Spirit Week Showdown

by Crystal Allen

  “Mean Connie’s got her own art room? I need to see this! Come on, hurry, everybody,” says Naomi.

  Somebody pushes me against the wall. Students shove by. Others run.

  It’s a stampede.

  I’ve ruined everything. If only these wings were real, I’d fly away and never come back. What am I saying? I’m Animasia! I’m supposed to protect Queen Angelica, no matter what. I can’t protect her leaning against this wall. I take a deep breath and shout down the hall.

  “Stay away from Queen Angelica’s castle, Naomi! Stop!”

  I’m at the back, pushing, trying to get through. “Move, please. Excuse me.”

  Naomi’s leading the herd. I can’t let her trash Connie’s art room. I can’t let all these kids push their way inside and knock over her paints, and break her colored chalk. It will crush her. But worst of all, she’ll blame me for snitching again.

  I don’t have much time left. It’s now or never.

  I yell one last time. “Naomi, leave her alone!”

  She holds up a fist. “You can’t stop me, Mya Tibbs Fibs!”

  I have to do something, but what can I do? I try to run faster, but my arm keeps banging against something on my costume. I look down.

  Jambalaya!

  I pull my rodeo rope off of my belt loop, close my eyes, kiss my rope, and then talk to it.

  It’s up to us. Don’t miss.

  I make the best lasso I can, then shout at the crowd. “Get out of my way!”

  For the first time since I stopped being popular, students move, open up a clear path, and watch as the rope glides through the air. I belt out a rodeo yell. “Yippee-ki-yay!”

  The loop drops over Naomi and down to her waist. I pull it tight. “Gotcha!”

  “Hey, what’s going on? Where did this rope come from?” yells Naomi.

  The crowd stops and watches Naomi wiggle to get loose.

  “Let go of me, Mya Tibbs Fibs!” she screams. “Skye, go get Mrs. Davis!”

  I dash over to Naomi and tackle her to the floor, and as I rope her arms and legs together, I count it off—“One, two, three, four”—then throw my hands into the air.

  Starr and Skye rush to me and check their watches. I hear them talking to each other.

  “Four seconds is fast,” says Skye.

  “Blazing fast,” says Starr.

  “Got her on the first try, too,” says Skye.

  “On the very first try,” say Starr.

  I yell to the crowd. “Four seconds! It’s a new Bluebonnet rodeo record!”

  Students clap and whistle, ignoring Naomi screaming on the floor, hog-tied and helpless. I take my hat off and bow to the crowd. “Call me Animasia, Girl Guardian over all animals wild and tame in the Secret Woods, and protector of Queen Angelica.”

  Naomi yells at Starr. “I said go get Mrs. Davis!”

  The twins frown. I don’t know if anyone else can see it, but to me, they’re glowing. Maybe it’s the sun shining through the windows. Maybe it’s how they look when they’re angry.

  Or maybe they really are aliens.

  Skye disappears into the crowd. Starr leans over Naomi. “It took Mya four seconds to tie you up. Let’s see how long it takes you to get loose! One, two, three, four, five . . .”

  Fish Man pats me on the back. “Nice job, Animasia.”

  “Thanks, Fabulous Fish Man,” I say.

  Down the hall, Connie stands at her door. I hold my fist in the air. “Hail to the queen!”

  Fish lifts his books. Others lift books, backpacks, fists, jackets, whatever they have, and shout, “HAIL TO THE QUEEN!”

  Connie puts her fist over her heart, and I bow. Fish drops down to one knee. Others do the same. Holy firecrackers.

  Naomi hollers again. “She is not a queen! Untie me, Mya Tibbs Fibs!”

  Starr’s still counting. “Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four . . .”

  Nugget shows up. “Whoa! I’ve never seen a Junior Miss Lone Star get calf roped before. I’d ask for your autograph, but you seem to be a bit tied up at the moment.”

  Solo pushes his way through and tries to untie Naomi. He glares at Nugget. “Dude, what’s wrong with your sister? She’s crazy, just like Connie! They’re both losers.”

  Suddenly, Solo topples over Naomi’s tied-up body. Fish Man stands over him. “Don’t ever call Animasia and the queen losers again, Solo!”

  Starr breathes out a mouthful of air. “Sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine . . .”

  A whistle blows. I know Mrs. Davis’s whistle when I hear it. Fabulous Fish Man grins, then rushes off into the sunset like all heroes do. Solo scrapes himself off the ground and runs, too. Nugget stands with me. There’s no way I can untie Naomi before Mrs. Davis sees her.

  I don’t care. I defended my queen. I protected her castle. I did my job.

  But now, I’m in big, big trouble.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Naomi glares at Starr while she counts. “Eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety . . .”

  Nugget cracks his knuckles. “I was going to do something, Mya, but Fish beat me to it.”

  I won’t look at him. “I don’t need any help, Nugget. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I should’ve . . . Never mind.” He dashes away before my teacher reaches me.

  As she gets closer, Mrs. Davis’s mouth opens but nothing comes out. Starr and I are the only two students left, besides Naomi squirming on the floor like a worm on a fishing hook.

  Finally, Mrs. Davis’s voice comes in. “Mya, are you responsible for this?”

  I grin. “Roped her in less than five seconds. Got her on the first try, too!”

  Mrs. Davis stares at me. There’s only one more thing I want to do.

  “I’m sure Naomi will want a picture for her portfolio. Can we take one before I untie her? We can use her cell phone. She keeps it in her purse.”

  From the look on our teacher’s face, we’re not going to take a picture. As soon as I finish untying Naomi, Starr checks her watch. “One hundred and twelve seconds. Geez, Naomi, that’s embarrassing. I can’t wait to tell Skye.”

  “Starr, get to class. Where’s your sister?” asks Mrs. Davis.

  “I don’t know. She was here a minute ago.”

  Mrs. Davis helps Naomi up. “Do you want to go see the nurse?”

  She frowns. “No, but Mya needs to get kicked out of school for what she did to me.”

  Naomi storms off, yelling for Starr to wait up. I look for Skye but don’t see her. I’ve never seen the twins apart unless one was in Mr. Winky’s office. Something’s wrong.

  Mrs. Davis folds her arms across her chest. “This is not like you, Mya,” she says.

  I look down the hall toward the art room. “I was just taking up for my friend.”

  Mrs. Davis frowns. “You take up for friends by calf roping them?”

  For the first time, it doesn’t matter what people think of me. I don’t care what they say. I’m ready to let the world know. “I was talking about Connie Tate.”

  The expression on Mrs. Davis’s face changes. I can tell she’s surprised, but in a good way. “Oh, I see. Come on. We have to go,” she says.

  It’s a long ka-clunk to Mr. Winky’s office. The first bell rings, and students rush to clear the hallway. I should have more giddyup in my steps, but I don’t. I’m in no hurry to see the principal.

  Inside the main office, there are five chairs against the wall outside of Mr. Winky’s door. “Wait here while I talk with the principal,” says Mrs. Davis.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Rrrring!

  “Good morning, Young Elementary School, how can I help you?”

  Mr. Winky’s secretary is dressed like Wonder Woman. She glares at me, and then at the clock, probably wondering how I managed to get in trouble before the Pledge of Allegiance.

  I wish the clock would be quiet. That ticking is so loud. Tick, tick, tick.

  “Okay, I’ll let Donald’s teacher know he’s sick. Good-bye.” say
s the secretary. Swish . . . swish . . . swish.

  Who’s using the copying machine this early in the morning? It’s too loud!

  Rrrring!

  “Good morning, Young Elementary School, how can I help you?”

  Tick, tick, tick.

  Swish . . . swish . . . swish.

  All the ticking and swishing and ringing and staring is making me nervous.

  Mrs. Davis opens the door. “Okay, Mya. Come in.”

  Mr. Winky sits behind his big desk in his jungle man costume with the stuffed monkey on his shoulder. He’s tapping a pen on the glass top as I walk in. I’ve never seen Mr. Winky in a bad mood, but I think that’s what he’s in right now since he’s not smiling at me or saying yes, yes, yes about something. He closes his eyes and speaks to me.

  “Mya, Mya, Mya. I never thought you’d be in my office for bullying. Oh no, no, no. But here you are, dressed like a superhero, yet behaving like a villain.”

  “I didn’t bully anybody, Mr. Winky,” I say.

  Mrs. Davis sits beside me. “Calf roping another student definitely falls into the category of bullying, even if your intentions were good.”

  “And you’ve now left Connie Tate without a Spirit Week partner,” says Mr. Winky.

  He doesn’t know that I’ve left Connie without a good Spirit Week partner for most of this week. I deserve whatever punishment I get.

  Mrs. Davis interrupts my thoughts. “Mya, we have decided that you will spend the rest of your day in in-school detention.”

  “In-school detention? Isn’t that like . . . student jail? I need a lawyer.”

  Mr. Winky leans over his desk. “It’s either in-school detention or three days’ suspension. Your choice, Mya.”

  “I’ll take jail.”

  “Unfortunately, I have to call your parents,” says Mrs. Davis.

  “Please call my dad. Mom’s going to burp out a baby soon. I don’t want to upset her.”

  “Okay, that’s fair. I’ll call your father,” she says.

  Mr. Winky speaks up. “Because of your inexcusable behavior, you will not be allowed to participate in Decorate Your Cubby or Cabinet Day tomorrow, and unfortunately, you and Connie are disqualified from winning the Fall Festival VIP tickets.”

  If Mr. Winky was looking for the one thing that would hurt me the most, he found it. “Don’t punish Connie. Everything was my fault, not hers,” I say.

  Mr. Winky shrugs. “The Spirit Week rules are set up to give points to a team of two. How’s she going to win points without a partner?”

  I plead with him as I lean over his desk. “But she didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He points his pen at me. “You should have thought about that before you broke the rules.”

  That’s it. My legs give out. I fall back into my chair, cover my face and cry so hard that my head hurts. Just when I didn’t think I could make matters worse, I did.

  Mrs. Davis touches my shoulder. “Come on. I’ll take you to the detention room.”

  I ka-clunk down the hall, sniffling and wiping my nose on the sleeve of my costume. We pass the cafeteria, the restrooms, the water fountain, and Mrs. Davis’s room. I sneak a look inside. The librarian is reading a story, and everyone seems to be listening. Connie’s at her desk. She’s still dressed in her Queen Angelica costume. There are Skye and Starr, and Naomi.

  Mrs. Davis calls to me. “Let’s go, Mya.”

  Ka-clunk, ka-clunk, ka-clunk.

  Mrs. Davis unlocks a door at the very end of the hall. It’s dark inside and smells like air freshener. She flips on the light, and there’s nothing in the room but empty desks, each one facing the wall with dividers in between them.

  I need those sad country-and-western songs I downloaded last weekend.

  Mrs. Davis points to a desk in the middle. “Over there, Animasia.”

  I’m no longer Animasia. Now I’m Detention-asia.

  Mrs. Davis crosses her arms. “The rules are simple: No talking, not even to yourself. Someone will bring you your books and assignments. You will eat your lunch in here. I will come by every hour for you to use the restroom and get a quick drink from the fountain. Do you have any questions?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Then have a seat. Someone will bring you your homework soon.”

  Once Mrs. Davis closes the door, the room becomes a lot bigger than it was when I first walked in. Even the quiet is loud. I try singing “She’ll Be Roping All the Cattle When She Comes.” Mrs. Davis said no talking; she didn’t say anything about singing. I sing until I’m sick of the song, then glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes have gone by.

  I wonder what Annie Oakley or Cowgirl Claire would think of me if they saw me locked up in the school jail. I’m so mad at myself that I wish I could step out of my skin and leave it here while I return to my life two weeks ago. Everything was fine, perfect, awesome. I put my elbows on the desk and cry again. The door creaks. I stay still and face the wall because I don’t want the office worker to see me crying.

  “Mrs. Davis asked me to bring you your stuff.”

  I know that voice.

  Connie.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I point to a desk against a different wall. “You can put my stuff over there. Thank you.”

  I hear the books plop on a desk, and then Connie clears her throat. “Mrs. Davis thinks she put too much pressure on us to be friends. I told her it wasn’t her fault that you’re a no-good, dirty-double-crossing Spirit Week partner. Did you know we got disqualified? Thanks a lot.”

  I don’t know why I’m dead-red mad, but I am. “I made a big mistake, but I tried to make it right. We got disqualified because I was trying to protect your castle! Besides being disqualified, I got completely kicked out of Spirit Week! I don’t even get to decorate my cabinet tomorrow. And when I get home, I’m going to get sent to my room for the rest of the night. I’ll probably get grounded.”

  I refuse to look at her even though I know she’s still standing there because I didn’t hear the door close. But I do hear her clearing her throat.

  “Even though we’re disqualified, Mr. Winky chose me to be in the character parade today. I’m the only angel. Fish made it, too.”

  I know that’s her way of telling me that Naomi didn’t get chosen. But right now, I’m in the worst mood ever. “Well, whoop-de-doo! Some of us won’t get to see the parade because some of us are stuck in the school jail.”

  I hear the door open, then close. At first I think she’s gone but then I hear her voice again.

  “I saw you tie up Naomi. You really are a good roper, but you’re a terrible friend.”

  I holler at her. “Well, maybe you’re a terrible friend, too!”

  Connie hollers back. “Why am I a terrible friend? You’re the one who snitched! You double-crossed me, Tibbs.”

  I don’t know why it bothers me that she calls me Tibbs again, but it does. Maybe it’s because I liked how she said my name, like a real friend. And I know, even if she never calls me Mya again, she deserves to hear the truth from me.

  I hold up one finger. “I didn’t tell her about our outfits today, Connie.” I hold up a second finger. “And I didn’t tell her about the GGC. That’s two things Naomi lied about.”

  Connie nods. “I know. After you calf roped Jackson, Skye snuck over to the art room and told me that she lied. But you’re still just like her.”

  I’ve heard enough. If she pulls my lips off and sticks them to the wall, then I’ll just have to peel them off and put them back on. But I’m not going to let her talk to me like that.

  “I’m not the one who’s like Naomi Jackson. You are, Connie! I made a really bad mistake, but real friends, maybe even fake friends, would say, ‘I know you didn’t mean it’ or ‘let it go’ or ‘I forgive you,’ but you didn’t. Neither did Naomi. I’m in detention because I was trying to be your friend, your best friend, because I thought maybe you were trying to be mine.”

  We’re staring at each other ag
ain, just like we did out in the hall on the day I picked her name. Tears roll down my face. Connie wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

  She opens the door. “I’ve got to get back to class.”

  When the door closes, the sound echoes in the room, reminding me that I’m alone again. I wipe the tears away so that I can see my way over to the desk where Connie put my books. There’s a handwritten page on the top. It’s from Mrs. Davis.

  Mya,

  You’ve had a very rough morning. Below are your reading assignments and class work. I hope that tomorrow is a better day for you.

  Mrs. Davis

  Here I am, almost at the end of the one week in the whole school year that I look forward to, and it all got canceled.

  Mr. Winky canceled my Spirit Week.

  Connie canceled our friendship.

  Mom and Dad are going to cancel everything fun in my life.

  The way I see it, tomorrow doesn’t matter. I lost everything I cared about today.

  I sat so long in detention that my butt tingles and my wings are bent. I can’t walk home any faster, but if I could, I would.

  “Are you okay, Mya?” asks Nugget, almost running to keep up.

  “Leave me alone,” I say.

  All I want to do is get my punishment, go to my room, and listen to sad music. Mom greets me at the door eating a Cobb burger from the Burger Bar.

  “Hello, Mya. I know you’ve had a bad day. Your father said he would handle everything when he gets home, and you’re to go straight to your room.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As I walk away, she pulls me back and hugs me. “No matter what, I love you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  I dash up the steps to my room. Jiggling my shoulders makes the backpack slide down my arms, and I slam it on my bed, making some of the stuffed animals bounce from my pillow to the floor. I pick up the stuffed goat, the cow, even the horse, and throw them one at a time against the wall. There’s an old doll sitting on my shelf. I grab her by the hair and swing her around and around until I don’t want to anymore. There are those stupid unlucky boots. I kick them, and then kick them again. I yank at the wings on my back. The material rips and I keep yanking.