Spirit Week Showdown (10 page)

A
fter school, I walk down to the art room. The hall seems like it's a mile long. I'm so ashamed of what I've done to Connie that I can't even look at the Spirit Week posters. I knock on the wall since the door to her art room is open. She rinses paintbrushes with one hand and signals me to come in with the other.

“You know, Mya, if we're going to win the VIP tickets, we really need to get the big points tomorrow. David's team and Naomi's team are both beating us by two points. We've got to come up with something extra, over-the-top amazing.”

I set my backpack in a chair. “Before we talk about our Spirit Week costumes for tomorrow, I need to tell you something. It's important,” I say.

She holds up a hand. “Okay, but let's get the costume for tomorrow figured out first. What do you think about Fire Girls? Our superpower could be that we can set criminals on fire. I can paint both of us red with yellow flames coming off our faces.”

My brain shows me what I would look like, and I almost scream. “No, I don't want my face on fire. What about Weather Girls? We can change the weather to help fight crime?”

Connie shrugs. “That's not too bad. Maybe your mom could cover you with a costume that has all four seasons on it. I could paint a T-shirt and put some leaves on it.”

I'm too nervous to sit, so I walk over to the GGC and stop. The guardian warriors look so awesome, like crime fighters, like . . .

I spin around to face Connie. “Do they have names?”

Her face lights up. “Of course, and stories, too.”

She walks to the first warrior seated on a tall green throne, wearing animal skins and boots made of fur. “This is Animasia, only daughter of Bigfoot and the Lost Princess. She's thirteen years old and
guardian of all animals wild and tame, and especially magical animals in the secret woods, like unicorns and stuff.”

“If she's guardian over the animals, why is she wearing their skins and furs?” I ask.

Connie cuts her eyes to me. “When the animals shed their skin or fur, they give it to her in a big ceremony to say thanks for keeping them safe and free of hunters.”

“That's really cool. Who is that next to her?” I ask.

Connie points to the next guardian. “This is Harmony, daughter of Cupid and the Good Witch. She's guardian of friends and family. Harmony has heart-shaped birthmarks all over and wants everybody to live together in love and peace. She's thirteen, too.”

“She's awesome, Connie. Who is that on the Clydesdale?”

“That's Angelica, queen of the GGC. Parents unknown. She's responsible for all the guardian warriors. Queen Angelica is different from the others, but really good at ruling the GGC. Her black crown has the names of all the other guardians engraved in it.”

I take a long look at Angelica. Her hair is short
and black. I look back at Connie. Her hair is short and black. Angelica's eyes are blue. So are Connie's. And she's tall! I can tell, even though she's sitting in a saddle. Connie's tall, too.

“Hey, Angelica looks like you.”

“No she doesn't,” says Connie as she walks to the next warrior.

I giggle and follow her.

“This is Jade-Iris, daughter of Mother Earth and Father Time. Her skin is brown, just like the soil and all the natural things in it. She's the healthiest guardian warrior because she eats nothing but foods grown from the ground. Jade-Iris makes sure everything is done on time, like harvesting and planting, and takes care of all the trees, flowers, and plants. She's thirteen.”

I can't help but stare at Jade-Iris. Red, orange, yellow, and purple leaves, with brown twigs, and white flowers cover her body. She's beautiful sitting on that green grassy throne.

“She's the prettiest warrior ever” is all I can say.

Connie stops in front of a young guardian. Gray clouds surround her throne with sprinkles of snow falling from them. Her throne shines as if it's frozen.

“This is Ice, the last guardian warrior in the GGC. She's the only daughter of Mother Nature and Old Man Winter. Ice helps all the other guardians by giving them the weather they need to do their job. She's only ten and doesn't always do what she's told. She's not mean; she just gets frustrated when people don't take care of the planet.”

“You made these guardians up all by yourself?” I ask.

Connie nods. “I figured out what they'd wear and what they'd do.”

“They're like superheroes or . . .”

I hope she's thinking the same thing I'm thinking, because the GGC is hands down the best group of superheroes ever. If we can win those five points tomorrow for our superhero outfits, maybe Connie won't care that I did something really bad.

She stares at her warriors. “You really think we could do this, Mya?”

I step closer to her, smiling. “Meet me at my house in an hour.”

Mom is excited that Connie's coming over. I tell her about the Girl Guardian Court, and what the guardians look like. She gathers material as I talk,
and I can tell she's listening by the things she's setting aside for our costumes. She's got wire, glue, and feathers for our wings, along with scissors, pushpins, and a measuring tape.

“I'm going to change clothes. I'll be right back,” I say.

Nugget's standing at the top of the stairs. I signal him to come to my room without saying a word. He follows me.

I close my door once we're inside.

“Hey, Nugget, what do you think of Naomi?”

He shrugs. “She's vain, selfish, and rude. Connie has a much nicer disposition. Why do you like Naomi anyway?”

“I don't anymore,” I say.

Nugget grins. “Excellent news.”

“Did you know she wants to be your girlfriend?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes as his nose wrinkles like he just smelled the world's stinkiest skunk.

“I knew, but I don't like her. Can we talk about something else, because it's quite possible that I miscalculated the negative impact of my friendship with Solo on Fish.”

“I'm not sure what you just said, but I think I have one of those problems, too. I can't talk right
now, maybe later, okay? Connie's coming over and I need to do something first.”

He nods, and opens the door. “Sure. But I really need to talk about this.”

Once my brother is gone, I grab the rope off the hook on my wall. My stuffed animals are still on the floor, where I left them a few days ago. Sometimes I do my best thinking when I'm calf roping. I sure hope I can think of a way to tell Connie what I did without her hating me.

It doesn't take long to get a good lasso going. I throw it toward the longhorn.

Missed.

I toss the rope toward the goat.

Missed again.

This rope is horrible! It never lassos anything! I might as well throw it in the trash, because I'm never going to be a good calf roper like Annie Oakley or Cowgirl Claire. I'm never going to ride a Clydesdale. I'm not going to win those VIP tickets, because I'm not even a good Spirit Week partner!

Since the day I picked Connie's name out of that big black hat, she's been the best fake friend I've ever had. Mom likes her. Dad likes her. Even Nugget likes her. I don't know where all those rumors came from or where she got her nickname, but
starting tomorrow, I'm going to be as nice to her as she's been to me. And then, when I tell Connie that Naomi wore that Bo Peep outfit because I told her what we were going to wear, maybe she'll forgive me, like a real friend would do.

M
om's standing at the door with me when Connie comes.

“Hello, queen of hearts! So now you want to be a guardian superhero?” asks Mom.

Connie nods.

“What a perfect choice. Follow me to my magic sewing room.”

There's some happy in Connie's walk as she talks to Mom like they've been fake friends forever. Ten minutes later, Connie joins me in the living room.

“Your mom said she should have something
ready in about an hour. She's like the fastest seamstress in the universe.”

Nugget brings us juice boxes and presses the remote. “You watch
Junior High Spy
?”

“Who doesn't?” she says.

Immediately, my thoughts switch to Naomi. How could she like Nugget more than me?

As I look at Connie, the only thing she's asked me to do is be a good partner. I didn't have to work hard or run home so I could pull out a red bathroom carpet for her to walk on.

Soon Dad comes in. “Hey, kids; oh, I know you! Connie, right?”

“Yes, sir,” she says.

On his way to his room, Dad hollers back, “I just saw Naomi. She told me to tell you hello.”

Nugget perks up. “Hey, that reminds me. Naomi asked me if I had something to tell her. When I said no, she said I need to talk to you, Mya. What am I supposed to be telling her?”

The whole world goes quiet. I can feel Connie looking at me. Nugget is, too.

I snatch the remote from the table. “Can't we watch something else?”

“You watch
Junior High Spy
every day,” says Nugget.

“Not anymore.”

“You asked her, didn't you?” says Connie.

I nod.

“Answer my questions. What am I supposed to be telling Naomi, Mya?” asks Nugget.

Connie gets up. “Tell your mom I'll come by later and pick up my costume. I think you need to talk to your brother.”

I nod again, trying not to cry. Connie leaves, and now it's just me and Nugget in the room. I tell him what I said, and why I said it. His face is full of anger, but he waits until I finish before saying anything.

“Using me to trap Naomi was wrong. As bad as that was, I still can't believe you broke the biggest Spirit Week rule of all time. Good grief, Mya, you double-crossed Connie. That is the worst thing a Spirit Week partner could ever do. You've got to tell her. She can't find out from Naomi.”

I can barely talk. I pull on his shirt. “Help me, Nugget. I don't know how to fix this.”

Mom comes out of her sewing room. “Where's Connie? I have her costume in this bag.”

Nugget takes the bag from Mom and hands it to me. “Connie had to go home, but Mya said she'd take her the costume as soon as you finished, right, Mya?”

I take the bag from Nugget. My eyes are full of tears, so I don't look at Mom. Instead, I stare at the door. “I'll be right back.”

Connie told me she lives on Bayou Bend. I know where that street is. It doesn't take long before I'm standing at the intersection of State Street and Bayou Bend. There are the apartments she must be talking about. I walk to the front, open the door to the main entrance, and see a mailman sorting mail and placing it in the mailboxes. One by one, I check the names on the outsides of the mailboxes. There it is! Tate, J. Apt. 215.

I wait for the elevator since I don't get to ride one that often. After just two knocks, the door opens. Connie's eyes widen.

“Are you okay? Come in. Was Nugget mad at you?”

I hand her the bag. “He was, but you might be even madder. Here's your costume.”

“What's wrong?”

Inside, the apartment is small, with the living room and dining room in one area. Paintbrushes and paint cans sit on the table. There's an easel with a tablet of paper sitting near a window in the living room next to a little table with paint and brushes on it. Everything else in the apartment is pushed
together just to make room for the paints. The television is on the coffee table. Four TV dinner trays lean against the wall near the fireplace. On the mantel, I count five big trophies.

“Those trophies belong to your dad?”

“They're mine.”

I walk toward them. “Are you serious?”

She looks out the window. It takes her a while to answer me. “I don't like to talk about that stuff anymore.” Connie points to the sofa. “Sit down over there. I want to know what's wrong. You look terrible. Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

I hold up a hand. “Okay.”

No more messing around. This is it. I sit on the sofa. She plops down in a chair, and I start with the part she already knows.

“You were right. Naomi likes Nugget. She never really liked me. I should have believed you. I'm sorry.”

Her eyes squint as she stares at the ceiling. “I hate her, Mya. I've never told anybody about what she did to me. I wish I had, but I didn't think anybody would believe me.”

The mood changes. It's the same feeling I get when dark clouds fill the sky and the wind whistles. Those are signs of a bad storm brewing, and I think
there's a hurricane coming right here inside Connie's place.

“How did you know she wasn't my friend?” I ask.

There's a look on Connie's face I haven't seen before. Her eyes are focused on mine. Her lips move, but nothing comes out, and it makes me squirm. Then she points her finger at me, and her face is so serious that I sit up straight.

“What I'm about to tell you is a secret. You have to promise never to tell anyone, not even Nugget.”

That scares me. I've got a feeling Connie is about to tell me the juiciest gossip to ever hit Bluebonnet. But it may be news that I don't want to hear. If it is, that will make us even, because I definitely have something to tell her that she won't like.

“So can you keep a secret or not?” she asks again.

I grip the couch cushions and hope for the best. “Tell me. I'm ready.”