by Beth Bowland
“What was that all about?” Shannan asked.
“Weird.” I shrugged. My mind went back to Mitzie seeing Spencer holding my hand. Somehow I knew she’d try to one up me on that soon.
Chapter 4
I’D SUCCESSFULLY MADE IT THROUGH the first month of school. I wasn’t real happy about how things were progressing between Spencer and me. He seemed to be spending a lot more time with Mitzie. My stupid plan to join the spelling bee team was not exactly panning out for me either. How was I supposed to know the janitors closed the blinds at the end of the day and the students were not to open them? I was all ready to quit the spelling bee team when I actually started enjoying it. Mrs. Thompson said I was a natural. I guess being a book nerd paid off.
I arrived at school on Friday jazzed for the morning pep rally and the big game later.
Walking down the hall, I felt the excitement building. The walls seemed to come alive. The majority of the students and faculty were dressed in school colors. Football players had on their jerseys, and of course, the cheerleaders were in full uniform as were the dance squad members. I passed a group of them while heading towards my next class.
“Well, if it isn’t Beatrice Peppercorn,” Mitzie said.
I ignored her.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you a question. Who put that god-awful, dollar-store color in your hair?” Her voice was just loud enough for everyone to stop and gaze at me. “Honestly, Beatrice, if you have three hundred dollars, which I doubt, I could maybe convince my stylist, if I begged, to possibly give you a consultation—but then again, I don’t think so!”
The dance squad members doubled over laughing. I felt my cheeks flush. Several other students stopped and stared at my hair. Oh, how I hated that girl. I glared at Mitzie as I pushed past them and went to my class.
“It was probably her mom’s ancient stylist friend, Kathy,” Mitzie said.
They continued to laugh behind me.
History class was boring as Mr. Baldwin went on and on. I wished he’d show a little more excitement or at least pretend he enjoyed the subject. As he continued to talk, his words became slurred. He began to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher. “Turn to page two-fifty-eight in your text book and read through to the end of the chapter. Answer the five questions listed. Waa Waa waa waa waa…”
I tried to concentrate, but the words began to blur. Mitzie invaded my thoughts.
*** Breaking News ***
“This is Ted Bradley, and we’re about to go live to Washington Middle School where emergency personnel have just been dispatched.”
*** cut to monitor ***
“This is Sally Jones reporting live at Washington Middle School where a student has fallen into a toilet and is stuck. The emergency staff are frantically working to free her from the cold, vise-grip of the toilet. We’ve learned the student’s identity, Mitzie Carmichael. Let’s see if we can get a word with her. Excuse me, Miss Carmichael?”
*** the camera zooms in ***
“Mitzie, can you tell our viewing audience just how you became stuck in the toilet?”
“Please, no cameras. Please don’t take my picture.”
*** camera zooms out to full view of Mitzie ***
(lodged in toilet her legs and arms flailing madly)
“We’re unable to get comments from Miss Carmichael. Back to you, Ted,” Sally Jones stated.
“Sally, can you tell us anything about the girl’s background, or any known history she has had of falling into toilets?”
“I was able to speak to a few of her classmates. They said she’s been known to disappear for hours at a time in the bathroom. A few mentioned that she prefers to be acknowledged by her nickname, Putt-putt. Wait, here’s another student passing by. Excuse me, miss. May we speak to you for a moment. What’s your name?”
“My name is Beatrice.”
“Well, Beatrice, such a lovely name for a beautiful, young lady. I must say I absolutely love your hair color. Now, can you tell us anything about the victim?”
“Yes. I can, she’s…”
“Beatrice. Beatrice!” Mr. Baldwin called.
“Uh, yes, Mr. Baldwin?” I stammered out.
“Please share with the class your response to question number three.” Mr. Baldwin tapped his pen against the desk.
“Sorry, Mr. Baldwin. I was, err, unable to find the answer to that question,” I lied.
“Very well. Tyler, please share your answer with the class.” Mr. Baldwin raised an eyebrow at me. I calmed down and made myself pay attention for the remainder of period.
“Tygers! Lemme hear you roar! Tygers! Come and make some noise!” The sound of several screaming cheerleaders was followed by the pep band’s loud banging on the bass drum and several brass instruments blaring.
This was the game-day ritual of dismissing class for the pep rally. The cheerleaders and pep band ran screaming through the hallways. Students left their classrooms to join in, chanting and screaming until they reached the gym. At that point, all chaos broke loose as music was piped over the loudspeakers. Usually some top-forty song to get everyone pumped up.
The gym was packed with hundreds of screaming students. I finally spotted Shannan down front dancing her heart out, so I went and joined her.
Craig walked in and stood in a corner with some of his strange friends. His crisply starched jeans and shirt stood out next to those kids dressed in all black with black hair and pale faces.
“Who are you staring at?” Shannan stopped dancing long enough to ask. I pointed towards Craig.
“Craig is the moodiest person I’ve ever met,” Shannan said.
I nodded. “One day in class, I asked him why he pretended not to see us at the theater, and he completely denied even being there.”
Craig’s ears must have been burning, because he looked up and saw us staring at him. He waved and smiled.
The dance squad spread out across the gym floor, busting out with their moves. The goofy mascot, wearing a faded tyger costume three sizes too big, was trying to dance along. You could tell Mitzie was enjoying her time in the spotlight. She wore her skirt a bit shorter than the other girls did. It was a lot tighter as well. They continued dancing as the cheerleaders grabbed a very large banner. The football players came running into the gym, and broke through the banner, causing massive eruptions of screaming.
“Do you notice something odd going on with Mitzie’s uniform top?” I asked Shannan, who stopped jumping to look.
“Yeah, her boobs look huge! Do you think she got the implants?”
“No way. Do you really think her parents would let her get implants at fourteen?”
Mitzie took off running and turned a back flip. This got everyone’s attention. She started spinning around doing all of these fancy dance moves. Then something odd happened. The music blared louder, her spins got faster, and her boobs separated from her chest. It started getting quiet, and whispers erupted throughout the crowd. Then it happened. Plop. Like a blob of jelly, some type of round gel concoction fell out of Mitzie’s shirt.
A hush fell over the gymnasium. Mitzie looked down, and her face turned beet red. Quickly, she scooped up the gel thing and ran out of the gym. I looked at Shannan.
Shannan leaned on me. “What was that?” Her face grimaced as she clutched the front of her chest.
Whispers and laughter echoed throughout the gym. I was embarrassed for Mitzie. I’d seen those falsies advertised on TV late at night. They were supposed to give you more cleavage, but why the heck would she wear them to a pep rally?
“Quiet, everyone!” Mr. Floyd said.
Finally, the players took their seats. Coach gave his five-minute pep talk about how we were going to smash Crestview’s team. Then we were dismissed to the school’s fight song.
“Can you believe that?” Shannan asked as we were leaving the gym. That was the talk of the afternoon: Mitzie and her falsies.
I was thinking about how mean she was to everyone and how she brought this
stuff on herself. We passed several girls mocking Mitzie and her dancing, still talking about her losing her falsie. This pep rally would go down in history. I wondered how long it’d be before Mitzie showed her face again.
After school, Shannan and I hung outside near a basketball court, talking to a couple of girls from the spelling bee team, when Craig walked up.
“Hi,” he said. A broad smile spread across his face.
Apparently, social Craig was back. “Why so chipper?” I said.
Shannan just looked at him.
“No reason, just in a good mood,” he said before briskly walking away to meet up with his grungy, emotionless friends that just stared at us from the other side of the court.
“Bea,” Spencer said from a distance. Shannan and I stopped walking and waited for him. When he caught up with us, Shan politely dismissed herself and started talking on her cell phone.
“Hi, Spencer.”
“So, what did you think about Mitzie?” Spencer laughed. “I didn’t know what that thing was.”
“This will definitely be a pep rally to remember,” I replied. “What’s been going on with you?”
“Oh, not too much. After practice and homework, not much time is left over. My mother asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday.” Spencer tossed a rock at the street sign.
“Wooo, the big fourteen,” I teased him. “You’re getting old!”
“I told her I didn’t know what I wanted. She suggested maybe getting a group of people together and meeting at that big entertainment complex.” He tossed a few more rocks at the sign he still hadn’t hit. Which was surprising since he was a quarterback.
“Yeah! I’ve heard about that place. It has a bowling alley, Laser Quest, video arcade, and food courts. My father said whoever came up with that concept was a marketing genius.” I picked up a rock and threw it at the street sign, hitting it on the first try.
“Good shot!” He gave me a high five. “It’s been a while since I’ve played Laser Quest, should be fun. We’ll see if you are as good a shot at that.” He smiled, but it seemed forced.
“What’s wrong?”
Spencer shrugged. “My father is coming to the game.”
I’d never met Spencer’s father, but I knew he was my grandpa’s cardiologist. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Not really,” he sighed. “Since they moved into the new house. My stepbrother now goes to Crestview. Dad will be cheering for the other side. And it’s no secret that Aaron and I don’t get along.”
“That’s gotta be weird having a stepbrother practically the same age as you.”
Spencer nodded. “Yeah, I’m not angry anymore about the divorce. All they did was fight, anyway. But my mother, she’s still upset that he cheated on her. They can’t be in the same room together. I hate that she’s still sad about it.” He shrugged again. “But I’m trying to only think about the game.”
“Yeah, don’t think about any of that other stuff,” I said. “Just play well, like you usually do, and I’ll be the loudest one in the stands, cheering you on.”
“Sweet.”
“Kane!” It was Coach Finley’s voice. “Let’s go!”
Spencer flashed that dazzling smile at me before walking away. I melted.
Brrrrr. I shivered, wishing I’d put on a heavy jacket and not just a turtleneck and sweatshirt. The temperature drop was a sure sign that Mr. Winter would soon pay us a visit. I rode to the football game with my parents and met up with Shannan there. My mother and Shannan’s mother both worked at the concession stand. Most of the parents attended the big games. Even Mitzie’s mom showed up. I couldn’t believe what she wore.
Mrs. Carmichael strutted across the front row of bleachers in the stadium walking very slowly, attracting a lot of attention with her outfit. Cream was the color for the evening. She wore a long, cream leather coat with a huge, cream fur collar and cuffs. A large cream-colored fur hat covered her hair and tied beneath her chin. High stiletto boots peeked out from under her creamy, flared pants. Her gigantic diamond rings and bracelet sparkled against the field lights. Wisps of platinum blonde bangs hung neatly over her high-arched, dark brown eyebrows, deeply tanned face, and dark sunglasses. She waved and blew kisses at some of the people she knew before taking her seat.
“It’s so cold out here,” Shannan said. “I dunno how those cheerleaders stand out there in those skirts.”
They had on tights along with their uniforms. I made smoke puffs with my breath in the chilly air. Then I saw my father coming up the bleachers towards me with a tray holding cups.
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, as he made his way over to me.
“Hello, Mr. Peppercorn,” Shannan said.
“Hello, girls.” He handed the tray of steaming cups to us. “This hot chocolate should warm you up.”
I shot him a questioning glance.
“Don’t worry, it’s dairy-free,” he said with a chuckle. He removed my coat that he had tucked under his arm and wrapped it around me like a cape.
“Thanks, Daddy.” I was freezing.
“See ya after the game.” My father made his way back down to the concession area.
“Thanks for the hot chocolate,” Shannan called after him.
I quickly put on the coat and zipped it up. Sipping the chocolate, I allowed the liquid to warm my body.
Applause erupted across the stands as the Washington Tygers rammed through the banner onto the field. The band played the school’s fight song for the umpteenth time, while the parents waved homemade banners and those pointy-finger, number-one thingies. I spotted Spencer warming up. Number forty-three. He looked cute as usual in his uniform.
“What were you and Spencer talking about after school?” Shannan asked, leaning against me. I felt my cheeks get warm.
“Oh, the usual, school, practice. He said his mother was going to have his birthday party at the new Laser Quest place.” I continued to watch Spencer on the field.
“That sounds like a lot of fun.”
“He told me more about his stepbrother, Aaron. I bet it’s weird to play against your brother in a game. They never talk to each other.” I gathered my windblown hair off to the side and tucked it inside my shirt collar. “I saw him once. He came to one of Spencer’s football practices and just sneered at him the entire time.”
“Yeah, I overheard my mother talking to Spencer’s mother one day. Apparently, they sold the house, and Spencer and his mom moved into a smaller home. Then his dad bought his new wife and Aaron a huge house across town.”
“How awful.”
“That Aaron kid is such a dweeb. I can’t stand him. He’s cocky and arrogant. He tries to talk all cool, which makes his lisp sound worse. I saw him at the park one day, and he came strolling over to me and says, ‘Hey, Thannan, wuth up?’” Shannan said, imitating him.
That made me laugh.
Shannan continued. “Aaron said Spencer should be jealous of him because he has a big, fat bank account. He thought it was funny that he was able to attend a private football camp with professional players, and Spencer had to attend the one for city kids. I couldn’t believe this guy.”
“What a jerk!”
“Please stand for the national anthem,” the announcer said over the loudspeaker, “led by the lovely and talented Mitzie Carmichael.”
Cheers erupted from the stands for Mitzie as she made her way to the podium. She was a mini-version of her mother. She had on cream knee-high boots, a short, leather jacket and skirt with matching gloves, and so much lip gloss her lips looked as if they were melting.
We all stood as the band began to play. Mitzie’s voice rang throughout the stadium. As much as I disliked her, I had to admit she could really sing. She could easily have a professional career.
The band sounded good during the first portion of the anthem. They belted out the notes to “O say can you see” loud and strong. Then something happened. You could only hear the horn section as if they were the only ones who knew the mi
ddle portion of the song. By the time they arrived at “O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?” they were once again loud and strong. Good thing they had Mitzie.
The game began with the snap to Spencer. He took several steps back and threw the football with much precision, unlike earlier today when he was throwing the rocks at the street sign. The receiver caught it effortlessly and took off running down the field; he made it about twenty yards before he was tackled. The crowd went wild. It was first and ten. I really didn’t like football, but being in the stands with the people made it a lot more entertaining.
Both teams rallied back and forth. Finally, Washington scored a touchdown, and the crowd went crazy. At times like this, I wished I could whistle really loud using my fingers like my dad.
At halftime, we mingled with other students below the stands. Shannan and I continued our walk through the crowds, stopping at the concession stand to say hello and buy some bubblegum. Soon everyone headed back inside the stadium.
I saw Mitzie making her way down from the announcer’s box after she finished her radio interview. The local radio station heard through the grapevine—aka Mrs. Carmichael—that Mitzie would possibly soon visit Nashville. Apparently, some Grammy-award-winning singer wanted her to sing background vocals on her upcoming CD—or so she says. I decided to take my mother’s advice and show her some kindness. As Mitzie passed by, I smiled at her. She rolled her eyes and turned her head. Ugh! Such a drama queen. Why’d I even try?
The referee blew his whistle to start the second half. It wasn’t very exciting. Neither team scored any additional points.
All of a sudden, the players standing along the sidelines began yelling towards the field. There was some sort of commotion. I looked down, and it was Aaron and Spencer. Aaron was pointing in Spencer’s face. Spencer threw up his hands. Aaron shoved him and continued yelling at him, and Spencer turned around to walk away. Then Aaron shoved him again, causing Spencer to fall to the ground. Rising to his feet, Spencer turned and swung at him, clipping him on the side of the helmet. They grabbed each other and began scuffling. The crowd was on its feet, as both coaches rushed onto the field, attempting to break up the fight.
