Spirit Week Showdown (6 page)

S
unday afternoon, Connie drops off the king of hearts costume. I take it to Mom. “Can you make this fit me by tomorrow?”

She holds it up. “Isn't it a bit early for Halloween?”

“Tomorrow's Dress Up Like a King or Queen Day on the Spirit Week schedule,” I say.

Mom grins. “Now this is very creative. I'll take it to my magic sewing room. You're going to look so cute! And you should wear your black leggings. Then you'll really look like a walking king of hearts! Wait until Naomi sees you. How's she doing?”

I feel a sad spell coming. “Naomi's fine. I'm going upstairs to find those leggings.”

Just as I open my bedroom door, the tears come again. I miss my best friend so much. I know Skye misses me, but Starr is really mad about the Fall Festival tickets. Maybe I'd be mad, too, if I were her. I've got to make them like me again, but how?

I put my boots in the closet and notice last year's boots all slumped over in the corner.

Wait a minute.

Those weren't just regular boots. They were my lucky cowgirl boots, the only pink pair in Bluebonnet with a blue horseshoe burned into both sides at the heels. Mom bought them for me at a garage sale in Fort Worth. I hate knowing somebody else's feet were
ka-clunk
ing around in them before mine. It's hard making up adventures from used boots because they already come with their own boot stories.

But I've got a fix for that. When people ask where I got my bubble-gum-colored two-steppers, I say I won them—in a hard-fought card game—on a horse and kangaroo ranch—in Australia! That sounds so much better than the truth, and it's funnier, too!

Two weeks after I got those boots, I found out they really were lucky! I was in church chewing gum and popped a bubble so loud that it woke everybody
up. I knew I was in big trouble, so I rubbed the horseshoes, hoping they were lucky ones. Dad scooted closer to me, and instead of taking me out of church he asked if I had another piece of gum!

Another time I wore my lucky boots and found a five-dollar bill stuck to a fire hydrant. Right before summer, those boots got so tight that they left marks on my feet. But maybe if I curl my toes, I can still wear them. I sure need some good luck right now, and those boots are a guarantee!

I reach down and rub the blue horseshoes.

If there's any luck still left in you, please help me get my friends back. And if there's any luck still left after that, I'd really like to win those VIP tickets.

Early Monday morning, I sit in my pajamas with one hand over my nose and the other in my lap as Mom eats her peanut butter–and-onion sandwich and brushes my hair. “How many braids this morning, Mya?” asks Mom.

“One big fat ponytail, please!”

After she finishes, I rush upstairs and put on the thinnest pair of socks I've got and then tug on my old boots until my feet squeeze into them. I've got the perfect red-and-black bracelets for this outfit,
even though the king of hearts probably doesn't wear much jewelry.

As I come downstairs, Nugget laughs at me. He's wearing that dorky crown he got when we went to Burger King on his birthday, four years ago.

“Where's the rest of your king costume?” I ask.

“Solo says dressing up like kings and queens is lame, but I wanted to wear something, so I'm wearing this crown. Our costumes tomorrow are going to be boo-yang good, though.”

“You let Solo talk you out of wearing a cool costume? Fish would have never done that. You would have been dressed like King Henry or at least King Kong.”

“Leave me alone, Mya. I know what I'm doing.”

No he doesn't. I know how much Nugget loves Spirit Week. He and Fish used to plan for days what they would wear.

Mom calls to me. “Come here so I can put makeup on you, Sir King of Hearts!”

I giggle as she makes my eyebrows thicker and gives me a mustache.

“Connie is such a nice girl. I was taking out the trash, and she carried it out for me.”

I stay quiet. Mean Connie's got Mom fooled, but not me.

“Done,” says Mom. I look in a mirror, and we giggle on our way to the door.

Outside, Connie's standing on the sidewalk, staring at me. “Nice outfit, Tibbs.”

Mom waves. “Connie . . . I mean, queen of hearts, you look adorable!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tibbs,” she says.

“Come in for just a minute. I'll put makeup on you, like I put on Mya,” says Mom.

“Okay, but remember, the queen doesn't have a mustache,” says Connie with a grin.

Mom laughs as Connie follows her inside. She puts lipstick and mascara on the queen of hearts. “Okay, all done,” she says.

“How do I look?” asks Connie.

I cross my arms. “You look like that lady on the card.”

“Good. Thanks a bunch, Mrs. Tibbs.” She strolls to the door. “Let's go before we're late.”

We're waiting on the crossing guard to stop traffic for us when Nugget nudges me. “Another meeting. I'm going to the park. See you later,” he says.

“Solo's a bozo,” I say.

Connie's got a serious look on her face. I think she's about to call Solo something worse than a bozo, but instead, she warns me. “You hate the
nickname Mya Tibbs Fibs, but you call other people names? I don't like Solo, either, and your brother shouldn't hang around him, but it's not cool to call people names.”

Nugget rolls his eyes. “Like I should listen to a couple of cards. Here comes Fish. I'd like to avoid anything confrontational this morning. I'll see you at lunch,” says Nugget.

Fish's hair is dyed black, and most of the curl is gone because it's been combed backward and has a bunch of mousse in it. His costume—a white jacket with white fringe hanging from the arms, and white pants with white shoes—is a big giveaway of who he's supposed to be, but the sunglasses and the guitar strapped to his back make it official.

“It's the king of rock and roll! Your costume is boo-yang awesome, Elvis,” I say.

“Thank ya, thank ya very much,” says Fish in his best Elvis voice.

Fish, Connie, and I watch Solo throw Nugget a basketball, but he misses it and has to chase it down. Fish waves, and Nugget waves back. I give Fish a little nudge.

“What's on the weird calendar for today?” I ask.

Fish grins. “Happy Toilet Paper Day!” he says.

I nod. “Happy Toilet Paper Day.”

“Happy what Day?” asks Connie.

I explain Fish's weird calendar to her, but she just stares at him.

Fish checks out our outfits. “The king and queen of hearts! Very creative.”

Connie keeps staring. Fish stares back. I wish someone would say something.

“Well, I'm going to find my Spirit Week partner. See you at lunch,” says Fish.

When he's gone, I say to Connie, “He was just trying to be nice.”

“I've heard him call me Mean Connie,” she says. “I've heard you call me that, too. It doesn't matter, though. All I care about right now are those VIP tickets.”

We walk in silence. Those tickets are important to me, too, but I'm trying to help Naomi win, not her. Even though Mean Connie hasn't been scary to me, I still don't trust her. At any moment her bully brain could turn red and she could beat me up so badly that I'd look more like the joker than the king of hearts. Mrs. Davis was wrong about Connie and me. The only friendship I want is my old one with Naomi. And I'm wearing my lucky boots to make sure that happens.

T
here is a long piece of red carpet leading up to the school door. How perfect. That's what I tried to do for Naomi at my house with my red bathroom rug. Mr. Winky stands by the door, dressed in an Egyptian black-and-gold hat, with lots of eye shadow and mascara. If I didn't know who he was, I'd call the police and scream stranger danger.

“Good morning, King Tut,” I say.

“Happy Spirit Week to the king and queen of hearts! Well played, ladies! Well played, indeed! You're going to have a super royal day today at Y.E.S.! Yes, yes, yes you are.”

Inside our school, there are kings and queens everywhere, but none of them are dressed like Connie and me. Kids point and laugh at us as we walk down the hall toward our classroom. I don't know if they're laughing at our outfits or if they're laughing because we're partners. Just as I enter the Cave and open my cabinet door, Naomi shows up.

“I got Lisa Lotta-Germs to trade and partner with Mary Frances. So now Starr and I are partners. See how easy that was?” says Naomi.

Connie frowns as she throws her backpack inside her cabinet and then snatches her English, math, and geography books. “Let's go, Tibbs.”

I see the twins coming. Even though they're not Spirit Week partners, they're still dressed alike in long, dark-green gowns with tiaras, and holding hands.

“Hold on a minute, Connie,” I say.

“Hi, Mya,” says Skye.

I give her a big grin. “You look beautiful, Skye.”

“Thanks,” she says.

Starr's frowning at me. I don't say anything else. Naomi's wearing her Junior Miss Lone Star sash across her gown. She steps closer and looks me over from head to toe. “Those costumes are horrible. And Mya Tibbs Fibs, did you forget that you're a
girl? You shouldn't be a king of hearts. You should be a queen of hearts, like her,” she says, pointing at Connie.

“Yeah, the queen of hearts,” says Starr.

“It doesn't matter,” says Skye.

The twins stare at each other. They never disagree. Starr lets go of Skye's hand. Skye frowns at her. Starr rolls her eyes to the left. Skye rolls hers to the right. I've never seen them act like this. Naomi reaches inside her purse and grabs her cell phone.

“Starr, take a picture of me for my portfolio. Mya, where's your brother? Which king is he? Arthur?”

“He's around here somewhere, but he didn't really wear a costume.” As I close my cabinet door, I try to make them laugh. “You know, there's only one queen of hearts in a deck, unless you're playing in the backwoods of Alaska, where the bears can't tell the difference between kings and queens. They all taste alike!”

Naomi frowns. The twins look confused.

“Never mind. It was supposed to be a joke,” I say.

Connie rolls her eyes, closes her cabinet, and glares at me. “I'm going to the water fountain before the bell rings. You want to go with me?”

Naomi grabs the twins by the hand. “That's where we were going.”

I stare at Connie and then run to catch up with my friends.

At the water fountain I'm last in line to get a drink. Naomi finishes and then looks over my shoulder, so I look, too. Solo and Nugget stroll down the hall.

“Hi, Nugget,” says Naomi.

He answers in a girlie voice as he tries to walk and wave like Naomi. “Hi, Nugget.”

Naomi giggles, takes Skye's and Starr's hands, and walks down the center of the hallway behind my brother, leaving me at the water fountain. Students move to let them by.

“Hi, Naomi, hi, Starr, hi, Skye,” they say.

I know what that feels like.

Connie steps around me and gets a drink. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Let's go, Tibbs. We can't be late.”

Instead of strutting like a rock star, I
ka-clunk
toward class with the school bully. No one speaks to me. They just rush past to beat the late bell, and bump my shoulders as if I'm invisible.

Mrs. Davis greets Naomi, Starr, and Skye at the classroom door. “Beautiful outfits, ladies. You look like you just won a pageant.”

We stroll in next. Mrs. Davis claps. “The king
and queen of hearts! Very original. Way to use your imagination, girls!”

Even though it's hot and itchy in this card costume, I feel really good about what Connie and I are wearing. She's right. We stand out. We don't look like anybody else, and right now, nobody's calling me Mya Tibbs Fibs. Maybe these lucky boots are working!

The morning goes fast, and soon it's time to line up for lunch. More students laugh at Connie and me. Even after we get our food and take a seat at the detention table, where Connie always sits, boys and girls walk by and laugh. I don't say anything.

A fifth-grade boy comes over and points at my hot dog.

“Are you going to eat that?” he asks.

I shrug. “You can have it—why?”

“Fish challenged Solo to a hot dog–eating contest, and we need more hot dogs.”

He snatches the hot dog off my plate and rushes away. Connie and I follow him. There's Fish, stuffing hot dogs in his mouth, with Solo on the other side of the table doing the same as boys and girls root for both guys to eat more. I find Nugget two seats over from Solo. He's not smiling or rooting for either guy.

Mr. Winky blows his whistle. The sound echoes off the cafeteria walls.

TWEEEEEEEEEEEET!

He breaks through the crowd. “What's going on here?”

Fish downs the last hot dog, but his face is now green. My eyes widen as I warn the crowd. “Move back, he's going to—”

Fish bends over toward Mr. Winky.

BLAAAAA-AAAAAH!

Hot-dog chunks splash out of his mouth, milk squirts from his nose, and it all lands on Mr. Winky's King Tut costume and sandals. Every kid in the area says the same thing.

“EEEEEWWWWWW!”

Mr. Winky stares at his feet and then puts his hand on Fish's shoulder. “Elvis, maybe you should go see the nurse.”

Fish grabs a napkin and wipes his mouth. “Sorry, Mr. Winky.”

I feel bad for him but move away because the smell and the mess make me want to barf, too. Mr. Winky slips and slides as he tiptoes out of the cafeteria. I grab Nugget.

“What happened?” I ask.

Nugget shrugs. “Fish challenged Solo and . . .
I'm very confused right now.”

Solo pounds his chest in victory. “I'm the man!”

Fish drags himself out of the cafeteria, holding his belly. He looks back over his shoulder at us. I wave because I don't know what else to do. Poor Fish. I know how he feels.

It hurts to lose your best friend, and when you do, you'll try anything to get him back.