Bessica Lefter Bites Back (19 page)

“What happened to your collage?” Robin Lord asked me.

“Nothing,” I said. When I looked at her I saw her eye twitch, and it made my stomach flip.

“But it looks like everything is dying,” Robin said.

I stared at my collage. Then I looked at Robin. “The Arctic got polluted. And now those pollutants are stuck inside most of the animals’ blubber.”

“That’s awful,” Robin said. “Is that why your polar bears are sweating black spots?”

I nodded. “They measure the level of pollutants inside of polar bears by extracting nonessential teeth and running tests on them.”

“That’s triple awful,” Robin said. “Hey. What’s that?”

Her eye twitched so much that I couldn’t look at her while I talked. “It’s a narwhal.”

“And did the toxic Arctic make it grow a mutant horn?”

“No. All male narwhals grow those. It’s a tooth in their bottom jaw.” I was going to explain more, but I didn’t. Because a tall adult shadow fell across my collage. It was Mr. Hoser.

“Wow,” Mr. Hoser said. Then he took his index finger and pointed at my distraught walruses. “They look terrible.”

“Yes,” I said. “They are very, very toxic. I read all about it in
Silent Snow.
”

Mr. Hoser’s eyes got big. “You read
Silent Snow
for this assignment?”

“Yes,” I said. Which wasn’t the total truth. But it was part of the truth. Because I’d read part of the book. And that seemed acceptable.

I watched Mr. Hoser trace his finger along my ice floes. “It’s so strange,” he said. Then he moved his finger to my narwhals. “And so sad.”

“Yeah,” I said. “The Arctic is very, very strange and sad. And toxic.”

Robin let out an uncomfortable laugh. And Mr. Hoser didn’t seem to appreciate this. “I wish all my students could engage themselves at this level with their assignments.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Then an office aide walked into my classroom and handed Mr. Hoser a note.

“Bessica,” he said. “It looks like Principal Tidge wants to see you.”

“Really?” I asked.

I searched my brain for reasons why this would be. But nothing came to mind.

“Maybe she wants to wish you good luck for the game,” Mr. Hoser said.

“Maybe,” I said. But I thought she could have accomplished that by sending me a polite note.

“Should I leave my things?” I asked.

“Maybe you should take them,” Mr. Hoser said. “You don’t know how long you’ll be.”

But that seemed like a terrible thing to say, because if Principal Tidge was really interested in wishing me good luck, that would take about two minutes.

“Should I leave my collage?” I asked. I tried to flatten its corners one last time.

“Yes!” Mr. Hoser said. “I’ll hang it up along with the others.”

When I got out into the hallway, I was surprised to see Cameron Bon Qui Qui. She hurried up to me. “You need to visit the row.”

My mouth dropped open. Because the row was where
all the alt kids who were too dangerous to mingle with other kids hung out. I didn’t belong there.

“I’m going to see Principal Tidge,” I explained.

Cameron Bon Qui Qui looked nervous. “The note is fake. You’re wanted on the row.”

“Is this about Nadia?” I asked. Because I thought Nadia, who was the hardest hard-core alt person at my school (she wore a dog collar and had almost become my friend until she attacked a vending machine), was still suspended.

“This has nothing to do with Nadia. This is about your destiny,” Cameron Bon Qui Qui said. “Now go!”

And the way she said that made me follow her directions. I rushed down the empty hallways until I had one turn left before the row. The lights flickered overhead, making the hallway dim. The row was a scary place for a normal person.

But then I turned the corner and I saw a bunch of my friends.

“We only have a few minutes,” Annabelle explained.

“It’s really good to see you guys!” I’d missed them at lunch because I’d had to meet my mom in the principal’s office so she could check out my costume. And then we’d walked to the football field with Mrs. Batts so my mom knew exactly where I needed to be dropped off.

“We’re worried about you,” Lola said.

Oh, that was so sweet. “Thanks,” I said.

“Are you going to wear a mask?” Macy asked me.

“Just my mascot head,” I said.

“Your bear head might not be enough,” Lola said.

“What if getting facebombed involves a stapler?” Jasper said.

Ooh. I hadn’t realized that Jasper and I were close enough friends that he would skip class and meet me on the row and give me combat advice.

“You should bring a defensive object,” Jasper said. “You need to arrive armed.”

My eyes were huge. “I can’t do that!”

That was when Jasper slapped the wall and I stared at him. “There is something nobody has told you yet about T.J.”

Oh no. Based on the stories I’d heard so far, I was surprised that T.J. wasn’t already in prison.

“He doesn’t play fair,” Jasper said.

“I know that,” I said.

“No,” Jasper said. “He’s probably already got twenty-seven different plans for how he’s going to facebomb you at the game. He’s a planner. You can’t go into this situation unaware.”

“I’m totally aware,” I said.

Jasper breathed very dramatically and pointed his finger right in my face. Annabelle bit her lower lip.

“I know how to facebomb somebody,” Jasper said. “That’s why I’m here. I’m going to teach you.”

“Wow,” I said. I was lucky to know people this generous. Though out of the corner of my eye I did see Annabelle frown a little.

“The best defense is a strong offense,” Jasper said.

“That’s why we’re all here,” Lola said.

Because I had zero idea what facebombing meant, these were magical words. “This is so fantastic,” I said.

We heard the sound of a classroom door shut and Jasper jumped. “Uh-oh. I’ve got to go.” He handed me a little slip of paper. “This is my number. Call me. I’m great at explaining battle plans over the phone.”

Then Jasper raced off and Annabelle started breathing funny.

“Do you want to come over to my house when I call him and listen on the other end of the phone?” I asked.

Annabelle looked disgusted.

“What are you talking about? You can’t call Jasper,” Annabelle said.

Then Dee and Macy and Lola all nodded.

“Sisters before misters,” Macy said.

“I didn’t ask for his phone number,” I said.

“But you have it,” Annabelle said.

I held it up and Annabelle snatched it. Then she put
it in her mouth and chewed it. After she swallowed she said, “I’ve got to get back to class.”

She hurried off very fast.

“You couldn’t have called him anyway,” Lola said. “That would stink of betrayal.”

“Yeah,” Dee said.

“Totally,” Macy added.

“Okay. But I need help,” I said. “I don’t have any battle plans.”

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

“Somebody’s coming,” Lola said.

“Bye,” Dee said.

“See you,” Macy said.

And I stood there while all my friends left me. Except for Lola. “Let’s hide in the bathroom!”

Lola and I raced down the hallway to the bathroom. I needed help. I needed somebody to tell me what to do. We got to the bathroom and went into the second stall and shut the door.

“Bessica,” Lola said. “Don’t take what Annabelle said too personally.”

But everything Annabelle said was personal.

“She’s upset that Jasper likes you,” Lola said.

“Jasper likes me?”

Lola nodded. “Lots of people get crushes on the mascot.”

“Huh,” I said. Because I did not know that.

“Out of respect for Annabelle, you should avoid all Jasper contact or the three of you might end up in a terrible crush triangle.”

“What’s that?”

Lola took a breath. “That’s where one person likes one person and that person likes another person and so the first person hates the third.”

“I would never hate Annabelle,” I said.

“Right. But if you talk to Jasper, she’ll hate you. That’s how crush triangles operate.”

My mind flashed to Willy and Grandma and Alma. Without even knowing it, by trying to turn Alma into a third wolf, I’d put those three in a crush triangle. I wondered who would end up hating who.

“You look very panicked. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Lola said. “I think you can avoid the crush triangle.”

“I have so many problems,” I mumbled.

“That’s okay,” Lola said. “I like complicated people.”

I felt like crying. Right there in the bathroom, holding my bogus principal’s note.

“You look sad,” Lola said.

I kept quiet and swallowed several times. “What if something terrible happens to me at the game?”

“You’ll live through it,” Lola said.

“But what if something happens and I look stupid?” I said. Getting facebombed would probably be very humiliating.

“You’ll live through that too,” Lola said. “A lot of people think you’re funny and cool. That’s why you got half the votes.”

But saying it that way made me think of the other half of the votes. Lola let out a big breath. “When I moved to this school two years ago, some people liked me and some people didn’t.”

I could really relate to what Lola was saying.

“And I wasn’t very smart. Because I got all hung up on making the people who didn’t like me like me. And I wasted a ton of time.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“You aren’t hearing me,” Lola said. “Don’t worry about what other people think. Do what you want.”

But I wasn’t even sure what I wanted anymore.

“I want Sylvie to forgive me,” I said.

“Have you told her that?” Lola asked.

I shook my head.

“You should,” Lola said.

I nodded.

“Do you feel any better?” Lola asked.

“Lola,” I said. “If you were me, would you try to facebomb T.J. before he facebombed you?”

Lola shook her head. “I could never facebomb anybody. I think that’s sort of barbaric.”

“Yeah.” Even though I had no idea what it meant to facebomb anybody, I said, “I totally think you’re right.”

M
y mom and my grandma helped me get situated in my grizzly bear costume in the girls’ locker room.

“You look so fierce,” Grandma said.

“Should I start with my head on or off?” I asked.

Having my own head stuck in the bear head wasn’t the most pleasant thing ever. Because my eyes had to look out of these wire mesh areas. And the air grew a little thick inside there and made my head sweat.

“I think you start with the head on,” Grandma said. “And when you need to take it off, remember to set it on a chair.”

“I knew that!” I said.

My mom took a whole bunch of pictures of me. “Growl at me,” she encouraged. “Swing your paws.”

I did not feel like doing these things on command. Because a bear wouldn’t.

I was sort of upset that my mom was acting like this, because some of the cheerleaders were getting ready with me, and their moms weren’t here taking pictures of them.

“Good luck, Bessica,” one of the cheerleaders said.

“Thanks,” I said.

And then all the cheerleaders drifted to a different area of the locker room, where they began to practice hand drills.
Smack. Snap. Slap. Smack. Snap. Slap.

“Bessica,” my mom said, trying to get my attention.

“Maybe I should have learned some hand drills,” I said. Because watching other people do those made me realize that they looked cool.

“Seems hard to pull off with your fur mitts,” Grandma said.

I looked at my furry hands. She was right.

“Think of all the wild bears we saw at Bear Galaxy,” my mom encouraged me. “Channel them.”

I took my head off and held it. “Those bears didn’t act wild at all. They were miserable.”

“They did look a little forlorn,” Grandma said. “Captivity will do that to apex predators. You can’t even keep a
great white shark alive in captivity. They always, always, always die.”

My mom and I stared at Grandma when she said that.

“That’s terrible,” I said.

“Well, aquariums usually shorten marine life by decades,” Grandma said. “Those places are basically marine mortuaries.”

“Let’s not talk about this before Bessica’s big game. Let’s pump her up,” my mom said.

Grandma agreed. “O fierce one,” Grandma said, giving me a hug. “Get out there and dazzle them. And don’t forget your prop bag.”

I glanced at the bench where I’d set my prop bag. It contained my jump rope, two emergency pom-poms that I hoped I’d never have to use, and a bunch of cheers I’d printed out. “I hope I’m loud enough.”

“Willy and I could hear your cheers from the Winnebago. You’re plenty loud,” Grandma said.

I watched as the cheerleaders left the locker room. “We’re going out to the field,” the captain said. “Pregame show starts soon. You’ll want to be there for that.”

“Right,” I said.

After they left, the room felt very quiet and echoey.

“Is it time?” I asked. “Or should I wait?”

“I think it’s time,” my mom said.

Walking across the parking lot toward the football field was a very nervous experience.