The next day, Amberline came back to school.
Dyamonde noticed that she wasn’t walking as tall and straight as she usually did. In fact, Amberline sort of shuffled into the room, staring down at the floor. When she reached her seat, she slumped down into it, her eyes still on the floor.
I’ll bet she’s embarrassed, thought Dyamonde. I would be.
Mrs. Cordell began taking attendance. When she got to Amberline’s name, she stopped and looked up from the attendance sheet.
“Welcome back, Amberline,” said Mrs. Cordell. The minute she said it, all eyes turned on Amberline, who slid down in her seat even farther. Mrs. Cordell immediately realized her mistake.
“Eyes front,” she ordered. Then she rushed on to the next names on the roll.
“Malik Simmons.”
“Here.”
“Gerald Thompson.”
“Here!”
The entire time Mrs. Cordell took attendance, Damaris stared in Amberline’s direction. Amberline must have felt her staring, but she never looked back at Damaris.
After lunch, Damaris went looking for Amberline in the school yard and Dyamonde tagged along. They found the girl sitting on a bench, kicking the pebbles beneath her feet.
“Hello,” said Damaris.
“Hey,” said Dyamonde.
“Hey,” said Amberline without looking up. Damaris waited and waited for Amberline to say something else.
Dyamonde couldn’t stand the silence. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Damaris. “That was pretty scary yesterday.”
Amberline shrugged. “I’m fine now,” she said.
“Good,” said Damaris. Again, Damaris waited for Amberline to say more. She didn’t.
Okay, thought Dyamonde. Let’s get out of here.
She poked Damaris to give her a hint. Instead of turning to leave, Damaris cleared her throat and sat down.
“I was reading about diabetes last night,” said Damaris. Amberline stopped kicking the dirt and raised her head. Damaris went on. “The book said when you have diabetes, you have to watch what you eat.”
“I know,” whispered Amberline.
“Actually, Mrs. Cordell said that too. And the book said you can’t eat too many sweets,” said Damaris.
“I know,” said Amberline, a little louder.
“And it’s really not a good thing to skip meals,” Damaris continued.
“I know!” snapped Amberline.
Damaris flinched as if someone had slapped her in the face.
Amberline jumped up from the bench. “I know all that stuff already! You think I don’t? I’ve known it half my life!” she yelled.
Damaris was red in the face now. Still, she shot right back, “But you fainted, Amberline! And all because you didn’t eat breakfast! Why would you do that if you knew?”
“You don’t understand,” said Amberline. “I get tired, Damaris. I get tired of always having to think about what I can eat and drink, and what I can’t. I get tired of testing my blood sugar four times a day, and trying to remember to drink enough water, and making sure I eat on time. I get tired of all of it! You know what I wish?” asked Amberline. “I wish I could be a normal kid—so sometimes I act like one. That’s all.”
Amberline seemed to run out of words and out of air. She fell back onto the bench and sighed heavily.
In the silence, Damaris whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Amberline turned to Damaris and stared deep into her eyes for a moment. “You have no idea how lucky you are,” she said. “No idea. Now, just leave me alone.” There were tears in Amberline’s eyes.
Dyamonde stood up first and pulled Damaris after her. Damaris shuffled along, her feet as heavy as her heart. Dyamonde felt bad for her friend.
I wish I knew what to say, thought Dyamonde. But she didn’t, so she just put her arm around Damaris’s shoulders and walked her back to class.
