As soon as I get home, I head to the kitchen, wash my hands, and set my mind on making the best chili ever. I chop my vegetables into tiny little pieces. I stir them all together in a bowl, pretending it’s a skillet, nice and gently. As I pour in my tomato sauces and spices, I talk to them, and let them know I need them to make friends with the vegetables in the bowl. I even breathe through my nose so I can smell everything forming a nice little family.
After I add a package of the pre-cooked meat Dad bought for me, I stir everything one more time, then put it all in the microwave for ten minutes. When the microwave dings, I stir my bowl of chili, and put it back in for five more minutes.
It smells so good.
When I turn around to go sit at the table, Mom’s standing there, smiling at me.
“I can tell by the aroma that this one is going to be your best batch.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’m really focused on making good chili the way you make it. But at the cook-off tomorrow, I’m going to add something that I’m good at doing. And I’m going to do it Annie Oakley style!”
Chapter Thirty
It was an awesome surprise, not a bad one, to see Mom up and dressed this morning. Usually she’s still in her robe and slippers. But today she’s wearing her Annie Oakley outfit! And I’m wearing mine! Holy moly!
“How many braids do you want today, Mya?” she asks.
I take off my cowgirl hat and sit in the chair. “Five. One for every person in my family,” I say.
As she’s fixing my hair, Mom tells me something I don’t expect.
“I’m going with you to the chili cook-off. Your dad is bringing me a special chair and pillows so I can keep my legs up. I can’t help, but I can be there. I’m so proud of you, Mya. Even though it’s supposed to be ninety degrees today, I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
I want to say something, but I can’t. For a whole week I figured Mom didn’t want to do anything with me now that Macey was coming.
That wasn’t true. I was wrong.
Mom quizzed me just about every day to help with the Wall of Fame Game questions. She told me how happy she was that Macey had me for a big sister. And best of all, she let me know that she was happy that I was her first daughter. And she wouldn’t want it any other way.
Finally, I know exactly what I need to tell her.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, Mya.”
As soon as Dad comes into the kitchen, I hand him a sheet of paper.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“I need those things for the cook-off. And I have to have them before the judges come to my booth, okay? Will you bring them to me?”
He winks and then starts tickling me. It’s the perfect morning, and if Dad comes through with my supplies, I’ve got a good shot at winning another apron for Mom.
Dad drops us off near the baseball fields. There are fifteen chili booths set up, and one booth that has “Judges Only” written across the top of it. It’s empty, but I’m sure the judges will be here soon. Some of the competitors are already here, and I can smell onions, bell peppers, garlic, and chili powder cooking in skillets.
I spot Mrs. Frazier. She eyeballs me and throws up a wimpy wave. I wimpy-wave back.
Just seeing her makes me think about what she did at Dad’s store. I want her to know that the best she’s going to do today is second place.
Instead I ignore her, the same way I did Naomi, and find my booth. It’s the last one. That’s where the champion from the year before has to be.
It takes Dad awhile to set up my stove, which is one we use for camping. I can tell he’s cleaned it up because it’s so shiny, it looks almost new! There are two burners on the stove, and a short counter where I can chop my vegetables.
I’ve never cooked on a stove before. I’m so nervous that I’m going to burn something. I only get one shot, and I know it has to be right.
After he gets Mom’s chair and pillows out of the car and helps her to my booth, Dad lights my burners for me and turns them down low.
“I’m going back to the house. Your brother and I will be back before the judges get started.” He kisses my forehead. “Good luck. You’re going to do great.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say. “Don’t forget that list of things I gave to you this morning.”
Dad’s head tilts to one side. “Sure, but why do you need Buttercup?”
“It’s a surprise. Please bring him, okay?”
He shrugs. “Okay, I’ll bring him. See you later.”
Mrs. Frazier walks by our booth. Mom smiles and waves.
“Good morning, Mrs. Frazier! Good luck!”
“Mom,” I say. “She wants to take our title away! Why would you wish her good luck?”
I sit on the arm of Mom’s chair and shoot eyeball bullets at Mrs. Frazier as she walks by. Mom takes my hand.
“When I first entered this contest five years ago, I did it because I loved to cook, and I wanted to win. Then you became old enough to help me. Everything changed. Making chili in the kitchen with you for the cook-off became one of my most favorite things to do. I didn’t start winning until you and I did it together. We’re a good team, Mya. I don’t care about winning. I just enjoy the time I spend with you. That’s the only reason I’m out here today.”
She reaches inside a bag and pulls out two thermoses. “I remembered your hot chocolate and my coffee. We always have this before we start cooking.”
I take my thermos, lean over, and put my head on Mom’s shoulder. She’s never told me this story. Making chili was never about winning. It was always about us.
When Mrs. Frazier walks by again, I smile at her, because I have a better reason for making chili than just beating her.
But I’m still going to win.
The first thing I grab is my skillet. I’m going to fry my chili meat slowly and add the spices to it while it cooks. Mom encourages me as I measure out the spices and sprinkle them on top of the meat as it cooks.
“Take your time, Mya,” she says.
I reach inside another bag and take out an onion and the special Kitchen Kids vegetable chopper Mom lets me use. I set them both on the counter and chop those onions into tiny pieces. When I’m finished, I grab a bowl from a bag and put the onions in it.
“Very good,” says Mom.
I do the same for the bell peppers and the tomatoes. When I’m finished, I sprinkle the vegetables in with the meat and stir it again. It smells so good. I sit on the edge of Mom’s chair and talk to her as I watch my chili cook slowly.
Other competitors show up, and soon all fifteen booths are filled with people. Someone claps, and I look up to see two men and one lady walk into the “Judges Only” booth. They wave at everyone. I wave back and try to stay calm, but my heart thumps like I’m watching a scary movie. The sun rises higher in the sky, and I’m getting itchy and sweaty in my Annie Oakley outfit, but I can’t let the heat distract me. I stir my chili and stay focused.
The air smells like food, and people gather around to watch. I can tell by the wonderful smell coming from my pot that the meat and all of the ingredients have become family and will soon be one big pot of love.
“Hey, Mya!” Connie comes by with a big rolled-up paper. “I think you’re going to like this.”
When she unrolls it, I clap my hands and hug her. “It’s awesome! Tape it to the side of my booth!”
Connie frowns. “But then some people won’t be able to see you cooking.”
I don’t care. Connie’s picture of a wagon trail with cowboys and cowgirls eating chili while sitting on rocks and tree stumps is perfect! Even Mom’s impressed.
As Connie tapes the picture to the front of my booth, people stop and talk about it. I can hear their conversations about chili and the Wild West as I get ready for the judges. Even the twins stop by, dressed in matching blue jeans, cowboy hats, and red western blouses.
Skye waves. “Howdy, Mya! Look what we’re wearing! We came to watch you win!�
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Starr tucks her thumbs in the loops of her jeans. “You’re definitely going to win, Mya.”
A microphone blares across the area. “The judges are about to begin tasting chili in search of this year’s winner! Good luck to all you fine chili makers!”
Where’s Dad? He’s late! I need Buttercup, or my plan is going to flop.
I take the top off my pot of chili and stir it slowly. That’s what Mom would do to calm down. I listen as people clap at other booths. The judges are taking forever to come down the line. They’re talking to people and laughing. I’m nervous, but stirring the chili calms me.
It’s not long before the judges are at the booth right before mine. They sound very nice, and they’re telling the people next to me that their chili is very, very good. My heart sinks. Maybe I should stir mine again. I hope Dad gets here soon.
Those three judges seem to be spending a lot of time with my booth neighbor. I keep stirring, hoping my chili gets better with each stir. Moments later, the three judges step inside my booth. One man wears a bow tie, the other has a straight tie. I’m feeling pretty good because the lady is dressed like a cowgirl. She smiles at Mom.
“Congratulations, Monica. I haven’t had a chance to get by your house to see you. Are you having a boy or a girl?”
“It’s a girl,” says Mom.
Thump!
I step outside my booth to see what made that noise. It’s Fish and Nugget, rolling Buttercup toward my booth. Dad and Mr. Leatherwood are carrying the tree stumps.
“I made it,” says Dad.
I hug him. “Thank you! This helps me so much!”
The guys set the stumps right in front of my booth.
The lady judge leans down to talk with me. “We’re ready to taste what you’ve got in that pot!”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m ready now,” I say.
Chapter Thirty-One
I reach inside a bag and grab three bowls, fill them halfway with chili, and give one to each judge. “Please take a seat on a stump, and I hope you enjoy my presentation.”
Their eyebrows rise as each one takes a seat.
“Dad, will you put me on Buttercup?”
“Sure thing,” he says.
Once I’m sitting on Buttercup, I pull a paper from my vest pocket and tell a Texas-sized taradiddle.
“This whole week, I’ve been learning facts about things that I would never have known had I not signed up for the Wall of Fame Game. And the things I learned got me thinking about this chili cook-off. How many people really know where chili came from?”
People gather closer to my booth. I see the head of one lady moving closer until she works her way to the front. It’s Mrs. Davis. She grins at me, and I grin back before continuing.
“Today is your lucky day. I looked up chili on the internet and found out a few things. I think some are taradiddles, but you can believe what you want. Here’s what I found out.”
I signal Dad over. “Would you please turn Buttercup to level one?”
“Sure thing,” he says.
Buttercup slowly moves as I hold on with one hand and hold my paper with the other. “A long time ago, like long before I was born, there was a Spanish nun who believed she had out-of-body experiences that would totally fly her spirit across the Atlantic to preach Christianity to the Native Americans. Once on her way back home, her spirit wrote down the recipe for chili, and said to make it with green peppers, venison, onions, and tomatoes.”
There’s a few giggles in the crowd, but I keep talking.
“And then there were these people from the Canary Islands. Oh, this was also a long time ago, before I was born. They moved to San Antonio and made some chili. They used local peppers, wild onions, and various meats. But this dude named J. C. Cooper, who lived near Houston, said something like this: ‘When the poor families of San Antonio have to buy their meat in the market, a very little is made to suffice for the family; it is generally cut into a kind of hash with nearly as many peppers as there are pieces of meat—this is all stewed together.’”
I fold my paper, stuff it back in my vest, and smile at the crowd. “I believe Mr. Cooper.”
And then I open my mouth and sing like I’m in concert. Dad changed the words to “She’ll be Comin’ Round the Mountain When She Comes” into a song about me. I added a verse to make it special for the chili cook-off.
“She’ll be making bowls of chili when she comes.
They’ll be lickin’ all their fingers and their thumbs!
Even though she’s a beginner, Mya’s chili is a winner!
She’ll be making bowls of chili when she comes!”
As long as the judges eat, I sing. I watch their feet tap the ground as I belt out my song. People clap their hands. The twins lock arms and do-si-do, and then grab people in the audience and swing them around, too! It’s a party at my booth!
Once the judges finish, they hand me their bowls.
“I’ve never seen such a wonderful chili cook-off performance in the ten years I’ve been judging,” says the man in the bow tie.
“What a fabulous job you did, young lady,” says the judge in the straight tie.
The lady winks at me. “That was some mighty fine singing, and I took a real liking to Buttercup,” she says.
“Thank you,” I say to each judge before they leave.
They shake my hand, shake Mom’s hand, and the lady judge tips her hat at me. I tip mine back. Soon, the three of them are back in their “Judges Only” booth and huddle together. Cook-off competitors step out of their booths and talk to each other. I stand outside my booth, too, because I know the judges loved what I did.
Suddenly, a microphone squeaks, and all talking stops.
“And now it’s time to announce the winner,” says the judge in the bow tie. The lady judge takes the microphone and walks to a spot in front of all the booths.
“This has been one of the best chili cook-offs in Bluebonnet’s history! We’ve had everything from sweet chili, to spicy, and even a history lesson on chili with a boot-tapping show! Unfortunately, we can only choose one winner. This year’s chili cook-off winner is Mr. Bob Johnson, in booth number four!”
The smile crumbles off my face.
I can’t bear to look at Mom. I let her down. I let the family down. All this extra stuff for nothing. I had Dad bring Buttercup and all these stumps. . . .
I slowly ka-clunk over to Mom, trying not to cry, but I can’t help it. I sit on the edge of her chair and lean on her shoulder. She leans her head on mine, and we’re just quiet for a moment. There’s a line of people, waiting to shake my hand.
“Good job, little girl. That was awesome.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Another lady steps up. “Nice job. You were the highlight of the cook-off.”
I nod and shake her hand. Mom reaches for me. I put my arms around her neck, and she gives me a super-duper hug and then whispers, “They’re right. You did a great job, Mya.”
“But I didn’t win, even though I followed your recipe. I’m sorry.”
The lady judge steps into our booth. “Little lady, I’m getting ready to leave, but I wanted to tell you that you did a fine job today, and I really enjoyed myself at your booth. I’ll be looking for you again next year.”
I wipe the tears from my face. “But why didn’t I win?”
The lady judge grabs a spoon, dips it into my pot, and eats another mouthful.
“Your chili is excellent! I’d know it if I was blindfolded. It tastes just like last year’s winner. But there were lots of good chili recipes this year. Y’all have fun today!”
As she leaves, I think about what she said, and a grin spreads across my face. When I turn to Mom, she’s already grinning.
“That’s right, Mya. Your chili tastes exactly like mine from last year! You did it!”
I wrap my arms around her again, but this time it’s not because I’m sad. Now I know what she meant when she said it wasn’t about winning. “You wer
e right, Mom. Making prize-winning chili has nothing to do with a prize. I had so much fun. How about we cook together every day? You can teach me all your recipes, and I promise I won’t rush them.”
Mom smiles and rubs her belly. Dad comes over and gives me a fist bump. I’m okay with it, because I’ve already gotten my super-duper hug from Mom. He points to the baseball field.
“The game’s starting. Mya, you gather up all of the utensils and spices. Leave Buttercup and the tree stumps for me and your brother. I’m going to the field to be with Nugget, okay?”
“Sure, Dad. We’ll be fine,” I say.
Dad jogs across the grass to the ballpark. Connie and the twins help me take my bags and utensils to the truck. I tell my friends what the judge said about the chili.
“It was good. She liked it,” I say. “She even said it tasted like Mom’s winning chili from last year. She remembered it.”
“Excuse me . . . Mya?”
I turn around. It’s Mrs. Frazier. Oh, no. The twins freeze. So does Connie.
“I don’t want to keep you long, but I just wanted to say you did a fine job today. I didn’t know the history of chili, and I thought your song was so much fun. I’ll be trying again next year, and I hope you do, too. See you in church tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Frazier,” I say.
“Something happened to her,” says Skye.
“Something definitely happened to her,” says Starr.
“Maybe her chili was bad,” says Skye.
“Green chili-itis comes from bad chili,” says Starr.
Just as I set a bag down in the back of Dad’s truck, I hear my name again.
“Mya!”
It’s Mom! I rush to her side. Connie and the twins run with me.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“My water just broke.”
Skye shakes her head. “Water doesn’t break.”
“It’s a liquid,” says Starr.
Connie pushes me. “Go get your dad and your brother! Macey’s downloading!”
Chapter Thirty-Two
At the hospital, two nurses come to the car and put Mom in a wheelchair. Dad walks with her. “Mya, Nugget, go to the labor and delivery waiting room on the fourth floor. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
The Magnificent Mya Tibbs Page 14