by Beth Bowland
“Shannan, get it off of me! Aacckkkk!” I continued to cry, flailing my arms around and kicking my feet.
The boy scrambled to his feet. “Who’s there?” he said from the other side of the fence. The plaid shirt came towards us.
“Oh crap, oh crap! Bebe, come on, we gotta get out of here,” Shannan said.
“Hey…who are you?” asked the plaid-shirt boy. I could see his face peeking at us through the fence. We stared back at him, not knowing what to do. We were still trying to untangle ourselves from the vines.
“Junior, what’s going on over there?” the dog lady yelled.
“Nothing,” the boy replied, and when I turned my head, I could see he was still staring at us as we ran away.
Oh, man. This was not good.
Chapter 2
“HEY, GIRL.” SHANNAN RAN towards me down the school hallway.
My hands automatically went to my hair. “Is the color really noticeable?”
“It’s a lot different than your old brown color. But honestly, it doesn’t look that bad. Has anyone said anything to you yet?”
“No, but I feel like everyone’s staring at me.”
“Don’t worry about it. A lot of people have different hairstyles this year.” Shannan waved to a few girls passing by.
I double-checked my schedule and realized I was standing near my first period class. “It feels weird that we’re finally eighth graders, huh.”
“I know, right! These incoming sixth graders look like babies. I’m ready for middle school to be o-vah!” Shannan said as she scanned the hallway. “Have you seen your boyfriend yet?”
I felt my cheeks get red. “Shh. Don’t say that out loud.” I squinted at her.
“Aww, Bebe, no one heard me. Quick…look.” Grabbing my arm, she whirled me around.
There he was, Spencer Kane, the perfect package.
I first noticed Spencer when passing out water during football camp. He was the only player that said “thanks.” His shaggy, dark brown hair always looked freshly tousled. His long bangs swooped to the side just above the eyelashes that framed his emerald green eyes. He wore his clothes extra baggy. I think he was going for the messy, unkempt look, which he wore very well. When he smiled, his entire face lit up, and he had the cutest little gap between his two front teeth.
“Hi, Shannan. How was your summer?” Spencer was two feet away. My palms started to sweat.
“Well, you know the usual trip with the family to see grandparents, and then I mostly hung out at the mall with friends.” Her arm still intertwined with mine. I felt his eyes move over to me.
“S’up, Bea. You, uh, changed your hair,” he said.
“Yea…I wanted to try something new.”
“I like it,” he said with a smile. “It’s got kinda a funky swagg to it.” A shimmer of light reflecting from his mouth caught my eye.
Oh my gawd. He got braces.
“Thanks, Spencer.” I quickly tried to figure out what to say next. “Nice braces,” I blurted, not thinking about what I was saying. I’m such a dork.
“Uh…yeah right, my mother made me get them.” Spencer looked at the ground. “I hope that I’ll only have to wear them a year or so.” He grinned, exposing the neon green rubber bands on his back teeth.
“Well, I think those colorful rubber bands give you a funky swagg too,” I said, trying my best to remain cool, although I knew my red face gave me away.
He chuckled. “Do you have first or second lunch period?” he asked, then noticed a few of the fellas trying to get his attention.
“Second,” I replied.
“Me, too. I’ll look for you,” he said and off he went. He hurried to join some of the other football players, but slowed when he saw Mitzie Carmichael walking towards him.
It was then that I realized I had a death grip on Shannan’s arm, who had a dazed look on her face. I followed her gaze and knew the reason why—Joel. He was heading directly towards us.
“Wassup, QB!” Joel said. That’s his nickname for me. It’s short for Queen Bea. He’s called me QB since forever. Although he was speaking to me, his eyes were on Shannan.
I’d found out through the grapevine he liked her but was afraid to ask her to be his girlfriend. Joel was such a teddy bear. We’d known each other since kindergarten. Tall and lanky, he wore his hair in cornrows. Already six foot one, he wasn’t hard to spot.
“Hey,” Joel said to Shannan.
“Hey, back at you,” Shannan replied, her goofy grin mirroring his.
“What’s your homeroom?”
Shannan quickly glanced at her schedule. “Mrs. Meyers.”
Joel’s grin grew wider. “Mine too. I’ll walk with you,” he said.
“Don’t let Mitzie get to you on the first day of school,” Shannan said to me. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
I moved over a few steps closer to my classroom and watched them walk down the hall together before turning my attention back to Spencer.
“Bonjour, Spencer.” Mitzie’s syrupy voice nauseated me. She cut her eyes at me before running her fingers through Spencer’s hair. His grin widened. I felt her eyes checking out my appearance starting from my shoes and making their way up as if running through a mental checklist. Her eyes narrowed when she saw my hair.
Mitzie Carmichael, my archnemesis since the fifth-grade. Lead soloist of the eighth-grade competitive choir, always chosen to sing the National Anthem at athletic events, had the same vocal coach as Taylor Swift—or so she says. She was also lead dancer and choreographer for the school’s dance squad. All while maintaining a perfect 4.0 GPA. Mitzie told everyone that for her sixteenth birthday her parents were going to allow her to get breast implants. Implants!
“How was the Tour de France, Miss International Traveler?” Spencer asked Mitzie.
Mitzie slowly brought her hand from behind her back; in it, a gift bag.
“For you,” she said and glanced over to make sure I was watching.
Spencer’s face lit up. “What is it?” He reached for the bag and looked inside.
“While in France, I had a photo shoot near the arena where France’s national football team practiced. Well, we Americans call it ‘soccer.’” She giggled, then paused for dramatic flair. “I met one of their star players, and he was kind enough to autograph a jersey for me after I explained that it was a gift for our star football player.”
Spencer held the jersey up and turned it over to get a good look at the signature. His green eyes sparkled with happiness.
“Wow, Mitzie.” He held it up so his friends could see it. “Sweet!” He placed the jersey carefully back in the bag and hugged her before leaving. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
My stomach boiled, and my left eye twitched. I watched Spencer as he greeted more of his friends and didn’t notice Mitzie walk up beside me.
“I always get the best of everything. And since he’s the quarterback and star player this year, he will be my boyfriend,” she said. “Besides, he’s too cute for someone like you.” She sashayed away, her perfectly highlighted hair flowing behind her.
I halfway listened to the school announcements.
“Good morning, students. I want to welcome you back, and to the new students, welcome aboard. I’m excited about the new school year. Here are a few of the announcements. Students interested in the spelling bee competition will meet after school in the cafeteria.” Mr. Floyd, the principal, continued for what seemed like forever. “Finally, there will be a meeting after school for any persons interested in helping on either the eighth-grade formal or the graduation-planning committees. Please meet in the cafeteria immediately after the last bell.”
I ran into Shannan again on my way to my next class.
“Hey, girl,” Shannan said.
“You will be happy to know that I’ve taken your advice, and my mother’s, and I’m getting involved in school activities.”
Shannan’s eyebrows arched as she tilted her head to one side. “Oh,
really? And what activity would that be?”
“I’m going to compete in the spelling bee,” I replied and lifted my chin.
“Spelling bee? Since when did you get interested in spelling bee competitions?”
“Well, I am an excellent speller.”
“Yeah, you are.” She put her hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes at me. “But what’s the real reason you’re going to do it?”
I snickered. “I found out the study group practices are held in the cafeteria after school…”
“And?”
“…and the cafeteria overlooks the football field.”
Shannan shook her head. “…and you can watch Spencer practice.”
“Exactamondo!”
“Girl, there are easier ways to watch that boy practice besides signing up for a spelling bee.”
“True,” I said, nodding, “but my mother also wants me to try something different this year, be more involved, blah, blah, blah.”
“Wow, Bebe, you’ve officially out-nerded yourself.”
The smell of onions engulfed me as I walked into my social studies class. I looked around to see a half-eaten container of onion rings sitting on the teacher’s desk. Why would Mr. Webster eat onion rings in a closed environment? I mean, did he not know the rule? My mother’s office etiquette rule: Never eat fish, salmon, tuna, onions, or garlic in a closed environment, i.e., classroom, work space, crowded lunchroom with very little air circulation.
Her theory behind this was—these smells linger. There was absolutely no circulation in this room, and what was worse, Billy Jacobs had this class right after PE. Billy had a bad reputation for not showering after gym class.
“Hola, Señorita Peppercorn.” He walked to his assigned seat directly behind mine. Billy Jacobs was fifteen. He’d been held back at least once in middle school and had more facial hair than Mr. Webster. Rumor had it that he was really sixteen.
“How was your summer, my love?” He continued to talk while leaning forward.
An odor that I cannot describe wafted up my nostrils. I’ve never actually smelled skunk pee, but for some reason I thought the smell coming from Billy might be worse. The guys in his gym class said he bragged about wearing the same pair of underwear for a week before changing. Ew!
“I’m doing great, Billy.” I leaned forward in my chair as far as I could.
He ignored this and continued talking.
“So, Peppercorn, I think it’s time we hung out.” He paused for a moment and stretched his arms, causing the rancid smell to waft out again. Once again, he leaned forward. At this point, I was leaning so far forward that I was no longer sitting in my chair.
“I’ve seen you watching me, Peppercorn. I think you like me.”
“What?” I quickly turned around and glared at him. A huge grin was plastered across his face. It was then that I noticed his very thick goatee. A goatee? Was this not the eighth grade? “Billy, you’re truly delusional if you think I like you.”
He puckered his lips and made a kissing sound. I was going to hurl.
“Okay, class, let’s get started.” Mr. Webster strolled up to the front of the class. “Let’s go over some material for the—” he raised his hands and mimicked air quotes with his fingers “—pop quiz on Friday.”
A groaning sound came from the class, but then the classroom door opened and Mr. Floyd, the principal, stuck his head in, motioning for Mr. Webster to step out in the hall. A few minutes later, Mr. Webster walked back in, and behind him was the kid from the dog lady’s house.
“It looks like we have a new student. Tell us your name, son,” Mr. Webster said while pointing to an empty seat across from me.
“My name is Craig Bradley, sir.” He took his seat. He was dressed pretty much in the same clothes that he had worn yesterday: crisply starched plaid shirt, jeans with a crease down the front of the legs, white socks, and black sneakers. He wore his hair in a military buzz cut. When he sat down, he smelled of deodorant soap, very fresh, quite a contrast to Mr. Stinky.
I wondered if he recognized me. I glanced over at him, and he was already looking at me.
He nodded his head at me and mouthed, “Hi.”
Busted.
Mr. Webster continued his lecture. I caught Craig looking at me from time to time, or was I looking at him, and he caught me? The bell rang. I gathered up my books and started to walk out.
“So, we meet again?” Craig’s voice came from behind me.
“Uh, yeah,” I answered. He walked up beside me, but I was too embarrassed to look him in the eye.
“So, are you going to answer my question?”
“What question?” I asked.
“Who are you, and exactly what were you guys doing in the bushes?” he asked.
“Long story,” I replied, still embarrassed. “I’m Beatrice Peppercorn.”
Adjusting his books in his arms, he continued to question me. “Who was that girl with you?”
“Oh, that was Shannan, my best friend.” I noticed Shannan coming down the hall and waved to her. She returned the wave, then noticed Craig. Her eyes widened.
“Shannan, meet Craig Bradley,” I said.
“Hey,” he said.
“Nice to officially meet you, Craig,” Shannan said.
“I guess I’d better head to my next class.” Craig continued down the hall.
“A little nerdy, but kinda cute,” Shannan said. “Did you find out any information on him? Did you ask him why he took that money?”
I shook my head. “No, not yet. How the heck was I supposed to ask about the money? But, if he does have a problem, I could probably help him like I did last year with Tess Jenkins,” I said. “Remember she was always stealing stuff, and I finally got her to admit it, and her parents got her help, then she eventually stopped.”
“Yeah, I remember. Tess did have some serious sticky fingers. Have you heard from her since they moved away over the summer?”
“A couple of times. We’re still Facebook friends.”
Shannan adjusted her bag across her shoulder. “Cool.”
I nodded. “I’ll offer Craig friendship. Being a new student he probably feels out of place.”
Shannan laughed. “Well, while you’re trying rid him of his evil ways, you’d better keep an eye on your wallet!”
“True!”
Later that week, I sat in the library during study hall, staring at an open dictionary. Pages full of words, words, and more words. I really wanted to do well at the upcoming spelling bee competition so I could advance to the next round. I’d made it a point to study my word lists each day.
“Hey, Bea.”
I looked up, and there was Spencer sitting down across from me.
I quickly ran my tongue over my front teeth. “Well, hello,” I responded with my best smile.
“So I hear you’re Miss Speller Bee. Now that’s interesting. I’d never put you in with that group.” He picked at one of his rubber bands.
Oh, how I loved those braces. “You never know. I could win,” I said.
“I don’t doubt it. You’re pretty smart.” He paused before continuing. “Uh, I was wondering what you were doing Saturday evening?”
My heart was racing. Could it be? Was it possible that Spencer Kane was going to ask me out?
Spencer fidgeted, running his hands through his hair. “A few of us will be meeting at the movie theater. I was wondering if you could go.” His voice had a nervous squeak to it. “I’ve already talked to Shannan. She said her mom could drop you guys off.”
I couldn’t believe it. Spencer and me together in a movie.
“Bea?” he said, snapping me back to reality.
“Oh, sure, that sounds good. I’ll see you there.” I felt my face warming.
Spencer smiled at me once again before leaving.
I no longer felt like studying. The words became a blur, and my imagination was racing full speed. Spencer Kane, do you take Beatrice Wilhein Peppercorn to be your lawfully wedded wi
fe? “I do with all my heart,” Spencer replied, gazing deeply into my eyes. The preacher then turned to me. “Beatrice…”
“Bea? Bebe, hello?” Shannan shook my arm, snapping me out of my daydream.
“Oh, hey.”
“Girl, were you sleeping with your eyes open or something? Maybe you need a break from studying. Hey, I just passed Spencer. Did he ask you about the movie?”
I nodded.
“I told him we’d be there. Do you have something planned?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, still thinking about my daydream. “I’m sure I can go.”
Shannan laughed as she sat down across from me. “Are you okay? You’ve got it bad for that boy, huh?”
“I can’t believe he invited me to go.” I giggled. “This is going to be fun!”
“Where’s Auntie?” I asked my mother as I walked in the door after school.
Mom stopped the hand mixer and gently raised it from the large bowl. “Your father took her to visit her friend Barbara. Thank the Lord for peace.”
Abigail Beatrice Carson, my great aunt on my mother’s side, was age ninety-two. She came to live with us a year ago after causing a ruckus at the nursing home.
“Do you mind if I go to the movies on Saturday?”
“Whom are you going with?” Mom pushed her glasses up on her nose.
“Shannan. Her mom is going to pick me up.”
“Oh, that’s fine, sweetie. No sneaking into R-rated movies.” She lifted her head long enough to raise an eyebrow at me. “Hand me the rubber spatula out of the drawer, please,” she said, “and the dish towel.”
I retrieved the items for her. “Mom! We’re not going to sneak into any R movies.”
She peered at me over her glasses. “That T-shirt you’re wearing looks too snug.”
“What? Are you saying I’m fat?”
Mom sighed. “No. I’m just saying your shirt looks too snug.”
My phone was ringing upstairs, so I left my mother to her cake baking and ran up the steps, taking two at a time.