“Something about the Arctic,” I mumbled. Mr. Hoser had recently assigned us a collage in that class too. I was supposed to picture the Arctic and paste images on a big piece of poster board of what I’d expect to see when I got there. I found that topic zero fun to think about.
“And what’s your next class?” Lola asked.
We stopped in front of my locker.
“Public speaking. We’re analyzing a popular speech made by Julius Caesar,” I said.
“Isn’t he dead?” Lola asked.
I bent down and started turning the dial on my combination lock. “Yeah. A long time ago. A group of his friends stabbed him.”
“Living in the olden days would’ve been a total drag,” Lola said. “See you in PE.”
Time dragged and dragged until it was time for PE. Sadly, even though I was liking Lola more and more, I didn’t get to spend too much of PE with her. Since I’d won grizzly bear mascot, that class operated a little bit differently for me. I only had to do what the class was doing for the first half of the period. Then I got to go off to the side and practice my routine.
After I changed into my official PE uniform—a yellow T-shirt and purple pants—I sat on a bench in the gym next to Lola. But we didn’t spend too much time talking, because Ms. Penrod took PE very seriously.
“Today we are going to test your abdominals,” Ms. Penrod said.
I hated tests.
“We’re going to learn ten ways to strengthen your abs!”
Strengthening my abs seemed better than jogging, so I didn’t mind.
“But before we do that,” she said, “let’s jog around the gym five times to get our blood flowing. I’ll set the pace.”
There was a little bit of groaning when Ms. Penrod said this. Because her pace was very, very fast. I stood up and started jogging behind Ms. Penrod. Lola joined me.
“You’re so lucky,” Lola said.
“No I’m not,” I huffed. “I’m jogging.”
“Yeah, but when the rest of us are stuck doing cruddy sit-ups, you get to practice bear moves all by yourself while the boys watch you.”
“Huh?” I asked. I didn’t know the boys watched me. Why hadn’t Lola mentioned this to me before?
“Yeah. They stand underneath the bleachers and watch you practice.”
I didn’t want that happening. I wasn’t ready to be seen yet. That was why it was called practice.
“Four more laps!” Ms. Penrod said.
“I can’t wait to see how things go with Jasper and Annabelle,” Lola said.
“I know,” I huffed. “They could be talking right now.” But I wasn’t really thinking about Annabelle. I was thinking about the boys watching me.
“Are you going to work on your growling today?” Lola asked.
I was a little bit surprised to hear this question because I hadn’t been aware that Lola watched me when I practiced growling. I’d thought everybody was exercising while I was off to the side doing my own thing. I’d had no idea so many eyeballs were on me. It made me feel self-conscious.
“I think I’m just going to stretch and practice silent growling,” I said.
“Bears stretch?” Lola asked. “How boring.”
I didn’t like to think I was boring. But I just kept jogging.
“Don’t forget to breathe!” Ms. Penrod hollered at us.
But I was breathing quite a bit. And sweating. Bleh.
Once we finished jogging, we gathered in a circle around Ms. Penrod. A couple of girls flopped down on the floor, but Ms. Penrod did not enjoy seeing this.
“Get back up and keep moving. Walk in place,” she firmly instructed. “You want to stay warmed up.”
Walk. Walk. Walk. While I walked, my mind drifted to Sylvie. She didn’t have to take PE at her school. She took dance. I bet she didn’t have to warm up for her dance class by doing sweaty jogging and boring stretching.
“Your abdominals are the core of your body,” Ms. Penrod said.
We kept moving.
“They support your entire framework. They are made up of six muscles. And in addition to supporting your trunk, they hold your internal organs in place.”
I did not enjoy thinking about my internal organs.
“Your six abdominal muscles have names: transverse abdominis, rectus abdominis, a pair of external obliques, and a pair of internal obliques.”
“I bet we have a quiz on this,” Lola said.
But I didn’t say anything back. Because when Ms. Penrod talked, all I did was listen.
“We will identify where these muscles are located and then we will alternate between crunches and curls to strengthen them,” Ms. Penrod said. “Ready, campers?”
I don’t know why she liked calling us campers, but she did. We all got down on the floor and waited for more instructions. But I didn’t get any. I got a tap on the shoulder. And it was Ms. Penrod tapping me.
“I know mascot clinic didn’t turn out the way you’d hoped,” she said.
“No, it really didn’t,” I said.
“I’ve brought in a special trainer for you today,” Ms. Penrod said. And then she squeezed my shoulder in a happy way.
I blinked at her. Because I hadn’t expected Ms. Penrod to be this helpful.
“Hi, Bessica!” a person with red hair said to me.
“Hi,” I said, waving a little bit.
“It’s me! Vicki Docker! I cut my hair.”
Ooh! I waved more enthusiastically. I’d met Vicki and her twin sister, Marci, a few weeks before I started middle school. Even though they were in high school, my mom had invited them over for pizza so they could tell me what to expect when I started middle school. And they gave me lots of great advice. Like don’t stand in front of Dolan the Puker in chorus and avoid the Crispito at lunch.
“Vicki was a stellar mascot,” Ms. Penrod said. “And I think she’ll help fill in the blanks for you.”
Before my school split into North and South, Vicki was the Teton Middle School Bee. And while I wasn’t sure exactly what an ex-bee could teach me, a bear, I was hopeful I’d learn something. Because my game was coming up and I knew almost zero about how to be an awesome mascot. I smiled at Vicki. Ms. Penrod still hadn’t left yet.
“She possesses unmatched vigor, and I think she can teach you how to be a champion bear,” Ms. Penrod said.
“Okay,” I said.
“So cool!” Vicki said. “Let’s get started!”
And I thought it was pretty cool that I didn’t have to learn how to exercise my six stomach muscles. We walked to the other side of the gym. And for the first time I noticed some of the boys hanging out behind the bleachers watching me.
“Do the gawkers bother you?” Vicki asked, pointing to the boys.
“A little bit,” I said.
She pointed her finger at me in a very excited way. “It shouldn’t! Because you have the skills required to work an audience!”
“I do?” I asked.
“Bessica,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “From the moment I met you I could see your inner cheer beast trying to break free.”
I didn’t know I had an inner cheer beast stuck inside me.
“You can’t care what anybody else thinks. You’ve got to follow your beast instincts or you’ll never be authentic.” Vicki spoke in a way that sounded very serious.
And just then Ms. Penrod showed up and stood next to Vicki.
“I’m teaching her about being authentic,” Vicki explained to Ms. Penrod.
Then I felt Ms. Penrod touch me on the shoulder, and she held me with her pawlike hands for several seconds while she looked deep into my eyes. “Being authentic means that you’re brave enough to represent your mascot animal in a sincere way. You’re not playing around.”
“Right,” Vicki added. “It means that you commit yourself to acting like a bear to the point where you actually develop a bear’s personality.”
“Oh,” I said. That made a ton of sense. Because a mascot bear would
have the personality of a bear. I thought that was what Duke and Pierre had been trying to tell me but with different words.
“That’s what made me such a successful bee,” Vicki explained. “I read about bees. I watched movies about bees. I even went out and got stung a couple of times so I could fully understand the power of the stinger.”
“Wow,” I said.
“She was a phenomenal bee,” Ms. Penrod said. “Vicki went all the way to nationals.”
Vicki blushed. “And I almost won the whole shebang.”
I’d never heard of a shebang before, but Vicki still seemed pretty sad that she’d lost it.
“My dad wants to take me to Bear Galaxy,” I said.
Vicki’s and Ms. Penrod’s faces lit up.
“That’s great!” Vicki said.
“Yes. That’s fantastic! I love to see parental support,” Ms. Penrod said. “I’m going to let Vicki lead you through a few cheers. I’ve got stomachs to shape up.”
I watched Ms. Penrod walk off. It made me happy to think that she cared so much about my performance level.
“First things first,” Vicki said. “You need to come up with your basic five head-on cheers and your basic five head-off cheers.”
I nodded. Because this was about the only thing I’d learned at mascot clinic before I got caged in the cafeteria.
“Okay,” Vicki said. “Here’s the deal. In some mascot circles it’s taboo to take the head off in public,” Vicki said. “But you’re a sixth grader. So you should take the head off whenever it feels heavy or you feel deprived of fresh air.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. But then I had a question that I can’t believe I hadn’t already asked Duke or Pierre. What would I do with my bear head once I took it off? It was as if Vicki could read my mind.
“Whenever you take off your bear head, make sure you set it on a chair and not the ground,” Vicki said.
“Because somebody might accidentally kick it?” I asked.
Vicki looked surprised by that concern. “No. It’s bad luck to put your head on the floor.”
“Right,” I said.
“Moving on. Some cheers can easily be performed while wearing your head,” she said. “But others require the head to be taken off.”
“Makes sense,” I said. Vicki was a mascot genius.
“So how many cheers do you know?” Vicki asked.
“Two!” I said excitedly.
As soon as I’d realized at mascot clinic that everybody else knew cheers, I’d gone online and searched for some good ones.
“Let ’em rip,” Vicki said.
And I did. I clapped and swung my arms around and started. “Let’s push back. DEFENSE! Push ’em back. DEFENSE! Sack that quarterback! Grr!”
Vicki didn’t smile as much as I hoped she would when I finished. “What’s your other cheer?”
“Hey! Bears! SCORE! Hey! Bears! Win!” Then I clapped. “I say score! I say win! Go, Bears! Grrr.”
Vicki folded her arms across her chest. “Do you feel like a bear when you yell these things?”
I shook my head. Because I mostly felt like myself when I yelled these things. Except the part where I growled.
“I could growl for much longer,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s not enough,” Vicki said.
And I totally believed her.
“Okay. I’m going to focus on head-off cheers with you today. There are things you need to know.”
“Cool,” I said. I was hot from jogging, and even though I loved wearing the costume, I didn’t feel like practicing with the head on at the moment.
“First, I need to be honest with you,” Vicki said. “Your cheers are weak.”
“They are?” I asked. Because I’d found them on the Internet when I searched for popular cheers.
“They aren’t bear authentic. And they don’t talk enough smack.”
“I’m supposed to be a bear who talks smack?” I asked. Nobody had mentioned that to me yet.
“That’s really the whole point of being a mascot. You talk smack to the other team, but mainly the opposing team’s mascot.”
“Oh,” I said.
“You say things that make it look like you’re going to fight each other.”
“I do?” I asked. I was unsure how I felt about that. I’d never said fighting words before.
“Yeah,” Vicki said. “It’s all part of why people watch you.”
Then Vicki taught me how to stand in ways that reflected my bearness.
“This is one stance I used to use for the bee,” Vicki said, sticking her butt out really far. “And this is how we should modify it for a bear.”
She squatted down a little.
“Doesn’t this look more like a bear to you?” she asked.
“No,” I said. Then I thought of an important question, so I asked it. “Why aren’t you in high school right now?”
“It was a half day, and Ms. Penrod wanted me to come and help catch you up to speed. She said you’d missed the mascot clinic. And I’m glad I came. We need to dial up your bear mojo.”
“What’s mojo?” I asked.
“It’s the magic quality that all good, charismatic mascots have.”
“How do I dial it up?” I asked.
Vicki backed away from me and clapped her hands together. “Okay. If you ever feel your mojo waning, you should have a couple of comic go-to moves.”
Things felt very advanced. It was like Vicki thought she was talking to a high school person and not a sixth grader.
“Here’s one of my favorite comic moves.” Vicki swung her arms in circles. “Windmill arms!” Faster. Faster. “It’s funny because it’s a countermove. Audiences like it because it’s an action that runs counter to an animal’s natural behavior.”
It did look funny.
“Jumping rope is a good mojo-building countermove for you,” Vicki said. “Got it?”
At the mention of “mojo-building countermove,” Alice Potgeiser came bouncing into the room. “Vicki!” she cheered.
They knew each other because when Vicki was the bee, Alice was a cheerleader. And so they’d cheered at lots of games together. I was surprised that Vicki liked Alice. Because Vicki seemed like such a decent person. And Alice Potgeiser seemed like a jerkwad.
But maybe Vicki liked jerkwads. Because Alice ran full speed toward her and Vicki stopped making windmill arms and they hugged each other. It made me gag a little. Then they stopped hugging and Alice asked, “Why are you here?”
“I’m teaching Bessica some cheers,” Vicki said.
Alice did not enjoy hearing this. Her lip curled into a snarl. “You are?”
And it was like I could read Alice Potgeiser’s mind. She was upset that Vicki was teaching me cheers because Alice was hoping I wouldn’t learn any good cheers and would show up and suck. It felt terrible to know that the person I shared mascot duties with wanted me to look terrible in front of the entire school. I was beginning to think she had locked me in Flat Creek’s cafeteria during mascot clinic.
“Bessica is cheering against T.J. the Snake River Tiger,” Alice said.
Vicki looked at me and her eyes got huge. “You’re so brave!”
“No I’m not,” I said. Because it wasn’t like I was going to be cheering against a real tiger. It was just a boy named T.J. in a mascot costume with an excellent swishy tail.
“T.J. talks more smack than anybody. And he has a crazy-loud cheer voice,” Vicki said.
“Super-crazy-loud,” Alice added. “And sometimes he plays pranks.”
“Huh,” I said. Alice and Vicki were freaking me out a little bit.
“Yeah, he’s a prankster,” Vicki said. “You can’t turn your back on him. He likes to stick signs on mascots.”
“What kind of signs?” I asked.
“Rude signs,” Vicki said. “It’s part of his shtick.”
The things coming out of Vicki’s mouth were starting to make me feel nervous.
“Don’t make that face,” V
icki said. “Everything is going to be fine. You’ll love being mascot. Just learn five good cheers to chant with the bear head on, and five good cheers to chant with the bear head off, and never turn your back on T.J. the Tiger.”
“That’s a lot to remember,” I said.
“But you’re a natural,” Vicki said. “Here.”
Then she handed me a piece of paper with a bunch of cheers written on the front and back.
“They’re seven of the best cheers I know,” Vicki said.
I glanced through them. They were all bear cheers. “This is really nice of you,” I said.
“Knock ’em dead!” Vicki said.
Then she and Alice walked off giggling. And I took my cheer sheet and started trying to memorize all the cheers. Some of them seemed a little mean, but I learned them anyway. Because if Vicki Docker told me it was important to talk smack, then I was going to do just that.
“I can’t believe you want to feed a lizard,” my mom said as Noll was carrying the aquarium from our front door into my bedroom.
When I’d learned that Noll would be relocating his lizard to my bedroom and that I wouldn’t be venturing over to his bedroom to feed Bianca, the arrangement had become a little less exciting. But I didn’t admit that to anybody.
“It will be great,” I said.
“Do the crickets ever escape?” my mom asked. Her face was very wrinkled with concern.
Noll had been extra conscientious and brought us a bag of crickets that he’d already gut loaded with vitamins. He was going to give us a quick lesson on how to feed Bianca.
“The top is a little loose, so on occasion they do escape,” Noll said as he set the aquarium down right next to my jewelry box. “But if you coat them in the calcium powder I brought they turn a bright white color and are very easy to spot on carpet.”
My mom and I looked down at my green bedroom carpet. It suddenly seemed obvious that we were going to have to capture escaped crickets.
“Add roughly a tablespoon of the calcium powder,” Noll said.
I watched Noll open the plastic bag, drop in the powder, and shake it ferociously. The little crickets inside were smaller than dimes and they bounced around inside the plastic until they were ghost white.
“Now you dump them in the cage.” Noll lifted the corner of the lid off, tipped the bag, and poured the white crickets into the aquarium. Bianca must have been starving. Because she raced over to a group of them and snapped up three very quickly.
Bessica 2 - Bessica Lefter Bites Back Page 8
