Spirit Week Showdown (14 page)

“H
ow 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.

A
fter 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 up 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.

Next he calls the first-grade winners, then the second graders, followed by the third graders. As
I sit and listen to the winners freak out and run to get their tickets, I wish I had a shot at winning, or at least Connie had a shot.

“And now our fourth-grade winners: Johnny Collins and David Abrahms.”

Even though I knew we weren't going to win, it still hurts to hear someone else's name called. I wanted those tickets. So did Connie. We could have been the winners. There's no doubt in my mind that Animasia and Queen Angelica would have taken the five points on Thursday. What Connie did to our cabinets would have sealed the win for us.

“I'm sorry, Connie,” I say.

She smiles and nods. “I know. Let it go.”

Skye turns to Naomi. “Maybe you'll win next year.”

“But definitely not this year,” says Starr.

Naomi's glaring at me, so I look the other way.

Mr. Winky holds up the last envelope. “And the last two tickets go to: Fish Leatherwood and Bobby Joe McKinley!”

When I hear Fish's name, I stand and jump as if I had won. “Yay, Fish! Woo-hoo!”

Connie does the same until Mrs. Davis makes us sit down. I'm happy for everybody who won, but I'm sad that I ruined my chance, and feel even
worse that I ruined Connie's.

“I have something for a very special student,” says Mr. Winky. “This student put in long hours, before and after school, to make sure we had great posters on the wall for Spirit Week. She also volunteered for every job and every activity to ensure Spirit Week would be a success. She's been working on making Spirit Week special for over a month now. Connie Tate, get up here!”

Connie's face looks redder than tomatoes as she stands and walks to the stage. The clapping starts off slowly, but then it picks up, and soon almost everybody is clapping. Someone even raises a hand and shouts, “Hail to Queen Angelica!”

Mr. Winky stands next to Connie with an envelope in one hand and his microphone in the other. “Connie, in appreciation for all of the work you did to make Spirit Week a success, the staff of Young Elementary School would like to present you with a Fall Festival VIP ticket! Congratulations.”

Connie holds the envelope up as she walks back to her seat. Her face is still red as she hugs me. “I'll share it with you, Mya.”

I nod, still clapping for her until I realize I'm the only one, so I stop. Mr. Winky finishes his Spirit Week speech, but while he's talking, I stare
at Connie's envelope. For days I didn't think it'd matter, but right now, I'd give anything to have an envelope with a ticket inside. When the assembly is over, while standing in line to go back to class, I see Nugget coming toward me. “Hey, Mya, wait a minute!”

He hands me a brown paper bag. “I meant to give this to you before we got to school, but I forgot. See you after school.”

He runs back to his class line. I open the bag, reach my hand inside, and pull out two red T-shirts with Tibbs's Farm and Ranch Store written across the front.

Connie stares at the shirts. “What are those for?”

I know exactly what they're for. I grin at Connie and shrug.

“Today, best friends are supposed to dress alike.”

I hand Connie a T-shirt. We slip them on over our blouses.

“I have something else for you,” says Connie.

She unzips her backpack and pulls out another bag. “This is the costume your mom made for me. I wanted to give it back. But there's also something else in there.”

I open the bag and see my vest. I snatch it out and hold it up. There's a whole western scene painted
on the front with coyotes, cacti, cowgirl hats, and boots.

“You did this?” I ask.

“Remember when I knocked you down and you were all upset because I got paint on your vest?”

“Duh,” I say.

Connie grins. “I told you I wouldn't forget.”

I roll my eyes. “I thought you meant you wouldn't forget to rip my lips off.”

“Why would you think that?” asks Connie.

I glare at her. She glares at me. We say it together. “Naomi.”

Connie stands beside me and we stare at the vest. “I really felt bad about that blue paint spot because you wear that vest, like, every day. I got it from your mom when I came over to try on the Angelica costume. Pretty sneaky, huh? Go ahead and put it on.”

I fold the vest and put it back in the bag. “I like how I look right now.”

Connie puts her arm around my shoulder. “So do I.”