Spirit Week Showdown

by Crystal Allen

  “No,” says a girl near the hand driers.

  “Nope,” says another girl at the sink.

  “No way,” says Starr.

  Why would Starr say that? We’ve been friends since first grade.

  Naomi and I are face-to-face. “Neither would I. Mya, we are no longer best friends.”

  I back away. What’s happening? She didn’t say what I think she just said, did she? Skye’s eyes widen. “What? Wait a minute, Naomi. Don’t you think that’s a bit—”

  Naomi glares at Skye. “I’m not finished talking.”

  Skye steps closer to her sister. “Why did you say ‘no way’?”

  Starr shrugs. “I won’t stay best friends with a person who broke a pinkie promise to me.”

  Skye stomps her foot. “But it’s Mya!”

  I take a step toward Starr and Naomi. “You wouldn’t forgive me, Starr? Naomi, I said I was sorry. What else can I do?”

  Naomi’s voice soars above everyone’s as she points at me. “You are a liar, a storyteller, and a no-good fibber. Mya Tibbs fibs. That’s what everybody will call you from now on. Good luck with Mean Connie Tate. She’ll probably make you mean, too.”

  Tears leak out of my eyes, and I can’t stop them. “What are you doing? I didn’t break the promise on purpose!”

  Girls back away from me like I stink. I’m looking for help, from anybody, as girls say that ugly nickname over and over on their way out of the restroom.

  “Mya Tibbs Fibs,” says Naomi.

  “Tibber the Fibber,” says Starr.

  “Stop calling her that,” says Skye to her sister.

  Starr takes her sister’s hand. “Let’s go!”

  Skye pulls away from Starr and stares at Naomi, then back at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Naomi hollers at Skye. “Are you coming with me or staying with her?”

  Starr tugs at Skye again. Skye tugs back, but soon they both leave with Naomi. What just happened? Did I just lose my friends? No! There has to be some kind of misunderstanding. I’ll talk to Naomi at lunch.

  I rush back to class, hoping to talk with Naomi before the break bell rings. She’s sitting at her desk with Starr standing by her. Skye’s not with them. She’s sitting at her desk and smiles when I walk in. I stop at Naomi’s desk.

  “Let’s talk about it at lunch, okay? I don’t want you to be mad at me,” I say.

  Naomi doesn’t answer. She stares at me as if I’m someone she doesn’t know. I ka-clunk back to my desk, trying to figure out what I need to say to her so she won’t be so angry with me.

  There’s a note in my chair. I look around, but no one is looking at me. I unfold the note.

  Tibbs,

  We’re eating lunch together today so we can talk about the schedule. Meet me by the stage. I sit at the detention table.

  Connie

  I look over my right shoulder at Mean Connie. She glares at me. There is only one word I have to say to that bully.

  Okay.

  When it’s time for lunch, I walk to the front of the line like I always do. Naomi puts her hand up. “What do you think you’re doing? You don’t belong up here with us anymore. You belong in the back, behind Lisa Lotta-Germs.”

  My face warms as I walk past my classmates, staring at the floor, on my way to the back of the line in my new place behind Lisa. Moments later, Lisa turns around.

  “Achoo! Sorry, Mya. I’m not used to anyone being behind me. Here’s a tissue.”

  I wipe her sneeze from my nose and cheeks. Normally, I’d go off on Lotta-Germs for sneezing on me, but I know she didn’t mean it, and right now I understand how she feels.

  “That’s okay, Lisa,” I say.

  This morning, I couldn’t wait to get to class. Spirit Week partner day has fun written all over it. But something bad happened, and I’m not sure how to make it right. One thing I know for sure as I stand in the back of the line: I’ve gone from first to worst.

  My eyes meet Naomi’s as she points at me and says the one thing that hurts me all the way down to my boots. “There’s nothing worse than a promise-breaking cowgirl.”

  Chapter Eight

  Connie gets two pieces of pizza and two milks, and then disappears into the cafeteria crowd. I grab a piece of pepperoni pizza, a piece of cheese pizza, and a bunch of napkins in case Connie decides to shove my lunch up my nose. I spot her at the detention table near the stage.

  I’m sure Mean Connie owns that table because she sits there every day. I bet she’s even carved her name into the wood with an axe. I’m ka-clunking that way when I hear Nugget.

  “Mya, come here a minute! I need to ask you something.”

  He puts his arm around Solo and smiles as if he just won the lottery. “Fish picked Solo’s name and gave it to me. I gave him Bobby Joe McKinley. His sister, Lisa, is in your class.”

  I glare at Solo, wearing sunglasses in the cafeteria. Two fifth-grade boys walk by and give him high fives for no reason. Solo leans toward my brother and whispers something. Nugget speed-walks to me and cups his hands over my ear. “Since I’ve been hanging out with Solo, no one has called me Word Nerd Nugget. And he’s teaching me how to hoop!”

  “And what are you doing for him?”

  Nugget shrugs as his voice drops to a whisper. “Nothing really. I do his math homework. No big deal. It’s totally worth it, and math is easy for me.”

  I roll my eyes. “You won’t even help me with my math homework,” I say, walking away. But my brother taps my shoulder and then folds his arms across his chest like Dad does when he’s not happy about something.

  “One more thing. Did you default on a pinkie promise?”

  I feel a cry coming. “It wasn’t Dee’s fault, whoever that is. It was my fault.”

  Nugget rolls his eyes. “No, not Dee’s fault. Default. It means go back on something.”

  “I couldn’t help it, Nugget,” I say. “I picked Mean Connie for my Spirit Week partner, and I was too scared to ask her for a trade, but nobody believes me.”

  He pulls me over near the big trash can. “You’ve put me in an unpleasant predicament, Mya. Solo’s calling you Mya Tibbs Fibs, and I’m extremely uncomfortable with that.”

  I can’t take all these big words right now. “Is Solo all you care about?”

  He jumps when I slam my tray down on the closest table and walk away.

  Nugget yells to me. “Mya, wait!”

  But I don’t. I run out of the cafeteria into the restroom, and lock the door on a stall. I’m no crybaby, but I’m having a hard time making the tears stay away. I reach inside my boot and grab the Spirit Week schedule.

  I told Naomi I’d explain everything to her at lunch, and I didn’t, and that could cost me another shot at making up with her. I didn’t keep my promise to Mean Connie, either. I was supposed to meet her at the detention table. That could cost me my lips.

  Spirit Week is over for me before it’s even started. I prop both elbows on my legs and hold my face with my hands. Those VIP tickets are history. No free food or first in line for me. Suddenly, the restroom door opens.

  “Tibbs, you in here?”

  “No.”

  I pull up my legs, so they can’t be seen under the door, and watch a pair of ugly black ankle boots shuffle across the floor.

  “I know you’re in here, Tibbs. You were supposed to find me, not the other way around. Anyway, I got your pizza.”

  I put my feet down and open the door. Connie’s on the floor with her legs crossed. A plate of pizza sits in her lap. I walk over to the sink, wash my hands, and frown at her.

  “I’m not a brat. Everybody thinks I broke my promise on purpose.”

  “Quit caring about what other people think. Are we going to talk about the Spirit Week schedule in here? This isn’t the greatest place to eat pizza,” says Mean Connie, looking around.

  “I don’t feel like talking about the schedule right now, Mea . . . Connie. Sorry.”

  She grabs the pepperoni piz
za, then moves the plate from her lap to the floor, stands, and points her finger at me.

  “Listen up, Tibbs. We were supposed to eat lunch together. Then you bailed on me. Now I’m eating pizza on the restroom floor just so we can talk about the schedule, and you’re trying to bail on me again. I’m not—”

  I interrupt her. “You don’t understand. I lost all of my friends today! I’ve got a nickname that is the ugliest nickname in the whole universe. Everybody in the whole school thinks I’m a promise breaker. Then I pick you for my Spirit Week partner, and you don’t even like me! Well, guess what? I don’t like you either! If you’re going to beat me up, just do it.”

  She gobbles the last piece of pizza. “I never said I didn’t like you. But I never said I did, either. We’re Spirit Week partners, whether we like it or not. Even though I don’t like to fight, I told Solo and Nugget if they mess with you again, I’d kick their butts and make them lick Lisa Lotta-Germ’s tissue bag.”

  I feel sick at the thought, but it’s kind of funny. “Thanks. Solo’s not even Nugget’s best friend. I don’t like him at all. Anyway, I guess we can talk about the schedule at recess.”

  “I don’t do recess,” says Connie as she walks to the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you.”

  I ka-clunk out of the restroom, not sure how I feel about having a private conversation with the school bully. She didn’t stuff my head in the toilet. She didn’t stick my face in the sink and turn the hot water on. And I’m not wearing the pizza she brought in—eating pizza on the restroom floor? That’s got to be number one on the gross chart. But I guess bullies eat pizza in restrooms all the time.

  I push open the door that leads to recess. Mrs. Davis isn’t looking, so I try to blend in by walking around and standing with different groups until I feel like I don’t have to anymore. I spot Naomi and the twins practicing cheers over by Nugget, Solo, and a bunch of guys playing basketball. I jog over to them. Skye waves at me, and smiles as she holds Starr’s hand.

  “Hey, you guys, I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. Let me explain what happened, okay? I feel really terrible about this, Naomi. I really do want you to meet La’Nique Sidney, and I’ll do anything to help you because you’re still my best friend.”

  She frowns. “I can’t believe what you did. Me getting Lisa Lotta-Germs as a Spirit Week partner is almost as bad as you getting Mean Connie. It’s over. I’m never going to meet La’Nique, and I can forget about winning those tickets. You totally let me down.”

  I step closer to her. “Don’t say that, Naomi. Do you think I care whether or not Mean Connie wins VIP tickets? I’m not helping her win anything! She ruined my vest and still hasn’t apologized for it. Plus I just watched her eat pizza in the restroom.”

  “That’s just gross,” says Skye.

  “So gross,” says Starr.

  I stand in the middle of my three friends. “I’m sticking to our plan. Mean Connie is just my Spirit Week partner. You’re my friends. We have to figure out how to get Naomi a VIP ticket.”

  Naomi crosses her arms. “I thought you wanted the tickets, too, Mya Tibbs Fibs.”

  Mrs. Davis blows her whistle. That’s the signal for us to line up.

  “I do want a VIP ticket, Naomi, but I want you to have one, too. Let’s meet at my house again. We can work on another plan.”

  She doesn’t answer me. Instead, Naomi walks toward Mrs. Davis, and the twins follow. I take my place behind Lisa McKinley. After getting stuck with my terrible nickname, I’ll never call her Lotta-Germs again.

  Back in class, every time I glance Naomi’s way, she’s looking at me. It’s creepy, but I’m sure it’s just because she’s hurt and angry.

  When the after-school bell rings, I ka-clunk into the Cave and hear Kenyan Tayler tell David Abrahms, “She broke a promise. Are you going to call her Mya Tibbs Fibs?”

  David disagrees. “Over Connie Tate? No way. I would have done the same thing Mya did.”

  I wait at my cabinet for my best friend. Soon, Naomi, Skye, and Starr pop out of the crowd.

  My voice cracks. “I wish you weren’t so mad at me.”

  Naomi frowns. “Don’t talk to me. Let’s go, girls.”

  I hold up a hand. “Wait! Your necklace! I brought the beads and string, remember?”

  I yank open my cabinet door, and my bag of beads falls to the floor. Hundreds of red beads bounce and roll inside the Cave. Skye moves to help me, but Naomi grabs her arm.

  “She didn’t help us today. Why should we help her now?”

  The twins trail behind Naomi, looking over their shoulder at me. My classmates step over my beads and leave. I’m all alone. Tears roll down my cheeks as I drop to my knees and cover my face so no one will see me cry. Someone touches my shoulder. I turn around, hoping it’s Naomi, but it’s not. Mean Connie takes the bag of beads out of my hand.

  “Take them. I don’t care,” I say.

  She opens the bag. The pockets of her skirt are full of red beads. Carefully, she drops them all back into the bag. When she finishes, she walks toward our classroom.

  I yell to her. “Hey, aren’t we going to talk about the schedule?”

  She sticks her head back inside the Cave. “I’ll find you tomorrow. Later, Tibbs.”

  Yeah, right. There’s no school tomorrow, genius. It’s Saturday. Geez.

  I think back to this morning, when I was so excited about today. I had three friends and a school full of students who treated me like a rock star. Now I’m called Mya Tibbs Fibs, my really nice best friend is super rude to me, and the super-rude school bully is really nice to me.

  I stand, and just before I close my cabinet door, I remember something. I didn’t tell Mean Connie thanks for picking up my beads. Wait . . . what? Why do I care about saying thank you to a bully?

  Everything is wrong. It must be Opposites Day on Fish’s weird calendar, and he forgot to tell me.

  Chapter Nine

  All night Friday, and early Saturday morning, I sit on the floor in my bedroom and listen to sad country music. The songs seem to be written just for me—songs about how my best friend done left me and now I’m all alone, and all my exes live in Texas.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  “Come on, Mya, it’s time to go,” says Dad.

  I’ve got my red Tibbs’s Farm and Ranch Store shirt on with my jeans and boots. I put my yellow bracelet on again. Maybe it will make me feel better.

  After breakfast, we load Buttercup onto the truck. Nugget and I hop into the backseat. I still haven’t spoken to my brother since lunch yesterday, and I’m not speaking to him today, either. Dad drives down State Street.

  “Nugget, I got a big order for my special corn mix. Go to Storage Barn A, turn on the corn feeder, and fill thirty-five bushel baskets. Be careful; don’t waste any.”

  “Okay, Dad, I’ll get it done,” says Nugget.

  “Mya, I need you to take down all the Bronco Buck Willis stuff and make some kind of rodeo display. Take your time and do a good job. We’ll put Buttercup back there, too, so you can create a really nice scene that will make people want to buy things.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I say.

  Once we get out of the truck, Nugget, Dad, and I move Buttercup inside and roll him to the back, and then the three of us go in different directions. I walk to the clothing and shoes department, and there he is: a big cardboard cutout of Bronco Buck Willis, Mr. Cancel Britches, Mr. Too Big to Come to Bluebonnet. I should glue his cutout on top of Buttercup and press the Turbo Ride button. But I won’t since Dad’s trying to get a refund.

  Once I get rid of Buck, the only thing I have to work with is Buttercup. I lay a red blanket near Buttercup’s front hooves and throw a bag of beef jerky on top of it. That looks so lame. I take a seat on a bench and stare at the bull, but my thoughts are somewhere else. I wonder what Naomi is doing right now. She’s probably having fun with the twins. Maybe they’re going to the Burger Bar for smoothies.

  “Who made thi
s display? A first grader?”

  I turn around and swallow all the spit in my mouth when I see Mean Connie Tate standing next to me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  She walks around Buttercup. “I said I’d find you. And I did. I went to your house and your very, very pregnant mom said you were here. She’s going to download that baby pretty soon, isn’t she?”

  Connie walks over to the clothing area and grabs a pair of snakeskin boots, a cowboy hat, and a blue bandanna. “I like your bracelet. You make it yourself?”

  I take my bracelet off and shove it in the front pocket of my jeans so Connie can’t get it.

  “Those boots cost over three hundred dollars. That hat is at least fifty. Don’t even think about stealing stuff out of our store, Connie Tate. I’ll tell my dad!”

  She drops everything next to Buttercup and then walks to a different department, collecting weird stuff from all over the store. Now she’s got firewood and a skillet from the camping department, hay from the general feed department, a stuffed raccoon, two stuffed rabbits, and two American flags! I can barely see her face because of all the things she’s carrying. She comes back over to me.

  “You mind if I fix your display?”

  I cross my arms. “If you think you can do better, go for it.”

  She wraps a bandanna around Buttercup’s neck and hangs a cowboy hat on his head. The last thing she does to Buttercup is stuff hay in his mouth. I try not to laugh, but I’ve never seen Buttercup dressed up before.

  Soon she stacks the wood like a campfire, places the raccoon and two rabbits near it, and puts the flag and the snakeskin boots near Buttercup. I slowly stand and watch her change my sad, sad display into the best-looking one in the store. There’s so much to see, so many colors—I can’t believe Mean Connie did this! Customers gather and point at Buttercup and the campfire scene. Dad walks by and a lady grabs his arm.

  “Mr. Tibbs, do you have any of those boots for sale like the ones near the bull?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Mya, show this kind lady to our boots area.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  When I return, he hugs me. “This is spectacular, Mya! What made you think of this?”