“Yeah,” I said.
“You aren’t hearing me,” Lola said. “Don’t worry about what other people think. Do what you want.”
But I wasn’t even sure what I wanted anymore.
“I want Sylvie to forgive me,” I said.
“Have you told her that?” Lola asked.
I shook my head.
“You should,” Lola said.
I nodded.
“Do you feel any better?” Lola asked.
“Lola,” I said. “If you were me, would you try to facebomb T.J. before he facebombed you?”
Lola shook her head. “I could never facebomb anybody. I think that’s sort of barbaric.”
“Yeah.” Even though I had no idea what it meant to facebomb anybody, I said, “I totally think you’re right.”
My mom and my grandma helped me get situated in my grizzly bear costume in the girls’ locker room.
“You look so fierce,” Grandma said.
“Should I start with my head on or off?” I asked.
Having my own head stuck in the bear head wasn’t the most pleasant thing ever. Because my eyes had to look out of these wire mesh areas. And the air grew a little thick inside there and made my head sweat.
“I think you start with the head on,” Grandma said. “And when you need to take it off, remember to set it on a chair.”
“I knew that!” I said.
My mom took a whole bunch of pictures of me. “Growl at me,” she encouraged. “Swing your paws.”
I did not feel like doing these things on command. Because a bear wouldn’t.
I was sort of upset that my mom was acting like this, because some of the cheerleaders were getting ready with me, and their moms weren’t here taking pictures of them.
“Good luck, Bessica,” one of the cheerleaders said.
“Thanks,” I said.
And then all the cheerleaders drifted to a different area of the locker room, where they began to practice hand drills. Smack. Snap. Slap. Smack. Snap. Slap.
“Bessica,” my mom said, trying to get my attention.
“Maybe I should have learned some hand drills,” I said. Because watching other people do those made me realize that they looked cool.
“Seems hard to pull off with your fur mitts,” Grandma said.
I looked at my furry hands. She was right.
“Think of all the wild bears we saw at Bear Galaxy,” my mom encouraged me. “Channel them.”
I took my head off and held it. “Those bears didn’t act wild at all. They were miserable.”
“They did look a little forlorn,” Grandma said. “Captivity will do that to apex predators. You can’t even keep a great white shark alive in captivity. They always, always, always die.”
My mom and I stared at Grandma when she said that.
“That’s terrible,” I said.
“Well, aquariums usually shorten marine life by decades,” Grandma said. “Those places are basically marine mortuaries.”
“Let’s not talk about this before Bessica’s big game. Let’s pump her up,” my mom said.
Grandma agreed. “O fierce one,” Grandma said, giving me a hug. “Get out there and dazzle them. And don’t forget your prop bag.”
I glanced at the bench where I’d set my prop bag. It contained my jump rope, two emergency pom-poms that I hoped I’d never have to use, and a bunch of cheers I’d printed out. “I hope I’m loud enough.”
“Willy and I could hear your cheers from the Winnebago. You’re plenty loud,” Grandma said.
I watched as the cheerleaders left the locker room. “We’re going out to the field,” the captain said. “Pregame show starts soon. You’ll want to be there for that.”
“Right,” I said.
After they left, the room felt very quiet and echoey.
“Is it time?” I asked. “Or should I wait?”
“I think it’s time,” my mom said.
Walking across the parking lot toward the football field was a very nervous experience.
“I’m getting my hind paws dirty,” I said. “I think I stepped in a puddle.”
“We’ll wash them later,” my mom said.
The stadium was filled with people. And all the football players, from both schools, were out on the field running around.
“Oh,” Grandma said, pointing to a fuzzy orange person. “Is that T.J. the Tiger?”
It made me sort of sick that Grandma would point him out like that to me. Because it was T.J. the Tiger. “I hate that guy,” I said.
“Bessica,” my mom said. “Hate is a strong word.”
“It really is,” I said.
I stopped walking and stood and looked at everything. It was a late-afternoon game, and there were rows and rows of cheering fans. The playing field looked very green and the goalposts looked very straight. And the hash marks appeared freshly chalked onto the field.
During PE, I had only been allowed to practice on the field one time. And I really hadn’t done that much. I’d just sort of run from one end zone to the other and then done some stretching. Now that the field was covered with players, it seemed different.
“Bessica!” somebody called. I started looking around. I really hoped it was Sylvie. But it wasn’t. It was Vicki Docker.
“Wow,” I said. “You came to my game?” She must have liked me a whole lot more than I’d realized. Because it was a Friday and she probably had cool high school things to do.
“I was driving past on my way to the mall and I saw all the cars!” Vicki said. “I wanted to stop and wish you luck.”
That made more sense.
“I hope you let your inner cheer beast shine!” Vicki said.
“Yeah,” I said.
But it seemed like in order to let my inner cheer beast shine, I would have to attack T.J. I didn’t know what to do.
“Good luck!” Vicki said as she ran off the field. “And put your head on.” I put my head on and watched Vicki through my mesh eye slots as she made her way to her car. A boy was waiting in the driver’s seat. Maybe she was on a date. It made me wonder if I would ever go on a date. I thought of Noll and Bianca. Everything felt so up in the air.
And then it happened. I thought I was going to have all this time to stretch and prepare and get ready for the game. But I was wrong. One minute I was wondering about my gorgeous neighbor, Noll Beck. And the next I saw T.J. standing right in front of me. He had his head on. I had my head on. And the smack talking began.
“Hey,” I said. “Stay on your own side.”
But T.J. didn’t answer me with words. He pulled a flyswatter out and started smacking me with it.
“Stop that,” I said. Because I thought that it would have made sense to swat me if I was a fly or a bee or a mosquito mascot. But I was a bear.
“Wimpy bear!” T.J. yelled. “Wimpy bear!”
And that was when I heard people starting to laugh. And they weren’t really laughing at anything I was doing. They were laughing because I was getting slapped with a flyswatter, and that felt terrible.
“Seriously,” I said to T.J. “Get back on your own turf.”
But instead of doing that, he slapped me with the flyswatter right on my face. I was in shock. Was he facebombing me? I didn’t know. Instead of attacking him, I thought of something else. I reached in my prop bag and pulled out my jump rope. T.J. stood back a little bit and I did a few tricks. I swung the rope like a helicopter and then jumped through it. And I jump-roped over to the football coaches and then I stopped and put my paws out and they high-fived me. And then I jump-roped over to the players.
And instead of acting afraid of them because they were popular football players, I started patting them on their backs in a supportive way. I even swatted a few more on the butt. And when that happened, the crowd laughed. And when they did that, I held my pawed hand up to my ear to see if the crowd would laugh louder and they did. So I put my paw up to my other ear. And then I slapped a coach on the butt. Not in a mean w
ay.
Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.
Things felt really great. It was as if I was born to be a mascot. I felt brave and happy and bearlike.
But this wasn’t enough. I wanted people to laugh harder. Plus, I needed to stop playing with the team. Once the game started, I wasn’t allowed to bother them. So I headed back toward the stands. With my bear mascot head on, it was really hard to keep an eye out for T.J., because all I could see was the area directly in front of my mesh eyeholes. And that area jostled when I ran.
While I was running toward the crowd, my world jostling, something very unfortunate happened to me and my bear head. I tripped. Big-time. And before I had time to react or figure out if T.J. and his mean tricks were behind my stumble, my head fell off. Because gravity was basically the only thing holding it on. The crowd exploded in laughter. Which wasn’t how I wanted things to happen. I wanted to lead them in laughter. I didn’t want them to laugh at me because I looked like a stupid person. I stood up as fast as I could. T.J. wasn’t going to kick my butt this easily. And that was when I realized that T.J. wasn’t anywhere around me. I’d tripped over a divot in the grass. Oops. I needed to be on the lookout for uneven turf.
I dusted myself off in a dramatic fashion and the crowd kept laughing. While my head was off I decided it would be a good time to do some head-off cheers. So I did.
“Roll it! Shake it! Beat it up and bake it!” I rolled my arms energetically and shook my hips and wiggled my butt. “Honey and sugar, you’re gonna lose. Honey and sugar, eat our boos!” I lifted my paw hand to my ear and the crowd erupted in boos. They booed so loudly that it made the hair on my arms stand up.
Being a mascot felt pretty great. It was just like I’d dreamed it. Even falling on my face hadn’t ruined things. That was the cool thing about being a mascot. If you did something clumsy or stupid, people assumed you meant to do it. “Roll it! Shake it!” Finally, I felt popular. At last, Bessica Lefter had arrived.
But then everything changed. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Grandma. She stood next to Willy, waving. I waved back. And I saw my dad filming me. And I suddenly had the desire to be Flip-cammed with Grandma. So I put my bear head back on and ran up to her. She put her arm around me.
“I’m so proud of you! Your performance is surpassing my wildest dreams,” Grandma said.
I felt the exact same way. My performance was surpassing my wildest dreams too. Then I ran back to the field. But when I did, I stumbled. And I crashed in a sliding way onto the grass. I heard somebody from the bleachers yell, “The bear fell down again. He’s hilarious!”
I wanted to pull my head off so he could see I wasn’t a he. But I didn’t. I crawled onto my knees and was about to get up when I heard somebody laughing right next to me.
“Time to hibernate!” T.J. yelled.
I felt myself getting smacked with the flyswatter again. He was getting the floppy plastic part really close to my mesh eye area, and I didn’t like that.
“Stop it!” I said.
“I’m a tiger. I don’t stop. I slaughter.” T.J. roared like a crazy maniac and swished his tail and it made the hair on my arms stand up—in a bad way.
As he stood over me, laughing and being rude, I decided to retaliate. I reached up and yanked on his tail. But it didn’t come off like I’d hoped. I tugged harder, but instead of the tail breaking off, T.J. fell on top of me.
“Knock it off,” T.J. said.
But I didn’t knock it off. Because in my bear suit I didn’t feel scared or worried. I felt powerful and brave. I yanked on his tail again. This time I pulled on it so hard that I sprang to my feet. I needed to bring it. Because I was a mascot. And mascots didn’t give up. Mascots dialed up their mojo until they won. I quickly glanced at the field. I’d lost track of both the score and who had possession of the ball. Uh-oh. But I didn’t let that stop me from cheering. I took my head off and set it on an empty seat.
“I want a touchdown! I want a trout! If you get in my way, I’ll rip your guts out!” And then I growled ferociously while still holding T.J.’s tail.
“Your team isn’t even close to the end zone. You’re nuts,” T.J. said. “And give me my tail back.”
But I didn’t. “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!”
Yank. Yank. Yank.
Even though he tried very hard to get away, I wouldn’t let him. I held his tail hard. Then I heard myself roar the biggest roar and then I sank my teeth into the tiger’s unbreakable tail.
“She’s biting me!” T.J. yelled. “That’s not allowed.”
“Bessica!” a voice cried that sounded a lot like my mom’s. “Don’t bite the other mascot.”
Hearing my mom yell at me to stop biting the other mascot made me reconsider my level of ferociousness, so I released T.J.’s tail from my teeth.
“Get ready. I’m taking you down,” T.J. said.
I knew what was coming. I stood wide in my bear stance and prepared to be facebombed. But he walked off. Where was he going? He was heading toward Grandma and Willy. No! Was he going to facebomb Grandma?
I ran after him. “Stay away from my grandma,” I yelled.
But then T.J. started running full speed toward my grandma. And when he got right next to her he made a thumbs-down sign.
I couldn’t believe it.
“Stop making rude hand gestures at my grandma!” I shouted.
But he didn’t stop. He made thumbs-down signs with both hands. I grabbed him by his tail again and pulled him away from Grandma.
“Bessica, you can’t yank on his costume,” a voice that sounded a lot like my dad said.
“Yes I can!” I said.
T.J. was a lot stronger than I was. He jerked himself free. He narrowed his eyes and huffed. Then he licked his lips. “Prepare to get facebombed.”
But I was so worked up that I didn’t even feel any fear. I narrowed my eyes and huffed. Then I licked my lips and I thought of the most threatening thing I could say. “Oh yeah! Prepare to get narwhaled!”
Then I closed my eyes and charged him. The sound that escaped him as I tackled him reminded me of a deflating balloon. Once we were both on the ground, I decided to declare a total victory by sitting on him. Which I did, while yelling, “I declare a total victory!”
Then all the people parted and I looked up and saw Principal Tidge. “Off the field!” she said.
T.J.’s tiger head had fallen off and rolled away from his body. I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or T.J. Neither one of us moved an inch.
“Both of you!” Principal Tidge said.
“You’re toast,” he whispered to me as we got off the ground.
“No. You’re toast,” I said.
“You aren’t allowed to touch the other mascot,” T.J. said.
“You touched me with a flyswatter,” I said.
Then he bumped me. And I couldn’t believe that he’d do that. So I bumped him back. Then I felt him put his hand on my back and he shoved me. And I was shocked! Because a boy shouldn’t shove a girl ever, even if he is dressed like a tiger. So I turned around and told him that.
“You are a terrible person!” I said. “Stop shoving girls!”
“I’m not shoving girls,” he said. “I’m shoving you.”
By this time, coaches from both teams had arrived and Principal Tidge got between us. And then Mom and Dad and Grandma and Willy were there.
“This is the height of unsportsmanlike conduct,” said the other coach.
“It’s flagrant,” said our home team coach, whose name I’d forgotten but whose height was staggering.
“I need them both off the field!” a referee said.
“Absolutely,” Principal Tidge said. “Bessica needs to go home.”
I scanned the crowd for my friends. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to say hello to them.
“Bessica!” Lola yelled. I saw her waving. She was with Annabelle, Macy, and Dee. To demonstrate team
spirit, they had their faces painted with thick purple lines. And then Jasper rushed up too. But his face wasn’t painted.
“I’ll call or text you!” Annabelle cried.
“Way to block the facebomb!” Jasper yelled.
But then Principal Tidge said something that distracted me from my friends. “Our school has a zero violence policy. Even for mascots. Expect a phone call about disciplinary action.”
I hung my head. The coaches and referee drifted back to the playing field.
“And T.J.,” Principal Tidge said. “You’ve really pushed things to the limit this time.”
“What did I do?” T.J. said. “She’s crazy and I’m innocent.”
“Don’t insult my eyesight,” Principal Tidge said. “I saw everything.”
Then Principal Tidge hauled T.J. into the school and said they were going to call his principal and parents. I stood with Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Willy while my principal and mascot enemy walked into the building.
“That didn’t go so hot,” I said.
“Bessica,” my mom said. “What were you thinking? You can’t bite the other mascot.”
“He was a terror!” Grandma said. “Very unsportsmanlike conduct indeed.”
“Let’s go home,” Dad said. “Too bad we’re going to miss the game.”
“I feel sort of rotten,” I said.
“You should,” my mom said. “You just got ejected.”
And the way my mom said that word made me feel awful.
“I didn’t mean to get ejected,” I said.
“You were off to such a good start,” Grandma said. “But once he began assaulting you with a flyswatter, things really started to nosedive.”
“That’s true,” I said.
“Let’s not relive it,” my mom said as we walked to the car. “We’re going to have to wait for Principal Tidge to call.”
“Do you think I’ll get suspended from my next game?”
“They have a second mascot, Bessica,” my mom said, sounding very frustrated. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they revoked your mascot status after this.”
“Really?” I asked. “You mean I wouldn’t be a mascot at all anymore?” I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be in sixth grade and not be a mascot.
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