“I showed two of my teammates what a slider looks like coming out of the pitcher’s hand. Once they caught on, they started killin’ the ball. Our team is actually looking pretty good.”
“Did Dad show up to your practice today?”
“No. I don’t care. I hit the ball, so it doesn’t matter that he never showed me how.”
Mom yells from downstairs. “It’s time for dinner. Nugget, take that dirty uniform off before you come to the table.”
I grin at him. “Congratulations on getting a hit.”
He shoves me on the shoulder. I shove him back.
Mom’s got baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and peas on the table, and as soon as Nugget takes a seat, Dad says the blessing. Once he’s done, he turns to Nugget.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make your practice today. We got busy at the store.”
My brother shrugs and shoves a spoonful of peas in his mouth. Dad looks over at Mom before turning to me.
“How was your day, Mya?” asks Dad.
I want to scream that I have to beat Naomi Jackson at the Wall of Fame Game, and Kenyan’s uncle cheated, and I got in an argument with Connie, and Mom doesn’t want to do anything with me anymore, and she thinks I’m not smart enough to make the Wall of Fame, and she won’t let me practice making chili so I might not beat Mrs. Frazier.
But instead I smile. “It was okay.”
The dining room is so quiet that I expect to hear crickets rubbing their wings together. I look at the ceiling fan above the table, the picture on the wall, the food on my plate, even the design on the tablecloth. I’m looking at everything just to avoid looking at my parents. I can feel Mom and Dad staring at me.
Suddenly Dad drops his fork on his plate. The sound makes Mom moan.
“I’m sorry, honey,” says Dad. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Mom rubs her belly. “I think you scared Macey. She’s kicking again.”
Dad shakes his head. “She’s not kicking. She’s pitching. I think that girl wants to play baseball. As soon as she’s old enough, I’ll take her in the backyard and—”
Nugget bangs his fist on the table. He’s staring at his food, and there’s more steam coming off him than from his mashed potatoes. But it’s not nearly as hot at the table as it’s about to get, because I think everybody’s ready to explode.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dad crosses his arms over his chest as he glares at my brother. “You have something you need to say, Nugget?”
My brother looks up from his plate. His face has all kinds of anger in it. I don’t know if I should eat, excuse myself from the table, or just be quiet. I choose the last one as I listen to him go off.
“I can’t believe how excited you are about teaching Macey how to catch and hit the ball! I guess I wasn’t good enough.”
Dad moves his face closer to Nugget’s. “What are you talking about, son?”
My brother’s voice gets louder. “Every guy on my team got lessons from their dad on how to catch and hit. Every guy except me. At Open House, you didn’t even ask me if I wanted to play baseball. You just told all the dads, in front of my friends, that I’m probably more interested in Whiz Kid Camp. Who told you that?”
Nugget’s eyes water, and he swipes away the tears with the back of his hand. “You made me look soft in front of the guys. Why’d you do that? Why didn’t you teach me how to play, Dad?”
Dad and Nugget have a stare down that lasts only a few seconds. Both my knees are jumping like crazy under the table. Suddenly Dad breaks his stare-off with Nugget and glares at me.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
Moments later, he returns, and puts his fist on the table. Slowly, his fingers open like a flower bud when it blooms. Inside his hand are two little white things.
“Are those animal bones?” asks Nugget.
He reaches for them, but Dad closes his hand back to a fist.
“I’ve had these bird bones since I was eight years old. Found them. I took ’em to school every day, and after school, my science teacher let me look at them under the microscope until it was time to go home. I kept a journal on what I saw. I wanted to figure out how that bird died.”
“What does that have to do with baseball?” asks Nugget.
Dad shrugs. “For me, everything. But let me finish my story. Later that year, my father decided I should try out for baseball. I didn’t like it, but he made me catch twenty-five fly balls every day, and if I missed one, I had to start all over. And then I had to hit a ball off a tee.”
“At least he taught you how to play,” says Nugget. “That’s more than you did for me.”
Dad waits before he finishes. “All I wanted to do was read science magazines and look at stuff under a microscope. I wanted my dad to like science and look at stuff under the microscope with me. I asked for a science set for Christmas. I got a glove and a bat.”
The table’s quiet. Nugget’s eyes are glued on Dad’s as he keeps talking. “My dad made me play, and I swore, when I got old enough to make my own decisions, I’d quit. But I ended up being good at baseball. I still wanted to quit when I was in high school, but I knew I’d be letting my team down. And then I got a college scholarship. Dad thinks he did me a favor. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t.”
I slowly take a look at Mom. Her eyebrows rise as she looks back at me. I turn back and listen to Dad.
“So years later, I get married, have a son, and when he’s old enough to play baseball I buy him a glove and a bat. We go out in the yard, and he has trouble catching the ball, but he sees a butterfly, chases it, and asks me, ‘Do all caterpillars turn into butterflies?’ I thought that was an incredible question for a six-year-old boy, but instead of talking to you about caterpillars, I talked to you about curveballs, sliders, knuckleballs, and change-ups. To me, we were out there to play baseball, not talk science. That’s what my dad taught me.”
Mom interrupts. “The next day, I looked out the window and saw you and your dad staring at a worm that you had in your hand. Both baseball gloves were in the grass, and so was the bat.”
Dad looks right at my brother. “I realized, at that moment, while you held that wiggly worm in your hand, that you weren’t interested in baseball. Your mind was beyond baseball. And if I wasn’t careful, I would do to you what my dad did to me. So I stopped asking you to play ball, and we bought you a microscope, which you loved from the moment I gave it to you. I started asking you what you wanted to do. You said you wanted to visit the science store. I would have given anything for my dad to have asked me that question.”
“I love that place. I love my microscope, too,” says Nugget.
“So do I!” says Dad. “The only person who really knew that I was more nerd than athlete was your mother. I’m never going to force you to be anything but yourself. I don’t want you trying to play baseball just because I played. Nobody knows how much I hated playing that game.”
“And that’s why you didn’t show me how to play baseball?” asks Nugget.
“No. You weren’t interested, and I wasn’t going to force you. But I’m amazed at how you’ve remembered all the pitches I showed you,” says Dad. He looks my way.
“Do you have something you need to talk about, Mya?”
I swallow, even though I don’t have anything in my mouth. “Today Kenyan showed me his uncle’s name on the Wall of Fame.”
Mom coughs. I turn to help her and notice she’s eyeballing Dad, and he’s staring back at her. Very softly she asks me, “Is Kenyan’s last name Tayler?”
I nod. “I saw your and Dad’s names right next to Kenyan’s uncle. Why didn’t you tell me you were on the wall? Why did you keep it a secret? When I saw your names today, the first thing I thought was that you didn’t think I could make the wall, and that’s why you didn’t tell me.”
Mom holds up her hand. “Darrell, I’ve got this one.”
She turns to me. “We didn’t want to pressure you. If we had told you that we wer
e on the wall, you might have felt obligated to sign up. That’s not what the wall is about.”
“Oh” is all I can say. I wonder if she can see the “I’m sorry” in my eyes. I’m scared to open my mouth because I might just cry for being so silly. How did I let myself think Mom would ever do something to hurt me?
“Mya, Nugget, come here,” says Dad.
We scoot back from our seats and stand in front of our father. He takes our hands.
“Whatever you choose to do in life, it should be something you are passionate about, something you want to do—not because you tried to follow in someone else’s footsteps. And that includes ours. Your mother and I love you, and think you’re perfect, just the way you are.”
“Okay,” says Nugget. “I thought you believed I was a loser, and that’s why you pushed me behind you at Open House.”
Dad shakes his head. “Just the opposite. I was protecting you from that mob of sports dads because I believe you’re a winner and will one day do something to change the world for the better.”
Nugget stares at his shoes. “Yes, sir. That’s what I’m going to do. So can I have a look at the bird bones now?”
“Let’s go check ’em out under your microscope,” says Dad.
As Nugget and Dad leave the dining room, I glance over at Mom.
“Nerds are awesome,” she says.
I giggle. “Yeah. They are.”
“But I’m glad they’re gone so I can have a little time alone with my number one daughter.”
Connie’s right. I do have the best parents in Bluebonnet.
“Go get your Wall of Fame Game questions, Mya. Let’s go over them.”
I rush upstairs and bring them to the table. She starts right away.
“Name three Civil War battles.”
“Um, let’s see. There’s Cheat Mountain, Liberty, and . . . uh . . . what’s the third one? I can’t remember, Mom.”
She looks at me. “Galveston is the one you wrote down. Name three countries that border the Pacific Ocean.”
I close my eyes. “The United States for sure. And Chile, and . . . oh, Japan.”
Mom gives me another look. “You have to get these down, Mya. Last question. Name three sports in the Summer Olympics.”
“Basketball, track and field, and equestrian.”
She smiles. “I want you to go upstairs and study. The questions are going to get harder, and you have to get these right to move on to the next round.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I go upstairs and read the questions and answers over and over again, but I’m worried about tomorrow. Two misses and I’m out. I can’t lose to Naomi. I just can’t.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Wednesday morning, I practice my Wall of Fame Game answers as I put on my clothes. I ask Annie Oakley and Cowgirl Claire questions, and then answer them when they don’t. Mom gives me nine thick braids, one for each of today’s Wall of Fame Game answers.
On the way to school, I give Nugget my questions, and he quizzes me one last time. When we’re done, we fist-bump, and then he nudges me.
“You got them all right, genius.”
I can’t believe he called me genius, especially when there’s a good chance that he really is one. “Thanks, Nugget. I just hope I don’t get everything all jumbled.”
“You won’t. See you at lunch.”
In class, I try to keep my answers at the front of my brain as I watch Mrs. Davis call my classmates from the rows before mine. She hasn’t called many names. I guess there’s not many of us left.
“Mya, you’re up,” says Mrs. Davis.
I slide out of my seat. “Okay.”
Once we get to the back of the cave, and Mrs. Davis closes the curtains, I give her my game face without her asking for it.
“Mrs. Davis, before you hit the timer, can I tell you something?”
“Sure, Mya, what’s on your mind?”
I sit down beside her. “There’s some interesting stuff in these questions. Have you ever read the story of the Civil War? You should check it out! And if you think about how big the countries are that border the Pacific, you have to wonder, how big is that ocean? I looked it up. Did you know it’s not only the biggest ocean, it’s the deepest one, too! Holy moly!”
Mrs. Davis smiles. “Isn’t that something?”
“Yes!” I say, laughing. “But anyway, I’m ready now.”
She hits the egg timer. “Good! Okay, here we go. Name three Civil War battles.”
I tell her the answers without thinking about it. “Liberty, Cheat Mountain, and Galveston.”
“Good,” says Mrs. Davis. “Name three countries that border the Pacific Ocean.”
“The United States for sure, Japan, and . . . Japan, and . . .”
“Relax, Mya.”
My heart’s beating so loudly that I can’t hear my brain give me the answer. I can’t remember! “Mrs. Davis, please repeat the question.”
“Name three countries that border the Pacific Ocean.”
This happened to David on Monday. He froze. Now I’m going to do the same thing. And tonight, when I practice making chili . . .
Wait . . .
“Chile, Mrs. Davis! United States, Japan, and Chile!”
“Correct! Name three sports in the Summer Olympics. Hurry, Mya.”
“Track and field, basketball, and equestrian, which is a fancy word for rodeo riding with a horse that’s got manners.”
Ding.
I sit beside her and wipe my forehead, both of us breathing like we just ran a race.
“I don’t know if I’m more proud of you for getting the answers right, or for not giving up. I thought Nugget was good last year, but that was flat-out amazing. Now I’m wondering how good your baby sister is going to be. What’s her name?”
“Macey.”
Mrs. Davis shakes her head. “You’re going to be a great example for her, like Nugget was for you. Congratulations, Mya. You answered all the questions correctly, which means you’re still eligible for tomorrow’s Wall of Fame Game questions.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Davis,” I say. Then I turn around and leave the cave.
As I enter the classroom, all eyes are on me. I look to my best friend and smile. She smiles back. I’ve never been so happy to see her smile as I am right now. But I get just as nervous the moment Mrs. Davis calls Connie’s name. I watch them head to the back of the cave. I close my eyes and whisper. “Come on, Connie, you can do it.”
When she comes back wearing a big smile, I tap my foot as if I can hear music.
There’s lots of talk in the cafeteria and on the playground about who’s left and who’s out in the Wall of Fame Game. I walk with Connie, even though we’re not talking that much. Finally I take a deep breath and tell her what’s on my mind.
“Connie, I’m sorry for being so mean to you. You are right about me having awesome parents, and I’ve been thinking about everything you said to me yesterday when you were in my room. I thought you were doing the Wall of Fame Game to get your parents to notice you. That’s what you said at Open House.”
“And I meant it. I’ll be the first Tate on the Wall of Fame, and they’ll be very happy about it. So will I. But I’m mostly doing it for my little brother, so that when he gets to fourth grade, he’ll see my name and know that he can make the wall, too.”
I nod. “Yeah, that’s a really good reason for getting on the wall.”
“What about your reason, Mya? You still think it’s a good one?” asks Connie.
“Well, like I said, after you left yesterday, I did a lot of thinking. And I realized beating Naomi is not a good reason to make the wall. But I can’t go back on the bet.”
“Naomi doesn’t have to know your reasons. You’re the only person who knows mine.”
I smile at my best friend. “And Clayton is a good reason.”
She smiles back. “Macey would be, too.”
“Yeah, she would be,” I say.
We spot Nugget ki
cking a soccer ball to Fish, so we tell them that we made it through to the next round.
Nugget gives us high fives. “Why didn’t you tell me at lunch?”
“I think I was still nervous,” I say.
He nods. “That’s boo-yang cool! You’re almost there, but Thursday and Friday are back-breaker days, the absolute worst. If you can make it through Thursday, you’ve got a good shot.”
Connie sweeps loose hair behind her ear. “Is Thursday really that bad?”
Fish turns around and walks backward as he talks to us. “On Thursday, it won’t feel like a game anymore. It’s a war worse than any battle you’ve ever been in. If you’re still in it on Thursday, it’s because you’ve got a shot at making the wall, and Mrs. Davis is going to make you earn it.”
Connie nods. “Makes a lot of sense. Thanks for the tip, guys.”
As Fish and my brother run toward the soccer goals, I feel volcano lava in my belly again.
“I don’t want to picture Naomi in my mind while I study anymore,” I say.
Connie smiles. “That’s good news. So do you want me to come over your house today, Mya?”
As much as I want to tell her yes, I’ve got lots of thinking to do, and some of it has nothing to do with the questions.
“I think you need to let Clayton play in your room while you study tonight. He’s the reason you’re doing the Wall of Fame Game, right?”
Connie nods. “Have you changed your reasons for getting on the wall?”
All I can do is shrug. A few days ago, my reason was as sure as Annie Oakley catching the bad guys in her movies.
Mrs. Davis blows the whistle, and we all rush to line up. I think about Connie’s question for the rest of the afternoon, until Mrs. Davis hands out Thursday’s Wall of Fame Game questions. There’s three questions as usual, except each question needs four answers.
I close my eyes. Fish is right.
This is going to be war.
WALL OF FAME GAME QUESTIONS FOR MYA TIBBS:
THURSDAY
1. Name four of the thirteen original American colonies.
2. Name the four stages of the water cycle.
3. Name four major organs in the human body.
The Magnificent Mya Tibbs Page 10
