The Reinvention of Bessica Lefter (27 page)

t turns out that a lot of people wanted to vote for the girl who lost her pants. As I was leaving school that day, people kept yelling, “You’ve got my vote!” And I didn’t even know who these people were. I guess Vicki was right. It’s important to take risks. It’s important to show up, be proud, and shake your rear end like a wild animal.

As I walked to the bus, there was one person I wanted to call more than anybody. But Sylvie was at school. So I got on my bus and rode home and sat on top of all my excitement. And when I got home I had to sit on it even
longer, because my mom’s car had broken down and my dad had to go and pick her up.

Waiting was hard. I took my carefully folded fur pants and set them on my bed. Then I bounced around the house from room to room. Then I realized that I was in such a wonderful mood that I was pretty sure Grandma would want to hear from me. So I called her.

Me:
I just tried out for mascot, and while things didn’t go exactly how I wanted them to go, I think I have a shot.

Grandma:
I don’t doubt that.

Me:
Grandma, I haven’t told anybody this, but if I don’t win, I will have to live in loner town for the next three years.

Grandma:
Bessica, you’ll only live in loner town if you choose to live in loner town.

Me:
That’s not true, Grandma. That might be how things work in caves, but that’s not how things work in middle school. Hey, is that Willy in the background?

Grandma:
Yes. He needs a pillow.

Me:
So he’s gonna live?

Grandma:
Of course he is. Willy has endurance!

Me:
Oh. Grandma, I need to apologize for two things.

Grandma:
Okay.

Me:
First, I’m sorry that I’ve been unkind to Willy. He’s nice to me. From now on I’ll be nice too.

Grandma:
It’s good to hear you say that.

Me:
Second, I created a terrible romantic tragedy.

Grandma:
Is this about Noll Beck?

Me:
No. It’s about you and Pilot Mike. I set up a date for you guys, because you both like sandwiches and waterskiing. His phone number is (406) 234-0623. Maybe you could call him and let him down easy.

Grandma:
What?

Me:
He has a boat. I thought you’d really like him.

Grandma:
Bessica! How did you meet a pilot with a boat? Did he visit your school for career day or something?

Me:
No. Not quite. He lives in Montana.

Grandma:
I don’t have time for you to explain this to me. Willy needs me.

Me:
That’s cool. I understand that.

Grandma:
Bessica, you should not have set me up.

Me:
I know. I regret that I did that. It’s why I’m apologizing.

Grandma:
What’s his number again?

Me:
It’s (406) 234-0623. It’s identical to my locker combination. Twice.

Grandma:
I’m going to tell him the truth.

Me:
Okay. Grandma?

Grandma:
Yes.

Me:
I suddenly got very scared that I’m going to lose. The kids at my school vote for the winner and nobody really knows me.

Grandma:
Don’t fret yourself into despair. Being the front-runner isn’t always the safest position. People love a good underdog story.

Me:
That’s exactly what I needed to hear.

Grandma:
Good. I’ve got to go, doll.

Me:
Are you mad at me about Pilot Mike?

Grandma:
I’m not happy about it, but I know you didn’t mean to hurt anybody.

Me:
That’s true.

Grandma:
Bye for now. I’ve got my fingers crossed.

When my mom and dad pulled up in the driveway, I was watching through the window. As soon as they came through the door, they wanted a play-by-play of how things went. So I told them all about Alice and the bear head.

“A girl’s mother purchased a bear head for her?” my mom asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “It was totally furry.”

My dad whistled. “Sounds like somebody has money to burn.”

My dad loved to use that phrase when he thought rich people were buying stupid things.

“It even had fangs,” I said.

“Bears don’t have fangs,” my dad said. “They have pronounced eyeteeth.”

I blinked. I didn’t see much of a difference.

Then I told them about Dolan the Puker and his tricycle ride and smelly fur hat.

“Why are you calling him Dolan the Puker?” my mom asked.

And I didn’t even realize I’d called him that.

“He’s puked twice in chorus. On the people in the row in front of him. He’s got a reputation.”

My dad whistled again. “With a condition like that, you’d think he’d get put in the front.”

I shook my head. “That wouldn’t work. He’s very tall.”

“How did your performance go? Did they like watching a jump-roping bear?”

I didn’t really want to tell my parents that I’d sweat my pants off, but I also didn’t want to lie. So I told them everything, exactly how it had happened. My mother looked horrified. But my dad laughed.

“They just flew right off?” he asked.

“Yep. They were basically on Ms. Penrod’s head before I could stop jumping rope.”

“Amazing,” my dad said, smiling.

“And then people read my butt and laughed harder,” I said.

“Your butt?” my dad asked.

My mother put her head in her hands. “She was wearing pajama bottoms that said
Kiss this
on the rear.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen those pajama bottoms,” my dad said.

“They’re purple,” I said. “Grandma sent them to me from South Dakota.”

“Wow,” my dad said. “You might win.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Even if you don’t win, you can try out again next year. Usually the older kids win, Buck,” my mom said.

“Sometimes they don’t,” my dad said.

And this made me smile. Because it felt good to have my dad believe in me, even though I wasn’t an older kid.

That night, after dinner, I really wanted to call Sylvie. But instead of doing that, I just stared at my phone. And then the best thing in the world happened. She called me!

“Bessica!” Sylvie said. “Everybody at my school is talking about you!”

“Really?” I said. It felt weird to hear that.

“You pulled your pants off and threw them on a teacher’s head?”

“Sort of,” I said.

“Unbelievable,” Sylvie said. “I didn’t know that you had that in you.”

“Well, when it comes to winning mascot, there are three things you’ve got to do. Thing one: Show up. Thing two: Be proud. Thing three: Shake your rear end like a wild animal!”

“You’re so funny,” Sylvie said. “I forgot how funny you are.”

“Yeah. I’m pretty funny.”

“Bessica, I miss you,” Sylvie said.

And my heart sped up. Hearing Sylvie say those words was the sweetest moment of my year.

“I miss you too,” I said.

“We should hang out,” Sylvie said.

“I know. I know. Your mom told me I could come over!”

“She’s softening,” Sylvie said.

“That’s great!” I said. Mrs. Potaski needed some softening.

“She thinks you’re becoming more mature.”

“She does?” Because I didn’t think I was becoming more mature. Then I added, “Don’t tell her that I sweat off my pants.”

“She told me we could hang out on Saturday if you’re free.”

I was so happy. I could feel a humming sensation dancing through me.

“I can show you my mascot moves!” I said.

“Yeah!” Sylvie said. “I’ve learned all kinds of dance stuff that would work really well for bears.”

“Oh my heck!” I said. “That’s so cool!”

“And maybe Malory can come!”

I stopped breathing.

“Bessica, you need to get to know Malory and forgive her for being a blabbermouth,” Sylvie said.

I continued not breathing.

“I forgave you for yelling at me and accusing me of all sorts of terrible things that I didn’t do and for telling me to get a terrible pixie cut.”

I hated it when Sylvie got reasonable. I
had
yelled at her and accused her of things she hadn’t done. So I cleared my throat and said Sylvie’s name in a very serious way. “Sylvie Potaski.”

“What?” she asked.

“I apologize for yelling at you and accusing you of showing people our diary.”

“I never showed anybody,” Sylvie said.

“I know.” Then I tried to make it seem like no big deal. So I laughed and said, “It was a big misunderstanding. Ha-ha-ha.”

“What? You need to explain,” Sylvie said in an unhappy tone.

I felt so lame telling her the whole story. “She never read the diary. I sort of forgot that in third grade I wrote Kettle a few notes where I confessed my huge crush on him. And I guess he held on to them. And passed them around at a family reunion.”

Sylvie gasped.

“Turns out he and Alice Potgeiser are second cousins.”

“What a dweeb. Who takes notes like that to a family reunion?”

“Exactly,” I said.

“Let’s forget Kettle Harris and Alice Potgeiser.”

“Totally,” I said. Even though I was thinking about Alice quite a bit because I was really hoping I’d kicked her butt.

“Oh, Bessica, come over Saturday. I’ll tell Malory to bring her ferret named Taco. He’s amazing.”

The thought of playing with Malory’s ferret made me feel skittish.

“Why can’t you give Malory a second chance?” Sylvie asked. “She’s a nice person. She’s trying to start over and be brand new. You of all people should understand that.”

And when Sylvie put it that way, it made it hard for me to object.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll come hang out with you and Malory, and play with Taco.”