“Okay, Dad,” I say.
Nugget’s in his baseball uniform. I’m in my cooking apron. Dad’s wherever Mom is. My brother and I pace the floor in the labor and delivery waiting room at Bluebonnet General Hospital.
“I didn’t even get to coach my first game,” says Nugget. “But this is more important.”
I nod. “Duh.”
There’s lots of people in here. Some are reading books. Others watch television. Some are asleep in their chairs, while others eat as they wait for news.
After an hour, I can’t pace anymore. I take a seat, and Nugget sits next to me. Dad hasn’t come to talk to us. I hope Mom and Macey are okay.
And then the waiting room door opens.
Dad appears in a blue gown with a little blue hat on his head. His smile is wider than the Pacific Ocean.
“She’s here. Come meet your little sister.”
Dad takes our hands and leads us down the hall. I begin to skip. Then I walk again. I can’t figure out how I want to get to Macey, but I want to get there fast.
“Your mom is doing great. She’ll be ready for you to visit her very soon.”
We walk through two big doors, and then farther down that hall. Soon we’re standing in front of a huge window. Dad points to a tiny white crib with a pink sign on it that says Baby Macey Tibbs, 6 Pounds, 5 Ounces. I press my face to the glass. Nugget does, too.
There she is, with lots of black curls on her head. Her mouth opens, and she yawns so big that she startles herself. I giggle. She’s beautiful.
I watch Macey squirm around under her blanket. She’s so tiny and perfect. A nurse appears at the window, points at us, and then at Macey. Dad looks my way.
“The nurse wants to know if you want to hold your little sister.”
Nugget backs away from the window. “No, not yet. I might break her.”
I step in front of my brother. She doesn’t need to meet him first. She needs me. I’m the big sister, the one who’s going to answer her questions, help her when she needs it, care about her folder full of A+ papers, and be the example she’ll need for the rest of her life.
“I’m ready to hold her,” I say.
After washing my hands two times, and putting on a gown and hat like Dad’s, I sit in a chair, and the nurse shows me how to make a cradle with my arms. And when I do, they place Macey’s little body in it, all wrapped up in a blanket. She’s asleep, so I hold her closer, hoping she can hear my heartbeat. I could hold her like this all day and all night, because she weighs less than my backpack!
Then her eyes open, and she looks right at me.
Her ears are so tiny, I don’t want to hurt them when I talk. So, as softly as I can, I speak to her for the first time. “Hi, Macey. I’m Mya, your big sister.”
She keeps staring at me, like she already knows. And at that very moment, I’m so happy that I took the Wall of Fame Game challenge.
The nurses let me hold her for ten more minutes before putting her back in her little white crib. As I take off the gown and hat, I already miss her.
“We’ll bring her to your mom’s room soon,” says the nurse.
Dad and Nugget are gone when I come out of the nursery, so the nurse walks me to Mom’s room. Mom is smiling, even though she looks like she doesn’t feel very good.
“I’m just a little sore, but I’ll be fine tomorrow,” she says.
I’m telling Mom, Dad, and Nugget about what it felt like to hold Macey when Fish and his dad walk in. Fish’s baseball uniform is dirty from the shirt to his shoes. But he walks up to me with a huge smile and talks in a whisper.
“Hiya, Mya Papaya! I just saw Macey. She looks just like you!”
I stop smiling, because Macey’s head was shaped more like Nugget’s. And her skin was peeling. But I bet Fish meant that in a nice way. So I smile again.
He hands Nugget a baseball. “We won, bro, eight to nothin’. The team wants you to have the game ball. We couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t shown us how to see pitches.”
My brother takes the ball from Fish. His teammates’ signatures are all over it. Dad puts his arm around Nugget.
“Nothing like getting the game ball, son,” he says.
Mr. Leatherwood steps forward and shakes Dad’s hand. “Good-lookin’ baby you got there, Tibbs. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” says Dad.
“We’re celebrating the win at the Burger Bar tomorrow at noon. Think you and Nugget might make it?”
Dad nods. “We’ll be there.”
Nugget’s still looking at his baseball, but I can see a grin bigger than the baseball field on his face. Soon Connie, her parents, and the twins and their parents come in. While the grown-ups talk to Mom and Dad, Fish, Nugget, Connie, the twins, and I go back to the nursery.
The nurse sees us and moves Macey to the front so we can have a better look.
Connie puts her arm around me. “You’re finally a big sister,” she says.
“Yep! And I got to hold her already.”
“She looks just like Sears,” says Skye.
“Just like Sears,” says Starr.
Holy moly.
I think back to the picture the twins painted on Macey’s wall. They’re right. Macey looks just like Sears! How did they do that? I’ve always thought the twins could be from another planet. There’s so much proof, and the picture of Sears on the wall just adds to the list. But they’re my friends, and whether or not they’re aliens doesn’t matter.
“I’ve got good news,” says Connie. “My parents are throwing me a party next Saturday to celebrate me making the Wall of Fame, and you’re all invited!”
I give my best friend a hug. She’s getting what she wanted, and she deserves it. Making that Wall of Fame was hard work.
One by one, everybody leaves. Dad and Nugget sit on the little couch near Mom’s bed. I’m sitting on her bed, holding her hand, smiling at her.
Knock. Knock.
“It’s just me and a really cute baby named Macey,” says the nurse as she rolls the little white crib next to Mom’s bed. Nugget leans in and takes a closer look.
“She’s beautiful, Mom.”
Dad kisses my forehead. “I think she looks like you, Mya.”
I glance at Nugget. He rolls his eyes, and I giggle. Mom’s eyelids open and close very slowly. Dad steps over and kisses her forehead, too. “I’m going to take Nugget and Mya home. You and Macey get some sleep. You both have had a long day. We’ll be back in the morning. Call or text if you need me to bring you anything, okay? I love you.”
Mom nods as her eyelids close and don’t open again. Dad puts a finger to his mouth for us to be quiet as we leave. I take one last look at Macey and whisper, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Me, too,” says Nugget.
On our way home, Dad stops at Dairy Queen. It’s the perfect ending to a perfect day, knowing Mom and Macey are fine. It feels even better knowing that soon our whole family will be together.
But I can’t help but wonder . . . is Mom going to be too busy with Macey to do anything else with me? What if the chili cook-off was the last thing we’ll get to do together?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sunday morning, instead of going to church, Dad, Nugget, and I head to the hospital. My brother’s wearing another one of his goofy T-shirts. This one reads Dear Mr. Algebra, Solve Your Own Problems. I Got Enough of My Own.
Macey’s in the room with Mom, but she’s asleep. We wash our hands and then take turns holding her. She’s so little, wrapped in that baby blanket.
Mom tells us that she’s not feeling nearly as sore today as she was yesterday, and that she and Macey will get to come home tomorrow.
Nugget gets to hold Macey first and keeps asking, “Is she okay? Am I holding her right?”
I glance at the clock. Nugget’s held her for ten minutes. That’s long enough.
“It’s my turn,” I say, and cross my arms to make a bowl for Dad to sit her in. He takes Macey from Nugget and give
s her to me. I feel like a professional baby holder.
Dad is the last one to hold Macey. I even like watching him hold her. Nugget sits close to him, and they talk about her little hands, and whether or not she’d be able to throw a curveball.
Thirty minutes later, Dad puts Macey in Mom’s arms.
“We’ll be back in a couple of hours,” says Dad as he and Nugget head toward the door.
Mom and I wave as they leave. “Congratulations again, Nugget,” I say.
He nods and smiles as he holds up a baseball. “Game ball, baby.”
Dad nudges my brother. “Gee, Nugget, your head is getting awfully big. Will it fit through the door?”
Mom and I laugh as they push on each other until we can’t see them anymore. Mom points to the nightstand.
“Mya, will you reach in the first drawer and pull out that bag for me?”
I do, and hand the sack to Mom. She presses her call button for the nurse. I stand and rush to her bed.
“Is everything okay? You’re not in pain, are you? Is there something I can do? What’s wrong?” I ask.
When the nurse comes in, she’s smiling. “Are you ready?” the nurse says.
Mom pulls a video case out of the bag. “We’re ready! Pop this in for us, will you please?”
She hands a DVD to the nurse and then gives me the case. I look at the movie title and almost fall out of my seat. Annie Oakley: The Complete Series! I flip it over and read the back out loud.
“Mom, there’s thirty-six hours of Annie Oakley’s television shows on these DVDs!”
She giggles. “That’s right. I imagine one hour a day for a whole month should take care of our Annie Oakley cravings. And Macey needs to catch up. Now get over here and climb in the bed with us so we can watch a couple hours before the guys come back.”
“Too bad Buttercup’s not here,” I say as I take my boots off and climb in next to her. I lay my head on Mom’s shoulder and give Macey my pinkie finger. She grabs it and squeezes, just as the show comes on.
Mom lets out a mouthful of air. “It’s never too early to train a new cowgirl. Right, Mya?”
I giggle and kiss my sister on the forehead. “It’s never too early.”
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank God for the gift of writing. I believe He had his cowboy boots on when He helped me with this one! I’m having so much fun writing about Mya, her family, and her friends, but I have family and friends of my own who deserve a “Yee-haw,” and I’d like to give it to them.
First, a big Texas shout-out to my incredible husband, Reggie, and those two amazing sons of mine, Phillip and Joshua. You are truly a blessing in my life. Also, I’d like to send a very special thank-you to my brother-in-law, Darrell Ray, for taking care of things for me so that I could write without being disturbed.
Thank you, Kay Reidy, fourth-grade teacher at West Elementary School in Independence, Iowa, for sharing information about your classroom online. Your amazing website gave me several ideas, which led me to the Mastery Club!
Thank you, Heather Renz, for creating the Mastery Club and giving me permission to use it in The Wall of Fame Game. Anyone wishing to purchase the Mastery Club, or view the many teaching tools created by Mrs. Renz, should visit her website at http://www.mrsrenz.net/forstudents/masteryclub-mc.htm.
Thank you, Juliet White, Tim Kane, Varsha Bajaj, and Laura Ruthvan for helping me stay focused on all of Mya’s drama! She made it through, and I have your thoughtful critiques to thank for that.
Thank you, Dixie Keyes, for your friendship and for reading The Wall of Fame Game when you came to visit me for vacation. I put you to work and you never complained. What a true friend.
I’m so thankful for all of my family members and mentors who encourage me, especially Barbara Scott, Christine Taylor-Butler, Donna Gephart, and Neal Shusterman.
Alessandra Balzer and Donna Bray, you proved to me how vested you are, not only in my writing but in me. Caring is clearly a huge part of who you are, and I’m so grateful to be a part of your team.
Kristin Rens, your comments, questions, and ideas helped me take The Wall of Fame Game to a level I would have never reached without you. And you did it with encouragement, kindness, and friendship. You are amazing. Working with you makes me want to write, and I hope you continue to be my editor until we both choose to put our pens down.
Jen Rofé, the longer we’re together, the more I love you. Sometimes I forget you’re my agent, because our relationship is more like family. Thank you for being that person in my life.
—Crystal
About the Author
Photo by Portrait Innovations
CRYSTAL ALLEN is the author of the acclaimed middle grade novels How Lamar’s Bad Prank Won a Bubba-Sized Trophy, The Laura Line, and The Magnificent Mya Tibbs: Spirit Week Showdown. She currently lives in Sugar Land, Texas, with her husband, Reggie, and two sons, Phillip and Joshua. You can visit her website at www.crystalallenbooks.com.
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Books by Crystal Allen
The Magnificent Mya Tibbs: Spirit Week Showdown
The Laura Line
How Lamar’s Bad Prank Won a Bubba-Sized Trophy
Credits
Cover art © 2017 by Eda Kaban
Cover design by Katie Fitch
Copyright
Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
THE MAGNIFICENT MYA TIBBS: THE WALL OF FAME GAME. Text copyright © 2017 by Crystal Allen. Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Eda Kaban. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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The Magnificent Mya Tibbs Page 15
