The Magnificent Mya Tibbs

by Crystal Allen

  Starr grins. “Today’s the big day.”

  “Definitely a big day,” says Skye.

  Connie puts her things away, and then comes over to where we’re standing.

  “Skye and Starr, can I talk to Mya alone for a minute?” she asks.

  As soon as they walk away, Connie takes my hand and smiles. “Well, this is it, Mya. Today or no day. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, I am. Are you?” I ask.

  Connie chews her bottom lip. “I’ve never been this nervous. I’m so worried that I’m going to make two big mistakes when it’s my turn. I can’t get this far and then blow it, Mya. My stomach is full of butterflies.”

  I take her other hand. “We’re going to do this together, Connie, as big sisters. You and me. For Clayton and Macey. For All My Efforts?”

  Connie stops chewing her lip. She smiles, and I can tell she’s calmed down.

  “For All My Efforts,” she says.

  When the bell rings, we all wait for the intercom to crackle with static.

  “Good morning, students. Let’s stand for the Pledge of Allegiance.”

  I place my right hand over my heart, but I can feel Naomi’s eyes on me from the left side of the room. I refuse to look at her. She doesn’t matter anymore.

  “This is your principal, Mr. Winky, yes, yes, yes! I hope you’ve had a wonderful week! There are just a few announcements this morning. First, we want to wish the remaining fourth graders still in the Wall of Fame Game a very special good luck! We also want to wish our first and second graders good luck as they hunt for signs of autumn on their field trip today. Also, several of our fifth graders are on the Bluebonnet Little League team. They open their season tomorrow, right after Bluebonnet’s annual chili cook-off. Make plans with your family to attend. That will conclude this morning’s announcements!”

  Mrs. Davis writes in her attendance book as she calls our names. Moments later, Mrs. Hansen walks in. Mrs. Davis puts down her attendance book, picks up her clipboard, and smiles.

  “Well, it’s that time, class. For those of you still in the hunt to make the Wall of Fame, today is your last day of questions. I want to wish each of you good luck. When I call your name, please follow me into the cave. Lisa?”

  Lisa’s face wrinkles up. She lifts a tissue toward her face.

  Ah . . . ah . . .

  We all take cover, putting our heads down on our desks. The last thing I need right now is for Lisa McKinley to sneeze and blow my brains clean out of my head.

  Ah . . . ah . . . achooooooooooo!

  “Bless you,” I say.

  She turns and smiles as she wipes her nose. “Thanks, Mya.”

  I’m thinking there was no sneeze damage until I see Mrs. Hansen trying to rewrap her hair back into a bun.

  When Lisa returns, she’s almost running, smiling all the way to her desk. I’m so happy for her. Mrs. Davis is smiling, too.

  “Mary Francis? It’s your turn.”

  Mary talks to herself as she joins Mrs. Davis on their walk to the back of the cave. When she returns, I can tell she’s been crying. Mrs. Davis looks sad, too. I know it’s not right. I know it’s mean. But I’m hoping Naomi Jackson looks just like that when she comes out of the cave.

  Mrs. Davis lifts her clipboard. “Mya? It’s your turn.”

  Wait a minute. She didn’t call Naomi’s name. That means . . .

  Naomi missed two questions! She’s disqualified!

  I look over my shoulder at her. She’s eyeballing me, thinking I’m going to say something smart and embarrass her. Instead, I get up from my seat and act like an older sister.

  “I’m ready, Mrs. Davis.”

  I take my time ka-clunking down the aisle so Naomi can get a good look at my orange dress, brown vest, and pink boots that don’t match. As we walk to the back of the cave, I take Mrs. Davis’s hand. She smiles at me. “Glad to have you here on the last day, Mya.”

  “Glad to be here, Mrs. Davis.”

  She takes a seat and pulls the curtain. “Ready?”

  “Yes, but I don’t need you to ask me any questions, Mrs. Davis, because I know all the answers, and I’ll give them in order. Sit back. Turn the egg timer on, because I’m going to tell you a little taradiddle.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Mrs. Davis looks surprised, but she’s grinning as she puts her copy of my questions on her lap. “There’s no rule that says you can’t tell a story for your answers. I’ll listen for them, but you have to give me all the answers to question number one before you can give me answers to question number two and the same for question number three. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say.

  “Good luck, Mya.”

  She taps the egg timer, and I start talking.

  “I was on an early-morning trail with four of my cowgirl friends. Their names all ended in A, just like mine. On this particular morning, I was so Hungary that I ate a Belgium waffle with Turkey bacon, fried in hot Greece. I asked our cook to hurry, but she said, ‘Don’t Russia,’ so I didn’t.

  “After breakfast, we saddled up and headed toward the Everglades. We set up tents for a few days, fighting off a million acres’ worth of alligators and swamp creatures before loading up and riding toward Death Valley. On our way, I found the prettiest Yellowstone near the Grand Canyon and shouted, ‘This must be a Rocky Mountain!’ But the other cowgirls with me weren’t happy, because they missed being in Texas. So we turned around and went back home. I said good-bye to all my cowgirl friends whose names ended in A, just like mine. The only difference between me and them was, they were all named after Texas towns. Alameda, Bandera, Clara, Dora, and Electra. Happy trails, my friends, and long live the cowgirl nation!”

  I don’t need Mrs. Davis to tell me I did it.

  Instead, I shuffle two steps to the right, tap my right heel twice with my left hand. Shuffle two steps to the left, tap my left heel two times with my right hand. Heel, toe, stomp. Heel, toe, stomp. Ride that horse, ride that horse! Turn and start again.

  Mrs. Davis gets up and joins me! Yee-haw!

  After the first turn, Mrs. Davis takes a seat. I sit next to her, and she looks over at me with a huge smile. “What was that dance we just did?”

  “The Mya Shuffle,” I say with a grin.

  “You are amazing, Mya Tibbs. I can’t believe what you just did! Congratulations, and welcome to the Wall of Fame.”

  I pump my fist. “Yippee-ki-yay!”

  “Time to go back to class, Mya. I’ve still got a couple of your classmates to bring back here and give a chance to make the wall with you.”

  I tug at my vest, and the bottom of my dress, to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be. “Oh, yes, sure, okay.”

  I ka-clunk out of the cave like I’m famous. As I walk back into my classroom, I point at Connie and give her a thumbs-up. She stands and claps. “I knew you could do it! You rock, Mya Tibbs!”

  “Okay, let’s settle down,” says Mrs. Davis.

  I keep strutting toward my desk. That’s right. I rock.

  Mrs. Davis calls the next student. “Kenyan?”

  As Kenyan passes my desk, he leans down and whispers. “Congratulations, Mya. I always knew you were smarter than Naomi.”

  “It’s time to join your uncle on that wall,” I say, pointing behind me with my thumb.

  As Kenyan leaves with Mrs. Davis, and I sit at my desk, watching Mrs. Hansen’s lips move but not really sure what she’s saying because I’m too excited, I think about my family. Those who are here, and the one who isn’t born yet, will be so proud of me.

  Soon Kenyan comes out of the cave like Batman. He’s racing to his seat with the biggest grin on his face. As he passes me, he leans down and whispers, “No more shame for Uncle Kenyan. I took care of it.”

  I nod and give him a fist bump. “Congratulations, Kenyan.”

  “Thanks, Mya.”

  Before I can stop smiling, Mrs. Davis calls a name that makes me nervous all over again.

&n
bsp; “Connie?”

  I turn around and watch her long legs take short steps up the aisle. She’s looking around at everyone as she takes her hand and moves loose hair back behind her ear.

  Soon, she follows Mrs. Davis into the cave, and the curtain closes. My knee bounces, and I’m not listening to Mrs. Hansen, because when that curtain opens, I want to be the first to see my best friend’s face.

  This is taking forever. What’s going on? Suddenly the curtain opens, and my heart falls out of my chest and slams to the floor.

  She’s wiping her eyes, nodding her head, and walking toward me. I can’t take it. I don’t care if I get in trouble for being out of my seat. I ka-clunk over to her as fast as I can.

  “It’s okay, Connie. It’s not the end of the world.”

  She sniffles. “I did it! We made the wall to-gether!”

  I cover my mouth because I don’t know what else to do. It was one thing to talk about it, but now that we’ve done it, I feel like I’m going to explode with happiness. Something’s squeezing my insides, and I just want to cut loose. If I could, I’d take Connie by the hand, run back into the cave, and have Mrs. Davis get up so the three of us could do the Mya Shuffle again!

  Everything that’s happened since Open House flashes through my mind. The reasons why making the wall was so important—her little brother, my little sister, my parents, everything.

  “For All My Efforts,” I say to her.

  “For All My Efforts,” she says back.

  All through social studies and science, I hear Mrs. Davis talking, but my mind is still in the cave. I rewind my brain over and over again, answering question after question in the world’s best taradiddle. I go back to Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, even Thursday, when I missed one. It’s the greatest movie I’ve ever seen. Right before lunch, Mrs. Davis makes the announcement that everyone’s been waiting on.

  “Class, it is with great pride that I read to you the names of this year’s Wall of Fame Game winners. Please stand when I call your name. Lisa McKinley, Mya Tibbs, Kenyan Tayler, and Connie Tate. Let’s give our winners a hand!”

  I turn to Connie. Her face is still red from crying, but she smiles at me. I wave to my classmates and give thumbs-ups to the twins.

  At lunch, Connie and I tell Nugget and Fish that we made the wall.

  Fish gives us high fives. “That’s awesome! Congratulations!”

  Nugget fist-bumps us and then holds up his milk as if making a toast. All the fifth-grade boys at the table raise their milk cartons as my brother speaks.

  “Breaking news! My sister and her best friend, Connie, made the wall. Hooray!”

  “Hooray!”

  Solo Grubb struts toward my brother’s table with his sunglasses on and completely changes the mood.

  “Yo, Nugget, what you’re teaching the team about pitches is going to change everything.”

  I don’t want to talk about baseball, but Nugget nods at Solo as he struts by and then grins at us. “You should come over to the ballpark today for a quick minute. I want you to hear something.”

  “Maybe for a minute, but you know I’ve got chili to make.”

  “Cool. You should come, too, Connie,” says Nugget.

  She smiles and pushes loose hair behind her ear. She keeps staring at my brother. He’s staring back at her. And they’re both smiling a little longer than they should. I get uncomfortable, so I take Connie’s arm and drag her to our table near the stage. I refuse to talk about the way she’s looking at my brother, and the way he was looking back at her. Instead, we eat and talk, and laugh, just like best friends are supposed to after a day like this.

  “I’ll be a few minutes late to recess,” says Connie. “I’ve got to go get something out of my art room.”

  She’s grinning at me, and I know exactly what she’s going to get. Naomi’s not going to be happy, but right now, I’m the happiest girl on the planet!

  At recess, someone’s playing music, and as soon as Connie comes back, she starts dancing the Mya Shuffle. “Come on, Mya! Let’s teach the twins how to do it!”

  Soon the four of us are dancing, and others join in. Lisa and Kenyan show up.

  “Are you ready?” asks Lisa.

  “For what?” I ask.

  “The walk,” says Kenyan.

  “Jambalaya! I forgot all about that! Come on, Connie,” I say.

  We all walk side by side, not in a line, but straight across, taking up lots of room on the playground. Boys and girls move out of our way and give us all the space we want. Fourth and fifth graders point as we walk by. I know what they’re saying.

  “They made the Wall of Fame.”

  For the first time, Naomi stays as far away from me as she can. I almost feel sorry for her. That T-shirt with all the flowerhead babies on it is going to ruin her reputation. She may never win another beauty pageant!

  But it was her bet, not mine.

  That’ll teach her to never mess with a member of the cowgirl nation!

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Once we’re back in class, it seems as if the clock has slowed down. When the bell finally rings, everybody dashes to the cave. There’s whispering and giggling, but when I walk in, my classmates clap. Naomi’s standing alone by her cabinet. Her face is covered with mad, and I’m wondering if she’s going to back out.

  Connie reaches inside her cabinet, removes the black plastic bag, pulls out the lame T-shirt, and hands it to Naomi. “You lost the bet. Don’t you have something to say to Mya?”

  She bows the shortest bow in the history of bows and then rolls her eyes at me. “This week, you were smarter than me, Mya Tibbs Fibs. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be smarter than me forever and eternity.”

  Naomi takes the shirt from Connie, pulls it over her head, and then sticks her arms through the sleeves. Everyone is giggling.

  Naomi closes her cabinet door, and we all move as she makes her way toward our classroom. Even Mrs. Davis stares at Naomi as she walks by her desk. We all follow her out into the hall, waiting to see the reaction from the rest of the kids in our school.

  Three fifth-grade girls walk down the hall and stop. “Naomi? What the what?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fashion trend. Wear what others won’t, and make it look good.”

  One girl touches the shirt. “That is so fab. I want one!”

  The other girls agree and walk with Naomi down the hall.

  “Unbelievable,” says Connie.

  “That would never happen to me,” I say.

  I still feel like gold. I kept my promise to Macey. And in nine years, it will be her turn.

  After school, I’m not sure if my boots are touching the sidewalk on my way to the ballpark. It’s as if I’m floating down the street with Connie, Nugget, and Fish. Kids from school pass us and wave.

  Minutes later, we’re at the ballpark. Nugget and Fish dash to the restroom and soon come out in baseball clothes. Two of Nugget’s teammates jog over to him.

  “We practiced what you taught us last night. And we watched that YouTube video on pitching. We’re killing the ball, bro. Watch.”

  His teammates take turns hitting the ball. Nugget and the coach clap. Suddenly my brother whistles. “Hey, everybody gather around. I’ve got an announcement to make.”

  Nugget stands near Connie and me. I’m so excited to hear what he has to say that I don’t see Dad come in.

  “What’s going on?” he asks.

  “Nugget’s going to make an announcement,” I say.

  Once the team gathers, my brother moves to the middle of the huddle. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I can be a better team player. And I think I’ve figured it out. I quit.”

  It’s another bad surprise. I can’t breathe.

  “What are you, crazy? We need you,” says Solo.

  Before Coach can say anything, Nugget continues. “I’d like to quit as a player and rejoin as an assistant coach. Here’s why. I can’t explain why I keep striking out, or why I can’t catch the b
all very well in the outfield. But I don’t think there’s anybody out here who knows more about baseball than I do.”

  “You sure taught me how to hit that curveball. That was boo-yang,” says Solo.

  Another teammate talks. “I couldn’t hit a slider. Now I can, thanks to you.”

  Fish steps up. “I didn’t realize a knuckleball doesn’t spin until Nugget showed me what it looks like leaving a pitcher’s hand. Now when I see it coming, I’m ready to hit it out of the park!”

  Coach blows his whistle, takes off his hat, and scratches his head. “Micah . . . I mean, Nugget, if you would like to take on the role of my assistant coach, I think it would be an honor to this team.”

  Dad leaves Connie and me, hops the fence, and pulls Nugget to him. Nugget hugs him back as tears drip from Dad’s chin.

  “You make me so proud.”

  “I figured out how I can help my team, Dad.”

  The team claps, pulls Nugget away from Dad, and raises him on top of their shoulders. They carry him all the way back to the dugout. I can’t help but grin.

  Soon Dad leaves, and Connie and I head home. Before she turns down her street, she looks at me. “Are you going to work on the chili today? I can help.”

  I shake my head. “But would you draw a really big picture to hang on my booth tomorrow? That might help. I’ll be there early, at seven o’clock. Last night I figured out what Mom has been trying to tell me all week about changing things. I just hope I didn’t learn that lesson too late.”

  “I’ll make that picture for you tonight,” she says. “See you tomorrow morning. I’m glad Nugget figured out a way to help his team. I guess you don’t always have to be one of the players.”

  Wait a minute.

  I wave to Connie as she walks toward her apartment building. An idea has popped into my head, and I think it’s a good one. All week I’ve been making chili the wrong way. I’ve rushed it, cut the veggies too big, didn’t pay attention, forgot to add things. I might not get it right. But there is something that I’m really good at doing, and tomorrow, at the cook-off, I’m going to do it!

  This is my last chance to get it right. It’s now or never.