Out of My Mind (15 page)

But today I listened carefully to the bulletin. My heartbeat sped up and I jerked my arms with excitement as I heard the principal say, “All students who wish to try out for the Whiz Kids quiz team, please report to Mr. Dimming’s room after school.”

I stayed nervous all day. I didn’t tell Rose what I planned to do. I thought about it, then decided not to. Suppose she said it was a stupid idea? I didn’t think I could take that.

Then I spilled tomato soup all over the front of my blouse at lunchtime. Even though Catherine tried to clean it up, you just can’t get red stuff out of a white shirt. I felt like a slob. I wish I had thought of that this morning. I could have
told
Mom to pack a change of clothes for me. It’s still hard to remember that I can
say
stuff like that now.

I didn’t go out for inclusion classes all day—I wanted to study until the last minute—but as soon as the last bell
rings, I grab Catherine’s arm.
“Hurry!”
I type.
“To Mr. D’s room.”

Even though I am in the electric chair, we set it to manual so she could push me. I am too nervous to drive.

When we arrive at Mr. Dimming’s room, a group of kids from my history class are already there, whispering together and going over note cards. They look up in surprise when Catherine wheels me in.

“Hi, Melody,” Rose says. “What are you doing here?” Her voice doesn’t sound as friendly as usual.

“Quiz team,”
I type.

“She can’t be on the team,” I hear Claire whisper to Jessica, wrinkling up her nose. “She’s from the retard room!”

Molly thinks that’s really funny. She screeches like a blue jay when she laughs.

I decide to ignore them even though I feel my anger rising. I have to stay focused. Several more students file into the room, from both grades five and six. I don’t know the sixth graders very well—they have different recess times. I wonder if they’re smarter. They’ve had more time to learn stuff.

A few kids point at me and whisper. When Mr. Dimming hurries in carrying a stack of papers sealed in plastic, he scans the room to see who’s here. He frowns
slightly when he sees me, but he sets the test papers on his desk and greets us all.

“Welcome,” he says. “I’m so glad that so many of you have chosen to try out for the competition this afternoon. It’s going to be challenging as well as fun. Are there any questions before we get started?”

Connor, of course, raises his hand.

“Yes, Connor,” Mr. Dimming says with a good-natured sigh.

“Uh, will we get pizza and stuff during practice like last year?”

“Don’t you think you need to make the team first?” his friend Rodney yells out.

“Rodney is right. Let’s do one thing at a time.” Mr. Dimming lifts the stack of test papers from his desk and holds them like a treasure.

“I hold in my hand the official test questions from the national Whiz Kids headquarters in Washington, D.C. I will be reading the questions to you, just as it’s done in real competitions, and then—” He stops and stares.

Everyone looks around to see what has interrupted him. It’s me.

Mr. Dimming taps the stack of papers for a moment, clears his throat, and addresses Catherine. “You know, I don’t think it’s appropriate for Melody to be here. This
is not a recreational activity just for fun. The purpose of this meeting is to choose our official team.”

He isn’t even speaking to me. He’s looking right over my head at Catherine, as if I were invisible. Now I am really mad.

I turn up the volume on my machine—very loud.
“I am here to take the test.”

Mr. Dimming blinks. “Melody, I don’t want your feelings to get injured. The test is very hard.”

“I am very smart.”

“I just don’t want you to be hurt, Melody.” He sounds sincere. Sort of.

“I’m tough,”
I type.

“You go, girl!” Rose suddenly says from the front of the room. A few other kids clap their support.

That makes me feel a little better. Just a little.

Catherine speaks up. “By law, she cannot be excluded. You know that, sir.”

“Yes, but—”

“Read the questions to the students just as you had planned. They’ll write their answers on notebook paper. Melody will record her answers, then print them out for you.”

“How do we know you won’t be helping her?” Claire asks.

“Because I won’t be in the room,” Catherine replies.
“Too bad, because
you
might need some help!” Catherine grins at her, but Claire just looks away.

I tell Catherine,
“Go now.”
I almost push her away.
“Thank you.”

“Your mom is coming to pick you up?”

“Yes.”

“Good luck, Melody. You’re my champ, no matter what, you got that?”

“Got it!”
I wave as she leaves the room.

Mr. Dimming shrugs his shoulders and continues with the directions. “There are one hundred quiz questions. I will read each prompt one time and each answer only once. You will have thirty seconds to record each response. Please write only the capital letter: ‘A,’ ‘B,’ ‘C, ‘D,’ and sometimes ‘E.’ Are there any questions?”

Claire’s hand shoots up.

“Yes?”

“How do we know Melody doesn’t have answers stored in her machine? Us normal people aren’t allowed to use computers.”

“Why are you so worried about Melody?” Rose answers before Mr. D has a chance to. “Are you scared she’ll get a higher score than you?”

“No way!”

“Then be quiet so we can get started.”

Mr. D smiles at Rose. “Students, get out two sheets
of paper. One to write on. One to cover your answers. We believe in honesty, but an extra sheet of paper can’t hurt.”

Everyone shuffles to find paper and pens. Then a feeling of quiet expectation falls over the room. Mr. Dimming unseals the official test and opens to the first page.

“Let us begin,” he says, his voice suddenly sounding
very
official. “Number one. The capital of Colombia is:

A. Brussels

B. Santiago

C. Bogotá

D. Jakarta.”

He pauses while everybody scribbles their answers. I punch in the letter
C
. Good old Mrs. V and her capital quiz cards!

“Number two,” Mr. Dimming continues. “Gerontology is the study of:

A. The elderly

B. Gerunds

C. Germs

D. Rocks and jewels.”

I punched in the letter
A
. So far, so good.

The test continues for the next thirty minutes or so. He asks questions about atoms and clouds, about fish and mammals, about famous religions and dead
presidents. Some of the questions I’m sure of. I guess on a couple. The math questions make me sweat. This is the hardest, most exciting thing I’d ever done.

The very last question is a killer.

“And number one hundred,” Mr. D says, relief in his voice. “The small intestine of an average adult, if stretched out vertically, would measure about how long?

A. Eight to twelve inches

B. One to two feet

C. Five to seven feet

D. Twenty to twenty-three feet.”

I punch in the letter
D
, hoping I’ve guessed right, and breathe a sigh of relief. It was over.

“Pencils down, please,” Mr. Dimming tells us. “Make sure your name is on your paper, then cover it with the cover sheet and pass it up to me.”

As everyone gathers papers and scribbles their names hurriedly, I push the print button on my Medi-Talker. A slim sheet with my answers emerges from the side. Mr. Dimming walks back to where I sit and rips it off. He doesn’t look at me.

“We’re done here,” he tells the class. “Your parents were told what time to pick you up, but if anyone has a problem with a ride, let me know. I won’t leave the building until everyone has safely left school grounds.”

I am the last one out. I know my mom will probably
come in to get me, but I want to leave on my own power. I turn on my chair and wheel around to face the door.

“Melody,” Mr. D calls.

I spin back around.

“I hope you were not discouraged by all this. I was only trying to protect you from being hurt.”

“I’m okay,”
I tell him.

“I’ll be announcing the scores and the members of the team tomorrow. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“I understand.”
Then I ask him,
“Top eight scores get picked?”

“Yes. Four team members and four alternates.”

I am tired, and I’ve started to drool a little. I’m sure he thinks I’m a dunce—a sloppy one at that. I feel like the red stain on my blouse is screaming.

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night, Melody. See you tomorrow. And, uh, you might want to wipe your mouth.”

I rub the sleeve of my shirt across my lips. The tomato-stained shirt. I can imagine what he was thinking.

I almost bump into my mom as she hurries in.

“How did you do, sweetie?” she asks breathlessly.

“Okay, I guess.”

To Mr. D, she says, “Thank you for giving her the opportunity to participate.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Brooks. Melody is a delight, and I’m amazed she’s been able to achieve as well as she has.”

Yeah, right. A delight with drippy lips and a dirty shirt.

“Let’s go, Mom,”
I type. I need to go to the bathroom, and I want to go home.

Going to the bathroom at school just plain sucks. I have to be taken out of my chair, lifted onto the toilet, and held there so I don’t fall. Then someone has to wipe me when I’m finished.

It’s not so bad when it’s Mom, but it’s awful when a classroom aide has to do that for me. She is required by law to wear plastic gloves—I guess in case I have some kind of infection or disease. It’s completely embarrassing. I don’t usually have to go first thing in the morning, but I’m so nervous on Tuesday, I ask to be taken twice.

Then I go to all my inclusion classes. The students
who tried out for the quiz team can’t stop chatting about the test. I listen to every word.

“I couldn’t believe how easy it was,” Connor boasts.

“I bet I got a higher score than you did,” Claire says, her voice cocky.

“I thought the geography questions were off the map,” Rose adds. “I never even heard of some of those countries.”

Jessica shakes her head. “The math part wasn’t much fun either.”

“I can’t believe we even
care
about a dumb test for a quiz team,” Rodney comments.

“Because the competition is
on television
, man!” Connor replies. “Big-time TV coverage here in town, and if we make the finals, we go to D.C., where it will be televised all over the country. If we win, we get to be on
Good Morning America
. My grandma in Philly can watch me, and my auntie in Frisco. I’ll be famous!”

“What do you mean,
if
we win, Connor?” Claire asks him. “Don’t you mean
when
we stomp the competition?”

“Yeah, for sure. I already bought a new suit for when I’m on TV.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “I thought this was a team contest, Connor,” she reminds him.

“Hey! The team would be nothing without me!” He holds his hand up in the air for high fives.

I listen quietly from the back of the room. When the bell rings to indicate that it’s time for Mr. Dimming’s class, my palms feel sweaty.

Catherine pushes me into the room and whispers into my ear, “Relax. You rock.”

Mr. Dimming gets the class quiet and takes attendance. Why do teachers go so slowly when you want something from them?

Finally, he removes a sheet of paper from his briefcase. “I graded your quiz team tests last night, and since many of those who tried out for the competition team are in this class, I’m going to share the results with you now. The teachers of the other classes who have students who tried out have been given this same list and are at this moment reading the results to them.”

“So read the list!” Connor shouts, getting up from his desk.

“If classroom behavior were a determining factor for making the team, Connor, you might be in trouble,” Mr. Dimming says. “Please quiet down for a moment.”

That shuts him up, and he sits down heavily.

“First of all, I’m very proud of all of you who took the test. It was quite challenging, and you all did extremely well.”

Rose raises her hand.

“Yes, Rose?”

“Can we see the questions and answers later so we know where we messed up?”

“Absolutely. As a matter of fact, we’ll use this test as a learning tool to study for the real competition. But anyone is free to see the test and check their responses.”

“
Please
read the names!” Connor says, as politely as I’ve ever heard him.

Mr. Dimming smiles. “Okay. Will do. I shall read the alternates first. Two fifth graders. Two from sixth grade. Amanda Firestone. Molly North. Elena Rodriguez. Rodney Mosul.”

My heart falls to my shoes, which is not quite to the floor, but close. How could I have missed so many questions? Maybe my thumb slipped and I pushed the wrong letters. Catherine squeezes my hand.

Molly and Rodney screech with joy. Amanda and Elena are sixth graders. Connor is noticeably quiet.

“And now,” Mr. Dimming continues, “the names of the four students who scored the highest and will represent our school at the local competition downtown. The alternates will accompany them and will be called upon if any of the team members are unable to participate in any way. Are we ready?”

“Ready,” Connor says softly. I notice he has his fingers crossed behind his back.

“I’m proud to report that all four are from our
classroom.” He pauses. “To know all the finalists are from fifth grade blows me away. Way to go!”

“We torched grade six? Awesome!” Rodney says. “Now read the names before Connor wets his pants!” Connor reaches over and smacks Rodney on the back of his head.

Mr. Dimming takes a deep breath. “The top four scorers and members of our quiz team will be . . . Connor Bates—”