Social Themes
Dodie Dunstan died last night," she said.
Strangely, my first thought was that Dodie had a last name. Other than Doorknob, that is. Was that how you talked about a dead person? You used her full name?
Ms. Samuels' voice caught, but she continued. "The police don't suspect foul play."
"That means what?" I asked, confused.
"She offed herself. Suicide," Jaz said, turning his intense stare in my direction for the first time all morning. He pursed his lips, considering. "She seems like the pill type to me. She wouldn't want to see blood.
—Diana, ésta es nuestra casa y nosotros ponemos las reglas. ¡Si te decimos que tienes que estar de regreso a las nueve, ésa es la hora de entrar por la puerta! No hay nada más que hablar —gritó.
Su casa, no li mía, pensé. Por un momento me ardieron los ojos y pensé que iba a llorar, pero logré controlarme, sonreí y dije bajito mirándolo a los ojos:
—Trata de oligarme.
After my brother died, my dad said the nightmares—the ghosts—were all in my mind. That they couldn't hurt me. Turns out he was wrong.
She opened it and sprinkled something onto a hand mirror. A pure white powder. She divided it in half, stuck a short straw up one nostril and snorted the powder.
"Cocaine?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said, "it's way better than beer. Try some." She pushed it towards me. "Go on, it won't hurt you."
I should have said no. But I just stared at that innocent-looking white powder and said nothing.
Papá siempre decía: "La palabra crisis es sólo otra forma de decir oportunidad".
