Bessica 1 - The Reinvention of Bessica Lefter

by Kristen Tracy

  “You’re going to be great,” she said as she pulled into the parking lot.

  “If I lose, this is going to be the second-saddest day of my life.” I didn’t bother telling her what the saddest day of my life was, because I figured she already knew. It was the day I lost Sylvie and Grandma.

  We were going to hold the assembly after lunch. This was good because it gave me plenty of time to put on my fur pants and get used to my suspenders by walking around the gym. Alice was there too, with her fur suit. And she was talking on the phone, complaining that she needed her bear head. After she hung up I asked her the obvious question.

  “You have a bear head?”

  “Yeah. My mom bought it for me. It’s on its way.”

  That bummed me out. Because I’d given up on the idea of making a bear head and just planned on using my own head. Watching Alice walk around, I couldn’t believe that Sylvie had ever shown her our diary. So, like a very mature person, I asked her about it.

  “Have you read my diary?”

  Alice looked at me like I was a freak. “How would I do that?”

  “I’m just thinking about what you said to me in the office.”

  “Oh, about Kettle Harris. We’re cousins. A couple of years ago he brought a bunch of letters you’d written to him to a family reunion.”

  “What?” I asked. I’d forgotten I’d written those letters. I couldn’t even remember what I’d said in them.

  “Yeah, your ‘crush letters.’ You sent him, like, twenty notes telling him that you liked him.”

  “He took those to your family reunion?” I’d been to a couple of family reunions and we’d never done anything like that.

  “I don’t really have time to talk about this. I need to stay focused for my tumbling.”

  “What?” I asked. I felt doomed. “How can you tumble with a wrist brace?”

  “I’ll be doing one-armed flips,” she said. “You know what they say about mascots. You’ve got to bring it.”

  I felt sick to my stomach. When the assembly finally started, the three of us stood off to the side of the gym: Alice Potgeiser, Dolan the Puker, and me. It was so stressful. One of us would be the mascot. One of us would spend the next nine months of our lives dressed as a bear, cheering on our athletic teams. Looking out into the crowd of middle-school-student faces and teacher faces, I had never wanted anything more in my life.

  I stood between Alice and Dolan in my furry pants and suspenders and fur-covered shoes. The fur was peeling off my sneakers a little bit, but I tried not to pay attention to that. Any moment, the whistle would sound and we’d each have two minutes to do our cheers. Alice was a lot furrier than I was. Plus, her mother was bringing her a bear head, but no such thing had happened yet. I had my doubts that the bear head even existed.

  Alice was up first, which was good and bad. Good: I didn’t have to go first. Also, it gave her mom less time to arrive with the alleged bear head. Bad: I would have to follow her and possibly feel intimidated by any flips she’d done. Dolan would go last, which I suspected was assigned to him based on his puking history. Principal Tidge was very practical, and if Dolan made a mess of the floor, better that nobody had to go after him.

  “Alice Potgeiser!” cheered Principal Tidge. Then the whistle blew and Alice and her fluffy hair were off. She ran and jumped up and immediately kicked her legs apart and performed a series of airborne splits. She looked exactly like a cheerleader. Sure, she had school spirit. But there was nothing mascot-y about what she was doing. I didn’t understand her logic. If she kept this up, I knew she was going to lose. It was thrilling. Then I saw a woman rush onto the gym floor. And she was carrying something hairy. Uh-oh. It was a bear head! I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  The woman handed the furry head to Alice and she slipped it over her fluffy head. And then she started dancing in a way that had a ton of butt wiggling. And everybody started laughing. And she waved to people. And danced. And then she did something that I thought was impossible. While wearing the bear head, Alice Potgeiser performed a dozen one-armed flips. One after the other. It was disgusting. Because it looked totally awesome and the bear head stayed on the whole time. I looked at Dolan.

  “I feel like puking,” I whispered to him. But he didn’t say anything back. When Alice was finished, the entire audience erupted in applause. It sounded like happy thunder. It was terrible. Alice trotted back over to the line and looked at me and said, “Good luck!”

  But I knew she didn’t mean it. I watched her take her bear head off. Her face looked sweaty, red, and hot. I held my jump rope and wished for the best. Then it happened. “Bessica Lefter!” Principal Tidge called. And the whistle blew.

  I ran out in front of everybody waving my arms, so they would understand that I was full of energy. Then I hopped around and yelled, “Go bears! Go bears! Go bears!” While I hopped, I realized that wearing “underneath pants” and tights to prevent chafing under my fur pants was a bad idea. Because I was getting pretty hot. But there wasn’t much I could do about it now. So I started my cheer.

  “What do we eat? What do we eat? Tiger meat! Tiger meat! How do we like it? How do we like it? Raw! Raw! Raw!” People cheered. Apparently, they liked the idea of a bear eating a tiger raw. So I launched into my laughter-grabbing routine. I swung my rope over my head and started jumping. And I didn’t stand in one place like I was lazy. I took off and jumped around the whole gym. And while I jumped I kept cheering, “Go bears! Go bears! Go bears!”

  And as I was doing this, I got so hot I started to sweat. A lot. I could feel it running down my back. And my face. I actually saw some drops splatter onto the gym’s wood floor. But I was afraid to stop. Because Vicki said that the winner would be the person who brought the most intensity. So I kept jumping. Even when my time was over. I headed back toward my line, but I didn’t stop jumping rope. And people noticed this and kept cheering, so I decided to yell more crazy, clever stuff.

  “Bring me a tiger! I’ll eat it! Raw! Raw! Raw!” And then I did a bunch of growling. And Dolan the Puker looked at me like he was ready to begin his mascot cheer, but I didn’t care. Because I was still bringing it. In fact, I felt so good about how things were going that I started jump roping around the gym again, even though it was probably against the rules. People laughed their heads off. Normally, this would have really bothered me, but because I was wearing fur pants, I didn’t take their laughter personally.

  Jump. Jump. Jump. I was so hot I was practically panting. I could feel my feet sweating inside my shoes. And that was when it happened. I felt my first shoe fly off. And then my second. But it wasn’t a totally bad thing, because it cooled off my toes. I watched them lying on the gym floor. Huge fur chunks had fallen off. I guess the glue I used wasn’t as super as I’d thought.

  And even though I was wearing socks, I didn’t stop jumping. In fact, I didn’t even mess up. I was so proud of myself. I felt like I’d already won mascot. And that was when everything fell apart. I saw something huge and brown fly through the air. And at the same time, I suddenly felt a lot less hot. Then I realized what had happened. I heard my suspenders clatter to the floor. I’d lost my pants! And because they’d come off and gotten caught in my jump rope, I’d accidentally flung them into the audience. I stopped jumping rope and looked out into the crowd to see where they’d gone. It didn’t take me long to spot them. They were on top of Ms. Penrod’s head. I’d flung my fur pants onto a former Olympian! Everybody was laughing. Even Alice Potgeiser. Even Principal Tidge. I wasn’t sure how to feel about this.

  I reached down to pick up my jump rope. That was when I heard somebody yell, “Look at her butt!” Then I remembered what I was wearing. My purple pants with KISS THIS written across the butt. I wanted to die. No, that’s not true. I wanted to pretend like this had never happened and then I wanted to die in ninety years, at the end of my life. I didn’t even want to be the mascot anymore. I wanted to erase this moment. I walked back to the line.

  “I can’t
believe it,” Alice said. “You did a great job. I mean, you were hilarious.”

  But I don’t think she meant that as a compliment. I looked out into the laughing crowd. Even rude Raya Papas looked like she was laughing. I shut my eyes. I was so relieved when I heard Principal Tidge announce that it was Dolan the Puker’s turn. Only she didn’t call him Dolan the Puker. She just called him Dolan Burr.

  I stood very still in my purple KISS THIS pants next to Alice Potgeiser while Dolan the Puker rode around on a tricycle wearing a triangular fur hat.

  “Where’s his bicycle?” I asked.

  “It got stolen,” Alice said. And the way she said this made me wonder whether she had anything to do with it.

  “That’s a weird hat,” I said.

  “It looks like a beaver, not a bear,” Alice said.

  Dolan didn’t yell crazy, clever things. And he didn’t bring intensity either. He just rode around on that tricycle like a madman, yelling, “I’m a bear! I’m a bear!”

  It was lame.

  Even though I was totally humiliated, and had basically sweat my pants off in front of the entire school, I was pretty sure I’d done a better job than Dolan the Puker. I glanced at Alice. She watched him in a very focused way. Then, when he parked his tricycle, she glanced at me.

  “Sweating your pants off and flinging them onto the PE teacher was totally desperate,” she said. “I didn’t realize you played hardball.”

  I looked Alice Potgeiser right in the eye. She was acting like a total psycho-bully and I was sick of it.

  I pointed at myself and said, “I bring it.”

  And then Alice Potgeiser didn’t look at me or talk to me for the rest of the assembly. People clapped for Dolan, but not as hard as they’d clapped for me. He returned to the line and stood next to me. On top of his sweaty head, his triangle fur hat smelled like wet dog.

  “That was a lot of fun!” Principal Tidge said, like she was trying to reassure us. “You have until the end of the day to cast your ballot for one of our three mascots. And Friday we’ll have another assembly and I’ll announce the results.”

  There was a bunch of cheering after she said this, but I think it was because people wanted to get out of class for another assembly. Didn’t they understand the importance of school spirit? As people poured out of the gym, my heart felt like it was going to explode. I was both excited and depressed. Because I wanted to be a mascot, but I wasn’t ready to humiliate myself on a regular basis. I wondered what my chances were. I wondered how many people at my school would vote for the girl who’d lost her pants.

  t turns out that a lot of people wanted to vote for the girl who lost her pants. As I was leaving school that day, people kept yelling, “You’ve got my vote!” And I didn’t even know who these people were. I guess Vicki was right. It’s important to take risks. It’s important to show up, be proud, and shake your rear end like a wild animal.

  As I walked to the bus, there was one person I wanted to call more than anybody. But Sylvie was at school. So I got on my bus and rode home and sat on top of all my excitement. And when I got home I had to sit on it even longer, because my mom’s car had broken down and my dad had to go and pick her up.

  Waiting was hard. I took my carefully folded fur pants and set them on my bed. Then I bounced around the house from room to room. Then I realized that I was in such a wonderful mood that I was pretty sure Grandma would want to hear from me. So I called her.

  Me: I just tried out for mascot, and while things didn’t go exactly how I wanted them to go, I think I have a shot.

  Grandma: I don’t doubt that.

  Me: Grandma, I haven’t told anybody this, but if I don’t win, I will have to live in loner town for the next three years.

  Grandma: Bessica, you’ll only live in loner town if you choose to live in loner town.

  Me: That’s not true, Grandma. That might be how things work in caves, but that’s not how things work in middle school. Hey, is that Willy in the background?

  Grandma: Yes. He needs a pillow.

  Me: So he’s gonna live?

  Grandma: Of course he is. Willy has endurance!

  Me: Oh. Grandma, I need to apologize for two things.

  Grandma: Okay.

  Me: First, I’m sorry that I’ve been unkind to Willy. He’s nice to me. From now on I’ll be nice too.

  Grandma: It’s good to hear you say that.

  Me: Second, I created a terrible romantic tragedy.

  Grandma: Is this about Noll Beck?

  Me: No. It’s about you and Pilot Mike. I set up a date for you guys, because you both like sandwiches and waterskiing. His phone number is (406) 234-0623. Maybe you could call him and let him down easy.

  Grandma: What?

  Me: He has a boat. I thought you’d really like him.

  Grandma: Bessica! How did you meet a pilot with a boat? Did he visit your school for career day or something?

  Me: No. Not quite. He lives in Montana.

  Grandma: I don’t have time for you to explain this to me. Willy needs me.

  Me: That’s cool. I understand that.

  Grandma: Bessica, you should not have set me up.

  Me: I know. I regret that I did that. It’s why I’m apologizing.

  Grandma: What’s his number again?

  Me: It’s (406) 234-0623. It’s identical to my locker combination. Twice.

  Grandma: I’m going to tell him the truth.

  Me: Okay. Grandma?

  Grandma: Yes.

  Me: I suddenly got very scared that I’m going to lose. The kids at my school vote for the winner and nobody really knows me.

  Grandma: Don’t fret yourself into despair. Being the front-runner isn’t always the safest position. People love a good underdog story.

  Me: That’s exactly what I needed to hear.

  Grandma: Good. I’ve got to go, doll.

  Me: Are you mad at me about Pilot Mike?

  Grandma: I’m not happy about it, but I know you didn’t mean to hurt anybody.

  Me: That’s true.

  Grandma: Bye for now. I’ve got my fingers crossed.

  When my mom and dad pulled up in the driveway, I was watching through the window. As soon as they came through the door, they wanted a play-by-play of how things went. So I told them all about Alice and the bear head.

  “A girl’s mother purchased a bear head for her?” my mom asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It was totally furry.”

  My dad whistled. “Sounds like somebody has money to burn.”

  My dad loved to use that phrase when he thought rich people were buying stupid things.

  “It even had fangs,” I said.

  “Bears don’t have fangs,” my dad said. “They have pronounced eyeteeth.”

  I blinked. I didn’t see much of a difference.

  Then I told them about Dolan the Puker and his tricycle ride and smelly fur hat.

  “Why are you calling him Dolan the Puker?” my mom asked.

  And I didn’t even realize I’d called him that.

  “He’s puked twice in chorus. On the people in the row in front of him. He’s got a reputation.”

  My dad whistled again. “With a condition like that, you’d think he’d get put in the front.”

  I shook my head. “That wouldn’t work. He’s very tall.”

  “How did your performance go? Did they like watching a jump-roping bear?”

  I didn’t really want to tell my parents that I’d sweat my pants off, but I also didn’t want to lie. So I told them everything, exactly how it had happened. My mother looked horrified. But my dad laughed.

  “They just flew right off?” he asked.

  “Yep. They were basically on Ms. Penrod’s head before I could stop jumping rope.”

  “Amazing,” my dad said, smiling.

  “And then people read my butt and laughed harder,” I said.

  “Your butt?” my dad asked.

  My mother put her head in her hands. “She
was wearing pajama bottoms that said Kiss this on the rear.”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen those pajama bottoms,” my dad said.

  “They’re purple,” I said. “Grandma sent them to me from South Dakota.”

  “Wow,” my dad said. “You might win.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Even if you don’t win, you can try out again next year. Usually the older kids win, Buck,” my mom said.

  “Sometimes they don’t,” my dad said.

  And this made me smile. Because it felt good to have my dad believe in me, even though I wasn’t an older kid.

  That night, after dinner, I really wanted to call Sylvie. But instead of doing that, I just stared at my phone. And then the best thing in the world happened. She called me!

  “Bessica!” Sylvie said. “Everybody at my school is talking about you!”

  “Really?” I said. It felt weird to hear that.

  “You pulled your pants off and threw them on a teacher’s head?”