Spirit Week Showdown (13 page)

N
aomi 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.”
says 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.

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 again, 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.

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.