She stops rubbing her belly. I see a tear in her eye. Good gravy. Now I’ve made Mom cry, too.
I rush upstairs and close my door. The cows and horses on my wall stare at me. Annie Oakley and Cowgirl Claire give me a look like I need to tell them what I did.
So I do.
I must have fallen asleep, because a knock on my door scares me so badly that I fall on the floor.
I wipe my face. “Who is it?”
“Mom and Dad said it’s time for dinner. Come on, let’s go,” says Nugget.
I ka-clunk over to the door and open it. We stand there, staring at each other for a moment, before Nugget reminds me with a whisper, “I’m sure Dad’s had a long day at work. Mom and the baby don’t need any stress. We’ll talk later, okay?”
I nod and follow my brother downstairs. Dad’s already at the table, dressed in a clean shirt, holding his knife and fork like he’s starving to death. Nugget and I grin at him as we take our places at the table. Mom’s made her yummy meat loaf with mashed potatoes and green beans. Nugget and Dad stare at the food and then back at each other.
“Maybe I should get my food first, before you take it all. I’m still a growing boy,” says Nugget with a smile.
Dad shrugs. “You might just have to grow someplace else, because that meat loaf is mine.”
I can’t help but giggle. Mom comes to the table, wiping her hands on her apron.
“If I had known we were going to have a food fight, I would have made spaghetti.”
Nugget and I laugh, and Dad joins us.
After Dad gives thanks for our food, Mom starts off by telling us about her day.
“The baby moved a lot, so I had to rest more than I wanted to and that put me behind on the housework. But then I ran out of peanut butter, and it depressed me so bad that I had to take a nap. When I woke up, I realized I had loaded the washing machine but forgot to start it,” she says, getting a scoop of mashed potatoes and squirting catsup all over them. My eyes meet Nugget’s, and we cover our mouths to hide our grins.
Dad’s plate is piled up like he’s building a castle. “This should fill my empty stomach,” he says. “Today was a long day at the store. I had two people ask for refunds for Bronco Buck Willis stuff they bought last week. Then some little boy pushed the button on the side of Buttercup, and when the bull started bucking, it scared him so badly that he ran through the store knocking over displays, camping gear, all kinds of stuff. I spent my entire lunch hour cleaning up that mess. Right before I left the store, the Fall Festival Committee called and said they’re working on a contract for a rodeo replacement, but they wouldn’t tell me who it was.”
I glance at Dad. “Not even a clue?”
“Not even one lousy clue,” he says.
I stab another forkful of meat loaf and shove it into my mouth. Mom takes a long swig of her cranberry juice. “Mya, Nugget, do you know why your father and I are so happy about the new baby?”
I shrug. “New babies are fun,” I say.
Nugget looks at Dad. “Another tax deduction?”
Dad laughs. I do, too, even though I have no idea what a tax deduction is.
Mom wipes her mouth, puts both elbows on the table, and props her chin on the backs of her hands. “The reason we’re so happy about having another child is because the two we have are so wonderful! Your father and I love being your parents.”
Dad nods at me and fist-bumps Nugget as Mom continues.
“Don’t think we can’t handle your problems. We can, and we want to help.”
I slowly let my fork drop on my plate. Nugget’s eyes are glued to Mom’s as she begins to cry.
“It’s so precious of you to try and keep your problems away from your dad and me because you think we can’t handle them right now.”
Nugget stares at Dad. “You knew?”
My eyes widen. “How’d you know that?”
Dad’s eyebrows rise as he nods. “It’s been tough on your mom and me, waiting for both of you to come and talk to us. We know when things aren’t going well for you. Things don’t always go right out there in the world. But in here, at this table, we’re family, and we help each other, understand? That’s what families do.”
Mom holds out her arms. “Come here, Sir Nugget.”
Dad holds out his arms. “Come here, baby girl.”
I’m almost running to the end of the table. I close my eyes and let Dad hug me. My arms wrap around his neck. His face feels so warm and perfect, just like a dad should feel.
He whispers in my ear. “You can always talk to me, Mya, about anything. You hear?”
“Yes, sir,” I say without letting go of his neck.
The dining room is quiet, but it doesn’t feel strange. It feels like a whole lot of love in the room, and that’s exactly what I needed. And since I don’t hear my brother saying anything, I’m thinking that’s exactly what he needed, too.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thursday morning, I wake up scared, shaking, and totally nervous. I already know that today may not be a good day. But I’ve made up my mind. I’ve got to tell Connie the truth. She’s got to know what I did, even if I have to ask someone else to tell her.
And I’ve already figured out who can do that for me.
There’s a really good reason why I’m not wearing braids today. It’s better for my hair to hang down and be free, loose, like animal hair. I tie the bandanna made out of fake leopard skin around my head. My pants are made out of the same leopard-skin material, and they have big belt loops so I can hook my rodeo rope on them. Last night I made two bracelets with green and black beads. It’s time to put them on.
As I stare into the mirror, my big guardian wings, covered with the same material as my bandanna and my pants, give me courage and make this costume worth a thousand Spirit Week points. This is the best outfit Mom’s ever made.
But right now, I need to switch from the scared me to the brave me. If I’m going to be a superhero, I need to start by telling Connie the truth, and I’ve failed twice.
But I know who can do it.
I reach down on my dresser, grab my brown cowgirl hat, and gently place it on top of my head, over the bandanna. Slowly I look up and stare at the mirror, because today I am no longer Mya Tibbs.
“Good morning, Animasia,” I say to the mirror.
Downstairs, Mom makes a big deal out of the way I look. She’s got a peanut butter–and-onion sandwich in one hand as she hugs me with the other. When Dad and Nugget step out of the garage, they take white masks and goggles off their faces. Nugget is barefoot and dressed in a pair of raggedy brown shorts and a dark-blue shirt, with the rest of his body, including his hair and face, painted dark blue. Mom and I laugh. Nugget flexes his tiny muscles. “Planet Man is in the house!”
“If you’re Planet Man, why are you blue?” I ask.
“Our planet is mostly made up of water. My brown pants represent land. I protect both.”
Girl Guardian Jade-Iris already has that covered, but I’d never tell Nugget to his face. He puts his shoes on and we leave for school. Just as we cross the street, Nugget breaks the news.
“I’m meeting Solo in front of the school instead of the park. He’s Solar System Man. I don’t have any idea what his superpowers are supposed to be, but that’s what he chose. Anyway, I’m late, so I’m going to run ahead, okay? See you at lunch.”
“Whatever,” I say.
A few moments later, I hear a familiar voice. “Mya Papaya!”
My smile gets bigger when I see Fish dressed in Superman gear, except he has a big F painted on his shirt instead of an S for Superman, and fins on his sides. He turns to me, and holds up his hand. “Happy Teddy Bear Day! Whoa, you look awesome!”
“Thanks, Fish, but call me Animasia, Guardian of the Secret Woods. And happy Teddy Bear Day to you, too!”
Fish keeps talking. “Did you know that Teddy Bear Day is named after President Theodore Roosevelt? Check this out. President Roosevelt liked to hunt, but one day
he didn’t shoot anything. Somebody brought him a real baby bear to shoot, but he wouldn’t do it. A toymaker read what happened and brought out a stuffed bear called Teddy’s Bear. The rest is history!”
I give Fish his high five. “What a cool story! What’s the F on your shirt for?”
He slaps his chest. “Meet the Fabulous Fish Man, protector of every fish under the sea!”
I give him another high five for being the best Fish Man in Bluebonnet.
“Bobby Joe is going to be Thunder Boy. He booms so loud that it scares off his enemies,” says Fish.
I nod. “Sounds like a great team. I hope you win the big points today.”
PSST!
I stop and listen. There it is again.
PSST!
“Animasia! Over here, behind the bushes!”
Ka-clunk, ka-clunk, ka-clunk.
“Who’s there?” I ask.
“Queen Angelica.” Connie walks out from behind the bushes.
Fish stares. “Connie, you look uh . . . I don’t know. Geez, I’ve never seen you in a dress before. What’s the opposite of ugly?”
“Pretty,” says Connie with a grin.
Fish nods. “Yep, I agree. See you at lunch.” He runs toward school with his fins flapping back and forth.
We yell together. “Bye, Fabulous Fish Man!”
Connie runs her hand across her long dress, then looks back at me.
“I’m not wrinkly, am I?”
“No, you look perfect,” I say. “But I need to talk to you about—”
Connie puts her hands up. “Please. Don’t say anything else, Animasia. Whatever you have to tell me can wait. This is the most perfect morning I’ve had in two whole years. I even feel like Queen Angelica! Let’s just walk to school together, okay?”
Good gravy.
I nod. “Okay. Let’s go.”
We walk to school, side by side, in silence. Students stare at us, smile at us, wave at us, some even speak to us. But we stay silent, focused. Like warriors. Today, Animasia and Queen Angelica are real superheroes.
Finally we reach Mr. Winky. Nugget’s standing at the door beside him.
“Where’s Solo,” I ask.
Nugget shrugs. “He didn’t show up, so I thought I’d wait on you guys. That outfit is boo-yang cool, Connie.”
She finger-combs her hair. “Seriously? Thank you.”
Mr. Winky’s dressed like some jungle man with a fake monkey on his shoulder. He beats his chest when we approach and hollers like Tarzan.
“AAAAWWWWAAAWWWAAAA.”
He points at my brother. “Me, Winky Man. You, Nugget Man!”
I pet the monkey on his shoulder and think about freeing it since I’m Animasia today.
“Cool outfit, Mr. Winky,” says Connie.
He points at Connie and me, and then switches back to a Mr. Winky voice.
“Take a look at the two superheroines. Absolutely beautiful! Yes, yes, yes! It doesn’t matter if you’re super ‘he’-roes or super ‘she’-roes; we’re having a super Spirit Week at Y.E.S.!”
I’m so proud to be standing next to Connie. She doesn’t look like Mean Connie Tate. Right now, she looks like the prettiest girl in Bluebonnet. “Let’s go,” I say. “We’ve got to model our outfits down the K3 hall. They’re going to love them!”
Just as we turn the corner, we see Starr taking a picture of Naomi near the water fountain. We both stand as still as statues while Naomi gawks at Connie. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined this happening.
Crowds of kindergarteners and first, second, and third graders look at Connie, then at Naomi. Students fill the hallway and I can hear the whispers.
Naomi has wings. So do Connie and Mya.
Naomi frowns. “Who are you supposed to be, Connie? I’m the Angel of Beauty. I change ugly things into beautiful things.”
I roll my eyes. “More like the Angel of Cootie.”
Connie pushes my shoulder. “Cool it.”
Naomi ignores me. She’s eyeballing Connie, frowning.
“You remember what happened the last time you tried to be better than me?”
As I glare at my ex–best friend, she seems to get uglier by the second. After hearing Connie’s story yesterday, I could just walk over to Naomi and rip her wings off. I can’t let her ruin Connie’s chances of winning again, like she did in the pageant.
I’ve had enough of Naomi Jackson. I’m tired of her being mean to me and my Spirit Week partner. It has to stop, and I’m going to stop it right now.
Today, I’m Animasia. My job is to protect my queen.
I step in front of Connie and stand strong. “Let me handle this.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The crowd keeps growing, but I’ve got only one thing on my mind. I raise my hands and speak loud enough for everyone to hear. “I am Animasia, guardian over all animals in the Secret Woods. Citizens of Young Elementary, I give you Queen Angelica, leader of the Girl Guardian Court. You should bow to her.”
Some of the first, second, and third graders take a knee, but Naomi scares them.
“Don’t bow to her! Connie couldn’t be queen of anything! She doesn’t know how!”
“Wrong, Queen Cootie! You’re the one who’s fake, phony, and full of baloney,” I say.
Connie frowns and pushes my shoulder again. “No name calling!”
Naomi hollers at me. “Why do you care? You don’t even like Mean Connie Tate!”
“Stop calling her that! Her name is Queen Angelica,” I say.
Naomi steps closer to me. “Mean Connie needs to hear the truth.”
I fight back with a whisper only she needs to hear. “You’re just mad because you like my brother, but he doesn’t like you.”
I know those are fighting words, but it’s the only thing I could think of to say to make Naomi leave Connie alone. Naomi’s eyes squint, her nose wrinkles, and I know she’s about to blow. In my head, I encourage myself to be strong. I am a warrior. I am Animasia. Naomi Jackson can’t hurt me anymore. I won’t let her. And I won’t let her hurt my queen.
Naomi points at me. “So, Mean Connie, you think you know your Spirit Week partner?”
Connie frowns at her. “I don’t think I do; I know I do!”
I bump fists with Connie for joining in the fight, but it’s far from over. The fear I had this morning is trying to come back. I tell myself again to be strong.
I am a warrior. I am Animasia . . .
Good gravy. It’s not working.
Naomi smiles at Connie. “You’re such a sucker. Mya totally double-crossed you.”
I quickly turn to Connie. “Please, you have to listen to me. I have to tell you something before it’s too late!”
Connie looks down at me. I look up, and her eyes seem to ask why this is happening. I’m sure mine are asking for forgiveness.
Naomi’s almost in between us. “Connie, why do you think I was dressed like Bo Peep on Tuesday? It’s because your Spirit Week partner told me what you and her were going to wear. She even offered to tell me other things if I would take her back as my best friend.”
Connie fires back. “I don’t believe you, Jackson. I know Mya and she wouldn’t do that.”
Sirens, bells, whistles, fire, ice, rocks, everything loud, everything painful, is beating, slicing, twirling, and destroying my insides like the world’s worst battle. It’s over. All I can do is stand here, in the middle of the hall, while Naomi trashes me in front of the whole school.
“Mya Tibbs is a Spirit Week snitch! She told me and my partner everything she and Connie were going to do for Spirit Week.”
Connie taps me on the shoulder. “Mya, you told her about the GGC?”
My body thumps with fear. “No! She’s lying!”
Connie stomps her foot. “I don’t believe you, Jackson! Mya’s not like that.”
Connie’s fighting for me. She’s fighting for our friendship. But Naomi just smiles. Those green eyes of hers that I used to believe were so beautiful
now twinkle evil. Then she comes back with a bigger lie—one that I didn’t see coming, and can’t defend against.
“It’s totally true. Why else would I be wearing an angel costume like yours?”
Connie looks at Naomi’s dress and then her own. Slowly she faces me. I don’t have an answer, so I shrug and guess. “Maybe she was spying on us, or maybe it’s just by chance that she’s dressed like an angel—you know, like a coincidence—but I swear I didn’t tell her.”
Connie sends me a stink eye that I can almost smell. “First, you gave away our Bo Peep idea. And then you did it again? You dirty double-crossed me . . . Tibbs.”
She called me Tibbs. Oh no. I step closer to her. “It’s true that I told her about Bo Peep, but that was all! I didn’t tell her about the GGC! I didn’t tell her about today, I swear!”
Naomi interrupts me. “Don’t listen to her, Connie. She’s the biggest liar in Bluebonnet.”
Connie bolts down the hall. The wings on the back of her costume flap like she’s going to leave the ground. I know where she’s going, but I’m not finished with Naomi.
“You’re the biggest bully in this school, not Connie,” I say.
Naomi stares down the hall. “I bet she’s on her way to go scare the poor kindergarteners.”
“No she’s not!”
Naomi crosses her arms. “How do you know, Mya Tibbs Fibs? She’s probably changed you into a bully, too! There’s no other reason for her to go down that hall.”
I frown. “Yes there is! If it weren’t for Connie, we wouldn’t have all these awesome posters for Spirit Week. She painted all of them!”
Everybody checks out the posters. I hear them whispering. “Mean Connie drew this?” “No way!” “Maybe Connie did draw that picture during the talent challenge in the cafeteria!”
I keep talking. “Yeah! And that’s not all. She’s got a room full of awesome things she’s created. She’s got more talent in her fingers than Naomi Jackson has in her whole body!”
Spirit Week Showdown Page 10