The Magnificent Mya Tibbs

by Crystal Allen

  “Don’t miss another one, Mya,” says Starr.

  “No more misses,” says Skye.

  Starr takes my hand, and now all four of us walk like we’re off to the see the wizard.

  “We’ll help you, right, Starr and Skye? That’s what friends do,” says Connie.

  “You’re very smart, Mya. We believe in you,” says Starr.

  “We definitely believe in you,” says Skye.

  “Thanks.” I wish I believed in me. It’s only going to get harder.

  I’m so scared.

  For the last few minutes, I’ve noticed Naomi walking around me, not close, but enough for me to know she’s there. She’s like a vulture circling a wounded animal, waiting for it to die. How could she know that I missed a question?

  She’s eyeballing me, talking to two fifth-grade girls who wear expensive clothes and think they’re better than everybody. Then she points at me, says something else, and all three girls laugh. She must know I missed one. But how?

  Even though the twins make me smile, I’m still feeling nervous about everything going on in my life. I’ve got to get home and work harder than I’ve ever worked before. And after I study my Wall of Fame Game questions with Connie and the twins, I’ll study Mom’s recipe so I can figure out what she meant by not changing things.

  The bell rings, and Mrs. Davis leads us back to class. My mind is so far from my schoolwork that by the time I stop daydreaming, Mrs. Davis is handing out Friday’s Wall of Fame Game questions. I close my eyes, too scared to look. The questions get harder every day—so hard that I missed one today. I squeeze my eyes closed and pray. Please, please don’t be too hard. Today, I wasn’t ready for the Wall of Fame Game challenge. I’m nowhere close to being ready for the chili cook-off. I need Friday’s questions to be a little easier.

  I open my eyes, stare at the questions, and know my prayer didn’t make it out of the classroom.

  It’s over.

  WALL OF FAME GAME QUESTIONS FOR MYA TIBBS:

  FRIDAY

  1. Name five countries in Europe.

  2. Name five national parks.

  3. Name a populated or unpopulated Texas town for the first five letters of the alphabet without using Austin or Dallas.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  At home, I drop my backpack on the couch and head toward Mom’s room. That’s when I see a note on the table.

  Mya and Nugget,

  I’ve taken your mom to the hospital. Macey may arrive today! Will come get you if that happens. Keep the phone close by.

  Love, Dad

  I check the back of the note for more information. Nothing. That’s it? Jambalaya! Macey’s coming! She’s not supposed to be here for another two weeks!

  I dash down the hall to the nursery. The room smells like new furniture and baby lotion. There are gift boxes all over the floor, in the crib, on the dresser, and in the new car seat. I can tell Mom’s been in here working, but it’s far from being finished.

  Macey’s room was Mom’s big project. If I didn’t have these Wall of Fame Game questions to study, I’d help her. And even if I wasn’t studying these questions, I’ve still got Mom’s chili recipe to work on. Good gravy, I can’t do everything! I’m only one person!

  Wait a minute.

  I pick up the phone, call Connie, and tell her my drama. “Can you bring your paints and markers, and anything else you can think of to decorate the room?”

  “I need to study at least another hour, and then I’ll come help. I’m surprised that I know almost all the answers to Friday’s questions. What about you?” asks Connie.

  “I’m in trouble. I know some of them, but not enough. And I can’t miss another one like I did today.”

  “If I were you, I’d go back to what I knew was working. You didn’t miss a question until you listened to that sleep CD Nugget made for you. Some things shouldn’t be changed, Mya.”

  Mom said something about changing things, too. But I’ll have to think about that later.

  “Okay, Connie. Get here as soon as you can. I really need your help. Bye.”

  I call the twins, and even leave a message for Fish, then race upstairs and grab my study sheet that has all of the answers on it. I need to memorize fifteen answers before tomorrow, and there’s no way I’m using Nugget’s cell phone again.

  I sit down at my computer desk and realize I may lose the chili cook-off. There’s no way I can practice making chili today, with Mom in the hospital. And I think the most important thing is having Macey’s room ready.

  My chili wasn’t that good anyway. It didn’t taste anything like Mom’s. On Sunday, I added too much garlic. Monday I supersized the veggies instead of making small veggies because it didn’t take as much time. And then there was the whole issue about forgetting to put the meat in.

  I think back to the times when Mom and I made chili. We would start on it right after I got my homework finished. She made snacks, and we’d talk about our day as we put the ingredients together. I’d hand them to her, and it seemed as if she took ten minutes stirring each vegetable into the chili pot. Mom and I stirred that chili all afternoon, and she was still stirring it when I went to bed.

  We only made one practice pot, and it really wasn’t practice. It was dinner for the next night! That’s how good Mom and I were together. It took a lot of time, and patience, but . . .

  Hold on.

  That’s what she was trying to tell me! Connie and I made chili twice this week, but we just threw stuff into the bowl and turned on the microwave. There was no letting the spices and vegetables and meat get to know each other. There was no slow stirring or talking to the chili. And there definitely wasn’t any love. It didn’t take us all evening. It took us ten minutes.

  That’s not enough time to make prize-winning chili. Mom knew, and tried to tell me when she quizzed me on the Wall of Fame Game questions. I hate that she’s not here with me.

  We’ve spent the whole week together going over questions and answers. She’s cut up veggies and things for us to snack on while she quizzed me. If we had watched the Annie Oakley marathon, it would have just been Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. This was better.

  Knock, knock!

  I dash downstairs and peep through the side of the curtains. It’s Connie, Nugget, and Fish! Perfect. I unlock the door.

  “Hiya, Mya Papaya! I got a message that you need some help. Well, here I am, Super Fish Man to the rescue!”

  I try to smile, even though I’ve got so many things on my mind. “Thanks, Fish. It’s Macey’s room. We have to hurry. Toys need to be put together and—”

  “So what’s the big rush?” asks Nugget.

  I pull Nugget away from Connie and Fish and whisper what I know. “Dad left us a note on the table. Mom’s in the hospital. That means Macey’s coming. And I’ve got to study the Wall of Fame Game questions for tomorrow. I don’t know how I’m going to get fifteen answers right.”

  Nugget’s eyes widen. “Go study, Mya. I’ll help Fish put the toys together.”

  Connie takes her art bag off her shoulder. “I got finished sooner than I thought. What do you want me to draw first?”

  “Something that will help Macey feel safe at night when she’s alone,” I say. “I’m going upstairs to unplug my laptop and bring it down here. That way I can work on my Wall of Fame Game questions and maybe help, too.”

  I go back to the kitchen table, knowing this last set of answers is going to make the difference in whether I get on the wall or not. Tonight may be the roughest night of studying for me, since I’ve got so many things on my mind. Mom’s in the hospital, Macey’s room isn’t ready, I haven’t practiced making chili in two days, and I’ve got fifteen answers to give tomorrow. It’s going to take everything I’ve got to focus. I guess that’s what For All My Efforts should mean.

  The twins are coming up the sidewalk, so I ka-clunk to the door and let them in.

  “Thanks for coming to help. I wish I had a better way of answering the Wall of
Fame Game questions, but it looks like I’ll be studying all night, and I don’t even know where to start.”

  “You can do it, Mya,” says Skye.

  “You can definitely do it,” says Starr.

  They walk hand in hand behind me to Macey’s room. I stop at the nursery door. My mouth drops open. “Whoa!”

  Connie’s drawn big beautiful clouds on the wall.

  “That’s amazing, Connie,” I say.

  “Thanks, but I’m nowhere close to being finished,” she says. “How’s the studying going?”

  I shake my head. “Terrible. But I’m not giving up.”

  Nugget puts batteries in a train that chugs along the side of the crib. “Go study,” he says.

  Since the dining-room table is around the corner from the nursery, I can hear everything going on. When Connie asks about certain colors, I shout back.

  “Make sure they’re baby colors! Pink, blue, and yellow, colors like that.”

  When Fish asks if a lamp should go on her dresser or near the rocking chair, I yell to him.

  “Put the lamp near the dresser!”

  “Okay,” he yells back.

  The sound of laughter makes my concentration go away. “Keep it down! I can’t study!”

  “Sorry,” yells Nugget, but I can still hear the giggles.

  I put my hand on the computer mouse to click the browser button for the internet. But the arrow isn’t moving. I move the mouse in circles, hoping it will snap out of its problem, but it doesn’t. Then a little blue circle spins in the middle of the screen. It’s just spinning and spinning. This is the worst time ever for the computer to freeze! I really wanted to look up a few things about national parks. I pull my braids to stop from screaming.

  The laughter picks up again in Macey’s room. I can’t focus. Don’t they understand how important this is? Don’t they care that I need to study? I storm into the nursery.

  “Hey, you guys! You are so . . .” My mouth shuts down. There’s a tingle on my fingertips. My brain can’t handle everything my eyes are trying to show it.

  My friends stand proudly next to what they’ve made. They’ve got paint all over their faces, in their hair, on their clothes, on their fingers, but mostly, on the wall. And I can only think of one word to say.

  “Jambalaya.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Right there on the wall in front of Macey’s crib sits the entire Girl Galaxy Court: Animasia, Harmony, Queen Angelica, Jade-Iris, and Ice. They’re the coolest warriors ever, and they were created by Connie. I’ve only seen them in one other place, and that’s in Connie’s special art room at school.

  She wipes paint off her forehead. “It’s the first thing I thought of that would make Macey feel safe.”

  In all the world, there cannot be a better best friend than the one I have. I give her a super-duper hug like the ones Mom gives to me. Fish taps my shoulder.

  “Check out the shark in a baseball uniform with Fish written on the front. Now Macey will always know I’m around.”

  “That’s awesome, Fish! Macey’s going to love it,” I say.

  “May we have your attention, please?” asks Starr.

  She and Skye are standing side by side, hiding something on the wall. Both smile the same smile as their heads move exactly at the same time to look at us.

  Skye speaks first. “Everyone should have a twin. So we drew Macey’s.”

  Starr moves to the left. Skye goes right, and a drawing of a little brown baby with sparkly eyes and lots of hair is on the wall.

  Fish nods. “Boo-yang cool.”

  Nugget walks closer. “Is that baby glowing?”

  “We brought glitter,” says Skye.

  “Lots of glitter,” says Starr.

  I’m stuck in stupid, staring at a brown glitter baby from outer space.

  “You never told us you could draw,” says Connie.

  “You never asked,” says Starr.

  “Totally didn’t ask,” says Skye.

  “What’s her name?” asks Fish.

  “Sears,” says Starr.

  “Macey’s and Sears. Two perfect stores in the mall, right beside each other,” says Skye.

  Heads nod. It makes perfect sense.

  “I love it, and so will Macey,” I say. “But what was everybody laughing about?”

  My brother speaks up. “Check it out, Mya.” He points at the wall near him. There’s a big, shiny nugget of gold with legs, feet, and a goofy face.

  Fish cracks up laughing again. “It’s so you. That’s perfect, bro. Golden Nugget.”

  Nugget grins at me. “What do you think, Mya?”

  I try to show a serious face, but I can’t hold it. I point at the picture and giggle until it turns into belly-bustin’ laughter. Everyone else laughs, too.

  “Macey will have something to laugh at every day,” I say.

  “Think about all the taradiddles you can tell her using the pictures on her walls!” says Connie.

  “Macey is going to love your taradiddles,” says Starr.

  “Absolutely love them,” says Skye.

  Fish steps closer to me. “And the good thing about that is, she’ll remember everything you tell her. Because your taradiddles always have some facts in them.”

  The smile slides from my face. Connie’s, too. The twins stare at me. Fish scratches his head.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  I shake my head. “You said something brilliant, Fish!”

  “Good job, Fish,” says Skye.

  “Definitely a good job,” says Starr.

  “You’d better get to work, Mya,” says Connie.

  Fish lifts his hands in the air. “What? Would someone please tell me what I said that was so awesome?”

  I giggle. “Sorry, you guys, but I have to go to my room and be alone. This is important. But before I go, I want to say thanks for helping me. Thanks for being the best friends ever.”

  Just as everyone leaves, Dad calls and says he and Mom will be home soon. He says something about false labor pains, and Macey isn’t coming today. I hang up the telephone and give Nugget the news.

  “I’m going to make me a couple of peanut-butter sandwiches and watch ESPN,” says Nugget.

  “Before you do that, would you please fix my computer? It’s frozen. I’ll be in Macey’s room if you need me,”I say.

  In the nursery, I take a seat in the rocking chair. I lean forward, push the floor with the tips of my boots, and get a good rock going as I think about my family, my friends, and the Wall of Fame Game.

  Just rocking, and smiling at the colorful walls, and seeing the awesome pictures that were made by my friends gives me goose bumps. I remember watching Mom sit and rock in this chair just yesterday. I bring my arms together like Mom had hers, when she was pretending that Macey was in her arms. I close my eyes, and it’s easy to imagine that I’m rocking my baby sister. It feels so real that I begin to talk to her.

  “If Mom doesn’t like what my friends did to your wall, then I’ll paint it. But did you know the Wall of Fame can never be painted over? It can’t. Isn’t that awesome? At first I didn’t think it was a big deal. But now I do. I’m going to make that Wall of Fame, Macey.”

  I sit quietly and rock, as if I’m still holding her. As I move back and forth, my reasons for wanting to get on the wall move, too.

  “I don’t have to prove that cowgirls are smart. I need to prove to myself that I can do it. I need to show you that you can do it, too, Macey. One day, the names of our entire family will be on the Wall of Fame, and they’ll stay there forever.”

  I stop rocking, walk to the crib, and pretend I’m putting my baby sister to bed. Very quietly, I pick up a crayon and draw a heart near her crib. Inside it, I write Mya Loves Macey, and then whisper, “I have to go study now. Talk to you later.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Early Friday morning, I reach over and tap my alarm clock before it goes off. I’ve been wide awake for at least thirty minutes. Tod
ay’s answers to my Wall of Fame Game questions circle my brain like an ambush.

  But that’s how I want it. And I’m going to wear my bright-orange church dress to school today. I want to look nice when Mrs. Davis tells me that I made the Wall of Fame.

  Downstairs, Nugget and Dad wrestle on the floor for the newspaper. When I step into the room, they stop and look up, and I get straight to the point.

  “Nugget, I’m leaving early again today, in case Connie needs some last-minute help with her Wall of Fame questions.”

  “Okay. I’m coming,” he says.

  “Good luck. You look very nice,” says Dad.

  I ka-clunk into Mom’s room. She’s sitting up, eating a bowl of fruit. “Don’t you look spiffy! And you should. I’ll be thinking about you, Mya. Do your best.”

  “Thanks, Mom! I will.”

  On the way to school, Nugget’s talking nonstop, but I can’t understand what he’s saying, because I’ve got other things on my mind. I refuse to skip, kick rocks, sing, or talk to myself. I want to stay quiet, focused, ready for when it’s my time in the cave with Mrs. Davis.

  Nugget opens the school door for me, and I step inside. He grabs a strap of my backpack.

  “You’re going to make it, Mya. I’ll be rooting for you. Let me know at lunch, okay?”

  I nod and walk toward my classroom. “Thanks, Nugget. I’ll let you know.”

  Everybody’s in the cave, talking about who they think will make the Wall of Fame. Some of my classmates are helping others study. Naomi’s at her cabinet. I try to ignore her, but she won’t leave me alone.

  “Where’s that hat you had on earlier this week? You sure need it today! Definitely a bad hair day, don’t you think? And an orange dress with a brown vest doesn’t go with pink boots. I’m not only smarter than you are, I’m a better dresser, too! It doesn’t matter. You’re going to choke today, Mya. That Wall of Lame T-shirt is going to look even sillier with that outfit.”

  I ignore Naomi. Mrs. Davis walks in. “Good morning, students.”

  We all say good morning back as we put our things away. The twins come in and stand on both sides of me.