Knock, knock.
I open the door, sweating, out of breath, one wing touching the floor, and still holding that doll by her hair. My brother stands in front of me, crying and sniffling, holding a basketball.
Nugget never cries.
Even when he gets in trouble, he takes it like a tough bull rider. I open my door wider. He walks in and stops in front of my window with his back to me, but I hear him sniffling. I ka-clunk over to him.
“I’m listening,” I say.
“Solo thinks he’s Kevin Durant or LeBron James or some NBA superstar like that, dribbling the ball between his legs and behind his back. He even scored four three-pointers!”
I shrug. “That’s good, isn’t it? What’s the problem?”
Nugget’s lips tighten. “He ignored me, as if I was irrelevant. He didn’t share the basketball, not one time. Granted, I’m not very good . . .”
More tears fall down his face. “But I try so hard, Mya.”
“I know,” I say.
Nugget wipes his face. “After recess all he talked about was his exceptional skills. He said I should be happy that he hangs out with me, and then you know what he did?”
I’m too scared to ask, so I just keep listening.
“He called me Word Nerd Nugget. For no reason! I couldn’t believe it! I thought Solo would be different, but he’s just like all of the other guys, except Fish.”
I stand closer to my brother. He’s hurting and I know it. I put my arm around his shoulder.
Nugget sniffles. “I sacrificed Spirit Week with Fish for him, and worse, I didn’t take up for you when Solo called you a loser. Fish did what I should’ve done. When I tried to tell him thanks, he walked away from me. I can’t believe I’ve been such a horse’s patootie.”
My shoulders droop, too. “You’re not the only patootie in the room.”
We stand at the window saying nothing. Then he balls his fists and punches the air. “I should have popped Solo in the eye when he called you a loser. You’re not a loser, Mya; I’m the loser, for not taking up for my sister.”
He hugs me, and I let him. “I’m really sorry,” he says.
I needed to hear that.
“I know you didn’t mean it,” I say. When he lets go, I grab an old rodeo rope from the toy box since Mr. Winky’s got my good one. I twirl it and think out loud.
“Okay, so what do you want to do?”
He stares at me. “I want my best friend back. I want Fish to talk to me.”
I point at him. “Good. First you need to tell Fish you’re sorry for being a big jerk. Then, play whatever he wants to play at recess to prove to him that he’s your best friend. What kind of games does he like to play? And maybe you need to set Solo straight once and for all.”
Nugget rubs his forehead and lets his hand slide down his cheek to the back of his neck like a washcloth. “Fish likes to play catch. Baseball is his number-one favorite sport.”
I smile and nod. “Now you’re thinking!”
Nugget paces again. “I’ll get my glove, ask Dad for his, and take them to school. Then I’ll surprise him at recess. I sure hope it works.” He crosses his arms. “Was it horrible in detention? Connie told me Mr. Winky took away your Spirit Week activity for tomorrow.”
I nod. “Took my rodeo rope, too. Spirit Week is over for me. We got disqualified.”
My brother hugs me for a long time. “What a rotten day. I’m sorry, Mya.”
I shrug. “And now Connie hates me.”
He walks to my door. “Did she say that to your face? Maybe you’re wrong. If I get a chance to help you with Connie, I will. See you in the morning.”
I change out of my Animasia outfit and put on a pair of last year’s pajamas that I don’t like anymore because I don’t want to waste a good pair on a bad day. An hour later, Dad knocks.
“Mya?”
He’s got two bowls of soup and two glasses of Kool-Aid on a tray. We sit at my computer desk and eat while I tell him what happened. Occasionally he rubs his eyes and blinks slowly. One time he falls asleep and I have to nudge him. His red T-shirt is so dirty. He’s got pieces of wood shaving in his hair. His face has speckles of paint on it. I feel bad that he had to climb the stairs. After he’s worked all day at the store, I know he’s tired. It makes me feel worse than detention.
We finish eating and Dad gives me a hug. “Did you not believe me last night at dinner? I know I look tired and beat down when I get home from work, but I always leave a little extra in me for you. I wish you would’ve spoken with me before you thought calf roping a classmate would be a good solution to a problem. Someone could have gotten seriously hurt.”
“It may not seem like it was a good solution right now, but it felt perfect earlier today,” I say, and then stare at my empty bowl. “After I had time to think about it in detention, I know I was wrong.”
Dad wipes something off my face with his napkin. “You made a mistake. Some mistakes are bad mistakes. Some are honest mistakes. Everybody makes them, Mya, but try to do better, okay?”
I nod and look very serious. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll make better mistakes tomorrow.”
He looks at the ceiling for a long time and then grins at me. “That’s my girl. I think you’ve learned your lesson. Since you spent the day in detention, and you’ve been in your room all afternoon and evening, I think that serves as enough punishment. See you in the morning for another shot at it, okay?”
Dad hugs me, the same way he hugged me last night. And I hug him back the same way.
Maybe that’s what I’ll do to Connie tomorrow. I’ll ask her for another shot at being friends or Spirit Week partners or whatever she wants. If I’m lucky, she’ll forgive me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“How many braids this morning, Mya?” asks Mom.
“Just shave my head until it’s bald,” I say.
She walks around the chair to face me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Two braids are fine. Were you able to get that blue paint off my vest yet?”
“Still working on it,” she says.
Geez.
Nugget’s late to the breakfast table, but when he comes downstairs, he looks like a pro in his Dallas Mavericks jersey, matching shorts, headband, wristbands, and light-blue Nike shoes. He struts like he’s a real NBA player and then takes a deep bow in front of Mom.
“Greetings and salutations, my lady.”
She curtsies. “Greetings, Sir Nugget.”
“No need to tell me I look good. I already know. I bet Fish will wear his Dallas Mavericks gear today, because it’s his favorite team too.” He looks my way, and the happy in him goes away.
“Hey, Mya.”
“Hey.”
After breakfast, I’m in no big hurry to get to school. Today is just a plain ol’ Friday since Mr. Winky said I couldn’t participate in Decorate Your Cubby or Cabinet Day. I’m only going because I don’t want to watch Mom eat those funky sandwiches. I look over my shoulder and see Fish walking slowly. I yank on Nugget’s sleeve.
“Here he comes. Do something.”
Nugget was right about Fish. He’s wearing his Mavericks jersey. I keep looking for Connie, but she’s not back there.
“I’m going to walk ahead of you. Hope things work out for you guys,” I say.
Nugget pops his knuckles. “Wait, Mya. What if he becomes angry or irrational? What if he won’t talk to me?”
I shrug. “He’s your best friend. You’ll figure it out.”
Ka-clunk, ka-clunk, ka-clunk.
This will probably be the longest day in the history of Spirit Week Fridays. Suddenly, I hear Fish yelling at Nugget, but Nugget isn’t yelling back. I wonder if I should run back and try to help. Just as I take a step their way, Nugget pulls two baseball gloves and a ball from his backpack. Fish stops yelling. Now Nugget is talking. Moments later, I watch Fish give my brother a fist bump.
I ka-clunk toward school, grinning as if that were Connie and me.
Mr. Winky’s at the door. “Mya, I hope you have an extra awesome day today.”
Easy for him to say. He’s the one who took away my Spirit Week yesterday, dressed in a Tarzan costume with a fake monkey on his shoulder. But I’d never say that to his face.
“Thank you, Mr. Winky.”
As I walk down the hall, it’s clear that Decorate Your Cubby or Cabinet Day is a big success, because there are only a few students in the halls. Everyone must be inside their classrooms, checking out the decorations.
I walk into my classroom and head straight for the Cave. It’s so crowded in there that I can’t get in. There’s even kids in the Cave who aren’t in our class! What’s going on in there? I hear someone mention my name.
“Here comes, Mya.”
I slow down, almost to a complete stop. Oh no, not again. I can’t get in anymore trouble. Naomi Jackson just doesn’t know when to quit. There are the twins, staring at me and standing very close together as if they’re hiding something, or someone. Skye’s grinning. So is Starr.
I take my backpack off my shoulders. “Hi, Skye, hi, Starr. I don’t want any more trouble. I just want to put my things away, okay? Could you move please so I can—”
The crowd splits, and now I’m standing directly in front of my cabinet. I blink several times, step closer, and exhale without inhaling first. Just to be sure, I check the name on the door.
It’s mine.
My knees won’t bend. The Cave is bedtime quiet as I stare at the painted face of Annie Oakley on my cabinet door. She sits high on her horse, waving her western hat with her left hand, smiling at me as if she knew I was coming.
She’s wearing pink cowgirl boots and a brown leather vest. There’s a bright yellow sun in the painting, a clear blue sky, and a bunch of green mountains with eagles flying at the peaks. Wild horses run from my cabinet to the one next to mine, where cows graze in a field of fruit, Popsicles, and candy. Not far away is a covered wagon covered in skulls.
But that’s not all.
Painted on the cabinet door next to mine is an artist sitting in front of an easel, painting with her left hand. Her right hand stretches out to touch Annie Oakley’s outstretched hand.
I stare at the painting and think back to when I was at Connie’s house, and what she said to me. Drawing helps me say things when I can’t find the right words.
That’s not a Spirit Week partner painting.
That’s a message to me from my friend!
I run as fast as I can to the art room. The light is on. She’s putting away paintbrushes. Messy spots of blue, red, green, yellow, and brown paint are all over her apron, face, fingers, and arms. I speak first.
“I don’t think anybody in the history of Young Elementary School has ever had a cabinet or cubby look that awesome. I’m so, so sorry for double-crossing you.”
She nods. “I owe you an apology, too. I thought about what you said to me yesterday when you were stuck in jail. I don’t want to be like Naomi Jackson. And even though you double-crossed me, I had more fun this week than I’ve had in two years.”
I’m so happy I could do flips! “So you’re not mad about the VIP tickets?”
Connie smiles. “Nope. Maybe we can have fun standing in those long lines together.”
I get chill bumps. “I don’t mind standing in long lines,” I say. “And this year, I’m tall enough for all the good rides.”
“Good. We’ll ride them together,” says Connie.
I walk toward the art room door. “See you in class.”
“Okay, Mya.”
There’s still a crowd around my cabinet when I get there. Skye and Starr walk up to me. Naomi isn’t with them. Skye takes my hand. “I don’t like not being your friend, Mya.”
“Really don’t like it,” says Starr.
“But we like Naomi, too,” says Skye.
“She’s our friend,” says Starr.
“So sometimes we’ll hang out with her, and sometimes we’ll hang out with you, okay?”
“We’ll split our time,” says Starr.
Reason number seven on my list of proof that the twins are aliens.
They can figure out how to be friends with two people who are enemies.
I smile. “That’s fine with me.”
Starr hugs me. “Cool.”
“Very cool,” says Skye with a smile.
“Thank you,” I say. “We’d better get to class.”
We stroll out of the Cave and into our classroom. “Good morning, Mrs. Davis.”
“Right back at you, Mya. I saw your cabinet. It’s beautiful.”
I nod. “Yep. My friend has lots of talent.”
Mrs. Davis grins. “Yes, your friend does.”
Last week, school bully and friend were as far away from my lips as Texas is from China. Now, they’re together, causing a new rhythm in my ka-clunk. The yippee is back in my ki-yay and it’s all because of Connie Tate.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After the Pledge of Allegiance, Mr. Winky continues. “It’s a beautiful day at Y.E.S., yes, yes it is. I hope everybody is having a wonderful Spirit Week. This afternoon, I’m excited to give VIP tickets for the Fall Festival to the best Spirit Week partners in each grade. You’ve all worked so hard, and had so much fun! So teachers, after the fourth- and fifth-grade recess, please bring your classes to the cafeteria for our Spirit Week assembly. Thank you!”
Ten minutes later, the sound of big trucks rolling down the street fills our room. I don’t think anyone is paying attention to Mrs. Davis. Finally, she stops talking and watches, too. Everybody knows what’s inside those big trucks. They’re carrying all the equipment for the Fall Festival. The drivers will spend all afternoon and all night building booths, putting up rides, setting up the stage for the Battle of the Bands, and making sure the Clydesdales are settled in a nice warm stable that the workers will put together.
I’m still floating on a cloud from this awesome morning when lunchtime comes. Standing in the back of the line with Lisa McKinley is okay with me. I’ve learned how to keep a tissue close by, and when I see her take a deep breath, I cover up. It works for both of us. And now, Connie stands with me.
We’re almost to the lunch counter when Nugget comes up behind us.
“Mya, I need you and Connie to meet me at the basketball courts at recess.”
“I don’t do recess,” says Connie.
He frowns. “I need you to do recess today,” he says, and walks away.
Connie and I watch him take a seat next to Fish. There are no smiles or talking going on between them. Something’s wrong.
“I don’t want to go to recess, Mya.”
“I don’t either, with Nugget acting like that. But he wouldn’t ask unless it was important. Maybe you can come out for just a minute or two to see what’s going on.”
She nods. “I can do that.”
After lunch, Connie and I look for my brother. He’s waving his arms like crazy. Fish is with him.
So is Solo.
I don’t want any trouble. If Nugget expects me to take up for him, or if he wants me to referee a wrestling match or something, I’m not doing it. Connie and I reach the guys and stop.
Nugget faces Solo. “Go ahead. We’re waiting.”
Solo walks over to Connie and me. “Yo, Connie, Mya, you’re not losers.” He turns to my brother. “Is that good enough?”
My brother nods, and Solo walks off to another group of boys. Nugget gives Fish a fist bump. I’ve got to know what happened.
Nugget shrugs. “The more I thought about it, the madder I got. It’s one thing for him and me to have a deal. But it’s a whole different thing for him to call my sister and her friend names. So I waited for him in the restroom. He’s in there every morning, combing his hair.”
I frown. “Nugget, you didn’t start a fight.”
“No, I didn’t. But I told him if he didn’t apologize to you and Connie at recess, I would beat him down and call him names he’d have to look u
p in the dictionary. He tried to man up on me, but I stood there with my fists balled. He backed down first, and said he’d apologize if I didn’t tell everybody that he did.”
“Told you he wasn’t boo-yang cool,” says Fish.
“You were right,” says Nugget.
I spot Naomi and the twins, watching us. It doesn’t hurt anymore to see them. I’ve got a really good best friend now. And I know she likes me for me. While I’m standing there, Connie moves closer to my brother.
“I can’t believe you took up for me. Thanks, Nugget. You’re pretty awesome.”
He blushes. “Just call me Golden Nugget.”
“Hey!” I say.
He laughs. “See you later. Fish and I have baseballs to catch before recess is over.”
Connie and I walk around the playground, and I enjoy every step. Kids aren’t staring at us like they used to. Twice we hear Mya Tibbs Fibs and Mean Connie Tate, but we keep walking. I guess I just don’t care what people say anymore.
When Mrs. Davis blows the whistle for us to line up, I know it’s time for the assembly. Instead of going back to our class, she has us sit on the floor in the cafeteria. The tables are all folded and stacked against the wall. The floor shines from a fresh mopping. Connie and I sit next to each other.
Kindergarten classes come in and sit up front. First graders are behind them, followed by second and third graders. We’re close to the back wall facing the stage, and the fifth graders are behind us.
Soon, Mr. Winky climbs the steps to the stage and grabs the microphone.
“I realize we’re all very excited,” he says. “Fall Festival is by far one of the biggest events of the year. It is with great pleasure that I hold up this envelope with tickets enclosed for the Spirit Week partners who received the most points, including points from the cubby or cabinet decoration today. I’ll start with the kindergarten classes and move up to our fifth graders. If I call your name, please come forward to claim your VIP tickets.”
When Mr. Winky calls the two kindergarteners, the whole kindergarten class stands and hugs the winners. The winners run to Mr. Winky, accept their tickets, and hug him, too! I can hear his yes, yes, yes above the crowd.
Spirit Week Showdown Page 12
