Out of My Mind

by Sharon M. Draper

  Everyone shuffles to find paper and pens. Then a feeling of quiet expectation falls over the room. Mr. Dimming unseals the official test and opens to the first page.

  “Let us begin,” he says, his voice suddenly sounding very official. “Number one. The capital of Colombia is:

  A. Brussels

  B. Santiago

  C. Bogotá

  D. Jakarta.”

  He pauses while everybody scribbles their answers. I punch in the letter C. Good old Mrs. V and her capital quiz cards!

  “Number two,” Mr. Dimming continues. “Gerontology is the study of:

  A. The elderly

  B. Gerunds

  C. Germs

  D. Rocks and jewels.”

  I punched in the letter A. So far, so good.

  The test continues for the next thirty minutes or so. He asks questions about atoms and clouds, about fish and mammals, about famous religions and dead presidents. Some of the questions I’m sure of. I guess on a couple. The math questions make me sweat. This is the hardest, most exciting thing I’d ever done.

  The very last question is a killer.

  “And number one hundred,” Mr. D says, relief in his voice. “The small intestine of an average adult, if stretched out vertically, would measure about how long?

  A. Eight to twelve inches

  B. One to two feet

  C. Five to seven feet

  D. Twenty to twenty-three feet.”

  I punch in the letter D, hoping I’ve guessed right, and breathe a sigh of relief. It was over.

  “Pencils down, please,” Mr. Dimming tells us. “Make sure your name is on your paper, then cover it with the cover sheet and pass it up to me.”

  As everyone gathers papers and scribbles their names hurriedly, I push the print button on my Medi-Talker. A slim sheet with my answers emerges from the side. Mr. Dimming walks back to where I sit and rips it off. He doesn’t look at me.

  “We’re done here,” he tells the class. “Your parents were told what time to pick you up, but if anyone has a problem with a ride, let me know. I won’t leave the building until everyone has safely left school grounds.”

  I am the last one out. I know my mom will probably come in to get me, but I want to leave on my own power. I turn on my chair and wheel around to face the door.

  “Melody,” Mr. D calls.

  I spin back around.

  “I hope you were not discouraged by all this. I was only trying to protect you from being hurt.”

  “I’m okay,” I tell him.

  “I’ll be announcing the scores and the members of the team tomorrow. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

  “I understand.” Then I ask him, “Top eight scores get picked?”

  “Yes. Four team members and four alternates.”

  I am tired, and I’ve started to drool a little. I’m sure he thinks I’m a dunce—a sloppy one at that. I feel like the red stain on my blouse is screaming.

  “Okay. Good night.”

  “Good night, Melody. See you tomorrow. And, uh, you might want to wipe your mouth.”

  I rub the sleeve of my shirt across my lips. The tomato-stained shirt. I can imagine what he was thinking.

  I almost bump into my mom as she hurries in.

  “How did you do, sweetie?” she asks breathlessly.

  “Okay, I guess.”

  To Mr. D, she says, “Thank you for giving her the opportunity to participate.”

  “My pleasure, Mrs. Brooks. Melody is a delight, and I’m amazed she’s been able to achieve as well as she has.”

  Yeah, right. A delight with drippy lips and a dirty shirt.

  “Let’s go, Mom,” I type. I need to go to the bathroom, and I want to go home.

  CHAPTER 21

  Going to the bathroom at school just plain sucks. I have to be taken out of my chair, lifted onto the toilet, and held there so I don’t fall. Then someone has to wipe me when I’m finished.

  It’s not so bad when it’s Mom, but it’s awful when a classroom aide has to do that for me. She is required by law to wear plastic gloves—I guess in case I have some kind of infection or disease. It’s completely embarrassing. I don’t usually have to go first thing in the morning, but I’m so nervous on Tuesday, I ask to be taken twice.

  Then I go to all my inclusion classes. The students who tried out for the quiz team can’t stop chatting about the test. I listen to every word.

  “I couldn’t believe how easy it was,” Connor boasts.

  “I bet I got a higher score than you did,” Claire says, her voice cocky.

  “I thought the geography questions were off the map,” Rose adds. “I never even heard of some of those countries.”

  Jessica shakes her head. “The math part wasn’t much fun either.”

  “I can’t believe we even care about a dumb test for a quiz team,” Rodney comments.

  “Because the competition is on television, man!” Connor replies. “Big-time TV coverage here in town, and if we make the finals, we go to D.C., where it will be televised all over the country. If we win, we get to be on Good Morning America. My grandma in Philly can watch me, and my auntie in Frisco. I’ll be famous!”

  “What do you mean, if we win, Connor?” Claire asks him. “Don’t you mean when we stomp the competition?”

  “Yeah, for sure. I already bought a new suit for when I’m on TV.”

  Rose rolls her eyes. “I thought this was a team contest, Connor,” she reminds him.

  “Hey! The team would be nothing without me!” He holds his hand up in the air for high fives.

  I listen quietly from the back of the room. When the bell rings to indicate that it’s time for Mr. Dimming’s class, my palms feel sweaty.

  Catherine pushes me into the room and whispers into my ear, “Relax. You rock.”

  Mr. Dimming gets the class quiet and takes attendance. Why do teachers go so slowly when you want something from them?

  Finally, he removes a sheet of paper from his briefcase. “I graded your quiz team tests last night, and since many of those who tried out for the competition team are in this class, I’m going to share the results with you now. The teachers of the other classes who have students who tried out have been given this same list and are at this moment reading the results to them.”

  “So read the list!” Connor shouts, getting up from his desk.

  “If classroom behavior were a determining factor for making the team, Connor, you might be in trouble,” Mr. Dimming says. “Please quiet down for a moment.”

  That shuts him up, and he sits down heavily.

  “First of all, I’m very proud of all of you who took the test. It was quite challenging, and you all did extremely well.”

  Rose raises her hand.

  “Yes, Rose?”

  “Can we see the questions and answers later so we know where we messed up?”

  “Absolutely. As a matter of fact, we’ll use this test as a learning tool to study for the real competition. But anyone is free to see the test and check their responses.”

  “Please read the names!” Connor says, as politely as I’ve ever heard him.

  Mr. Dimming smiles. “Okay. Will do. I shall read the alternates first. Two fifth graders. Two from sixth grade. Amanda Firestone. Molly North. Elena Rodriguez. Rodney Mosul.”

  My heart falls to my shoes, which is not quite to the floor, but close. How could I have missed so many questions? Maybe my thumb slipped and I pushed the wrong letters. Catherine squeezes my hand.

  Molly and Rodney screech with joy. Amanda and Elena are sixth graders. Connor is noticeably quiet.

  “And now,” Mr. Dimming continues, “the names of the four students who scored the highest and will represent our school at the local competition downtown. The alternates will accompany them and will be called upon if any of the team members are unable to participate in any way. Are we ready?”

  “Ready,” Connor says softly. I notice he has his fingers crossed behind his back. />
  “I’m proud to report that all four are from our classroom.” He pauses. “To know all the finalists are from fifth grade blows me away. Way to go!”

  “We torched grade six? Awesome!” Rodney says. “Now read the names before Connor wets his pants!” Connor reaches over and smacks Rodney on the back of his head.

  Mr. Dimming takes a deep breath. “The top four scorers and members of our quiz team will be . . . Connor Bates—”

  Connor interrupts him with a wild, whooping cheer. Of course.

  “And if I may continue,” Mr. D says over his glasses, “we also are pleased to welcome Claire Wilson and Rose Spencer.”

  Claire’s smile is smug.

  “But that’s only three,” Connor says, looking around in confusion.

  “I can count, Connor,” Mr. Dimming replies dryly.

  “So who’s the last person on the team?” Molly asks.

  Earthquake report: TV weather guys feel some strange activity coming from a local school. Could it be a girl’s heartbeat—pounding too hard?

  Mr. Dimming clears his throat. “I must apologize. I think we have all underestimated a member of our class.”

  Earthquake report: This is the big one.

  He continues. “In my fifteen years of running this competition I have never had a student make a perfect score on the practice test. It is designed to be challenging, to weed out the weaker candidates. In a word, it’s hard.”

  “Tell me about it,” Connor mumbles.

  “When Melody Brooks took that little practice quiz with us last week, I thought it was a lucky accident that she did so well. But yesterday Melody blew us all away. She got every single question right.” He pauses, making sure everyone is taking this in, and then he says, “All of them.”

  Earthquake report: Walls are tumbling everywhere!

  “So she’s on the team?” Rose asks, disbelief in her voice.

  “Yes, she’s on the team.”

  “But . . . but . . . we’ll look weird!” Claire counters. “Everybody will stare at us.”

  “I’m not going to have any of that kind of talk, do you understand?” Mr. D says sternly. “I’m very proud of Melody. I regret I underestimated her, and I’m glad to have her on our team.”

  Earthquake report: Call the paramedics. A girl in fifth grade is about to explode.

  Everybody in the class turns to look at me. Catherine gives me a hug, Rose flashes me a smile, and I try not to kick and drip and make my teammates sorry that I’ll be on the team with them.

  “Will the Whiz Kids folks be cool with Melody?” Molly asks.

  Mr. Dimming looks thoughtful. “I’ll contact the quiz team officials and let them know about our special circumstances,” he says. “But that’s no concern of yours. Now listen up! Team members will meet every day after school for two hours for the next two weeks—right up until the first competition. Practice sessions are mandatory. Here is paperwork for your parents to read and sign. I need it back tomorrow.”

  Earthquake report: Expect big aftershocks—nothing like this has ever been seen before.

  The more I think about it, the more excited I get. Television! Pressure! People looking at me! I can feel myself getting tense and tight. My arms and legs start doing the tornado spastic dance. My head jerks. I try not to, but I screech—just a little.

  Everybody turns at the sound. I can see Molly and Claire jerking their hands, kicking their legs, and making crazy noises. A few people giggle. Mr. Dimming’s face grows tight.

  I aim all my energy at my thumb and point to “Go.”

  Catherine gets the message and hurries me out of there.

  I want to find a hole and hide in it.

  CHAPTER 22

  The next two weeks pass in a whirlwind.

  In spite of my little display of weirdness that Tuesday in class, I showed up at practice on Wednesday afternoon as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. I was just being me. I’m not sure what the others thought. They said nothing about it.

  So, like all the other team members—alternates and regulars alike—I stayed every day after school to practice, from three thirty to almost six o’clock.

  I still couldn’t get over the fact I was part of the team. Okay. Truth. There was the team, and there was me, and we were in the same room. But we weren’t quite a team. They appreciated the fact that I usually got the answers right, but . . .

  When Mr. Dimming gave us multiple-choice questions to answer, I had to think for only a moment, then hit the correct letter on my machine. But lots of the preparation involved fast-and-furious, back-and-forth discussions, and I had trouble adding anything to what was being said—most of the time.

  “One of the longest one-syllable words in the English language is ‘screeched’,” Connor announced one afternoon as he chomped on a raspberry Twizzler.

  “That’s a good word for Melody,” Claire said as she snatched his candy and took a bite.

  I couldn’t respond, and nobody else bothered to.

  “What do you call that dot that goes over the letter ‘i’?” Elena asked the group.

  I knew the answer, but it took me too long to spell out the word.

  “It’s called a ‘tittle,’” Amanda answered quickly. “Like the brain of a fifth grader!”

  “Ooh, snap!” said Rodney.

  I had planned to type snap when she said that too, but I was too slow. The group had already zoomed on to another question.

  Gee, they talk fast.

  “Who was the first child born in the American colonies?” Rose asked, reading from a huge stack of three-by-five cards in her hand.

  “Virginia Dare,” Elena answered. “Okay, my turn.” She flipped through her own cards—color-coded. “Who was the first Miss America?”

  “That’s dumb,” Connor said. “They’re not gonna ask stupid girl stuff like that.”

  “You don’t know the answer?” Claire asked him.

  “Of course I know,” Connor replied with a snort. “Margaret Gorman. In 1921. She was sixteen and probably looked better than you!” He and Rodney were the only ones to laugh.

  Rodney jumped in then. “I’ve got a nasty question. What is ‘pediculosis’?”

  Without missing a beat, Rose answered, “When you’ve got a scalp full of head lice! Yeeww. Do you know that from personal experience?”

  “Of course not. I was just looking for a hard word,” Rodney told her. He and Connor didn’t laugh that time.

  “You want a hard word—I’ve got one,” Amanda told the group. “What is ‘hexadactylism’?”

  That seemed to stump all of them for a minute, so I had time to tap on the number 6, followed by the word fingers, then I pushed play so they could all hear my answer.

  “Good job, Melody!” Elena said.

  “How does she know all this stuff?” Claire whispered to Rose.

  “She’s smart!” Rose said, flipping through more cards.

  “But she’ll look odd on TV, don’t you think?” Claire continued, as if I couldn’t hear her.

  I was ready for her. I had typed a couple of things the night before, so all I had to do was push a button. “TV makes lots of people look funny,” I had the machine say. “Maybe even you, Claire.”

  “Ooh, look who’s got snaps now!” Connor hooted. “Good one, Melody!”

  If I could have danced, I would have!

  But as quickly as that moment happened, it disappeared. The team zipped on at rocket-paced speed, feeding off one another’s knowledge and skill. At the rate they were going, there was no way I could jump in quick enough. I listened, however, and remembered it all.

  “What’s the only rock that floats?”

  “Pumice.”

  “How many chromosomes does a human have?”

  “Forty-six.”

  “What was the first state to allow women to vote?”

  “Wyoming.”

  “What’s Mr. Dimming’s first name?”

  “Wallace!”

 
; We all cracked up at that.

  At the end of every prep session Mr. Dimming gave us another official quiz from national headquarters. Since those always consisted of multiple-choice questions, I always did well, but I wanted to be like the rest of them as we studied.

  One Thursday in the middle of a practice session, Rose’s mom ordered pizza for everyone and had it delivered to the school.

  “Your mom rocks,” Connor said.

  “You’re easy to please, Connor,” Rose replied with a laugh.

  Everybody rushed to get the hot, spicy-smelling slices from the box. I was starving like the rest of them, but I just sat there.

  “Don’t you want some pizza?” Elena asked me. “I’ll go get a slice for you.” She never said much during the practices, but she took lots of notes and she usually scored pretty high on our practice quizzes.

  “Not hungry.”

  How could I explain to her that without Catherine or my mom or Mrs. V, I wasn’t able to eat? I had to be fed like a baby. And I made a mess even then.

  When my mom came to pick me up, she asked me if I wanted to stop by Pizza Hut on the way home.

  I just shook my head.

  CHAPTER 23

  The day of the actual competition dawns bright and chilly. I shiver in the early March air as Mrs. V and I wait for my school bus. My jacket feels good. We’ve decided to use the manual chair today since the electric one, even with the car ramps, is a little too heavy for Mom to handle on her own.

  “You ready, Mello Yello?” Mrs. V asks me.

  “Oh, yeah!”

  “Your head feel like it’s gonna pop with all those facts stuck inside?” she teases.

  “Oh, yeah!” I grin at her.

  “You’ll do fine. Better than fine. Dynamite. Possibly awesome!” Mrs. V says.

  “Oh, yeah!” I push again.

  “We’ll all be downtown in the audience cheering you on.”

  “And the team?”

  “There are others on the team?” she asks, smacking herself on her forehead. “I thought you were a solo act!”

  “And teams from other schools?”

  “Don’t worry—you’re smarter than all of them put together! So we’ll be cheering the loudest—your mom and dad and me and Penny.”