My Last Best Friend

by Julie Bowe

  Jenna's jaw drops. "One of my shirts?" she says.

  "Yes, one of your shirts," her mom replies. "A large one."

  Jenna pushes away from the table, grumbling.

  "Never mind," I say. "I have an extra shirt in my bag."

  Jenna sighs with relief.

  I set down my whale rock and go upstairs to change.

  When I come back to the kitchen everyone is gone except for Jenna's mom. "The girls went outside to play, Ida," she says, taking my painted shirt from me. She heads off to the laundry room.

  I think about going outside, too. I walk over to the table instead.

  All the painted rocks are sitting together at the center of the table, drying. My whale rock sits off to one side. I'm surprised to see it now has a tail, fin, and smiling face painted on it. Stacey, I say to myself.

  Just then I hear a noise under the table. I bend down, expecting Biscuit to spring out and lick my face.

  "Hi, Ida!"

  It's Rachel.

  "What are you doing under there?" I ask, pushing aside one of the chairs.

  "Hiding," she says.

  "From what?" I ask.

  "That," she says, pointing past me.

  I look in the direction she's pointing and see a coat tree by the kitchen door.

  "You're afraid of coats?" I ask.

  "Not coats," Rachel says, her eyes widening. "It's a monster."

  "Yikes," I say.

  Rachel smiles. "Quick, Ida! You'll be safe inside my castle!" She grabs my arm and pulls me under the table.

  Rachel scoots over to make room for me. I sit down next to her and look around. "This is your castle?"

  Rachel nods and pushes the chair back in place. She pretends to lock it with a key.

  "Does that mean you're a princess or something?" I ask.

  Rachel nods again. "Princess Penelope," she says. Then she leans in close and whispers, "It's my secret name."

  "Don't worry," I whisper back. "I won't tell."

  Rachel beams at me. "You need a secret name, too, Ida."

  She reaches behind her back and then holds up an invisible crown. I lean over a little so she can put it on my head. "I crown you ... Queen Cordelia," she says.

  I sit up and pretend to straighten the crown. "How do I look?" I ask.

  Rachel giggles. "Good," she says.

  "Now what?"

  "Now you guard the castle while I fight the monster."

  Rachel pulls several rocks out of a pocket in her smock and shows them to me. "Ammunition," she says. Then she starts to unlock the castle door.

  "Wait," I say. Rachel stops and looks at me. I pretend to sprinkle something over the rocks.

  "What's that?" Rachel asks.

  "Magic dust," I whisper.

  Rachel beams again. Then she says, "Ida, you're a lot more fun than Jenna."

  I give her half a smile. Then I sprinkle magic dust on her, too. "Be brave, Princess Penelope."

  Rachel gives me a steady nod. "I will," she says. "Fighting monsters ain't for sissies."

  She slips out of the castle. I close the door.

  Then I sit back and watch her pelt rocks at the coat tree.

  Fourth grade ain't for sissies either.

  It isn't long before Princess Penelope returns to the castle, victorious.

  "Want to have a celebration feast in my room, Queen Cordelia?" she asks.

  "Sure," I say. "I've got nothing better to do."

  Rachel crawls out of the castle. "Wait here, Queen Cordelia," she says. "I'll call you when the feast is ready."

  "As you wish, Princess Penelope," I reply.

  Rachel runs off.

  I crawl out from under the table and walk over to the kitchen window. The girls are still outside, chasing each other around the house, screaming and laughing.

  "Peasants," I say, using my most queenly voice. I guess getting a secret name changes the way you sound, too.

  A secret name, I say to myself.

  Suddenly, I have an idea. I don't have to tell Stacey it was me who left that note at school. I can tell her a secret name instead of my real name.

  But what name?

  It has to be amazing, like Anastasia.

  It has to be...

  Cordelia.

  I walk back to the table. I pick up a paintbrush and write Cordelia on the back of my whale rock. Then I paint little stars around it for magic dust.

  I hear the girls coming back inside.

  I quickly turn the rock over and set it by Stacey's painted ballet slippers.

  Then I smile.

  A little, scrunched smile.

  Chapter 9

  When I get to school on Monday, I read the note I wrote to Anastasia again.

  Dear Anastasia,

  I can't tell you who I really am. But I am NOT Jenna Drews.

  Thank you for not waving my other note in front of everyone.

  I will be grateful if you don't wave this note in front of everyone, either.

  Yours truly,

  Cordelia

  Simple, yet sincere.

  I stuff the note back inside my pocket and wait for the sidewalk to clear. I don't want any snoopy second graders watching me sneak behind the school.

  And I need to sneak, because I have decided that someone with a name as amazing as Cordelia would never toss a secret note onto someone else's desk. Cordelia would hide a secret note in a secret place. A place that only Cordelia and Anastasia will know about.

  If Anastasia is clever enough to find it.

  When the sidewalk is empty, I slip around back and head for the playground. I run past the swings, the slides, and the giant sandbox. I run until I come to the hogs. Actually, they're hedges that are shaped like hogs. They're hedgehogs. Get it?

  Our playground has hedge animals because Mr. Benson, our custodian, is handy with hedge trimmers. We even have a dinosaur. And a ten-foot-tall giraffe.

  I dodge in and out of hedge animals until I come to the cow at the sunny corner of the school. Mr. Benson hung a bell around her neck with Bessie painted on it.

  I size up ol' Bessie for a minute.

  She's grown a lot since second grade.

  Since the day Jenna made Joey knock a brick out of the school.

  The brick that is now hidden somewhere behind Bessie.

  I get down on my hands and knees, squeeze behind her bushy body, and scoot along until I am completely hidden by her branches. I like the way she sort of hugs me all around.

  I sit for awhile, wondering if anyone else has been here before. I bet not. Not unless they are a caterpillar or a toad or some other hairy, slimy thing. I check for anything hairy or slimy that might have gotten here before me. But there isn't anything. So I relax and smile a little. Because getting to be first at something, especially when it doesn't involve touching anything hairy or slimy, can make you feel pretty amazing.

  I scoot closer to the school building and press my hand against the cool brick wall. I imagine all the kids on the other side getting ready for school. Sharpening their pencils. Licking down their bangs. Punching or getting punched in the arm for no apparent reason.

  But not me. I'm safe, crouched behind a cow hedge. And the best part is, nobody knows it.

  I start wiggling bricks, one by one, until I find the one that wiggles back. I pull it out a crack and stick my note to Anastasia in.

  Then I crawl back out. Back to my old world of chewed pencils and crooked haircuts and bruised knees. I brush a leaf off my shirt, give Bessie a pat, and head inside.

  All morning during class, I wait for our first recess to arrive. When it finally does, I pretend to tie my shoes until everyone leaves the classroom. Then I go to the chalkboard and find a small spot that isn't already covered with math problems and social studies questions and classroom papers and pictures Mr. Crow likes to display there. I pick up a piece of chalk and write:

  Anastasia:

  Then I draw:

  I drop the chalk and run outside.

&nbs
p; I hope Stacey will see the message.

  I double hope she is clever enough to figure it out.

  I triple hope no one else is.

  I sit with the other girls during lunch, but I barely eat anything. I'm too busy wondering if Stacey will see my message before the afternoon recess. Then, when it's recess, I try to keep an eye on Bessie, but I don't get too close to the hedge in case Stacey catches me hanging around it. So I mostly just wander around the playground by myself, as usual, and wait.

  When the recess bell finally rings, I wait for Stacey to head back inside, and run to Bessie.

  I squeeze behind her, wiggle the loose brick, and...

  My note is gone.

  I can't get to sleep that night because I keep wondering if Stacey found my note or if it got carried off by squirrels or something. And if she did find it, I wonder if she will write back to me.

  "What do you think?" I ask George. "Will she?"

  George is apparently sleeping, because he doesn't answer.

  "Not that I'm holding my breath or anything," I say. "I mean, she's so busy running around with Jenna she'll probably forget all about the note by tomorrow. Or else she'll show it to Jenna, and Jenna will show it to everyone, and they will figure out that I'm the weird one who wrote it. Then the whole school will be calling me I-duh, including Stacey Merriweather."

  I sigh and roll over.

  "Still," I whisper. "I wouldn't mind if she wrote back."

  Chapter 10

  As soon as I get off the bus the next morning, I sneak behind the school. I crawl behind Bessie, even though I know Stacey probably hasn't had time to hide a note. And guess what? There's no note.

  I crawl out. "I'll be back this afternoon," I tell Bessie. Then I trudge inside.

  When I get to our classroom, everyone is already there. Even Jenna's mom is there. She's holding a clipboard, and there is a pencil tucked behind her ear.

  The bell rings, and Mr. Crow says, "Take your seats, everyone. We have a special guest today. Please welcome our PTA president, and Jenna's mom, Mrs. Drews."

  Jenna applauds.

  "Thank you for that warm welcome, everyone," Jenna's mom says. "I'm here today not only as your PTA president but also as chairperson of the Purdee Potato Pageant."

  "What's that?" Quinn asks. Quinn wasn't here for last year's Potato Pageant.

  Jenna's mom raises an eyebrow at Quinn. Then she scans the room and says, "As most of you know, the Purdee Potato Pageant is our town's big fall event. Along with the Potato Parade, 'Tater Tossing Contest, and the crowning of Miss Spud, children in fourth grade are invited to paint the storefront windows of our local businesses. First prize for the most beautifully painted window is one bushel of potatoes to be divided among those working on the painting, and—"

  "What's a bushel?" Rusty asks.

  "A bushel is the same as four pecks," Tom says.

  "What's a peck?" Randi asks next.

  "The same as eight quarts," Tom explains. "Four pecks is equal to thirty-two quarts, which is equal to one bushel."

  "How many potatoes is that?" Rusty asks.

  "A lot," I say.

  Jenna's mom gives our cluster a look. "As I was saying," she continues, "the winners will receive one bushel of potatoes, and their photographs will appear in our town's newspaper, The Purdee Press."

  Brooke Morgan flicks her long hair off her shoulders. "My sister, Jade, is a Miss Spud contestant," she says. "I bet we'll both get our pictures in the newspaper." She bats her eyes at Jenna's mom. Brooke probably figures the chairperson of the Potato Pageant gets to vote for the most beautiful window. And there's nothing Brooke likes better than seeing her picture in the newspaper.

  Mr. Crow steps forward. "This will be a great project for our classroom clusters!" he says. Then he turns to Jenna's mom. "You can plan on our class painting four windows, Mrs. Drews."

  "Wonderful," she says, jotting a note on her clipboard. "The Potato Pageant is on October 13th. That means you have one month to plan your window designs."

  "We'll start thinking of designs now," Mr. Crow says. "And paint the windows the day before the pageant."

  "I'm glad Jenna's in my cluster," Brooke says. "She's such a great artist."

  Jenna nods. Brooke gives Jenna's mom her most pleasant smile. Jenna's mom smiles back and jots another note on her clipboard.

  I look at the kids in my cluster. Rusty is sticking pencils up his nose. Randi is flexing her skull-and-crossbones temporary tattoo. Tom is reading the glossary in his science book.

  "Can you guys paint?" I ask.

  Nobody answers.

  When it's time for recess, I take my sketchbook and a pencil outside with me. I sit on a bench that is nowhere near Bessie. If Stacey hides a note for me, I don't want her to see me hanging around.

  I turn to a blank page and start drawing potatoes. By the time I've drawn six it's clear that there is nothing beautiful about them.

  So I add faces. And clothing.

  My first potato gets shaggy hair and a basketball jersey. I write Randi under it. I give the next potato long hair, two bright eyes, and perfectly straight teeth. Then I write Brooke under it. I dress the next two potatoes in matching sweaters, necklaces, and earrings. But I give one dark hair and one light hair. Meeka and Jolene.

  I add several rotten spots to the next potato. I give it cross-eyes. Ten of them. And a potato bug crawling out of its nose. I write Jenna underneath.

  There is one potato left. I give it curly hair. And a friendly smile.

  "What's that?" I hear someone say.

  I look up. Jenna Drews is standing over me, glaring at my potato people. I quickly close my sketchbook before she has time to read the names I've written under them. "Nothing," I say, and start to get up.

  Jenna pushes me back down. "It looked like potatoes to me," Jenna sneers. Then she leans in close. "Don't even think about trying to win that contest, I-duh. Nobody knows potatoes like I do."

  "Well, you are a vegetarian," I say.

  Jenna plants her feet and lifts her chin. "That's right. And don't you forget it."

  "Not to mention a bossetarian," I mumble.

  "Don't you dare—," Jenna starts to say. But just then the bell rings and everyone starts running inside. Jenna knocks my sketchbook out of my hands and marches away. She falls in step with Stacey, shooting a look back at me. Stacey looks at me, too, and starts to wave. But Jenna grabs her hand and holds it tight.

  I pick up my sketchbook and open it to the potato page. I write Anastasia under my last potato. Then I close the book and hope that she left a note.

  When I get back to the classroom, everyone is still milling around. Mr. Crow is nowhere in sight. But Stacey Merriweather is. She's standing behind Rusty's desk, watching him play "Pirates of the Caribbean" on his hand-held. Just as I sit down, Rusty throws his hands up in the air, practically punching me in the face. "Yes!" he shouts. "It took me three days to clear that level!"

  Randi reaches across her desk and gives Rusty a high five. Tom, who is reading a paperback, raises his eyebrows in a silent salute.

  "I cleared that level in an hour," Stacey says. "But then, I had the cheats."

  Rusty swings around and gawks at Stacey. "You've got the cheat codes for this level?"

  Stacey nods. "I have the cheats for all the levels. In fact, I know cheats that nobody else knows about."

  Now it's my turn to raise an eyebrow.

  Rusty drops his jaw. "Wow," he says, all impressed. "What are they?"

  Stacey pulls at the collar of her sweater like someone just cranked up the thermostat. "Um ... well, it's not like I have them memorized," she says, inching away from Rusty.

  "Can you bring them tomorrow?" Rusty asks.

  "Um ... no," Stacey says. "I don't have them anymore. I mean, I didn't bring them with to my ... um ... aunt's house."

  Rusty slumps.

  Stacey hurries back to her cluster.

  Mr. Crow comes dashing into the room. "Sorry I'm late!
" he says. "I was in the cafeteria."

  "But lunch is still an hour away," Joey points out.

  "I wasn't eating lunch," Mr. Crow says. "I was looking for these."

  Mr. Crow holds up a lumpy plastic bag. He pulls a potato out of it. Then he walks around the room and gives each cluster one potato. "I thought potatoes would provide inspiration as you begin designing your Potato Pageant windows," he says. He sets a potato on Randi's desk and a sheet of drawing paper on mine.

  "Ida, why don't you sketch out the ideas your group comes up with," Mr. Crow says.

  I blink at Mr. Crow. "But I'm not really a takecharge kind of person," I say.

  Mr. Crow pats my shoulder. "You'll do fine," he says, and walks away.

  I look around my cluster. "Any ideas for a design?" I ask.

  Randi picks up the potato and gives it a sniff. Then she shrugs and tosses it to Rusty. Rusty catches it and lobs it back to her. "Betcha can't throw a knuckleball," he says.

  "Betcha I can," Randi replies, and digs her knuckles into the potato. Meanwhile, Tom opens his math book and begins reading the glossary.

  I look at the sheet of paper Mr. Crow gave me. I remember all the goofy pictures Elizabeth and I used to draw. Then I pick up my pencil.

  First, I draw a ship with tall masts and large sails. I study Randi's fake tattoo while she pitches the potato to Rusty. Then I draw a skull and cross-bones on a sail. I draw potatoes on the deck of the ship. I even plant one in the crow's nest. I put a scar on his cheek and patches over three of his eyes. I give some of the potatoes long mustaches and gold earrings. Several swing swords. One has a wooden leg. Then I draw choppy water under the ship. I use my best swirly cursive to write Potatoes of the Caribbean in the waves.

  "That's great, Ida!"

  I look up and see Mr. Crow standing over me, looking at my drawing. I cover it with one arm like I'm hiding booty.

  "May I show it to the class?" he asks.

  I gulp.

  Mr. Crow takes that as a yes. He slips the picture out from under my arm and waves it around for everyone to see. "Look at Ida's drawing, everyone. This is wonderful potato humor!"