Grape Bubblegum

by Beth Bowland

  “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t feel well. I really need to go home now,” I cried, still trying to maintain some control.

  “Do you need to go to the hospital?” she asked.

  “No, it’s probably something I ate. I’ll feel better. I just need to lie down.”

  “Okay, let me go grab my coat and find your father.”

  Shannan walked over and put her arm around my shoulder. “Aww, Bebe. I’m sorry.” She had tears in her eyes. “I’m going home with you.”

  “No, Shannan, please. I just want to be alone right now, okay?” I said.

  She shook her head and gave me a hug. “I’ll call and check on you later.”

  I nodded okay.

  Mom came back, and we went to the car. She said Dad was going to catch a ride with Shannan’s parents. As we drove home, she tried to make conversation, but I didn’t feel like talking, and lay my head against the window. The coolness of the glass felt good against my burning forehead.

  Once home, I ran upstairs to my bathroom.

  “I’ll bring you up something for your stomach,” Mom yelled up the stairs.

  I closed the bathroom door, turned on the faucet, and cried. My heart felt as if it were being pulled apart in a hundred different pieces. I splashed handful after handful of cold water across my face as if this would stop the continuous flashing images of Mitzie and Spencer kissing. I dried my face and felt weary, and then I changed clothes and climbed into bed. Mom came up shortly and brought some chicken broth, crackers, and ibuprofen for my head. I took the pills but was unable to drink the broth. I nibbled on the crackers just so my mom would leave me alone.

  About an hour later, my cell phone rang. My head felt too heavy to lift. I could see Shannan’s name on the caller ID. I reached over and answered it.

  “Hey.”

  “How ya feeling?” Shannan asked.

  “Tired.”

  “Bebe, I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m so mad at them. I could’ve beaten the snot outta both of them.”

  “I just feel so betrayed.”

  “I went looking for Spencer, but couldn’t find him after the game.” I heard her phone make a beeping sound. “That’s Joel calling, but I’ll call him later.”

  “Go ahead and talk to him. I’m going to sleep. Call me in the morning when you get up.”

  “Good night, Bebe. Get some rest.”

  “Thanks for being my friend,” I said and closed my cell. I lay back on my pillows and closed my eyes. A few minutes later, my cell rang again. The caller ID showed Spencer. I didn’t pick it up, only watched the display twinkle for a moment. It flashed: 1 missed. A half hour later it rang again. It was Spencer. 2 missed. I drifted off to sleep to the sound of my phone ringing again and again.

  “Come on, Bebe, get up.” Shannan opened the curtains in my room. I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head.

  “I don’t feel well,” I mumbled from under the blanket.

  Shannan pulled down the blanket and uncovered my head. “Bebe, I know you really liked Spencer, but you can’t let it affect you like this.”

  I sat up and looked at her.

  “You’re right.” It was now Sunday afternoon, and I’d been in and out of bed most of the weekend. I lied to my mother this morning, telling her I had cramps so I could stay home from church. Lord, forgive me.

  “Has Spencer called you yet?” she asked.

  “Yes, about five times. I didn’t talk to him. He left voice mail messages apologizing.”

  “I don’t blame you.” She pushed the hair out of my face. “But it sorta looked like he was trying to console her. I mean she did just get beat up.”

  I thought for a moment, then got angry all over again. “Yeah, but remember, he didn’t stop kissing her back or pull away!”

  She nodded. “Joel says he feels really bad, and I told him the exact same thing. But then Spencer told him that he didn’t know why you got all upset because you two are not boyfriend/girlfriend.”

  “What?”

  “I know, Bebe, I know. I told Joel that he shouldn’t have been all flirty with you all the time, acting like he liked you or trying to get his smooch on with you. He knows he led you to believe he really liked you. If he didn’t, then why was he apologizing and feeling so bad?” Shannan huffed.

  “I’m so confused,” I said, sighing.

  “I was talking to my sister Michelle about it, and she said, ‘I’m sure he does like Beatrice, but boys that age don’t know what they want. It was probably just his fourteen-year-old hormones acting out.’” Shannan smiled at me.

  “Hmm. Well, you know what? I’ve finished moping around and feeling sad. If Spencer wants to be with Mitzie, that’s just fine with me. I don’t ever want to talk to him again.” I forced myself out of bed.

  “Attagirl, Bebe. But do you really mean it?”

  “No, not really, but things have now changed. I won’t allow myself to feel bad over him anymore. I’m just going to concentrate on the spelling competition to keep my mind off of him.”

  “Good for you. Now please go and take a shower and comb your hair. You’re beginning to look like something…scary.” She laughed, and I threw a pillow at her.

  The weekend went by quickly, so I was upset at myself for spending the majority of it in bed. On Monday morning, dread overwhelmed me as I walked down the hall towards Mr. Webster’s class. I was hoping I wouldn’t see Spencer or Mitzie. Sitting down in my seat, I pulled out my spiral notebook and began doodling on the back side of it. Waiting for class to begin, I saw Craig walk in, but I didn’t acknowledge him, so he could save his mean ol’ look for someone else.

  “Hey, Peppercorn, how goes it?” Was that Billy Jacobs? When did he walk in? Today was the first day I hadn’t smelled him when he walked by. I turned around, just to make sure it was him. Yep, it was. And he had new clothes and a new haircut.

  “Wow. Look at you!” I couldn’t help but smile at him. “You look nice today, Billy. What’s the occasion?”

  His entire face lit up, and he grinned from ear to ear. “My grandmother’s in town visiting. She told me I smelled like a polecat.”

  I stifled my urge to laugh out loud.

  “Really, she said that? Isn’t a polecat a skunk?” I asked.

  Billy tilted his head to one side and rubbed his chin.

  “Hmm, I dunno. But she made me go to the store with her, so she could buy me new toiletries. I told her I already had some, but she made me go anyway.”

  “Well, I think you should clean up more often. You look very nice.” I think he actually blushed.

  During Mr. Webster’s lecture, I felt Craig looking at me from time to time, but I never returned his gaze. I wasn’t sure what he was up to, but today I was opting not to catch a ride on his emotional roller coaster. I think he may have had a cold. He kept sniffing and blowing his nose during class. When the bell rang, I gathered my books and walked out.

  As I walked towards my class, I saw Mitzie and Spencer talking to each other across from Mrs. Freutenstein’s classroom. I pretended not to see them and continued into my class. I know I told myself I didn’t care about him anymore. But why did it hurt to even see them talking to each other? I couldn’t help but wonder if he was asking Mitzie to be his girlfriend. Jerk.

  Chapter 15

  “THIS IS IT, KIDDO,” Dad said.

  I couldn’t believe it was already time for the city spelling competition. He was right. All the long hours I’d put in studying those word lists, now it was time to do or die. I remember being so excited when I’d won the eighth-grade class level competition. This was different. I would now have to compete against the other winners. That meant I’d have to deal with those home-schooled brainiacs.

  “I’ll see ya later,” I said and gave him a hug. Mom and Auntie were already in the audience. I took a deep breath and headed towards the auditorium.

  The competition moved along smoothly. I’d survived the first four rounds. T
wenty-seven kids started out, and only fifteen were remaining. A kid who resembled a miniature Einstein was next.

  “Abeyance,” the announcer pronounced. “Cessation or suspension, abeyance.”

  Einstein Jr. squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his hands together, before sticking them into his pockets. Silently I spelled the word to myself.

  “A—b—ei—ance,” he said, then smiled.

  “Incorrect,” the announcer said.

  I wondered if he was secretly saying “Yes! Another one bites the dust!” The announcer, dressed in a blue cardigan sweater and button-up shirt accented with a plaid bow tie, made very little movement. His stern face only slightly twitched when he spoke. His eyes moved either up or down as he peered through the oversized reading glasses perched on his nose.

  The rounds continued, and with each word I spelled correctly, my confidence grew. Several rounds later, it was down to a frail-sized girl and me. She reeked of knowledge. This kid could not have weighed more than thirty pounds soaking wet. I betcha she was home-schooled. Walking to the mic, her eyes stayed focused on the floor. She looked like she was gonna hurl at any minute.

  “Ciguatera,” the announcer pronounced. “Poisoning caused by eating fish, ciguatera.”

  “May I hear it in a sentence, please?” the waif child asked.

  “Although he contracted ciguatera in August, Henry could not return to work until November,” Mr. Extremely Bored replied.

  The waif child cleared her throat and pushed her hair behind her ears. “C—igua—tera, ciguatera.”

  “Correct!” Mr. Bored got excited. I stepped up to the mic and took a deep breath.

  “Botryoidal,” the announcer pronounced. “Having the form of a bunch of grapes, botryoidal.”

  What the heck? That sounded like something he made up. I took another deep breath before attempting to spell it. “Bot—ryoi—dal, botryoidal.”

  “Correct!”

  I finally expelled the air I’d been holding. The waif child once again took her place in front of the mic.

  “Phalacrosis,” the announcer pronounced. “Baldness, phalacrosis.”

  “Phal—e—cro—sis, phalacrosis.”

  “Incorrect,” the announcer said. The audience let out an audible gasp.

  Oh crap! I couldn’t believe she missed it. If I got this next word correct, I’d win. If not, she would have another turn. My palms started sweating. My throat felt as if I’d just swallowed a mouth full of sand. My mind raced. I was one word from going to regionals. I knew my mother was about to have a cow. I stepped slowly up to the mic and desperately tried to stop my hands from shaking.

  “Malloseismic,” the announcer pronounced. “Being a region subject to frequent destructive earthquakes, malloseismic.”

  Taking a deep breath in and slowly releasing it, I tried to picture the word in my mind. My stomach was beginning to hurt, and I needed some water. Maybe I could walk over and take a sip from the announcer’s bottle. Oh yeah…the word…I gotta spell the word. “Mal—l—o—seis—mic, malloseismic.”

  “Correct! We have a champion,” Mr. Bored announced. I heard the crowd erupt in cheers, and I recognized my dad’s infamous whistle. I was so excited I didn’t know what to do. Should I wave to my parents? Or give Mr. Bored a hug? I just stood there.

  “Beatrice Peppercorn will represent us at the Regional Spelling Bee. Let’s give her another hand.” I heard more cheers, and I felt someone hugging me. It was my mom.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m so proud of you!” My mother was holding me so tightly, I was starting to feel woozy. A crowd gathered around me. This was way cool. I still couldn’t believe that I’d won. Hugs, hugs, and more hugs kept coming my way.

  “Bebe! I’m so happy for you, girlie girl!” Shannan gave me a big hug. Joel was right beside her along with some other classmates. It turned into a big group hug. Secretly I wished Spencer were there, but after a few moments of looking, I knew he wasn’t.

  “Beatrice, outstanding job, young lady. I’m quite proud of you,” Mrs. Thompson said. She led me over to a woman with a microphone. I recognized her as one of the news reporters from the TV station.

  “Beatrice, congratulations! How does it feel to win, and are you looking forward to the regional competition?”

  “Yes, I’m so excited and hope to do well in the competition.” I looked in the camera and gave a big cheesy smile. Oh my gawd! Was this what it felt like to win an Academy Award?

  Monday morning, the school had a different feel to it. Ah, the thrill of victory. I felt great. As I walked down the hall, I received plenty of attention. Kids who’d never said anything to me said hello and congratulations. This was pure coolness.

  “Beatrice,” I heard the familiar voice behind me. It was Spencer. I slowly turned around to face him. My stomach turned into knots. The image of him and Mitzie kissing once again flashed across my mind.

  “Spencer.”

  “Bea, I just want to say congrats on winning the competition. I knew you’d do well.”

  “Thank you.” I tried not to make eye contact with him.

  “And Bea, I’m really sorry about what happened. I don’t want something like this to ruin our friendship.” He shuffled from one foot to the other.

  Friendship? I thought to myself. Is that all I was to him? That was the final straw. He couldn’t even acknowledge it had been something more. As I took time to gather my thoughts, I knew I’d have to let this go. Yes, he was correct. Technically, we were not dating. I didn’t know what to say to him in return. I only nodded my head and walked away.

  Where was Dr. Phil when you needed him?

  The next several weeks went by rather quickly. I continued to prepare for the regional competition, although it’d lost its coolness appeal after my big win.

  “Okay, Bebe, I know you don’t want to think about it,” Shannan said. “But the Valentine’s Day dance is Friday. You’re coming, right?” she asked as we walked home.

  “Honestly, Shannan, I hadn’t thought about it. I may not go.”

  “Oh yes, you’re going! Even if I have to drag you out of the house.” She gave me that try me look. “Bebe, you gotta come so you can see the decorations that I’m using. We could just hang out. You gotta go.”

  “Maybe,” I replied.

  We continued talking. As we approached Craig’s house, we saw him standing outside talking to Francis and the creepy mystery man in black. This guy had to be at least in his early twenties, and sitting in his car were two more guys who looked maybe sixteen years old or so, both dressed in goth attire.

  “Well, if it ain’t Queen Beatrice and Lady Shannan,” Craig slurred out as he quickly slipped a can of something inside his jacket. Shannan and I just looked at each other. Something wasn’t right.

  “Your Majesties,” Francis said loudly. She did what looked like a curtsy.

  “What’s wrong with you guys?” I asked.

  Craig’s eyes looked funny, and he kept laughing like some sort of maniac. I looked at the older guy that was with them, but he just stared at us, very cold.

  “Craig, are you okay?” Shannan asked.

  “I’m wonderful. On top of the world!” He leaned over to Francis and kissed her.

  “Why don’t you girls move on along?” the older guy said to us as he lit a cigarette. He took a long drag off it and blew at us, then handed it to Francis who in turn took a puff and handed it to Craig. His voice sent chills down my spine. He looked like one of those seedy characters from the movies. On the side of his neck, he had a skull and crossbones tattoo. Shannan grabbed my arm, and we walked away. I could hear them laughing behind us.

  “What has he gotten himself into?” Shannan whispered.

  “Do you think he was drunk?”

  “I don’t think alcohol makes your eyes all dilated like his were.”

  “What should we do?” I asked.

  Shannan only shook her head. “I dunno,” she said with a sigh.

  “Purchase three cards an
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  Ugh! If I heard one more lousy Valentine’s Day commercial, I was gonna hurl. Yes, I was bitter that I didn’t have a valentine, so there. I admitted it.

  I continued to dry my hair and mentally prepared for the dance. Oh Lord, let me get through this evening with no drama. My plan was to go to the dance and help Shannan with whatever needed to be done. No dancing. No watching other people dance. I’d only be there to help my friend. Period. With my luck, this would be the night Joel would have the courage to ask her to be his girlfriend and she’d go snuggle up with him and leave me by myself.

  “Shannan’s here,” Mom yelled up the stairs. I heard several voices downstairs. I’m sure Mrs. Kirkpatrick came in to chitchat with Mom for a few minutes. Then I heard Shannan coming up the stairs.

  “Are you ready to shake it like a salt shaker?” She came into the room, dancing.

  “No. I’m not ready to shake anything. You listen to me, missy, I’m only going to help you out. Don’t you go and try fixing me up with anyone. Agreed?”

  I held up my pinky to shake with hers. Shannan rolled her eyes. She was not going to pinky swear. My pinky remained in the air alone.

  “Bebe, you’re going to have fun. I’m not going to let you sit in some corner sulking.”

  “Shannan!”

  “Beatrice!” Shannan crossed her eyes at me.

  I knew she was trying to make me laugh, but I wanted to make sure she knew beforehand that I wasn’t going to be dancing.

  “All right, Bebe. I won’t force you to dance with anyone,” she said, grinning. But I knew her. As soon as she had the opportunity, she was going to fix me up.

  The gymnasium looked fabulous. Shannan really did a fantastic job getting the decorations together. The placed looked like an oasis, with explosions of pink, white, and red colors. Teddy bears and balloons were scattered about on different tables. Streamers gently floated from the ceiling. I was impressed. Everyone was dressed really nicely, and there was a large turnout. The DJ was hot, and he was playing all my favorite songs.