“Yes, ma’am.”
Just as I get to my cabinet in the cave, Naomi gets in my face.
“You definitely belong on the Wall of Lame.” She rolls her eyes and heads for the classroom.
Having Naomi Jackson in my head and an eagle on it is a lot for me this morning. I can’t think. Everybody’s staring at me. What’s the question about ostriches?
Good grief. I’m in trouble.
After the bell rings, Mrs. Hansen comes into our room again. I watch a bunch of my classmates, one by one, go into the cave with smiles, and some come out looking like they just sucked a lemon. Mrs. Davis looks my way.
“Mya? You’re up.”
I follow her like a lost puppy. When we get to the back of the cave, she closes the curtain. “Get your game face on, Mya.”
I’m trying, but I feel more like crying.
Mrs. Davis winds the egg timer, and my body feels as if I’m what she’s winding.
“Here’s your first question: name two fruits that do not grow on trees.”
I take a deep breath. “Blueberries and watermelons.”
“Good. Name two inventors and their inventions.”
“Sure! Mary Anderson, who invented windshield wipers, and Marion Donovan, who invented chili.”
Mrs. Davis looks at me. “Did you say chili?”
Good gravy in the navy.
“Throwaway diapers. Isn’t that what I said?”
Mrs. Davis shakes her head and then continues. “Name two birds that do not fly.”
She’s staring at my forehead, but I’ve got to get over that. “Penguins and ostriches.”
Mrs. Davis hits the timer. “Wow! Very well done. You answered all three questions correctly. You are eligible to continue the Wall of Fame Game tomorrow.”
I take a deep breath and lift my shoulders as close to my ears as I can. When I let the air out through my nose, I slowly bring my shoulders down. Yeah, I feel so much better.
“Mrs. Davis, you know what’s really weird? Ostriches have tiny little brains! They can fit in a teaspoon. That would be T-S-P, not T-B-S-P, if you were using measuring spoons. And they don’t really stick their heads in the sand. They’re just resting their necks on the ground. I learned that when I looked up my answers. Cool questions.”
She smiles like I gave her a million bucks! “I’m so glad you’re finding the questions interesting, Mya. You don’t know how good that makes me feel as a teacher.”
Chapter Nineteen
I’m so glad I’m still in the race. Connie got all her answers right, too! And it’s nice knowing that I made Mrs. Davis smile. But I was only being honest. There’s a lot of awesome stuff I’m learning just by studying the Wall of Fame Game questions. I’m looking forward to the next ones, just to see what I might learn!
The rest of my afternoon is nothing compared to the morning. Everything flies, except that eagle on my forehead. Connie says it will stay on my forehead for a few days until the ink wears off.
Good gravy.
It’s almost time to go home, and when Mrs. Davis stands with a stack of papers, it’s not hard to guess what she’s got.
WALL OF FAME GAME QUESTIONS FOR MYA TIBBS:
WEDNESDAY
1. Name three Civil War battles.
2. Name three countries that border the Pacific Ocean.
3. Name three sports played at the Summer Olympics.
Mrs. Davis has turned up the heat. I’m in trouble. I can’t think of an answer for any of the questions, and I have to come up with three for each one! When the bell rings, I stay in my seat, stuck in scared. Connie comes over to my desk.
“Come on, let’s get our stuff and leave.”
I sit on a bench in the cave, still wondering if the questions tomorrow are going to take me down. I can’t let Naomi beat me. There’s no way I can wear that T-shirt. And cowgirls are not dumb! I take another look at my questions and wonder if any cowgirl in the history of cowgirl nation ever had to answer these.
Connie and I are the last ones to leave the cave. On our way out, we say good-bye to Mrs. Davis, and I notice Kenyan standing in front of the Wall of Fame. I don’t usually talk to Kenyan because last year in third grade, he pulled my braids. But he’s standing there all alone, just staring at the wall. I walk over to him.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” says Kenyan.
“Are you still in the game?” I ask.
“I’m still in it. Are you?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Why are you just standing here?”
“I’ll tell you if you promise to keep it a secret.”
Holy moly. I wasn’t expecting him to say that. But by the look on his face, he really wants to tell me something.
“I promise.”
Kenyan points to a spot a few columns from the beginning. “See that name, Kenyan Tayler? That’s my uncle. I was named after him. He made the wall. Isn’t that cool? He told me it was the hardest thing he did in the fourth grade, but he’s not very proud of himself.”
It takes me a while to find his uncle because I’ve never looked at that row of names before. When I find him, I shrug. “Why is he not proud? Making the Wall of Fame is a big deal,” I say.
Kenyan lowers his head and stares at the floor. “He cheated. The only person who knows is me, and now you. He’s ashamed, and keeps telling me he’s sorry. I think if I can make the wall, one no-cheating Kenyan will erase the cheating of the other Kenyan. Then we can both be happy. He’s been helping me study.”
“That’s a lot of pressure on you. And anyway, everybody has different questions. How could he cheat?”
“Everybody had the same questions when he was in this class.”
I nod. “That’s boo-yang cool of you to do that for your uncle, Kenyan. I think . . .”
I stare at two names not far from Kenyan’s uncle—names I had never noticed before.
“I think . . .”
“Mya, are you okay?” Kenyan asks.
I keep staring. It can’t be!
Kenyan touches my shoulder. “Mya, can you hear me?”
This is a bad surprise, a really bad one.
He shakes my backpack. “Mya, can you hear me? Do you want me to get Mrs. Davis?”
I shake my head, but my eyes stay glued to the wall. I can’t believe what I’m reading.
Darrell Tibbs
Monica James
Mom’s last name was James before she got married. There they are, right next to each other on the wall. And they didn’t even tell me.
I’ve got to get out of here. Where’s the door? I run as fast as I can.
“Mya, stop running,” says Mrs. Davis.
I can’t.
I’m trying to get as far away from that wall as I can. I dash down the hall, push open the front door of my school, and call to the one person I need right now.
“Connie!”
The look on my face must match how I’m feeling, because she runs toward me.
“What happened? Did Kenyan say something that wasn’t nice? Where is he?”
I’m out of breath, shaking my head, trying to explain. “The wall! They didn’t even tell me. How was I supposed to know?”
“Slow down, Mya! What are you talking about?”
A voice I recognize answers for me.
“She found them,” says Nugget. “Our parents are on the wall.”
Fish is with him. “Well, that’s awesome . . . isn’t it?”
I wipe my eyes. “They didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me, Nugget?”
“Because they asked me not to. They didn’t tell me either, when I was in fourth grade. You can’t let them know you found out, Mya. They’ll think I told you.”
I shrug. “Why would they keep that a secret?”
And then it all makes sense to me.
“Dad told me at Open House that Mom said I didn’t have to sign up for the Wall of Fame Game if I didn’t want to. I bet she doesn’t think I could do it.”
Connie shakes her h
ead. “Wait, Mya, that doesn’t sound like—”
Nugget interrupts Connie and nods at me. “Kind of like how Dad doesn’t think I can play baseball. Look, I’m going to practice now. After dinner tonight, we need to ask Mom and Dad what’s going on.”
I try not to cry. “That’s why they’re so into Macey. They think she’s going to be smarter than me and play baseball better than Nugget.”
“That can’t be true, Mya Papaya. I think you and Nugget need to talk to your parents,” says Fish.
“Me, too,” says Connie. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got things wrong, Mya. Your mom is way too nice to believe something like that. You still want me to come over?”
I nod, because I can’t do anything else.
Fish and Nugget leave for baseball practice while Connie and I walk to my house. My Wednesday Wall of Fame Game questions feel like a brick in my backpack, even though I’m sure they don’t weigh more than Monday’s or Tuesday’s. Maybe it’s because they need more answers.
I keep ka-clunking. “I’m all mixed up, Connie. Why didn’t they tell me? Why wouldn’t they tell Nugget? I’m going to have to study forever. And we still haven’t gotten the chili right.”
Connie shrugs. “We’ve got to come up with nine answers tomorrow, and twelve on Thursday. I don’t even want to think about Friday. Maybe we should drop out of the cook-off. That’s just my opinion.”
I shake my head. “No way! I have so much I need to prove to Mom.”
My body tightens as I walk. My toes curl inside my boots, and it hurts as I walk. I take a big breath and let it out, hoping it will make me relax. But the moment I let out that big breath of air, I picture myself standing with Kenyan, listening to him tell me about his cheating uncle. And then, before I can say anything—boom! I find my parents on the wall.
My mind switches to show me Naomi at home, studying her questions, and probably eating cake and ice cream, too.
Worst of all, I picture Mom, holding Macey, telling her, “Your sister couldn’t make the wall, and she can’t make chili, either.”
Chapter Twenty
I grab my friend’s arm before we go in my house. “It’s too much, Connie. I can’t handle all these problems by myself. You won’t quit on me, right? We’ll keep studying together, and you’re going to help me with the chili, aren’t you?”
Connie puts her arm around my neck. “I won’t quit on you, Mya. I’m just worried about having enough time to study. I’ve got a big reason for making the wall, too. Just like you. It doesn’t have anything to do with me. But it’s important.”
I haven’t thought about Connie’s reasons for wanting to make the Wall of Fame. She hasn’t really talked about it. I wonder if it’s a secret, like Kenyan’s? I’ll ask her later.
Mom’s on the sofa folding some of the clothes she got for Macey at the baby shower. I stare at her, wondering what she’s thinking about, because I’m sure it’s not me. First she doesn’t come to Open House. Then she’s not upset about us missing the Annie Oakley marathon. She tried to cancel the chili cook-off, and now I find out that maybe she thinks I’m not smart.
Mom smiles our way. “Hey there! I can’t wait to dress Macey in some of these outfits. She’s going to look adorable.”
I head toward the stairs without looking at her. “I wish I could help you, but I’ve got a bunch of questions that I have to answer tomorrow for the Wall of Fame Game. And somehow Connie and I have to figure out how to make a good pot of chili between studying.”
Mom calls out. “Mya, I want you to take a rest from the kitchen today. Use that extra time to study your questions. That’s more important.”
I spin around, totally shocked, and ready to cry. “But Mom!”
“No buts. And once you get those answers down, bring me your question sheet so I can quiz you.”
I squeeze the straps of my backpack and head upstairs. Connie follows me. As soon as I get to my room, I fling my backpack on the bed. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“How about study?” says Connie. She takes her Monday and Tuesday questions out of her backpack and begins to draw on them.
“You tell me to study, and you’re drawing pictures on old Wall of Fame Game question sheets? Why would you even keep those? I trashed mine.”
She colors the edges of the sheets with crayons. “I give them to Clayton. He likes them.”
I ka-clunk from one end of my room to the other. “Maybe I’ll give mine to Naomi, so she’ll have something colorful to remind her of how I whipped her in the Wall of Fame Game. I can’t lose that bet, Connie. But, you know, Mom has got to let me practice my chili makin’. How in the world am I supposed to beat Mrs. Frazier if I can’t go in the kitchen?”
She looks up at me. “I agree with your mom, Mya.”
I stop walking. “What?”
I haven’t seen Connie’s face so angry since Mrs. Davis made us be Spirit Week partners, and that makes me nervous.
“I’m so tired of hearing you talk about beating Naomi and beating Mrs. Frazier. Is that all you know? And if I found out my parents were on the wall, the very last thing I would think is that they’re against me. You’ve got the nicest parents in Bluebonnet. You’re going to feel so bad when you find out the truth.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Well, excuse me, Connie Tate, but I think I know my parents better than you do!”
“Your mom even helped us study! What’s wrong with you, Mya? Never mind. I’m leaving.”
“Wait, Connie. You’re tired of hearing me talk about why I’m doing the Wall of Fame Game, but what makes you think your reasons are better than mine? You didn’t even bother to tell me why you want to make the wall.”
She’s almost screaming at me. “I told you at Open House, but your head is so full of beating Naomi that you totally forgot! I’ve got a really good reason. If I make the wall, I’ll be the first person in my family to do it. Both my parents went to Young Elementary, but they missed questions, right at the end of the game. They haven’t said anything to me about it, but I know they’re hoping I make it. And I want to do it for myself, and my little brother, Clayton.”
All those names on the wall, and none of them are Tate. Holy moly. Connie grabs the pictures she was coloring and stuffs them back in her backpack.
“I want Clayton to know he can do it. Your whole family is on the wall. You should be happy. You’re smart, Mya, and making the Wall of Fame shouldn’t be about Naomi Jackson.”
I frown at her. “Why not? I’m not wearin’ that stinkin’ T-shirt.”
Connie grabs her backpack. “I wish I had never made that T-shirt! Remember what F.A.M.E. means? It’s not about proving you’re smarter than somebody else. The letters mean ‘For All My Efforts.’ So if somebody asked, ‘Mya, why did you play the Wall of Fame Game?’ Your answer will be ‘I got on the Wall of Fame just to beat Naomi Jackson.’ Seriously, Mya? You gave up Annie Oakley, hanging out with your mom, playing outside, riding your bike, watching television, going to the park after school . . . all for Naomi?”
I frown. “Everybody has a reason for getting on the wall. Mine just happens to be different than yours.”
She frowns back. “But don’t you think you need to figure out the difference between doing something for a good reason and doing something for a bad one?”
Silence.
Just before she steps into the hallway, Connie turns to me. “Clayton even loves the papers I bring home that I don’t need or want anymore. You call it trash. I color on them and give them to my little brother. He tapes them to his wall. I’m already on his Wall of Fame.”
She disappears from my doorway. I don’t know what’s going on with Connie, but if I have to stand alone against Naomi and Mrs. Frazier, I will. I’ve only got a few more days before it will all be over anyway. Until then, I’ll do things my way.
Maybe that’s what I should’ve done all along.
I ka-clunk over to my bed, unzip my backpack, and snatch out my questions. Question number o
ne. Name three Civil War battles. Three? I thought there was only one!
I get on the internet and find out there’s a bunch of Civil War battles! I thought it all happened in one place. I can’t help but read about some of them. Let’s see, there was a battle in Galveston, and then there’s the battle at Liberty. Holy moly! There was even a battle at a place called Cheat Mountain!
I stop reading and think of Kenyan and his uncle. I understand why he wants to make the Wall of Fame. It’s a good reason. I tried to tell Connie that everybody has different reasons, but she doesn’t want to listen to me.
I’m not cheating. I think about Mom and Macey. They don’t know that I’ve got this bet going on with Naomi. And I’m not even sure Mom thinks I can make the wall. I can always just tell Macey I did this for her, can’t I? Okay, maybe that would be cheating.
The words “For All My Efforts” are all I can think of. What am I getting for all my efforts? I’m getting on the wall. Isn’t that good enough? Why should the reason I’m doing it matter? Anyway, what’s next? Three countries that border the Pacific Ocean. That’s easy. United States, Japan, and um . . . Chile.
Good gravy. It doesn’t matter that the country is spelled differently. It still reminds me that I’ve got chili to make, and Mom won’t let me in the kitchen today.
I sit on the edge of my bed. Why did I have to remember Chile? I know why. Because that bad-talking lady named Mrs. Frazier is trying to take my mom’s title, and I’m not having it! I’ve got to figure out a way to get in that kitchen and practice.
What’s the next question? Three sports in the Summer Olympics. That’s easy.
Knock, knock.
Nugget’s standing at my door with dirt all over his uniform.
“I hit the ball today! Oh my gosh, Mya, it felt boo-yang good! I just wish I knew what I did to get that hit. I hope it wasn’t an accident. Well, at least I hit it, right?”
I nod. “Right! Did you tell any more guys how to hit the ball?”
The Magnificent Mya Tibbs Page 9