Out of My Mind

by Sharon M. Draper

  “I know,” I typed. “You’re smart.”

  She beamed, then leaned closer. “Connor will probably get picked again too. He’s a little hard to handle, but he’s great with trivia.”

  I glanced over—Connor was boasting to his friends about last year’s competition. “You ought to see the room in the hotel where they hold the contest. Gold chandeliers! Rich-looking stuff everywhere! And kids from all over looking smart. But we smoked them all!”

  “All but one team, dude,” Rodney shouted out good-naturedly. “They tore you up!” The class hooted.

  “Yeah, but this year we’re gonna win! Right, Mr. D?”

  “We’re certainly going to try, Connor,” Mr. Dimming replied. “The rules have changed slightly, so our team this year will be made up of just grades five and six. That gives us strength because some of you competed last year. Now let’s just see how good we are. Let’s do a set of sample questions just for fun, shall we?”

  “You got prizes?” Rodney asked.

  “Not every competition results in a prize, Rodney,” Mr. D replied.

  “Yeah, but it’s more fun with good stuff at the end,” Connor added. “Please?”

  “Okay, okay! One slightly squished Butterfinger candy bar from my lunch bag,” the teacher said, holding it up. Everyone laughed once more.

  “Chocolate gives you zits,” Rose teased Connor. “I don’t want candy—I want to win!” She moved her desk back to her own row.

  Catherine sat on the other side of me. “Do you want to play the practice round with them?” she asked.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I typed. “Answers—A, B, C, D. Easy.”

  She grinned. “Okay, easy! Let’s see what happens!”

  Mr. Dimming cleared his throat and smiled. “Whiz Kids time is my favorite event of the year,” he admitted. “Let’s see if we can go all the way this year!”

  The class cheered.

  “I will read the questions first, then the choices for the answers. You will write down the correct letter. Does everyone understand?”

  Connor raised his hand, then called out even before Mr. Dimming noticed him. “Don’t give us easy ones, Mr. D. I’ve got brains of steel!”

  “And a mouth to match,” I heard Rose whisper.

  “Number one,” the teacher began. “Which planet is closest to the sun?

  A. Venus

  B. Earth

  C. Mercury

  D. Mars

  E. Jupiter.”

  “Baby questions!” Connor protested.

  “Please, Connor. Silence,” Mr. D said sternly. Connor finally shut up.

  I pushed the letter C on my machine and waited for the next question.

  “Number two,” Mr. Dimming continued. “How many sides are on a heptagon?

  A. Four

  B. Six

  C. Seven

  D. Eight

  E. Nine.”

  I typed in the letter C again. Would the same letter come up twice in a row? Why not? I knew I was right.

  “Question number three,” Mr. D. said. “How long is one regular term for a U.S. representative?

  A. One year

  B. Two years

  C. Three years

  D. Four years

  E. Six years.”

  Hmmm. That one could be tricky. It seems like the same politicians are on the news all the time. But I typed in B as my answer.

  Mr. D gave us fifty questions in all. Several were math problems. Others had to do with science and grammar. The last question was about geography.

  “In what state would you find the Grand Canyon?” he asked.

  A. California

  B. Arizona

  C. South Dakota

  D. New Mexico

  E. Utah.”

  I’ve never been there, but I’ve seen specials on the Travel Channel, and I’m almost positive it’s in Arizona. I typed in the letter B, pushed the print button, and Catherine took my paper to the teacher’s desk.

  “Melody participated?” Mr. Dimming asked as he took the printout. He glanced from me to the paper in his hand. “How nice.”

  I didn’t like the sound of his voice.

  He scored the papers while we watched a movie about the pyramids in Egypt. I couldn’t help stealing glances at him.

  Finally, Mr. Dimming looked over his wire-rimmed glasses. “I’ve tallied the results. These are not official tryouts, but the students with very high scores today are Paula, Claire, Rose, and Connor.”

  Connor jumped from his desk and cheered. “I knew it! I’m the man! I’m hot! Lemme hold that piece of candy!” He started up the aisle toward the desk where the Butterfinger lay.

  “Sit down, Connor!” the teacher said with exasperation. “You did well, but you don’t get the candy.”

  “Who beat me?” Connor seemed amazed. “Rose? That’s okay. I’ll triumph in the real tryouts.”

  I looked over at Rose. She smiled at me—a look of anticipation on her face.

  Mr. Dimming was silent for a moment. He scratched his head. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “The winner of today’s competition, and the winner of the Butterfinger candy bar, with a perfect score, is . . .” He paused again, gave his head a shake, and started again. “The only person in the class who got every single question correct is . . . Melody Brooks.”

  Dead silence. No cheers. Just looks of disbelief.

  “No fair!” Molly blurted out angrily. “Melody’s got a helper who whispers the answers to her!”

  “She musta cheated!” Claire added loudly.

  Catherine jumped out of her chair and stormed over to where Claire and Molly were sitting, her new black leather boots clicking sharply on the tiled classroom floor. “I did not help her! Did it ever occur to you that she might have some smarts of her own?”

  “She can’t even sit up by herself!” Claire replied, her voice petulant.

  “What your body looks like has nothing to do with how well your brain works! You ought to know that by looking in the mirror!”

  “Ooh! She got you!” Connor said. That got a couple of laughs. But most of the kids were looking around uneasily. No one looked at me.

  Claire said nothing in reply, and I guess Molly decided to shut up as well.

  Catherine returned to where I sat, but the whole thing made me want to crawl under a table and disappear.

  Mr. Dimming raised his hand for the class to be silent. “Melody, please come up and get your candy bar,” he said. “I am very proud of you and your efforts today. And your classmates are as well. Let’s all give Melody a round of applause!”

  Everybody, except maybe Molly and Claire, clapped as I rolled slowly to the front of the room. The sound of my chair’s motor whirred softly. They couldn’t hear the sound of my thumping heart.

  I figured the teacher offered me the candy to shut up Claire and Molly and to make me feel good that I accidentally got all the questions right. But it was no accident. I knew them all. Every single one.

  Mr. Dimming placed the candy bar on my tray. Good. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about dropping it in front of everybody. I rolled back to my place with my head down.

  “I’m so proud of you! And you should be too!” Catherine whispered, holding her hand up for me to slap. But I didn’t move.

  “Not,” I typed.

  “Why not? You beat them all.”

  It took me a very long time, but I typed, “They think my brain is messed up like the rest of me.” I felt like crying.

  “Then we’ll just have to study and show them they’re wrong!” Catherine said, a hint of defiance edging her voice.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “So you can be on the quiz team,” she told me.

  “Never happen,” I tapped.

  Just as Catherine was about to reply, Mr. Dimming announced that the official tryouts for the quiz team would be held in one week. “Many of you scored quite well on this practice round,” he said, “but remember you will have to compete against t
he sixth-grade students as well for the real competition. Go home and study. Only the best will be chosen.”

  “Like me?” Connor yelled.

  “If you qualify,” Mr. Dimming told him. “I’m taking a winning team to Washington, D.C., this year, class. Are you with me?”

  “Yeah!” they all yelled.

  I was amazed they’d get excited about studying for anything. But he rallied them like a football coach.

  “Are you willing to study so we can be on television?”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  “You gonna buy a new suit if we win?” Connor blurted out.

  Mr. Dimming actually laughed. “That’s a promise. A new suit—maybe blue—with a red satin vest.”

  The whole class broke out in laughter and applause.

  “Then, let’s do our very best,” Mr. D said. “I’m going to create extra-challenging questions so that we will be stupendously prepared this year.”

  “Well, he’s already starting with the big vocabulary words,” I heard Molly whisper to Claire.

  “Hard questions?” Connor whined.

  “Look at it this way,” Mr. Dimming told Connor. “If Melody Brooks can win the first round, then my questions must not be difficult enough! We’re all going to rally to win the competition!”

  Everybody cheered.

  Except me.

  CHAPTER 18

  After school that day I was grumpy and mean. Mrs. V had prepared a new stack of word cards for me. Penny was wearing one of Mrs. V’s turbans, and she looked ridiculous. Plus, she kept singing some stupid baby song at the top of her lungs. I took my arm and swept the whole pile of cards to the floor.

  “Who put salt in your Kool-Aid, Miss Thing?” Mrs. V asked. She did not pick up the cards.

  Penny stopped singing and stood there blinking at me.

  I switched the Medi-Talker to off and looked away.

  “Fine. Be like that. But you’re going to pick up every single one of those cards!”

  I stuck out my lip and stared at the wall.

  Penny reached out and shook my arm. I tugged it loose. She didn’t seem to care and started singing again:

  “Happy, happy, happy, clap your feet,

  Happy, sappy, pappy, blow your nose,

  Biddy-boddy-bowdee, jump and jump.”

  She jumped. She stomped her feet. Then she sang the song again. And again.

  She was really getting on my nerves. I wished she would just shut up! Talking all the time. Walking all the time. Jumping and bouncing and singing. Just quit it! For just one moment, please STOP!

  But she wouldn’t. “Hi, Dee-Dee,” she said. She put Doodle on my tray.

  I pushed the toy to the floor.

  “Doodle, Dee-Dee.” She picked up the stupid raggedy thing and placed it on my tray once more.

  I knocked it off again. Leave me alone! I wanted to scream.

  Penny was used to things falling off my chair, so she couldn’t know I was being just plain horrible. The third time she put Doodle on my tray, I swept it off with such force that my arm brushed Penny’s head. She toppled over and fell to the floor.

  She looked at me, surprise on her face, grabbed Doodle, and ran to Mrs. V in tears.

  “What’s gotten into you, Melody?” Mrs. V asked as she rocked Penny on her lap.

  How could I explain?

  I didn’t want to cry, but I did. I turned my wheelchair so it faced the wall just as the phone rang. Mrs. V looked from me to the phone, sighed, and got up to answer it.

  “Oh, hello, Catherine.”

  Catherine? I turned my chair slightly to listen better.

  “Out of sorts?” Mrs. V asked. “Well, as a matter of fact, she does seem a little mopey this afternoon. No, I take that back. She’s downright monstrous.” Mrs. V caught my eye and made a funny face at me.

  I just glared at her.

  “I’m not surprised she got all the questions right— the child is brilliant!”

  Lotta good it does me.

  “The teacher said what?”

  Great, now everybody would know. Just thinking about it made me feel like pond scum again.

  “In front of her classmates? What kind of professional is he supposed to be?” Mrs. V looked furious.

  “How did she react? Never mind. I already know. She’s sitting here looking like one of those blowfish we saw at the aquarium—all puffed up and spiny.”

  That’s actually kinda close to how I felt.

  “Thanks so much for calling, Catherine,” Mrs. V said. “Yes, please call her parents this evening, and I’ll be sure to talk to them as well. I am going to work on this problem right now.”

  With that, she hung up the phone, set Penny down on the floor, put her hands on her hips, and turned to look at me.

  I figured here’s where she hugs me and makes me feel better.

  “So, you aced the quiz and then bombed the follow-up?” she said to me, indignation decorating her words. She flipped my talker back on.

  Why did she sound mad at me? I looked up in surprise.

  “He hurt my feelings,” I answered.

  “So what?” Mrs. V spat back.

  “Kids laughed. Even Rose.” It was true, though I could hardly admit it. Even Rose had covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

  “Did you get the highest score in the class?” Mrs. V asked, completely ignoring my attempt to make her feel sorry for me. I should have known better.

  “Yes.”

  “Did Catherine help you in any way—even a little bit?”

  “No.”

  “Then let’s get started.”

  I looked at her, a little confused. “Started on what?” I asked.

  “On your study plan. You and I are going to practice, prepare, and push. I am going to quiz you, and you are going to answer. We’re going to learn geography, science, math—thousands of glorious tidbits of information!”

  She sounded excited.

  “Why?” I asked carefully.

  “You know how athletes get ready for the Olympics? They swim early in the morning and late at night. They run around the track for hours and hours without a crowd to cheer them on.”

  “I can’t run very fast,” I typed, then I grinned at her.

  “Maybe not, but you’ve got the fastest, strongest brain in that school, and you are going to try out for the quiz team next week.”

  “They won’t let me be on the team,” I typed slowly.

  “Oh, yes they will! They’ll want you, all right. They’ll need you, Melody. You are going to be their secret weapon.”

  “You think?”

  “I know. Now let’s cut out all this fake feeling sorry for yourself and get started on studying. We have one week. I’m the coach, and you’re my athlete. Get ready to sweat!”

  “Sweat stinks!” I told her with a laugh.

  “So let’s get stinky! But first you are going to pick up every single one of those cards.”

  I knew not to argue. She took me out of my chair, set me on the floor, and left the room while I pulled the cards that I’d knocked down into a messy pile on the floor. Penny helped.

  Then Mrs. V put me back in my chair, and we got to work. She was gonna be a tough coach. “How is the test set up?” she asked me.

  “A, B, C, D,” I tapped.

  “Multiple choice! Wonderful! Piece of cake for you.”

  I wasn’t sure about that, but I didn’t disagree with her.

  She went to her computer and found a Web page that listed every U.S. state and capital.

  “Did those in school,” I told her.

  “Great! So we’ll do them again!”

  I fake groaned.

  Mrs. V then looked up the capitals of all the major countries in the world. Gee, there sure are a lot of countries! But once she read them out loud to me, I had the info stuck in my head.

  “What’s the capital of Hungary?” she demanded.

  I knew the answer was Budapest before she even gave me the four choices.

>   “A. Accra

  B. Berlin

  C. New Delhi

  D. Budapest.”

  I pushed D, of course. Mrs. V didn’t stop to cheer. She kept going.

  I correctly answered that Tokyo was the capital of Japan, Addis Ababa the capital of Ethiopia, Ottawa the capital of Canada, and Bogotá the capital of Colombia. She quizzed me until Dad came to pick us up.

  As Mrs. V stuffed Doodle and some unused diapers back into Penny’s bag, she explained briefly what had happened at school and what she planned to do about it, what we were already doing.

  “Are you sure?” Dad asked, glancing at me. “Maybe we’re setting her up for failure, and she’ll be hurt even worse.”

  “I am absolutely positive!” Mrs. V insisted. “Can Melody stay a little longer to study? I’ll give her dinner and bring her home in a couple of hours. That will give you some one-on-one time with Penny.”

  “You cool with that?” Dad asked me.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I typed. “I want to do this.”

  “Go for it, my Melody,” Dad said. He gave Mrs. V a thumbs-up sign and left with Penny.

  After dinner we moved on to science. I learned that the bones in the leg are the femur, the tibia, the patella, and the fibula. Why can’t they just call them something easy, like “knee bone” and “skinny leg bone”? But I memorized them.

  I learned that insects are arthropods and that they have tibias too!

  “The study of insects is called ‘entomology,’” Mrs. V said. “That gives me an idea—let’s learn all the words that end in ‘ology’!”

  I put my hand over my head and pretended to groan, but deep inside I was really jazzed.

  “Which word means the study of words and their meanings?” she asked me after we had reviewed a very long list of “ology” words.

  “A. Bibliography

  B. Archeology

  C. Histology

  D. Lexicology.”

  I thought for a minute. I knew she was trying to trick me. Histology sounds like history, but for some reason, I think it has to do with skin. And bibliography has to do with books, not words. I typed in the letter D.

  This time she did cheer. “Let me get you home, Melody. Top athletes need their sleep. We’ll do some more tomorrow.”

  I grinned at her, tired and energized at the same time.