Spirit Week Showdown (9 page)

W
hile the cafeteria is crowded with students standing and holding trays, I sneak out and take off my rubber boots so they won't make squeaky noises down the hall. I've seen plenty of movies on how to follow people without them knowing it. I stay back as Connie hurries down the kindergarten-through-third-grade hallway. Fourth and fifth graders call it K3 hall.

Wow, look at the awesome Spirit Week posters on these walls! There's one with teddy bears holding hands.
We love Spirit Week “Beary” much
is
written underneath. On the other wall, there's a poster with ninjas doing martial art moves with
Spirit Week Is Ninja Cool
in big letters. These posters are just as good as the ones on the fourth- and fifth-grade walls!

Way down at the end of the hall, Connie stops in front of a room. She pulls a key from her pocket and unlocks the door. I wait until a light comes on. That's when I make my move.

I dash down the hall, and then slide across the floor in my socked feet until I reach the last room. I stand with my back against the wall and then lean forward so I can look through the glass in the door, but my boot hits the doorknob as if I knocked.

Busted.

The door flies open. Connie looks bigger than she ever did before. My voice gets scared again and won't come out. I take two deep breaths, letting both of them out slowly.

“Did you come down here just to do breathing exercises? You were spying on me, weren't you? You followed me. I don't like that.”

Lucky for me, my voice comes back. “Did you see the Spirit Week posters in K3? They're awesome, aren't they? Anyway, when I was in Washington,
DC, I walked down this dark, empty alley on my way to meet the president. I had some top-secret papers for him, and . . .”

Connie gives me a stink eye that makes my toes curl. “Go away, Mya. I'm not sick, and I'm not lost, and I'm definitely not in the mood for one of your taradiddles.”

“Sorry, Connie. I was worried about you. I knew you were upset when you left the cafeteria. I mean, I guess I'd be mad too. And I believe you when you said you drew that picture. It was awesome. Can I come into your hideout? We can talk about what we're going to wear for Superhero and Sidekick Day tomorrow.”

She leaves the door open. The words
Utility Room—Employees Only
are written across the glass in the window. I knew it! She's no student.

Connie Tate is the janitor!

I look inside before stepping in. My brain's thinking a thousand different things Connie may be doing back here. The more I think, the faster my heart beats. This must be where she stores her mop, or stolen goods. There's an easel, and a huge drawing pad leaning against a big sink. Wait a minute . . . what is this place? I step inside. My
brain relaxes. My heartbeat calms down as my mismatched rubber boots slide out of my hands.

It's . . . it's . . .

Beautiful.

The walls fill my eyes with blues, browns, reds, yellows, oranges, and greens. On one wall, a drawing of the sun sitting between two snowcapped mountains makes me shiver as if I'm up there, freezing in the cold. On a different mountain, lions, goats, and snakes live on the rocks and in the grass, but those huge eagles soaring near the waterfall look so real that I hold out my arm for them to land on it.

“Hands off, Mya.”

My eyes widen. “
You
did this?”

She doesn't answer me. Then I notice long pieces of paper; the same paper I've seen on the walls used for the Spirit Week posters. My brain goes crazy as it remembers things like:

Her apron with red and blue paint on it.

The blue paint spilled on my vest.

The display she quickly put together at Dad's store.

The brown paper in this room.

I put my boots on. “
You
made all the Spirit Week posters, didn't you?”

She still doesn't answer, but she doesn't have to. I can tell it in her face as she holds her chalk and wipes something I can't see off the brown drawing paper.

Connie sighs. “Let's talk about our costumes for tomorrow. Then you can leave. I'm really busy.”

I don't want to talk about costumes right now. I want to stand here and look at the pictures. On another wall, things are not so easy to figure out. There is a drawing of a bowl of fruit with a big cheeseburger in it. To the left is a woman's head with spaghetti for hair, and a spoon sticking out of her ear.

But then, on a section of that same wall, away from all of the weird drawings, I notice a sketch so awesome that I walk toward it as if it's calling me.

“Who are they? Are they new? I've never seen these princesses before.”

Connie puts the chalk down. “They're not princesses waiting for some dorky Prince Charming to come save them. They're warriors who guard and protect the galaxy from harm. I call them the Girl Guardian Court—the GGC.”

In the very center of the wall, a warrior rides a horse—but not an ordinary horse. It's huge with a brown coat that has some red in it everywhere
except at the bottom of each leg, where a long, snowy-white coat of hair grows out of nowhere. I point and try to say something, but only one thing comes out of my mouth.

“Clydesdale.”

Connie stands next to me. “They're the biggest reason why I want the VIP tickets. I want to meet the trainers and maybe get to brush one down or take that awesome trail ride.”

“Wow, a secret art room—and it belongs to you. How cool!”

I would have never guessed in a million years that Mean Connie Tate could love something as beautiful as a Clydesdale, or that we would have something like that in common.

She points a piece of chalk at me. “You better not say a word to anyone about my drawing room, understand? You had no right following me. This could ruin everything. Swamp rats like Naomi might crawl in here and trash everything.”

I don't like that she called Naomi a swamp rat, but for a moment, I see a different Connie; someone who cares about something. As calm as I can, I walk over to her. “I won't tell a soul. And I really like the guardians in the GGC.”

“You swear?”

“Swear,” I say.

It's quiet for a moment. Connie picks up a piece of chalk. “You really rocked the cafeteria today.”

I smile. “Thanks. Hey, Connie, what does that C.T. stand for on the side of your boots? No wait, let me guess . . . crooked toes . . . cockroach train . . . cowgirl two-step . . . candy Twizzlers . . .”

She slams her chalk on the table. “Connie Tate! The C.T. stands for Connie Tate. You just went from great singer to mosquito brain!”

I laugh. The frown leaves her face and she laughs with me. I shuffle to the door.

“I was just joking. I better get to recess before Mrs. Davis realizes I'm gone. See you later.”

The posters in the K3 hall look even better to me now that I know my partner made them. But Connie's made me promise to keep my mouth shut, so I will. She's probably the only person in this whole school who's hated more than me right now. Connie's right. Someone would trash her room, just because it belongs to Mean Connie Tate, the girl who broke her brother's fingers and trashed the bakery.

A thought pushes its way to the front of my brain. I've been Spirit Week partners with Connie Tate since last Friday, and I haven't seen her do anything
that would make me think the gossip about her is true. Am I the only person who's ever thought that the rumors might be lies?

Since Friday, Connie has helped my mom, helped me at Dad's store, made me laugh, and said that she was sorry and that she doesn't like Solo. The more I think about Connie Tate, the more I realize that we have lots of things in common.

I
sneak out to recess again, hoping Mr. Winky doesn't spot me. He's judging another dance challenge between two fifth graders, so I make my way toward a crowd of girls jumping rope and playing clapping games and think of what I'm going to say to Naomi. She's been my best friend for almost a whole month, and I want more than anything for Connie to be wrong about her. I'm kicking rocks when I hear Naomi's voice.

“You should have warned me about the challenge.”

I shrug. “I didn't know about it until this
morning. But I bet Mrs. Davis won't give us any points after you accused Connie of trying to cheat.”

Naomi giggles. “That was awesome, wasn't it? It was just what she deserved.”

No, it wasn't awesome. It was horrible. The twins are behind Naomi. Skye stares at the sidewalk. Starr glares at me. I get that bad feeling in my gut again. I've tried since Friday to make up with Naomi, but I'm not doing or saying the right thing. My heart beats faster and my feet want to run, but it's time for me to find out the truth.

“Naomi, tell me what I have to do to make you believe that I'm sorry for what happened last Friday. I want to be your best friend again,” I say.

She wrinkles her face, and points at me. “You and I will never be best friends again. Don't you realize what you did to me? You backed out on a plan that could give me a shot at being a movie star. How many girls get a chance to be on a television show like
Junior High Spy
? A real best friend would have done everything she could to help me, no matter what. You even pinkie-promised. But you lied. You're not who I thought you were. There's nothing you can do to change my mind.”

She tries to walk away, but I touch her arm. “But I did try to help you. And how do you know you're
not going to win the tickets? The contest isn't over yet. How could you drop me as your best friend like that? I made one little mistake. I tried to make up for it, but you won't let me.” I look her in the eyes. “I would've forgiven you.”

Naomi shrugs. “I guess that's where we're different, Mya.” Then she nods at the twins. “Let's go, girls.”

At that very moment, I know that Naomi and I
are
different, and I don't want to be her friend again. But I'm still not sure if I ever was. Connie's words about Nugget fill my head, and I know I'm taking a big chance here. If I test Naomi, I'd better be ready to accept her answer. If Connie's right, I may never get over it. But if she's wrong, then at least I'll know that at one time, Naomi and I were best friends, and it was real.

I'm breathing faster, moving slower, and I'm absolutely scared to death, but I've got to know. Naomi and the twins move toward the basketball courts.

“Naomi, wait up,” I say.

“What now?” she asks with a frown.

“Can I talk with you alone?” I turn to the twins. “I have to ask Naomi something in private.”

The twins answer together. “Okay.”

“I'm not going to change my mind, so this better be important,” says Naomi.

She follows me to an empty area on the playground. I take a deep breath and test her.

“I know you like my brother.”

She looks over both shoulders and blushes. “No, I don't.”

A lump sits in my throat as big as Mount Everest. This isn't a taradiddle, and I know it. But it's the only way to find out the truth. So I clear my throat and say it.

“What if I can make him like you, too?”

Naomi's eyebrows rise as she stares at me and chews on her bottom lip.

“You can do that?” she asks.

“My brother will do anything I ask him to do,” I say, hoping she believes me.

She glances at Nugget playing basketball and then gets in my face.

“Okay. This stays between us, Mya. We can be best friends again, but it doesn't start until Nugget tells me he likes me, got it? He has until tomorrow after school to tell me, or I'll let Connie know, in front of everybody, that you broke the biggest Spirit Week partner rule and that you weren't going to help her win anything. Isn't that what you told me?
Everybody knows that the only thing worse than a promise-breaking cowgirl is a secret-snitching Spirit Week partner.”

Her words hit harder than any punch Connie could have given me. I've got enough tears rushing to my eyes to fill the Atlantic Ocean, and I don't know if I'm crying because I'm angry or if it's because I now know the truth, or if I'm crying for Connie. Mr. Winky tweets his whistle, and everybody runs to line up.

I swipe at a tear racing down my face. “We better go before we get in trouble.”

My boots feel heavy, like there's water in them, as I walk away from her. My friendship with Naomi is over. It was fake all along and I didn't know it. But the biggest pain comes from knowing how hurt and upset Connie's going to be when she finds out that I did the one thing I promised I wouldn't do.

I double-crossed her.

As my class lines up to go back to class, I take my place at the back. This is where I belong today. I glance at Connie's rubber boot. If I could, I'd kick myself in the rear with it.

Soon, we're moving back inside and toward our class. Everyone runs to the Spirit Week board to
find out who won today's costume points, and check out the point leaders.

          
WEDNESDAY

          
COSTUME
—
5 POINTS

          
David Abrahms and Johnny Collins

          
C
HALLENGE POINTS

          
DANCE
—
2 POINTS

          
Lisa McKinley and Mary Frances Whitaker

          
SPELLING CHALLENGE
—
2 POINTS

          
Skye Falling and Susan Acorn

          
CAFETERIA ENTERTAINMENT
—2 POINTS

          
Naomi Jackson and Starr Falling

          
STANDINGS:

          
Naomi Jackson and Starr Falling
—
7 POINTS

          
David Abrahms and Johnny Collins
—
7 POINTS

          
Connie Tate and Mya Tibbs
—
5 POINTS

          
Skye Falling and Susan Acorn
—4 POINTS

          
Lisa McKinley and Mary Frances Whitaker
—
2 POINTS

I walk back to Connie's desk. She's rolling her eyes. “Those cafeteria talent points should have been ours, Mya. We should be tied with David and Johnny.”

My throat hurts from all the words lumped in it. “Connie, can we meet after school?”

“I've got one more poster to make,” she says.

I shrug and try not to cry. “Okay. I just have to tell Nugget I'm not walking home with him, and then I'll meet you in the art room.”