by Julie Bowe
"Nope," Mr. Crow says. "You share a name with a famous Greek landmark!"
"Who's Ida named after?" I hear someone say.
I turn and see one of the Dylans walking up to Mr. Crow with a note in his hand.
Mr. Crow takes the note and says, "Not who. What. Mount Ida is a famous mountain on the island of Crete."
"Cool!" Dylan says.
"What's cool?" Randi asks on her way to the pencil sharpener.
"Ida's named after a famous Greek mountain!" Dylan says.
"Actually, I'm named after my grandmother," I mumble. "Only she's not famous. I don't even think she's Greek."
Randi snorts. "At least you're not named after a restaurant," she says.
"You're named after a restaurant?" Dylan asks.
"Yep," Randi replies. "RANDI'S RESTAURANT. HOME OF THE WORLD FAMOUS PIG SKIN FRIES. I popped out under the neon sign. My dad figured they should either name me Randi or Pig Skin. My mom went with Randi."
"Wow," Dylan says, all impressed. "I wish I was named after something famous."
"There's a famous singer named Bob Dylan," Mr. Crow offers.
"A singer?" Dylan says. "Isn't there a volcano or a ditch or something named Dylan?"
"Not that I know of," Mr. Crow replies.
Dylan sighs and trudges to his desk.
Randi heads to the pencil sharpener.
I turn toward my desk, but before I can take a step Jenna is in my face. "Excuse me, Mount Ida," she says. "The Do-Good Nymphs are meeting during recess." She pushes a piece of notebook paper at me. I take it and see a nymph drawn at the top, just like the one that used to be on my T-shirt.
Do-Good Nymphs Meeting
WHEN: Today (at recess)
WHERE: In the Pigpen
WHO: ALL nymphs
(Attendance is required!!)
Jenna turns away, but as she does she glances at my shirt. "How come your nymph has fangs?" she asks. "And spiders?"
I glance down at my shirt. Then I glance up at Jenna. "Marker malfunction?"
Jenna huffs and stomps away.
Later, when it's time for recess, Jenna grabs a clipboard from her desk and we all head to a circle of hedges on the playground that our custodian, Mr. Benson, trimmed to look like hogs. Joey started calling the space in the middle of the hedgehogs the pigpen. Get it? Now everyone calls it that.
We all sit in a circle on the grass. Except for Brooke, who doesn't believe in sitting on grass. And Jenna, who doesn't believe in circles.
"First, I'll read my club rules," Jenna announces.
"Rules?" we all groan.
Jenna nods. "Every club needs rules," she says. "That's a rule." She starts reading from her clipboard.
"Rule #1: Attendance is required at all meetings."
"So far, so good," I mumble.
"Rule #2: "Nymphs must do good deeds to earn leaves."
Randi reaches over and smashes a bug that's crawling across Brooke's shoe. Brooke yelps like a small dog and practically jumps over a hedgehog. Randi holds up her buggy hand. "Gimme a leaf," she says.
All Jenna gives Randi is a look. "Rule #3: Nymphs do not destroy nature."
Randi wipes her hand on the grass, grinning.
"Rule #4: The nymph that does the most good deeds earns a special prize."
"What kind of prize?" Brooke asks. Her eyes go all glinty again.
"I already told you, Brooke," Jenna says. "I'll decide. The one who deserves it the most will get it at our next meeting."
"When's that?" Meeka asks.
"Tomorrow, right after dance," Jenna says.
"I don't go to dance," Randi says.
"Me, neither," I add.
Jenna does an impatient sigh. "Then you'll just have to wait for us at the park," Jenna says to me and Randi.
Jenna clips her pen to her clipboard. "Now it's time to patrol the playground."
"Huh?" we all chime in.
"Do-good nymphs make sure everyone is following the rules and no one is hurting nature." She shoots a look at Randi.
Jenna herds us out of the pigpen. We follow her around the playground looking for first graders who are tangled in swing chains, and second graders who need a lecture about sharing jump ropes, and third graders who are tearing wings off flies.
Just as the bell rings, Jenna sees Joey and Dominic trying to karate chop a stick in half. "Break that stick and I break your necks!" Jenna shouts from across the playground.
Joey and Dominic drop the stick and run inside.
When we get back to our classroom it's time to practice our spelling words. But my brain is so nymphalized, I leave the H off honesty and give confront two Us.
After Mr. Crow has us chant out our extra-big bonus word ("MYTH!...O!...LOG!...I!...CAL!"), Jenna just can't help herself. She jumps up and tells all about her new club. She even makes me, Stacey, Brooke, Randi, Meeka, and Jolene stand up and model our new club shirts.
"Maybe the Do-Good Nymphs would like to plan a presentation for our Greek Day parents' program?" Mr. Crow suggests.
Jenna's green braids practically start clapping. "Of course!" she says.
Mr. Crow gives Jenna a smile. "In fact, everyone needs to start planning their presentations. It's only a couple weeks away."
"What kind of presentation?" Tom asks.
"Anything you want," Mr. Crow says. "Sing a song, do a skit, read a poem—anything that has to do with a Greek myth."
Jenna's hand shoots up. "What about a dance?" she asks.
"A dance would be great!" Mr. Crow replies. Jenna yanks her clipboard out of her desk and starts writing.
When I get home after school, my mom is sitting at the kitchen table going through a stack of mail.
"Hi, Ida!" she says, glancing up at me. "How was school?"
"Oh, you know," I say. "The usual."
She gives me a smile. Then she reads my shirt. "The No-Good Nymphs?" she asks.
"It's a new club Jenna started," I say. "We had our first meeting today and we have another one after school tomorrow so I'll be getting home a little late."
"A new club sounds like fun," Mom says.
"Some are," I say back.
I fish around in the stack of mail. "Um ... did you get any ... notes today?"
"Nope, just bills," Mom says, tearing open an envelope.
"No, I mean notes. The kind that come on scraps of paper."
Mom thinks for a moment. "I don't remember getting any notes," she says. "Why? Did you leave one?"
I fidget a little. "I might have," I say. "On the piano. Didn't you see it?"
"No," she says, getting up from the table. "I don't give piano lessons on Wednesdays. I'll read it right now."
"Um ... maybe it would be better if..."
Before my brain can churn up a reason why she should skip reading the note until I have time to practice answering any questions that might come up, she takes off for the piano, finds the note, and reads it on her way back to me.
"You want Stacey to spend the weekend?" she asks, looking up from the note.
I nod.
"Did Stacey ask her mom?"
I nod again.
"And it's okay with her dad?"
I nod a third time.
"Well, then, it sounds like a great plan." She tosses the note onto the table. "Get washed up and then you can help me start supper, okay?"
I nod a fourth time and hurry to the bathroom. I close the door behind me and do an extra-big sigh of relief because nodding doesn't require any imagining at all.
I walk over to the sink and turn on the water. I pump soap into my hand. Then I start scrubbing. Suds and germs plop into the sink and slide down the drain. I scrub my arms, too. And clip my nails.
Then I go back to the kitchen feeling very clean.
After supper, I call Stacey. "Guess what?" I say. "It's for extra sure now. You can spend the weekend with me."
Stacey does an excited little squeal. "Guess what else? My dad called earlier and while we were talking I
remembered to cough twice and sneeze three times. When he asked if I was catching a cold I said, 'I think maybe I am,' and then he said, 'I hope you're feeling better by the weekend,' and I said, 'Oh, I'm sure I will be,' and then I sneezed again. So now when I call him on Friday to say that I'm sick it won't sound made up at all!"
"Wow," I say. "You are so good at ... um ... imagining."
"It's easier now that the mermaid is putting ideas into my head," Stacey says. "I can't wait for the weekend!"
"I can't wait, too," I say back. "Just you and me!"
"And the mermaid!" Stacey adds.
Chapter 10
he next morning, I get to the bus stop extra early so my mom won't be tempted to start a long conversation about my weekend plans with Stacey. The first person to show up is Rachel.
"Where's Jenna?" I ask.
"She's running a little late," Rachel says. She holds up her wrist so I can see her frog watch. The frog's tongue ticks off the seconds. "My dad got it for me last night at Buzz's Bait Shop. We needed groceries."
"They sell groceries at Buzz's Bait Shop?" I ask.
Rachel nods. "Milk and eggs and wax worms," she says. "Only they keep that stuff in the cooler, not the bargain bin. That's where he found my new watch and Jenna's new shirt."
Rachel checks her frog again. "She should be here in seven," she says.
I nod and notice Quinn and Tess coming around the corner toward us.
"Yes, it's a busy time in my family," Rachel continues. She pulls a red crayon and a pad of yellow sticky notes from her pocket. "Busy, busy, busy." She writes scribbles and numbers on the pad. Then she pulls off the note and hands it to me.
"What's this for?" I ask, taking the note from her and studying the scribbles.
"If you need to reach me," she says.
"Um ... okay," I say and stick the note to my sleeve.
Rachel gives me a nod. "I need you to be a good helper until things get back to normal," she adds.
"Um ... okay," I say again.
Then Rachel starts in on another note. More scribbles and a few letters. She's still too little to write real words.
As soon as Quinn and Tess get to the bus stop Rachel holds the sticky note out to Tess. "In case of emergency," she says.
Tess frowns at the scribbles. "No, thank you," she replies.
Rachel frowns back. "I don't want to hear another word!" she shouts and jabs the note at Tess.
Tess takes it and sticks it to her shoe.
Rachel makes her face go soft. She pats Tess's shoulder. "I'm sorry I yelled. I've just been so tired lately."
I glance up and see our bus coming around the corner.
I look down the street, but there's still no sign of Jenna.
Rachel looks, too. "Her meeting probably went longer than expected," she says. She bites her bottom lip and shifts a little in her shoes.
Just as the bus slows to a stop, I see Jenna running down the sidewalk toward us.
The doors open, but Rachel doesn't budge. Quinn pulls Tess past her and they climb on.
"You get on," I tell Rachel. "I won't let the bus leave without Jenna."
Rachel looks up at me. Then she climbs onto the bus. She stops at the top of the stairs, scribbles another note, and hands it to the bus driver. "I would appreciate a little more cooperation," she says.
"I'll keep that in mind," the driver replies, stuffing the note into her pocket.
I glance down the street again. Jenna is getting closer. Red face. Green braids flying.
"Will you be joining us today?" the bus driver calls down to me.
I glance up at her. "Um ... yes. It's just that Jenna is running ... a little late."
The driver glances down the street and sees Jenna. She toots the bus horn, like that is going to help the situation.
I keep waiting at the bottom of the steps until, finally, Jenna runs up behind me, breathing hard. Her braids look fuzzier than usual. Like she wore them to bed last night and then her mom didn't have time to rebraid them this morning. She's also wearing a new T-shirt. I know it's new because there's still a sticker on the sleeve that says clearance: $4.99. There's a nymph drawn on the shirt, but it's small and off to one side because most of the shirt is filled up by a big, puffy fish. now that's a big fish story! is printed under the fish in letters that look like fishhooks.
"Nice ... um ... shirt," I say.
Jenna just pushes past me and climbs onto the bus.
Our bus gets to school later than usual, so there isn't time to meet Stacey at the broken water fountain. And I don't get to spend any recess time with just her because Jenna keeps a tight leash on the nymphs all day, reminding us to do good deeds and promising a special prize at our meeting after dance today.
During cleanup at the end of the day, Mr. Crow lets all the dancers go to the bathroom and change into their dance clothes. That includes all of the girls, except me and Randi. And none of the boys, except Tom Sanders.
When the girls get back, everyone looks different. Brooke has her long hair bunched up in a pink scrunchy and she's wearing a pink leotard and pink warm-up pants. Meeka and Jolene have matching ponytails, sparkly purple leotards, and purple warm-up pants. Jenna has pinned her green braids to the top of her head. Her new orange leotard with the exploding fireworks peeks out from under her hoodie. Stacey's curly hair looks just the same, but she's wearing a black leotard and matching pants.
When the last bell rings, Jenna gets us all organized for the walk to Miss Woo's. She must have her good-deed radar turned up full blast because she marches ahead of the pack, picking up candy wrappers, rescuing a ball from a prickly bush for a little kid, and helping Mrs. Eddy walk across Birch Street.
"I'm quite capable of crossing the street by myself," Mrs. Eddy tells Jenna.
"I'm happy to help," Jenna replies, pulling her along.
When we get to the park, Randi takes off for the basketball court. "Holler when it's nymph time!" she yells as she dribbles away. I stop by a bench near the playground. "I'll wait for you guys here," I say.
Stacey stops, too. "Why don't you come with and watch us dance?" she asks.
I think about sitting at Miss Woo's watching Stacey and the other girls dance. I think about them twirling and pointing and pliéing around. Then I think about them whispering and giggling between dances and Stacey telling me later what they were whispering and giggling about, only it won't seem so funny the second time around.
I sit down on the bench. "I'm good," I say. "I want to work on a new drawing anyway." I slip off my backpack, unzip it, and pull out my sketchbook and a pencil.
Stacey gives me a smile. "Okay," she says. "We'll be back before you know it!" Then she hurries to catch up with the others.
"I'll be waiting," I say.
I look around the playground for something good to draw. Some little kids are getting pushed on the swings. Bigger kids dangle from the monkey bars. Several moms are talking at a picnic table while their babies swap soggy cheerios from their strollers. Randi shoots hoops with some sixth graders on the basketball court. A squirrel darts in and out of a nearby bush.
"Will you watch this for me?" I hear someone say.
I look up and see a girl standing next to me. She pulls a wad of purple gum out of her mouth.
"Huh?" I say.
"We're not allowed to chew gum on the playground," she says, pointing to a sign that reads, no gum, dogs, or rollerblades on the equipment. She sticks the gum on the bench next to me. "Thanks," she says and runs off. A moment later she's hanging upside down from the monkey bars.
The squirrel reappears with half a granola bar in its mouth.
"Friend of Jenna's?" I ask.
The squirrel doesn't answer. It just flicks its fluffy tail into a question mark and watches me with one beady eye. Then it takes the granola bar in its tiny doll hands and bites off the edges with its sharp, pointy teeth.
I glance at my muddy sneakers, which are just one shade away from a granola bar. I pull my f
eet up onto the bench, check on the gum, and start drawing.
First, I draw a face with beady eyes and sharp, pointy teeth. I give it fuzzy braids. And a furry body with a fluffy tail. I dress it in a fish shirt. And size six sneakers.
It's good, but it's just my warm-up drawing.
On the other side of the page I draw a girl with curly hair and dark eyes and no sharp teeth at all. I give her feathery arms, like bird wings, and long legs that could kick her to the sky.
"Thanks," I hear someone say.
I look up and see gum girl standing next to me. She pulls her purple wad off the bench and pops it back into her mouth.
"You're welcome," I reply.
"Who's that?" she asks, snooping at my sketchbook.
"My best friend," I say, looking at my drawing of Stacey.
"Which one?" she asks. "The one with braids or the one with curls?"
"The one with curls," I say, pointing.
"Then who's the one with braids?" she asks.
"That's ... someone else," I say.
"Not your friend?"
"Not exactly," I reply, checking my watch.
Gum girl studies the drawings some more. "You did that one better," she says, poking the page with her sticky finger.
She skips away.
I look at the page.
And see a purple smudge on a fuzzy braid.
Chapter 11
The squirrel has finished its granola bar and moved on to soggy Cheerios by the time the dancers get back. Randi sees them coming and catches up. Meeka and Jolene do a little hop-skip-jump together as they come down the path toward me. Brooke is batting away bugs. Stacey is practicing some dance move she probably just learned. Jenna is talking constantly even though no one seems to be listening.
"Miss Woo even let me borrow her Greek music CD!" I hear Jenna say as they get closer.
Stacey does a graceful spin and lands next to me on the bench. Jenna plops down beside her and pulls a clipboard out of her backpack. "My parents are going to love this," she says, scribbling notes on the clipboard.
"Love what?" I ask.
"The dance we're going to do for Greek Day," Jenna says.