“I heard you yelling,” she explained.
“Oh,” I said. That made more sense than having a mom who suddenly became psychic in the middle of the night.
“Are you sleeping with your bear paws?” my mother asked.
I blinked at her. Then I reached above my head toward the area of my bed I referred to as my pillow zone and felt my bear paws and their glorious fur.
“Your scalp oil will damage their fluffiness,” she said.
I sat straight up and removed the bear paws from my pillow zone. My mother had never mentioned that I had fluff-damaging scalp oil before.
“What was your nightmare about?” she asked.
“I was stuck on a dangerous ledge,” I said. And when I told my mom this, I remembered how alone and afraid I had felt up there and my voice got shaky. “And nobody would help me get down.”
My mother walked into my room and sat down beside me. “But you’re not on a ledge. You’re safe in your bed.”
“I know,” I said. “But in my dream nobody walking past would help me. Not you or Dad or Sylvie or Grandma. And you all had excellent ladders.”
My mother leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m going to tell you a secret.”
But I wasn’t too excited to hear it. Because my mother’s secrets were usually pretty lame and actually sounded like messages you could find inside fortune cookies.
“It’s a good news secret,” she said.
That sounded better. “What is it?”
“Grandma is coming home early to surprise you,” she said.
What? What? What? I grabbed at my heart and screamed. This was the best secret my mom had ever told me.
“When?” I cried.
“Calm down,” my mother said. “We have a few days.”
“No way! A few days? We need to make preparations.” My mind raced with things to do.
“No. We need to go back to bed,” my mom said softly as she pulled the blanket toward my chin.
“Are we going to make her a special dinner?” I asked. “I know! We can order her favorite dinner from the new Thai restaurant in Rexburg!” Grandma had never eaten there, and one thing Grandma always did was eat at new restaurants as soon as they opened in Rexburg.
“We can talk about this in the morning.”
“Oh!” I yelled. I’d thought of something else, and I didn’t want to talk about this in the morning, I wanted to talk about it right now. “We need to clean up her room!” My mom and dad had put some boxes in her room in the basement, and we shouldn’t make Grandma live with boxes. “And!” I yelled, because I’d thought of something else. “We need to make Dad go down there and kill all the big spiders.” Because we shouldn’t make Grandma live with those either.
I felt my mom rubbing my back. “We’ll talk about it over breakfast.” Then the hallway light flickered. I looked at the light switch. My dad was doing that.
“What’s all the yelling about?” my dad asked. “Did you have a nightmare?”
I sighed. My dad was very behind in what was happening in my bedroom. “Yes,” I said. “I was stuck on a ledge and nobody would give me a ladder. Not even you.” I pointed at him when I said this. “But then Mom came in and told me that Grandma is coming back in a few days. Hey. Maybe you should go downstairs and kill the spiders right now while they’re still sleeping.”
My dad yawned. “It’s bad luck to kill spiders.”
But I didn’t really care. Because they frightened me.
“We’re not going downstairs in the middle of the night,” my mom said. “We’re all going to go back to bed.”
But I felt very wide awake.
“What time is it in Minnesota?” I asked. “Maybe I could call Grandma and ask what she wants to eat for her homecoming dinner!” I reached for my phone, but my mom stopped me.
“It’s the middle of the night there, too,” my mom said.
“Bummer.” Then I laid my head back down on my pillow zone.
“I think we should turn off the light,” my mom said.
Click.
“But I’m not tired,” I said. I closed my eyes. I felt my mother stand up.
“I’ll always give you a ladder, Bessica,” my dad said.
That felt good to hear.
“Me too,” my mom said. “And so will Grandma.”
“And even Willy,” my dad said.
“Willy!” I shot back up. The guy who had showed up in a stinking Winnebago and taken Grandma away and ruined everything? I basically hated him.
“Willy will be coming with Grandma,” my dad said.
“I wasn’t going to mention that part,” my mom said.
“I just figured Grandma would leave Willy in New Mexico where he belongs and come home to us,” I said. My stomach felt like it was tying itself into terrible knots.
My mother turned on the hallway light again. “But Grandma and Willy are a couple now.”
What? How? Why? Ugh. This didn’t make any sense. “No!” I screamed.
“Don’t yell, Bessica. You’re going to wake yourself back up again.”
“Dad already woke me back up when he told me the worst news ever!” I stabbed my finger in his direction again.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” my mom said.
Click. My room went dark again.
I’d woken from my ledge nightmare only to enter a much worse one. Willy was coming to my house. Because Willy and Grandma were a couple. What was wrong with Grandma? Why would she want to be a couple with that guy? Why didn’t she want to stay a family with us?
Willy. Willy. Willy. I couldn’t get him or his cowboy hat and head out of my mind. I knew that at one point I’d made a promise to Grandma to like him, but I’d changed my mind. And I had every right to do that. Because when I told Grandma I would like Willy, I didn’t know they’d become a couple and return from their road trip together. Bleh.
I reached over and picked up my phone to see what time it was. It was 3:21 a.m. Then I saw that Sylvie had left me a bunch of messages. I had a whopping seven new Sylvie messages. It wasn’t like me to let my messages pile up like that. I must’ve been a lot angrier with Sylvie than I’d realized. Since I was already up and feeling miserable, listening to Sylvie apologize to me over and over seemed like a smart way to spend the middle of the night.
Saturday
This is crazy! Did Principal Tidge get in touch with your mom? Are you okay? Call me back and tell me everything! I’m so sorry.
Saturday
Are you okay? What’s going on? Why aren’t you texting me back? You need to call me right away so I can stop worrying.
Sunday
I’m going to bed soon. But I’ll be up for another hour. Are you mad? Is that why you’re not responding? Please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean to cause you any mascot problems. I’m really very sorry.
Sunday
No message. Just a dial tone.
Sunday
I still haven’t heard from you. This is getting annoying.
Monday
Do you just expect me to keep calling and texting you every day and never hearing anything back? You’re being mean to me. I said I was sorry.
Monday
I’m done. This isn’t how you treat your friends, Bessica. I’m giving you an ultimatum. Either you call me back tonight, or we’re officially not friends. And that means no coming to my birthday party. For real.
I looked at my clock. It was too late to call. But it wasn’t too late to text. I thought really hard about what I should say.
Me: What you did was awful. I’m not over it.
I held my phone to my chest. I felt much better after I sent that. Sylvie should feel bad for a couple of more days for what she did.
Sylvie: You should learn to forgive.
I was very surprised that she was still awake. I thought of something else to text.
Me: Think about my feelings. Not yours.
Sylvie: It’s always about you.
&n
bsp; Me: Shut up!!
Sylvie: You are so bossy!
Me: You terrible friend!
Sylvie: You too!!
And that last text arrived so quickly that it made me think that Sylvie didn’t care about me at all. So my next text to her was a real zinger that came right from my wounded heart.
Me: You have elf ears!! Ha!
I sent her that because when we both got our matching pixie haircuts at the beginning of the year, the worst part of her cut was that it revealed her triangular ears. They looked so pointy that Sylvie cried, and the stylist used a ton of hair spray to try to cover them back up. But that didn’t look so hot.
I waited for Sylvie to text me back. And I waited. And I waited. What was she thinking? I stared at the glowing blue display of my phone. Because I hadn’t touched a button in over a minute the display went gray. I touched a button to turn it blue again. And then I made a terrible realization. I hated fighting with my Sylvie. And I worried that last message might have been too mean. I scrolled through my other texts. They all seemed mean. What had I been thinking? Did being awake in the middle of the night turn me into a mean person?
I didn’t text Sylvie anymore. I just stayed very still and held my phone. I wondered if she felt bad too. I wondered if she’d text me tomorrow. I wondered if maybe she’d wake up and forget that all this rude texting even happened.
WAYS TO MAKE
THINGS WAY WORSE
IN MIDDLE SCHOOL
1. Learn lame cheers
2. Become caged
3. Adopt a lizard
4. Go to parties uninvited
5. Lack battle plans
We were late, and this was terrible. Plus, going to another middle school’s gym sort of frightened me. I didn’t know what to expect. Both of my parents rushed me down the hallway.
“Flat Creek Middle School is a maze,” my mother said.
“When I went to school, where this building stands used to be a cheese store,” my dad said.
When it came to middle school, my dad was a very nostalgic person.
“Did you ever buy cheese here?” I asked.
“No,” my dad said. “Way too expensive. But a couple of times I sampled their free curds.”
My mom kept reading the directions for how to find the school gym. But it didn’t work, and we ended up at a closed gate outside the cafeteria.
“I really don’t want to be late,” I said. “I want to have time to put my paws on my feet and walk around and get acclimated.”
Even though I should have been super-excited about meeting the other mascots, I felt a little uneasy. I wasn’t sure how to act around them. Would we high-five each other? Or share crazy cheers? Or maybe we’d be rude and growl. I just wasn’t sure.
“These directions are useless,” my mother said. “They say we need to go to the south section of the school and find the east wing. I didn’t know I was supposed to bring a compass.”
“Shhh,” my dad said. “Let’s listen for noise.”
We all shushed and listened very carefully. We heard faraway squeaking and cheering.
“This way,” my dad said, pointing left.
As soon as my dad pointed out the correct direction, I started running. Fast.
“Slow down, Bessica,” my mom said.
“I can’t be late!” I said. Because another fear I had was that Alice Potgeiser would arrive before I did and turn all the other mascots against me. And that fear wasn’t a crazy fear. That was basically what was going to happen if I was late.
It only took me two minutes of running before I made it to the gym. The green metal door was propped open with a chair and a bucket. I looked inside the bucket and it was full of rocks.
I walked into the gym and saw my worst fear coming true: Alice was there, and she was in the middle of all the mascots. It looked like she was trying to teach them how to do standing backbends. Ugh.
“Bessica!” my mom said as she ran up behind me. “I want to let the supervisor know that we’ll be picking you up when you’re finished.”
“Who’s your supervisor?” my dad asked in an excited voice. “Is it Ms. Penrod?”
Ms. Penrod was my PE teacher, who also happened to be a former Olympian. Also, she and I had a little awkward history.
“Ms. Rich is our mascot advisor,” I said. “She wears a lot of spandex.”
I saw her across the gym and pointed.
“Isn’t she standing next to Ms. Penrod?” my mom asked.
I nodded. My mom had already met all my teachers.
I gave my dad a quick look. “Please don’t say anything about the size of her arms.” Because they were huge.
“I’d never do that,” my dad said. Then he started moving in her direction. And I followed.
“Bessica Lefter!” Ms. Penrod said as we walked up to her. “Nice paws.”
I lifted them up so she could get a better look. That was when I noticed Alice Potgeiser getting into the bear mascot suit. That didn’t seem fair! We were supposed to share it.
“Hey,” I said. “Why does Alice get to wear the bear suit?”
Ms. Penrod and Ms. Rich glanced at Alice. A student dressed like a falcon was zipping her up.
“We only have one grizzly bear costume, Bessica. You’re going to have to share,” Ms. Rich said.
“Bessica is great at sharing,” my mom said.
I frowned. “Why does she get it first?” I was worried that she’d never take it off. And then I’d look like the mascot who didn’t belong.
“She was here first,” Ms. Penrod said.
I looked up at my mom and her stupid map.
“You’ve got your paws,” my dad said.
But I hadn’t even gotten a chance to wear the suit for longer than two minutes. I really wanted to put it on.
“We’ll be finishing around three o’clock,” Ms. Penrod said. “Mrs. Dudley will be supervising the clinic. She’ll be teaching the basics and throwing in some advanced techniques.”
I looked around for Mrs. Dudley. I hoped she’d teach me a bunch of advanced techniques. Because I didn’t care about average techniques.
“First things first,” Ms. Rich said. “You need to join a group. For today’s clinic you’re working in groups of three, since you’ll need two spotters. The eagle and spud still need a member.”
I looked at the eagle and spud. I was sort of hoping to get teamed up with a vicious mascot so I could learn the most. What would I learn by working with a bird and a vegetable? Not much. And what was a spotter?
“Is that spud costume made out of foam?” my dad asked. “It looks fantastic.”
“Mascot material has come a long way. Take a look at the tiger,” Ms. Rich said.
I glanced at the tiger. This was the person I would be cheering against in my first game. Oh no! His stripes were sparkly—they looked like they were made out of glitter. And he really knew how to whip his tail like a maniac. Swish. Swish. Swish.
“Mascots with tails have an advantage,” I mumbled.
“What?” my mom asked.
I didn’t elaborate or repeat my observation. I just tried not to think about how nervous I was about cheering at my first game and distracted myself by looking around.
“All right, sunshine,” my dad said. “I expect to see a new cheer tonight when you get home.”
“Okay,” I said, even though I thought that was a dumb thing to tell me. Because any cheer I did for him would be a new cheer. He’d never seen me do one.
“Bye,” I said. I was ready for them to leave. But they stood and watched me.
“See you later,” I said. They still didn’t move. And I didn’t move. Why wasn’t I moving?
“Don’t be nervous,” my mom said. “Meeting new people is awkward for everybody.”
“They’re as scared to meet you as you are to meet them,” my dad said.
“I’m not scared,” I said. I wandered toward my group. What do you say when you approach a person who looks like a baked pot
ato?
I began waving at the spud and the eagle way before they even started looking at me, which made me feel a little bit like a dweeb. The spud was showing the eagle how to do backward somersaults. I sure hoped bears didn’t have to do those.
“There’s no way I can do that with my beak,” the eagle said.
“What about this?” the spud suggested. Then he did something that looked like break dancing.
“I’d lose a ton of my plumage,” the eagle said.
“Yeah,” I said, finally pushing myself to speak. “You’d make a bald spot.”
“Well, I am an eagle,” the boy said as he took off his eagle head.
The good thing about his appearance was that he looked like a nice person. He had blond hair and big straight teeth. The bad thing was he had two zits. And it was hard not to stare at the big one on his nose.
“Are you Bessica?” the eagle asked. “I’m Duke. And this is Pierre. He’s a potato.”
I was surprised that Duke and Pierre already knew who I was. It made me feel a teensy bit famous and my skin goose pimpled.
“You’ve already heard about me?” I asked.
“Of course,” Duke said. “Alice came around and told us all about you.”
I could feel my face turning red. I knew I should say something quickly to regain a good reputation. But I didn’t know what. I hoped she hadn’t told them I was a nickel!
“Alice doesn’t even know me!” I said. “Don’t believe anything she told you.”
Duke and Pierre looked at each other in a confused way and then looked back at me. “She said that you were co-mascots.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, that’s true.”
“You missed this assignment,” Pierre said. “Before we start the clinic we’re supposed to come up with a cheer as a way to introduce ourselves.”
“Really?” I asked. Because I thought I should be taught how to cheer before that happened.
“Do you have any music?” Duke asked.
I shook my head.
Pierre smiled. “That’s okay. You don’t have to have music. Some mascots like to create a theme song and enter the performance arena while it plays.”
Bessica 2 - Bessica Lefter Bites Back Page 5
