Gertie's Leap to Greatness (4 page)

But so far for Phase Two, they had only come up with ideas they couldn't use. For instance, they couldn't mail Mary Sue to missionaries in Taiwan so she could learn about Jesus, because the stamps would've cost more than a year's worth of their allowances.

And they couldn't convince everyone that deep down Mary Sue was evil, because she had become the most popular girl in school. She was always talking about what Jessica Walsh was like in real life, which Roy thought was fascinating. And she was always wondering aloud whether or not Gertie had warts from touching frogs, which the other kids thought was hilarious. And she was always saying how at her old school she'd been a gifted-accelerated-exceptional student, which Ms. Simms thought was better than butter on toast and which made Jean come up with more and more dangerous plans for Gertie's notebook.

A week later, Gertie still didn't have a plan she could use. As she jumped down the steps of the bus, she saw a truck snuggled beside Aunt Rae's Mercury, and she froze. Her father's truck was home, which meant her father was home, which meant—

“You gonna get out the way sometime today?” the driver asked behind her.

Gertie ran across the scruffy grass, book bag bouncing on her back.

Before she'd even made it through the screen door, her father's voice was booming across the house. “Gertie's home! Hide your valuables!”

Then he stepped into the kitchen.

Frank Foy was tall and handsome. He had blue eyes and one gold tooth on the top, and when he picked her up she buried her face in the space between his collar and neck and breathed in the smell of outside air and bacon and Listerine.

“Is the rig in good shape?” Gertie asked.

“Tip-top.” He put her down and bent to scoop her book bag off the kitchen floor. “Did you get in big trouble at school?” he asked, which was his special way of asking what she'd done that day.

“I saved Junior's life in PE,” she said. “And Ms. Simms says we have to memorize all fifty state capitals.” Which was something she knew a lot of adults couldn't do, because she'd quizzed the mailman, and he didn't know more than seven.

“Let's see,” her father said as he reached in one of the cabinets and pulled out a box of crackers and a tin of sardines. “What about Kentucky?”

“I don't know them all
yet
,” Gertie explained.

“Well, which ones do you know?” he asked, which was nice because it gave Gertie an opportunity to show off how many she had learned.

They sat at the kitchen table, munching on crackers until they ran out of states. Her father rubbed the back of his neck. “Aunt Rae tells me you've been having trouble with a new girl,” he said in his talking-to voice.

Gertie jumped to her feet. She had been all nice and comfortable, thinking they were having a lovely conversation without Audrey butting in for once in her life, when really her father had just been working up to giving her a scolding. She should've known it was a trap. “Wait a minute,” she said. “You were talking about me behind my back?”

“Yes,” he said, “because we—”

“I can't believe it! You're not supposed to talk about people behind their backs!”

“—care about you,” her father finished. “I'm sure you'd like Mary Lou if you would just give her a chance.”

Gertie didn't understand how Aunt Rae and her father could be so sure that Mary Sue was nice when they didn't even know her name. “Mary
Sue
. And she's
evil
. And I'm the one who's met her, so I'm the one who knows.”

“You're positive?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I am.” She sat back down.

He leaned back, propping his chair on its hind legs. “Is anything else bothering you?”

“Nope.”

He brought the chair legs down with a
thunk
. “Did you see the sign in front of her—in front of your mother's house?” He looked at his hands and then glanced up at her.

Gertie nodded.

“Do you have any questions?” her father asked doubtfully, like he was hoping she didn't have any questions because if she did then he'd have to answer them.

Gertie had a million billion questions, but her father was starting to look as forlorn as any lost bullfrog. “Nope.”

He sighed. “Well, you ought to know that she's getting married and moving to Mobile.”

“I know.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “How? Who told you?”

Junior's mama had been cutting Rachel Collins's neighbor's hair and the neighbor had said something to Junior's mama, which Junior had overheard, and he'd said something to Jean, and Jean had also heard something from her father, and Aunt Rae had been having a private phone conversation, which Gertie was not supposed to eavesdrop on but she couldn't help it because what if Aunt Rae was talking about her behind her back and how was she supposed to find anything out if she didn't snoop? “I have my ways,” she said mysteriously.

“Are you all right?” her father asked in a quiet voice.

Of course she was all right.

It was just … It was just that it wasn't
fair
. Frank Foy was the most interesting person Gertie knew. He juggled squashes and onions in the grocery store. He read yellowed paperbacks that smelled dusty sweet. He had big forearms from working with giant wrenches on the oil rig. How come Rachel Collins hadn't been happy with him? She should have chosen him and Gertie instead of some stranger.

And Gertie was going to make sure she knew it. As soon as she came up with a plan to get Mary Sue Spivey out of the way.

 

6

Upset About North Dakota

“Alabama's capital is…” Ms. Simms started with an easy one.

“Montgomery!” everyone shouted together.

Then she moved on to the other states, and nobody answered except for Jean. Jean was twelve for twelve. Gertie could tell Ms. Simms was choosing the tricky states like West Virginia and Missouri, but Jean shot out answers almost as fast as Ms. Simms could ask the questions.

“Jean the Jean-ius,” Roy muttered.

Jean sat straighter in her chair, and the corners of her mouth twitched up.

“What's the capital of”—Ms. Simms glanced down at her book—“North Dakota?”

Jean took a breath and was already opening her mouth to answer, but then she stopped. Her teeth clicked together. Her eyes darted from side to side. Everyone was watching her.

“Bismarck,” said Mary Sue.

Ms. Simms looked up from her book. “That's right,” she said.

“I learned my capitals
last
year,” Mary Sue said, and shrugged one shoulder.

“Wow,” Roy whispered from the back of the classroom. “She's a
real
genius.”

“With a
g
,” said Leo.

Jean trembled beside Gertie. When Junior trembled he was a scared rabbit, but when Jean trembled she was a volcano about to blow. No one had ever beaten Jean to an answer. Jean was the smartest girl in the whole school.

Except that now Mary Sue was smarter. Mary Sue was the best at everything.
She
was the best fifth grader in the world, without even trying.

If only someone would beat her at something. If only someone could prove that the seat-stealer wasn't the smartest. An idea nibbled at Gertie, and she tightened her ponytail.

*   *   *

While the rest of the class ran for the buses and cars, Gertie pulled out all her books until the inside of her desk was empty except for broken bits of pencil lead and a collection of rocks from the playground.

Junior and Jean stared.

“Did you lose something in there?” Junior asked, leaning over and peering into her empty desk.

“I'm taking these home to read.” She began stuffing books into her bag.

“Why?” Jean put her hands on her hips.

“I'm going to study everything we're going to learn this year,” Gertie said. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of this before. “And then I'll know all the answers to every question Ms. Simms can possibly ask. I'll learn it all this weekend.”

“
You're
going to study?” Jean asked.

Gertie's fingers reached for her shirt collar. She could do this. She could do anything. “Yes,” she said. “This is how I'm going to do it.” She waved her blue notebook at Jean. She lowered her voice. “This is how I'm going to neutralize Mary Sue.” And become the greatest fifth grader. All in one blow. This was even better than the summer speeches.

“B-but—I—” Jean stammered. “It won't work!”

“Yes it will.” Gertie kept loading books. It would work. She could feel it.

“But—you—” Jean grabbed one of her own books and stalked out the door, banging into people as she went.

Junior leaned toward Gertie. “She's just upset about North Dakota,” he whispered.

Gertie squeezed one more book into her bag. She still had a stack on her desk.

“I guess you won't be able to carry them all—”

Gertie slapped a science book against Junior's chest, and he grabbed it before it could fall.

“Take this,” she said. She tucked the last two books under her left arm and then hoisted her bag up with her right. “Come on, or we'll miss the bus!”

“You don't even
like
studying!” Junior said as he followed her, ducking a football that two boys were throwing in the hall.

“I don't have to like it,” she called over the shouts of all the kids pressing out the front doors. “I just have to be the best at it. I'm going to be the smartest person in the class.” Gertie climbed the bus steps and let Junior squeeze past her into the window seat. “I'm going to know everything.” She had a thought. “Oh my Lord, I'll probably have to move up a grade.” She leaned her head back against the bus seat, letting the screams and shouts of all the other bus riders fade away.

Junior's next words were muffled because he had pressed his forehead against the window. “This is the worst idea ever.”

Gertie snapped upright. She pulled on Junior's shoulder until he peeked at her from the corner of his eye. She spoke in her lowest, most serious voice. “Junior Jr., do you think I can't do what I say I'm going to do?”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head hard. “Of course you can.” He swallowed. “It's just … Why do you have to be better than Jean? What if she gets mad?”

“I'm trying to be better than Mary Sue,” said Gertie. “Not Jean. Understand?”

Junior didn't answer.

“Jean wants Mary Sue stopped, too,” said Gertie.

“Umm…”

“You'll see,” said Gertie. “Everything's going to be fine.”

*   *   *

When the screen door slammed behind her she didn't even wait to see if Aunt Rae was going to come greet her. She rushed past her father, who was peeling boiled eggs, and Audrey, who was digging through the pots-and-pans cabinet. She hurried past Aunt Rae, who was straightening the sofa cushions.

“Can't talk! Big big plans,” Gertie yelled, and she burst into her room, slid across the comic books on her floor, and crash-landed on the bed.

Gertie's bedroom was her favorite place in the world. Her trash can had a potted fern in it. She had a globe on her dresser and a do-it-yourself bonsai in the windowsill. Glow-in-the-dark stars covered the ceiling.

She pulled her spelling book out of her bag, propped it open against her pillow, put her chin in her hands, and stared at the words. Normally, she studied her spelling words the night before she had a test. They looked different this far in advance. When she'd memorized them all she looked at the clock and saw that she'd been studying for only twelve minutes.

A week's worth of spelling done in twelve minutes! Gertie was amazed. Maybe, she thought, she'd been a wonderful student all along and just hadn't known it. She was going to devote her life to studying. She was going to skip two or three grades. She was going to go to college when she was twelve. Phase Two: Win a medal! With her brain!

She decided to work on her capitals next. She would write them down five hundred—no, a thousand times each! She was picking up her pencil when the door creaked open and Audrey slipped into the room.

“I'm busy,” Gertie said.

Audrey came further into the room, right up to the bed, and put her face an inch from Gertie's. “I can't find the channel changer.”

Gertie didn't look up. “No.”

Audrey breathed orange-juice breath in her face. “Do you want to play house with me?”

“No.”

“I'll be the mama and the daddy and the cat and the Ford, and you can be the little baby.”

Gertie started to remind Audrey that she was too old to play the little baby, but that conversation would take forever. “I'm doing important work,” she said. “And I don't have time to play.”

“Can I have some work?”

“No. You don't get to have work.”

“Why?”

“Because you're in kindergarten,” Gertie explained. “It's not real school.”

“Why isn't it real school?”

“Oh my Lord!” Gertie was never going to learn the capital of Montana if she had to explain all of life to Audrey. “Why don't you go watch your
Waltons
?” she asked.

“But the channel changer's gone.”

Gertie slapped her pencil down and rolled off the bed. “Come on,” she said.

They looked under the sofa cushions and on all the tabletops and in the sock drawers and behind the washing machine. Finally, Gertie found it. For some reason, Aunt Rae had put it on top of the refrigerator, which Gertie thought was a ridiculous place to keep the remote because they didn't even have a TV in the kitchen.

“Better leave that be,” her father said as he walked through the kitchen with his toolbox. “Aunt Rae put that there for a reason.” He stepped through the screen door.