”
“How’d you get here so fast?” asked Veronica, shifting on the cot with a mild look of discomfort. Her current position didn’t look very pleasant.
“I was visiting a friend in Dorset—you know Lisa. We were supposed to go to—” Mrs. Kiley stopped short, her eyes landing on the poorly-concealed Mountain Dew. She marched over and snatched the can out of Veronica’s hands. “What have I told you about drinking soda? No wonder you’re in the nurse’s office. This stuff will make you sick, and I won’t have you rotting your beautiful teeth. Not after all the money I spent on braces.”
Veronica melted into herself, lowering her eyes and giving her mother a complacent nod. She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them.
Nurse Ayala stepped forward, brushing away a lock of her flat-ironed hair. “I gave that to her. As I said over the phone, Veronica fainted earlier due to low blood sugar. She needs the soda to help raise her levels.”
Eyes on the soda, she held out her hand expectantly. But Mrs. Kiley didn’t even look at the nurse. She turned back toward the door and dropped the half-empty can into the trash bin. “Ronnie’s always been quite the actress. This wouldn’t be the first time she’s tried to play hooky. I assure you, my daughter is perfectly healthy.”
Perfectly. Meg’s brow pinched into a frown. Veronica had said the same thing multiple times earlier, almost like a mantra.
Jaime’s neck flushed red. “Have you even looked at her? How can you say that?”
Mrs. Kiley shot him a withering glare. “I think I know my daughter better than you.”
Veronica cringed and Jaime shrunk back. Clearly Mrs. Kiley didn’t approve of her daughter’s boyfriend.
“I checked Veronica’s blood sugar levels myself,” Nurse Ayala informed Mrs. Kiley. Annoyance weighed down the corners of her mouth. “I assure you that she’s not pretending. Her blood sugar was only 44, far below normal, which is why—”
Before she could finish, someone knocked three times on the door. Calvin, who was the closest to the door, opened it, revealing two EMTs—a man and a woman.
“We’re here for a hypoglycemic syncope,” the man said, and hefted a crimson paramedical bag.
Mrs. Kiley let out a squawk of indignation. “You called 911?”
“Miss,” Nurse Ayala sighed in exasperation, “I told you that over the phone.”
“Well, I’m sorry to waste your time,” Mrs. Kiley said to the EMTs. She took her daughter’s hand and jerked her to her feet. “Come, Ronnie. I’m taking you home.”
Meg’s heart dropped into her stomach. Across the room, Calvin shot her a wide-eyed glance.
The female EMT stopped her. “Ma’am, are you the mother?”
“I am.”
“Then are you aware that if your daughter has hypoglycemia, her condition will rapidly decline if not treated? It would be best if you allowed us to—”
“For the last time,” Mrs. Kiley snapped, “my daughter does not have hyperglycemia.”
“Hypo-glycemia, not hyper—”
“Whatever. She is healthy, and we are leaving.”
As she marched toward the door, Jaime caught Veronica’s free hand.
“Wait, you can’t leave!”
His girlfriend wavered. “Jaime—”
“Listen to them! This is your life we are talking about. Por Dios, Juliet, go to the hospital.”
Veronica looked between her expectant mother and her pleading boyfriend, her eyes wide and watering. Finally, she focused on Jaime and whispered, “I’m sorry, Romeo.”
She dropped his hand and let her mother tug her out the door. Jaime tried to follow, but Calvin held him back.
“Veronica! Calvin, ¡suéltame! We have to stop her!” He whirled on one of the EMTs—a broad-shouldered Latino man—and started speaking frantically in Spanish.
The man held up his hands. “Kid, I’m from Michigan. No hablo español.”
Jaime swore and turned to Meg, ignoring the reproach Nurse Ayala gave him for cussing. “Tell me, this…this—ay, esta dolencia—condition! This condition, it can’t actually kill her? Te lo ruego, tell me you were lying.”
Meg’s throat burned and constricted; she could only shake her head. Calvin crossed the room so he could wrap his arm around her shoulder.
“It’s rare, because normally it’s caught and treated rather quickly,” said the female EMT. “But if her hypoglycemia isn’t treated and her blood sugar levels continue to plummet, then yes. She could die.”
“Then why didn’t you take her to the hospital? You should have taken her to the hospital!”
“Jaime,” Nurse Ayala said firmly, “it’s not their fault. It’s a matter of consent. EMTs can’t administer treatment to a minor if a present parent doesn’t give consent. There’s nothing more they, or you kids, can do right now. Except hope that her mother changes her mind.”
Tears brimmed in Jaime’s eyes, and he sat on the small bed, staring numbly at the floor. Calvin sat beside him and drew him into a hug. The EMTs shuffled out of the room with pitying glances at the kids.
Meg pulled out her phone. Her fingers trembled as she typed in her passcode. If they couldn’t convince Mrs. Kiley to take Veronica to the hospital, maybe her mother could.