And I guess my surprises were not over yet, because at that moment both Milo and Marcos came running onto the field wearing green jerseys with #51 on the front and “T Diaz” across the back. They stopped in front of Smitty and Beast, absolutely towering over the two biggest boys on the middle school football team.
“You two lead this team, right?” Milo said. “Well, if our little sister plays on this team, you had better make sure she’s treated like a Princess. Got it?”
“And just to make sure you’re doing your job,” Marcos growled, “we’ll be at every single game.”
Smitty and Beast snapped to attention and saluted my brothers like they were in the army or something, but I could see a huge awestruck smile in their eyes.
Running to put my camera bag down on the bench, I spied my best buds leaning against the track fence.
“Toni, come here!” Danika was jumping up and down with a goofy smile on her face. She had something pink in her hands …
Kate couldn’t stand the excitement. “Cleats! They’re for you!” She giggled and pointed to the shiny pink football shoes that Danika was holding high above her head.
Yuzi grabbed the shoes from Danika and thrust them into my hands. They were perfect. Pink with white stripes, a big T for Antonia on the tongue of the shoe, the number 51 in rhinestones on the side of the shoe and on the heel …
“No way,” I whispered. “The secret shark sign. Did you draw this, Yuzi?”
“I had a little help from Beast and Smitty, but you betcha. That was me!”
“Did you know about this yesterday?” I asked Kate.
“Nope,” she said. “Neither did Mr. Billings. Mrs. V found out at lunch today and told us. We called Danika’s dad ’cause he has a friend who makes custom shoes.”
“Yuzi worked like mad to get those ready,” Danika said, nearly choking poor Yuzi with an enthusiastic hug.
“You ready, Diaz?” Coach asked from behind me.
“I’ve been ready all my life,” I said, giving my girlfriends high fives all around.
My dad gave me one last hug. “I love you, Princess,” he whispered into my ear. Then he jumped the fence to join the girls.
“I love you, Daddy,” I said. “Tell Mom I said thanks.” It was then I remembered my new job—I had been sent here to take pictures, after all.
“Group picture!” I shouted, grabbing my on-loan camera from its bag.
Danika, Yuzi, and Kate, like they all had one mind or something, immediately jumped on the chain-link fence and struck monkey poses. I wasn’t shocked, but my buds just about lost it when my dad and brothers jumped on the fence too, hanging by one hand and making chimpanzee faces. I had to take three pictures before I got one that was in focus. We were all laughing so hard.
I placed the camera carefully in its bag and with one last look of contentment at my best friends—my very own Secret Keepers—I jogged across the cool, newly cut grass, back to where I belong.
Girl Gab About the YOU that God Created!
Hey Secret Keeper Girl! I hope you had a good time getting to know Toni Diaz. Have you ever felt like her? Have you ever struggled with how God created you—to be athletic, a bookworm, the life of the party, super-adventurous, or whatever? Maybe you’ve wondered if life might be a little easier if you could be just like the other girls. Actually, God’s Word says that’d be pretty bad.
Gab About It:
You know what would be pretty cool about right now? What if your mom told you all of the gifts she sees at work in your life—all of the things that you do and say and express really well—and then she prayed for those gifts to keep growing and growing in your life? And she can also pray that, like Toni, you bravely embrace who you are created to be!
Other books in the
Secret Keeper Girl Series
Just Call Me Kate
“T” is for Antonia
Danika’s Totally Terrible Toss
Yuzi’s False Alarm
Dannah Gresh
author of Secret Keeper Girl
and Chizuruoke Anderson
Moody Publishers
CHICAGO
© 2008 by
DANNAH GRESH AND CHIZURUOKE ANDERSON
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
Interior design: JuliaRyan | www.DesignByJulia.com
Cover and illustrations: Andy Mylin
Some images: © 2008 JupiterImages Corporation
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gresh, Dannah.
Yuzi’s false alarm / by Dannah Gresh and Chizuruoke Anders ; [illustrations by Andy Mylin].
p. cm. – (Secret Keeper Girl series)
Summary: Sixth-grader Yuzi, trying hard to fit in at a new school, is traumatized by being asked to dress as a stalk of corn in the town’s annual Popcorn Festival and soon finds herself in after-school detention, where she meets three other girls who join her in forming the “Secret Keeper Girl Club.” Includes a mother/daughter Girl Gab assignment.
ISBN 978-0-8024-8704-9
[1. Clubs–Fiction. 2. Middle schools–Fiction. 3. Schools–Fiction. 4. Moving, Household—Fiction. 5. Christian life—Fiction. 6. Friendship—Fiction.] I. Anderson, Chizuruoke. II. Mylin, Andy, ill. III. Title.
PZ7.G8633Yuz 2008
[Fic]–dc22
2008026488
We hope you like this book from Moody Publishers. We want to give you books that help you think and figure out what truth really looks like. If you liked this and want more information, you and/or your mom can go to www.moodypublishers.com or write to …
Moody Publishers
820 N. LaSalle Boulevard
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Printed in the United States of America
To D. A., my love, and S.A., my smite.
C.A.
CHAPTER 1
Under Corn-straction
This is not happening! This is NOT happening! I feel all prickly from head to toe—and not because it’s a hot day, either. Here I am totally sprawled on the ground with no hope of saving a scrap of dignity or I-meant-to-do-that-ness. Why can’t the warm ground split open and swallow me whole?
Maybe if I lie here perfectly still, no one will notice me. No one will notice the girl lying facedown dressed in a tight, itchy, horrible corncob costume!
Yes. I am dressed as a cob of corn.
This was not my idea. It’s all part of my mom’s twisted plan to help me feel welcome here in Marion, Ohio, which happens to be “The Popcorn Capital of the World.” My family just moved here one week, six days, and thirteen hours ago because of Dad’s job. Mom figured it would be a good idea for me to be a greeter at the town’s annual Popcorn Festival. No big deal, except I had to dress from head to toe in bright green and yellow spandex! This is definitely not the best way to make a good impression in a new town. I know I’m feeling sorry for myself. But I should! Nobody else seems to be too bothered by the fact that I was volunteered, without being asked, to be a corny greeter.
When I came home from school earlier today to find the corncob costume lying on the couch, I asked my mom the obvious question, “What is that?”
“It’s for you to wear when we go to the Popcorn Festival this afternoon,” she told me. “I met a new friend today. Her name is Sue Kenworth and she is in charge of the greeters for the festival. One got sick, so she needs someone to fill in for her at one of the entrances. I told her you’d be glad to do it.”
It all started to make horrible sense.
“Me?? I’m supposed to wear it?” My voice had gone so high, I was squealing
. But I didn’t care. “How am I supposed to get my hair in there?!”
Well, my hair is in there. And now, me and my hair can’t wait to get out of this suit. I’m never gonna forgive Mom for this!
The stiff corn husks made it really difficult to get vertical again. When I finally got up, I ignored all the concerned faces looking at me. My nose is doing that tickly thing it does when I’m about to cry.
Don’t you dare cry, I tell myself.
The only thing worse than being stuck in a corncob costume at a festival in a new town is bawling your eyes out in a corncob costume at a festival in a new town. I clenched my jaw, but one stubborn tear slipped out anyway.
“Well, hello. You must be the new girl in town!” The voice came from a super-smiley lady with lime-green glasses. Her short red hair was sticking out in every direction. On purpose, I think. I pretended to scratch the corner of my eye as I quickly wiped away the tear.
“Thanks for helping out today,” she said, squinting in the sun. I assumed she was the woman who got me into this unfortunate comedy. “What’s your name again, hon?”
“Yuzi,” I answered.
“What?”
“Yuzi,” I repeated.
“You’re woozy? No wonder, in that getup!” She laughed.
“No. Yuzi,” I said, slowly. “Y-u-z-i.”
“Ohhh, Yooozy! Wherever did you get a name like that?” Spiky Red asked, grinning.
I took a deep breath and started to explain. “My full name is Uzoma Ukachi. It’s Nigerian. Most people can’t pronounce it, so my nickname is just the first two letters of my first name: u-z. And I spell it Y-u-z-i. Yuzi.”
“Woo! That was a mouthful! I have never been sooo happy to hear someone has a nickname. I’m Sue. No story. Just Sue Kenworth.” She stuck out her hand to shake mine, and then laughed like someone had told a funny joke. “It is hot to-day. But that probably doesn’t bother you since you’re from Africa. I, on the other hand, feel like I’m melting,” Sue said, fanning herself with her hand.
People usually assume I can handle any kind of heat because I’m Nigerian. But hot is hot. Besides, I’m wearing a spandex corncob.
“My son’s around here someplace,” Sue said, looking around. “I’d love for him to meet you.”
I tried to stop her. “Oh, no … that’s okay … I don’t really …”
“I don’t see Trevor anywhere. He’ll be so sad he missed you,” she said with a sigh.
I smiled sympathetically, but inside I was relieved.
“Where are you going to school, Yuzi?” Sue asked.
“Rutherford B. Hayes Middle School.”
“Oh, that’s perfect! You’ll probably run into Trevor there. Maybe you’ll be in some of the same classes,” Sue said excitedly. She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to run. But it was so nice talking to you. See you around, all right?”
I nodded and smiled.
“By the way,” she said, winking like we shared a special secret, “you speak very good English.” She waved, and then disappeared into the crowd.
I waved back limply. I’m getting used to that weird compliment. So many people I’ve met think that if I’m African, and my name is African, then English must be difficult for me. But it’s not. In my family, we speak to each other a lot in Ibo, a Nigerian language. But of course, when we speak to anyone else, we use English.
I looked around, wondering where my family was. They were probably walking around, visiting different booths, and having a grand time dressed as people. I sighed. I hadn’t even asked Mrs. Kenworth when my torture would be over. A person can only handle so many hugs from cranky, sticky toddlers.
I heard familiar voices behind me and turned to see my dad, mom, two sisters, and little brother standing there with their hands full of hot, roasted corn on the cob, towering ice cream cones, glistening hot dogs on soft buns, clouds of cotton candy in rainbows of color, and, of course, buckets of buttery popcorn. I grabbed a handful of Dad’s popcorn and shoved it into my mouth.
My mom said, “Hello, dear! We just saw Sue and she said you’ll be done in about fifteen minutes.”
“Good,” I said. “I feel like I’ve been wearing this forever.” I still wasn’t sure if I planned to forgive my mom and dad for ruining my life by moving me to this literally corny town. I did know the chances were slim that I’d recover from this traumatic start.
“But you look great—and leafy,” my six-year-old brother, Ike, said, grinning mischievously. His real name is Ikechukwu, but most people call him Ike so they don’t choke on his full name. His tongue was blue from his giant puff of cotton candy.
I rolled my eyes.
“Bye,” I said pitifully as they walked away.
There’s got to be a way for me to make friends in this new place, but I’m pretty sure it won’t happen while I’m wearing this outfit.
I tried to make an effort for the last ten minutes. I smiled widely and put up with more hugs. Then, just as I saw Mrs. Kenworth coming toward me again, my left foot somehow caught my right foot, and—yeah—I was on the ground again.
Lately, it’s like my body’s not mine. It’s as if someone gave me a new collection of muscles and forgot to leave a manual. Mom says I’m going through a major growth spurt, as if moving to a new town isn’t enough for me to deal with.
Sue hurriedly helped me up, concerned. “Are you all right, Yuzi?”
“Growth spurt,” I mumbled, humiliated yet again.
She looked at me with a puzzled expression.
Not wanting to be rude but dying to get out of there, I asked quietly, “Am I done?”
“Absolutely yes. You were a life saver. Fantastic job. Thank you so much!” she said. “I’ll be by next week to pick up the costume. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Thanks. See ya.” And I stalked off toward our van. Yes, stalked. And it’s not funny.
I think I’m going to hate this town.
CHAPTER 2
An Angry Ostrich
“Two thousand forty-two ostriches. Two thousand forty-three ostriches. Two thousand forty-four ostriches …”
This is how I stayed awake Sunday night. I figured that if counting sheep helps a person fall asleep, then maybe counting something else might help me stay awake. I chose ostriches.
If you stay awake for most of the night, it seems to slow down the coming of the next day—which was good for me. But it also gives you a lot of time to think—which was bad for me. By the time my mom came in to wake me up this miserable Monday morning, my head felt like it would explode and my eyeballs were on fire. I lay there, slowly rolling my eyes around. Ow. Burny.
Mom came into my room to see if I was awake, and could immediately tell I had not slept well.
“Uzoma, you look so tired. Are you still worried about school today?” Mom asked.
I squinted back at her like the room was smoky.
“I’m worried because of how Thursday and Friday went. What if the school still has my classes all mixed up? I hate having to constantly switch classes and teachers!” I said, hoping she’d feel sorry for me and let me stay home for the rest of my life.
“Everything about your classes will be worked out. You’ll see. It’ll be fine.” She hugged me. “Now, go get ready.”
She was speaking to me in Ibo, which totally calms me down—normally. But nothing seemed to be breaking through the fuzz around my brain this morning.
As I was brushing my teeth, the knot in my stomach tightened. I tried to ignore it, but my thoughts were in a knot, too.
My mom wasn’t right about me liking this town. What if she’s not right about making friends? What if I don’t ever make any friends?
What if they think I dress funny? Of course, according to the corncob costume I wore on Friday, I do dress funny. I spit into the sink.
Maybe I don’t feel well, I thought, staring into the mirror. In old cartoons, people always check their tongues for spots when they’re sick. I stuck my tongue out
really far. No spots. Not a one.
As I stepped into the shower, my six-year-old sister, Peace, opened the bathroom door and came in. She’s Ike’s twin, older by ninety seconds. And she doesn’t let him forget it.
“Peace! I’ve told you like a zillion times … you need to knock!” I said, really annoyed.
“Sorry,” she chirped.
Peace looked like a blurry blob through the shower curtain, but I could totally tell she was excited about school. Oh, to be six again …
“Striped one or the purple one?” she asked.
“What?” I asked. I hadn’t been listening. Besides, with the shower running and her mouth full of toothpaste foam, it was hard to understand what she was saying. Peace started to repeat herself.
“Spit out first. I can’t understand you,” I said.
She spit. “My skirt. Should I wear the striped one or the purple?”
“What top?” I asked.
“My orange shirt with the sparkly fish on the front,” she said.
“Striped,” I answered.
“What are you going to wear?” she asked.
“No idea,” I muttered.
“That’s okay,” she said matter-of-factly. “You look great in anything.” And she bounced out of the bathroom.
I really do have a sweet little sis. Too bad I can’t just hang out with her all day instead of going to school.
At school, the faded smell of textbooks and floor cleaner greeted me. I could hear my heartbeat louder than my footsteps as the shiny hallway floor stretched out in front of me. I was being led to my new class by Principal Butter. No joke. His name really is Principal Butter.
Secret Keeper Girl Fiction Series Page 9