Spirit Week Showdown (3 page)

D
ing-dong.

“Nugget, they're here! Hurry up with those smoothies!” I open the door.

Naomi and the twins look down at the long red bathroom rug I put in the hall.

“Why is that there?” asks Naomi.

I grin. “Movie stars and beauty queens are supposed to walk on a red carpet.”

Naomi hugs me. “That is so sweet.”

I lead them to the backyard. “Nugget's helping me in the kitchen. My mom's napping. She's going to have a baby soon, so she sleeps a lot. I'll be out
in a minute with snacks.”

I tiptoe to Mom's room and peek inside. She's snoring with earplugs in. Perfect!

I take the tray of veggies while Nugget pours smoothies into plastic cups. Naomi opens the door for us and smiles. “Hi, Nugget. Those look delicious. Did you make them?”

“I most certainly did,” he says with his chest puffed out.

She takes a seat and plays with her hair. He rolls his eyes.

“Thanks for the smoothies, Nugget. You can go now,” I say.

He salutes and then goes back inside.

I grab a carrot. “Let's play Princess in the Parade. Naomi, you sit on Buttercup. The twins and I will pretend we're watching a parade. You wave at us, and we'll wave back!”

Naomi shrugs. “Okay, but then we have to talk about Spirit Week.”

The twins and I help her to climb on top of our mechanical bull. She points at her purse. “Mya, would you get my phone and take a picture of me in case I ever need a rodeo picture for my portfolio?”

I hold the phone steady as she poses.
Click.
Then I skip back to the twins.

“Oh look! Here comes Junior Miss Lone Star!” I say.

Naomi waves and blows kisses at us. “I wish this bull moved like one in a real parade!”

I half run, half skip back to her. “You want him to move? Buttercup can move! Hold on to that copper handlebar on the back of his neck.”

I push the button behind Buttercup's ear just like Dad does when he lets me ride. A woman's soft voice speaks from inside the bull.

“Level One: Easy. Good Luck.”

Nugget yells from the kitchen window. “Mya, you're not supposed to—”

I interrupt him. “I know what I'm doing! Giddy-up, Buttercup!”

The mechanical bull gently springs to life, moving up and down like a carousel ride.

Naomi taps Buttercup's neck. “That's enough. I don't like this.”

I push Buttercup's button and wait for him to stop.

But he doesn't. I push it again, but he keeps going.

“Mya, I said I'm ready to get off. It's scaring me!” yells Naomi.

I jab my thumb on the button and hold it there.
That should do it.

Oh no. Buttercup's eyes light up. Air shoots through his nose. Good gravy in the navy!

He's alive!

“MOOOOOO . . .”

The woman's soft voice inside Buttercup turns loud and country. “Level Ten: Turbo! Yahoo!”

“AAAHHH!!!”

Buttercup twists and turns ten times faster than he did before. Naomi's flopping around like she's made of Jell-O. “Somebody help me!”

I look for other buttons on Buttercup. “Don't worry, I'll save you!”

My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my boots. I turn to the twins for help. They're hiding underneath the picnic table with their smoothies and the veggie tray, eating and watching.

Nugget runs toward me. “I'll lift you. Hit the button two times! He'll stop!”

My brother lifts me in the air. “Hold on, Naomi! This is going to be tricky,” I say.

When Buttercup's head comes down, Nugget yells. “Now, Mya, now!”

I wrap both arms around the bull's neck like a human lasso. Buttercup takes me up and down. For a moment, I forget about Naomi because this is the
best ride I've had all year.

I kick my legs in the air. “Yippeeeeee! Wooo-hooo!”

“Mya! I can't hold on much longer!” Naomi yells.

I press the button twice. Buttercup slows to a stop. Naomi slides down his neck and tumbles onto the grass. The strawberry smoothie is splattered all over the front of her blue dress.

Naomi pouts. “It's ruined, and I just got this two days ago.”

What have I done? My shoulders droop. “I just . . . you know . . . I'm so . . . I'll get a towel.”

Nugget follows me. “Don't dirty up a towel. It's my week to do laundry,” he whispers.

I follow him to the garage. There's no
ka-clunk
in my walk. There's no yippee in my ki-yay. He picks up the leaf blower. “This should do it.”

I smile and give Nugget a high five. “Great idea!”

He holds the blower steady and dries her dress. “I'll make you another smoothie.”

Naomi has a red stain, bigger than my head, on the front of her dress, and the closer she gets to us, the sadder she looks.

“I'm so sorry,” I say, sitting with the twins.

She walks toward the picnic table with her head high, just like a beauty pageant winner. “Don't
worry about it, Mya.” Very quietly, Naomi sits across from me and folds her arms to hide the stain on her dress. “But it's time to stop playing around. I need to tell you why I have to win those VIP tickets. La'Nique Sydney is coming to the Fall Festival. She stars in
Junior High Spy
. Ever watch it?”

“I watch
Junior High Spy
every day,” says Skye.

Starr agrees, “Every day.”

“I've seen that show a thousand times. I love La'Nique Sydney,” I say.

Naomi grins. “Don't tell anybody, but I just scored a tryout for a part in the show.”

My eyes widen. “No way!”

Skye puts her hands to her face. “Are you serious?”

Starr puts her hands on her hips. “You can't be serious.”

Naomi nods. “I'm serious. And I just found out that La'Nique is one of the judges for the Battle of the Bands. I have to win those VIP tickets so I can go backstage and meet her. Maybe she'll put a good word in for me before my tryout.”

Starr nods. “That's a really good reason to want the VIP tickets.”

“A really good reason. We'll help you and Mya win,” says Skye.

“We don't really care about VIP tickets. We just want to be there,” says Starr.

Naomi leans toward the twins. “You two are amazing friends. Okay, here's the plan. I have to have Mya as my partner even if we have to trade for it. Skye, Starr, make sure the two of you are partners. Then the four of us will do whatever we have to do so that Mya and I have the best costumes and decorations. Let's pinkie-promise.”

I link my pinkie to hers. “Promise,” I say.

Starr and Skye pinkie-promise, too. Then we all make a toast with our smoothies. After my friends leave, I knock on Nugget's bedroom door.

He sighs. “We're out of bananas and yogurt. No more smoothies.”

I lean against the wall. “Everybody's gone.”

“Then what do you want?” he asks.

I gently push him. He smiles, gently pushes me back, and then closes his door.

I
t's Spirit Week partner-picking day! I'm excited, but Nugget's gripping his backpack straps, staring at the sidewalk, and mumbling. I can tell he has something heavy on his mind.

“Hey, wait up!” Fish holds the straps of his backpack as he runs.

I pat my brother's shoulder. “Here he comes. You better tell him about your plans.”

“Hiya, Mya Papaya! Happy Hamburger Day!” says Fish.

“Happy Hamburger Day,” I say.

“Hey, Nugget, do you know where the first
hamburgers were made?” asks Fish.

Nugget faces him. “Yes, I do. But Solo thinks the weird holiday calendar is silly.”

I roll my eyes. “Who cares what Solo thinks?”

“Solo's a show-off. Somebody needs to let him know that he's not all that,” says Fish.

Nugget frowns at both of us, then snaps at Fish. “You're just mad because he's boo-yang cool. He's so cool that I hope he's my Spirit Week partner.”

I stop and frown. Fish stops and looks confused. We glare at Nugget, but he won't look at us. I'm so mad that I don't hear the footsteps behind me.

“WATCH OUT!”

My feet leave the sidewalk, and I crash into a pile of leaves. As I spit dirt and pull leaves out of my hair, all I can see is a pair of long legs and black ankle boots beside me. Yikes!

Mean Connie Tate gets up first. I stay on the ground, thinking it might be smarter to play dead. She's wearing an apron with globs of red and blue stains all over it. I bet it's blood and guts from eating a first grader. Even worse, there's an oily blue spot on my favorite brown vest. I wipe at it, but that only makes the spot bigger. A thunderstorm rumbles in my belly. Even though Mean Connie is way taller than me, I get up, stand on my tiptoes, and let her have it.

“You ruined my favorite vest! Why don't you watch where
you're
going? Now I have to spend the whole day at school with . . .”

I look at my brother, then back at the biggest bully in Bluebonnet.

“Was I talking out loud?”

She frowns. “Yes.”

Good gravy in the navy.

Mean Connie Tate is going to rip my lips off! She glares at me and points at the stain on my vest. “I won't forget that,” she says, and then runs toward school.

Nugget wipes at my vest. “Are you okay? You must have lost your mind yakking back at Mean Connie Tate like that.”

Now that she's gone, I stand tall, straighten my vest, and talk like I'm fearless. “Sometimes you've got to speak up for yourself, right, Fish? Fish?”

He's gone.

I pinch my brother as hard as I can. “Today, you're the biggest jerk in Bluebonnet, and I'm glad you're not walking all the way to school with me.” I run the rest of the way and wipe at the stain on my vest. My friends are waiting for me as I open the school door.

Naomi's nose wrinkles as she stares at my vest.
“Ew! What's that?” she asks.

“Mean Connie spilled paint on me. She didn't even say sorry.”

“It's doesn't look that bad,” says Skye.

“Not that bad at all,” says Starr.

“She is such a bully,” says Naomi.

Students clear the middle of the hall as the four of us walk to class. Just as we get to our classroom door, we stop and stare at Mrs. Davis's desk, where two tall black hats and a stack of papers have all of our attention.

“There they are, the partner-picking hats,” I say.

“And I bet that stack of papers next to the hats is the Spirit Week schedules,” says Skye.

Starr nods. “Got to be the schedules.”

We each grab a copy of the schedule as we pass Mrs. Davis's desk.

SPIRIT WEEK SCHEDULE
	MONDAY:	Dress like a king or queen!
	TUESDAY:	Mother Goose is on the loose!
	WEDNESDAY:	Share a glove and a shoe with your partner!
	THURSDAY:	Create a new superhero and sidekick!
	FRIDAY:	Partners decorate cubbies or cabinets to match. (Posters, drawings, fabric, or washable paints only.) Partners dress like twins, plus awards day!

When the bell rings, Mrs. Davis closes the door.

“Good morning, class! Let's be quiet and wait for the announcements.”

The intercom squeaks and we all wait for Mr. Winky's voice.

“Good morning and happy Friday! Before we get started, let's stand for the Pledge of Allegiance.”

I try to look at the flag, but my eyes stay fixed on all the Spirit Week partner stuff on Mrs. Davis's desk. “I pledge allegiance to the hats—I mean the flag . . .” Good gravy. Did I say that out loud? Big-eared Michael Silsbee looks over his shoulder and frowns. I pretend I don't see him. “. . . of the United States of America. And to the Republic for which it stands . . .” As I hold my right hand over my heart, I make another promise to do everything I can to win those VIP tickets. “. . . with liberty and justice for all.”

“Students, please be seated,” says Mr. Winky. “It's partner-picking day here at Young Elementary School! Yes, yes, yes, it is! Today's cafeteria menu includes pepperoni pizzas and cheese pizzas, fruit salad, and carrot sticks. Okay, that's all for now! Have fun picking partners! Yes, yes, yes! This concludes the announcements.”

Mrs. Davis stands at the front of the room. “Okay, it's time to get started! Good luck!”

“Me and my partner are going to win those VIP tickets!” says David Abrahms.

“No way! Me and
my
partner are going to win them,”
I say.

We have a stare-down. Suddenly he smiles. I smile back. I guess that means good luck.

Mrs. Davis holds up two fingers again. “We're going to split into two groups. There will be a group of ‘ones' and a group of ‘twos.'” She points at David, who sits in the first seat by the door. “Starting with David, he will be a one. Susan, behind him, is a two, the next student is a one, and so on, understand?”

“Yes, Mrs. Davis.”

Our room is full of excitement as we count off down the rows. “One! Two! One!” It's time for my row. Michael Silsbee is a one. “Two,” I say.