Choke

Choke by Diana Lopez Page A

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Authors: Diana Lopez
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pack her suitcase, backpack, and ice chest.
    â€œWhy did you bring so much stuff?” I complained. “This was a sleepover, not a vacation.”
    â€œI believe in being prepared.”
    â€œYou call this being prepared?” I held up an empty CDcase. “And what’s this for?” I pointed to a vial of candy sprinkles and a Ziploc of crushed pecans.
    â€œI thought we might want to make cookies. And I brought this sewing kit just in case a button fell off. The flashlight is for a power outage, and the Nutty Buddy Bars, peanut butter cheese crackers, pickles, popcorn, and carrot sticks were for midnight snacks, in case we got hungry. I brought my backpack and all our textbooks because we might’ve wanted to study if we got bored.”
    â€œWe never study when you spend the night,” I said. “Even when we’re supposed to.”
    â€œTrust me, Windy, the one time I don’t bring my books, we’ll be in the mood to study, and the one time I forget my exercise DVD, we’ll feel like doing aerobics, and the one time I leave my Los Barrios cookbook at home, we’ll feel like making pumpkin empanadas .”
    â€œBut did you have to bring your Mini-Vac, too?”
    â€œOf course. What if we made a mess?”
    â€œGirls!” Mom called again. “I’m going to be late if you don’t hurry up.”
    â€œIn a minute, Mom.”
    Just then, she came to the bedroom door. “I’ve got to leave right now,” she said, pointing at her watch. “You don’t want to be late for your new friend, do you?”
    â€œOkay, okay,” we said.
    While I grabbed Elena’s suitcase and while Mom grabbed her ice chest, Elena slipped her arms through her backpack and purse, tucked her pillow beneath her arm, and with her free hands, picked up her piccolo and the case with her portable DVD player. We lugged Elena’s stuff to the car, cramming everything but the piccolo into the trunk. Then we clicked on our seat belts and headed to Pleasant Hill, so I could spend time with Mrs. Vargas.
    I’m lucky enough to have three grandmothers — my two abuelas from Mom and Dad, and my adopt-a-grandma, Mrs. Vargas. I’ve been visiting her since I was ten, the year Pleasant Hill sponsored an Adopt-a-Grandparent program. The old people had lined up along one side of the rec room while the kids lined up along the other. Then the kids reached into a sack to pull out their adopted grandparent’s name. At first, I felt shy about hanging out with Mrs. Vargas, but after we went Christmas caroling with the other Adopt-a-Grandparent pairs, I realized that she was one of the sweetest people on the planet. And we’ve been friends ever since.
    â€œSo,” Mom said to Elena when she reached the first stop-light, “do you have any plans for summer?”
    â€œYes, I’m going to band camp. I went last year and had a superific time.”
    â€œSuperific?”
    â€œSuper and terrific. Get it?”
    Mom nodded and laughed. “Maybe there’s a camp for you, too, Windy.”
    â€œI don’t think so, Mom.”
    â€œIt doesn’t hurt to investigate. Isn’t there a space camp in Alabama?”
    â€œ You’re the one with the astronaut dreams. Not me. All I want to do this summer is watch soap operas and buy cold raspas when the snow cone truck comes by.”
    â€œSoap operas and raspas are not interests,” Mom said. “Don’t you think you’d have fun at something like a band camp?”
    â€œMaybe. If I played an instrument.”
    â€œI love playing my piccolo,” Elena said. “Right now, we’re practicing famous movie tunes for the spring concert. Like the themes for Star Wars and The Simpsons .”
    â€œDo you get to play any solos?” Mom asked.
    â€œNo. There isn’t much for a piccolo to do, but Nina has a really cool solo. She gets to do Indian drumbeats from this movie

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