Bessica Lefter Bites Back (7 page)

Me: Shut up!!

Sylvie: You are so bossy!

Me: You terrible friend!

Sylvie: You too!!

And that last text arrived so quickly that it made me think that Sylvie didn’t care about me at all. So my next text to her was a real zinger that came right from my wounded heart.

Me: You have elf ears!! Ha!

I sent her that because when we both got our matching pixie haircuts at the beginning of the year, the worst part of her cut was that it revealed her triangular ears. They looked so pointy that Sylvie cried, and the stylist used a ton of hair spray to try to cover them back up. But that didn’t look so hot.

I waited for Sylvie to text me back. And I waited. And I waited. What was she thinking? I stared at the glowing blue display of my phone. Because I hadn’t touched a button in over a minute the display went gray. I touched a button to turn it blue again. And then I made a terrible realization. I hated fighting with my Sylvie. And I worried that last message might have been too mean. I scrolled through my other texts. They all seemed mean. What had I been thinking? Did being awake in the middle of the night turn me into a mean person?

I didn’t text Sylvie anymore. I just stayed very still and held my phone. I wondered if she felt bad too. I
wondered if she’d text me tomorrow. I wondered if maybe she’d wake up and forget that all this rude texting even happened.

WAYS TO MAKE
THINGS WAY WORSE
IN MIDDLE SCHOOL

1.
Learn lame cheers

2.
Become caged

3.
Adopt a lizard

4.
Go to parties uninvited

5.
Lack battle plans

W
e were late, and this was terrible. Plus, going to another middle school’s gym sort of frightened me. I didn’t know what to expect. Both of my parents rushed me down the hallway.

“Flat Creek Middle School is a maze,” my mother said.

“When I went to school, where this building stands used to be a cheese store,” my dad said.

When it came to middle school, my dad was a very nostalgic person.

“Did you ever buy cheese here?” I asked.

“No,” my dad said. “Way too expensive. But a couple of times I sampled their free curds.”

My mom kept reading the directions for how to find the school gym. But it didn’t work, and we ended up at a closed gate outside the cafeteria.

“I really don’t want to be late,” I said. “I want to have time to put my paws on my feet and walk around and get acclimated.”

Even though I should have been super-excited about meeting the other mascots, I felt a little uneasy. I wasn’t sure how to act around them. Would we high-five each other? Or share crazy cheers? Or maybe we’d be rude and growl. I just wasn’t sure.

“These directions are useless,” my mother said. “They say we need to go to the south section of the school and find the east wing. I didn’t know I was supposed to bring a compass.”

“Shhh,” my dad said. “Let’s listen for noise.”

We all shushed and listened very carefully. We heard faraway squeaking and cheering.

“This way,” my dad said, pointing left.

As soon as my dad pointed out the correct direction, I started running. Fast.

“Slow down, Bessica,” my mom said.

“I can’t be late!” I said. Because another fear I had was that Alice Potgeiser would arrive before I did and turn all the other mascots against me. And that fear wasn’t a
crazy fear. That was basically what was going to happen if I was late.

It only took me two minutes of running before I made it to the gym. The green metal door was propped open with a chair and a bucket. I looked inside the bucket and it was full of rocks.

I walked into the gym and saw my worst fear coming true: Alice was there, and she was in the middle of all the mascots. It looked like she was trying to teach them how to do standing backbends. Ugh.

“Bessica!” my mom said as she ran up behind me. “I want to let the supervisor know that we’ll be picking you up when you’re finished.”

“Who’s your supervisor?” my dad asked in an excited voice. “Is it Ms. Penrod?”

Ms. Penrod was my PE teacher, who also happened to be a former Olympian. Also, she and I had a little awkward history.

“Ms. Rich is our mascot advisor,” I said. “She wears a lot of spandex.”

I saw her across the gym and pointed.

“Isn’t she standing next to Ms. Penrod?” my mom asked.

I nodded. My mom had already met all my teachers.

I gave my dad a quick look. “Please don’t say anything about the size of her arms.” Because they were huge.

“I’d never do that,” my dad said. Then he started moving in her direction. And I followed.

“Bessica Lefter!” Ms. Penrod said as we walked up to her. “Nice paws.”

I lifted them up so she could get a better look. That was when I noticed Alice Potgeiser getting into the bear mascot suit. That didn’t seem fair! We were supposed to share it.

“Hey,” I said. “Why does Alice get to wear the bear suit?”

Ms. Penrod and Ms. Rich glanced at Alice. A student dressed like a falcon was zipping her up.

“We only have one grizzly bear costume, Bessica. You’re going to have to share,” Ms. Rich said.

“Bessica is great at sharing,” my mom said.

I frowned. “Why does she get it first?” I was worried that she’d never take it off. And then I’d look like the mascot who didn’t belong.

“She was here first,” Ms. Penrod said.

I looked up at my mom and her stupid map.

“You’ve got your paws,” my dad said.

But I hadn’t even gotten a chance to wear the suit for longer than two minutes. I really wanted to put it on.

“We’ll be finishing around three o’clock,” Ms. Penrod said. “Mrs. Dudley will be supervising the clinic. She’ll
be teaching the basics and throwing in some advanced techniques.”

I looked around for Mrs. Dudley. I hoped she’d teach me a bunch of advanced techniques. Because I didn’t care about average techniques.

“First things first,” Ms. Rich said. “You need to join a group. For today’s clinic you’re working in groups of three, since you’ll need two spotters. The eagle and spud still need a member.”

I looked at the eagle and spud. I was sort of hoping to get teamed up with a vicious mascot so I could learn the most. What would I learn by working with a bird and a vegetable? Not much. And what was a spotter?

“Is that spud costume made out of foam?” my dad asked. “It looks fantastic.”

“Mascot material has come a long way. Take a look at the tiger,” Ms. Rich said.

I glanced at the tiger. This was the person I would be cheering against in my first game. Oh no! His stripes were sparkly—they looked like they were made out of glitter. And he really knew how to whip his tail like a maniac.
Swish. Swish. Swish.

“Mascots with tails have an advantage,” I mumbled.

“What?” my mom asked.

I didn’t elaborate or repeat my observation. I just
tried not to think about how nervous I was about cheering at my first game and distracted myself by looking around.

“All right, sunshine,” my dad said. “I expect to see a new cheer tonight when you get home.”

“Okay,” I said, even though I thought that was a dumb thing to tell me. Because any cheer I did for him would be a new cheer. He’d never seen me do one.

“Bye,” I said. I was ready for them to leave. But they stood and watched me.

“See you later,” I said. They still didn’t move. And I didn’t move. Why wasn’t I moving?

“Don’t be nervous,” my mom said. “Meeting new people is awkward for everybody.”

“They’re as scared to meet you as you are to meet them,” my dad said.

“I’m not scared,” I said. I wandered toward my group. What do you say when you approach a person who looks like a baked potato?

I began waving at the spud and the eagle way before they even started looking at me, which made me feel a little bit like a dweeb. The spud was showing the eagle how to do backward somersaults. I sure hoped bears didn’t have to do those.

“There’s no way I can do that with my beak,” the eagle said.

“What about this?” the spud suggested. Then he did something that looked like break dancing.

“I’d lose a ton of my plumage,” the eagle said.

“Yeah,” I said, finally pushing myself to speak. “You’d make a bald spot.”

“Well, I am an eagle,” the boy said as he took off his eagle head.

The good thing about his appearance was that he looked like a nice person. He had blond hair and big straight teeth. The bad thing was he had two zits. And it was hard not to stare at the big one on his nose.

“Are you Bessica?” the eagle asked. “I’m Duke. And this is Pierre. He’s a potato.”

I was surprised that Duke and Pierre already knew who I was. It made me feel a teensy bit famous and my skin goose pimpled.

“You’ve already heard about me?” I asked.

“Of course,” Duke said. “Alice came around and told us all about you.”

I could feel my face turning red. I knew I should say something quickly to regain a good reputation. But I didn’t know what. I hoped she hadn’t told them I was a nickel!

“Alice doesn’t even know me!” I said. “Don’t believe anything she told you.”

Duke and Pierre looked at each other in a confused way
and then looked back at me. “She said that you were co-mascots.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, that’s true.”

“You missed this assignment,” Pierre said. “Before we start the clinic we’re supposed to come up with a cheer as a way to introduce ourselves.”

“Really?” I asked. Because I thought I should be taught
how
to cheer before that happened.

“Do you have any music?” Duke asked.

I shook my head.

Pierre smiled. “That’s okay. You don’t have to have music. Some mascots like to create a theme song and enter the performance arena while it plays.”

“That sounds cool,” I said. My mind starting racing to find grizzly bear songs. But none came to me.

“I don’t have a theme song,” said Pierre. “Because I think it runs counter to being a potato. We are simple vegetables. Tubers, actually.”

“Right,” I said. We’d learned that in nutrition.

“Looks like you’re not going to have a costume for the first half,” Duke said, “so you should probably just work on moves.”

I glanced around the room. All the other mascots seemed to already be practicing stuff. I think that Pierre could tell that I was nervous.

“Is this your first clinic?” Pierre said.

I nodded.

“Do you want us to show you our introductory cheers first?” Pierre asked.

“Yes, please,” I said. Maybe it was a good thing I hadn’t gotten paired with a vicious mascot. Because Pierre and Duke were very helpful.

“Here’s mine,” Duke said. “We take our heads off for the introductory cheer. Because we need to chant and a mascot never does that with his head on. You knew that, right?”

“You want to reduce vocal strain,” Pierre said pointing to his neck. “Over time your throat will develop painful nodules.”

I nodded like I knew that. But I actually had no idea.

I watched as Duke jogged in place and flapped his feathered arms. “We run. We block. We fly. So high.” He took a breath and kicked face-level at the audience two times. “Flat Creek Eagles take the win. Victory or die!” Then he released a high-pitched bird cry that made me cover my ears.

“So we don’t say our names in the introductory cheer?” I asked. Because I thought that was the main reason we were introducing ourselves.

“No,” Pierre said quickly. “As a mascot, your identity should be fused with your team.”

I thought about my school’s team. Did I want my
identity fused with them? I guessed it was too late to feel differently.

“My turn,” Pierre said.

“Hit high! Hit low. Let’s go, Potato!”

Pierre’s cheer might have been short. But he repeated it three times. And each time he finished, he did a forward or backward somersault and jumped to his feet again.

“Don’t you get dizzy?” I asked. Because I thought I would.

“The trick is to close your eyes,” Pierre said.

“Okay,” Duke said. “Show us what you have.”

I thought back to my cheer that I’d performed to win half mascot. I’d used a jump rope and skipped around the gym with it, mostly shouting, “I’m a bear!” I’d sweated so hard my pants had slipped off and I accidentally flung them onto the crowd and Ms. Penrod’s head. I didn’t want to do that again. So I thought up a short cheer and yelled, “Bear! Bear! Win!”

And I grabbed my jump rope out of my bag and yelled, “I’m a bear!” And I jumped rope a few more times and then I stopped and released a bunch of power kicks. It bummed me out when one of my mascot paws flew off my foot and hit Pierre in the face.