Betti on the High Wire (21 page)

“Make a wish, Betti,” she told me, and closed her eyes. I closed my good eye too.

Finally Mayda said, “I wish my mom would call me. Not just on my birthday.” She threw her coin into the water and watched it sink. “I wish she would send me letters. Or postcards even. Or more pictures. Or something.”

We were quiet. I was thinking about Mayda’s mama, somewhere far, far away, in a New Germ Sea.

“My mom used to take a lot of pictures.” Mayda stared straight ahead. “Of my dad and me. I have pictures of all three of us from a long time ago.”

“From kamra?”

“Yeah. My dad says that she didn’t know what she wanted back then.” Mayda shrugged. “She was really young. She just wanted to take pictures—see the world and all that—and not be stuck with a baby. So she ran away basically.” Mayda looked down at the book she got from the library, and flipped through some pages without reading them. “But now ... she has a new family. I guess she forgot about me.” She pushed her crooked pink glasses up on her nose and said, “Do you think your parents forgot about you too, Betti?”

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “I think ... my mama and dad ...” I sucked in my breath. “Died. In the war.” I almost melted into the fountain. I couldn’t believe the words came out of my Big Mouth.

“Oh.” Mayda stopped swinging her legs. “Sorry, Betti.”

“They did not run away. They did not forget me,” I said. “They save me.”

“Do you remember them? At all?”

“No.” I shook my head, just a little. “I ... I do not remember them.”

“I barely remember my mom either,” said Mayda. “Just pictures. And her voice.” Mayda thought about things. “I guess you’re lucky, Betti. Well, at least now you have a new mom. And a dad. And they seem so nice.”

I was quiet for a long time until I practically whispered, “Yes. I am lucky.”

Mayda played with her knotty hair and looked into the water. I think we both understood that neither of us wanted to talk about horrible kids, or moving, or starting school, or about our mamas and dads.

I closed my eyes and wished that Mayda would get another postcard, even though I didn’t know what a postcard was. I tossed my coin; it skipped on the blue water and sunk to the bottom.

As we rode away from the library, I clutched my new book and thought about Mayda’s mama running away. And sad Mayda.

I climbed off the bicycle at the Buckworths’ house and said, “Thank you, Mayda. For being teacher. And playing.”

“I had fun, Betti.” Mayda smiled and straightened her helmet.

And I thought: This is bad. I was planning to run away too, like Mayda’s mama. But I didn’t know that running away would make other people—the people who were left behind—so very, very sad.

I was walking to the Buckworths’ front door when I heard, “Hey, Betti? You don’t have to tell me stories. I mean, you can tell me things that really happened there. In your country. I won’t freak out or have nightmares or anything.”

Mayda zoomed away on her brown beat-up bicycle.

 

I WAS WEARING my circus dress. The raggedy sleeves hung down past my fingers and the jaggedy fringe hung down past my knobby knees. I knew that the few leftover sequins on my dress glittered like water in a fountain.

I was wearing my red buckle special occasion shoes, because this was a special occasion.

My mama and dad would be very proud of me.

I am brave. I am a little tiger. I can sing songs from the circus and not be afraid. I cannot worry if dudes laugh.

“Are you sure you want to go to Day Camp, Betti?” asked Mrs. Buckworth in her worried voice. “You don’t have to, you know.”

Yes. I wanted to.

I didn’t even gobble all of my eggs or my jelly toast at breakfast. Lucy and Mrs. Buckworth fell behind me on the sidewalk as I stomped to Day Camp with my head high in the air.

The Summer Six had free time to play while Ms. Stacy set up supplies for our next “fun activiteee” on the volcano table.

I looked for Mayda and Nanny on their special bench. They weren’t there. But I sat there anyway, all by myself. I pulled my Empty Book out of my orange bag so I could read my letter again from Auntie Moo.

I wasn’t even sitting for a minute when a ball landed right between my feet.

“Hey circus girl! Nice dress.”

Bobby Ray was towering over me like a nasty giant. I stuffed my nose inside my book. He tapped his foot on the ground as I set my red buckle shoes right on top of his ball.

Jerry ran up and socked Bobby Ray in the arm. “Dude, it’s your kick.”

I took a big breath and touched the picture of my green, bumpy dad.

“Are you gonna give us our ball, or what?”

“Babo! Babo!” George.

The whole trail of second graders was behind him, skipping and jumping over patches of grass. “Do you want to monkey ... with we, Babo?” George asked, out of breath.

“Play,
George. Play with us. That’s what you say,” giggled Stephanie. “By the
monkey bars.”
She was George’s English teacher, along with Lenore, the adoption expert lady.

“Us
we ... monkey playing!” squealed George.

“I cannot be a monkey now, George,” I told him.

George smiled and looked down at my Empty Book. He touched my dad picture with his finger. “That is ... pretty, Babo!”

“It’s pret-yyyy, Baboooo,” echoed Bobby Ray.

“Come on, dude.” Jerry grabbed the ball from under my shoes and whipped it at Bobby Ray’s stomach.

“Wait a sec,” said Bobby Ray, nodding toward George. “Maybe the pirate boy was in the circus too!”

Jerry howled.

My hands squeezed into little fists. I was still mad at George for wanting to be a Melon, but ... my face suddenly felt redder than my red buckle shoes. I stood up.
“What
did you say?”

“He called George a
pirate boy!”
screamed Stephanie.

“Yeah. I called him a pirate. So what?” Bobby Ray tossed the ball back to Jerry and crossed his arms over his chest. He was about twice as tall as the second graders.

I looked over at George, who just looked confused. Neither of us had learned that word yet, but I knew it was horrible. I spit out, “He ... he is not a pirate.”

“What is pie rit?” George tilted his head and looked up at the big boys.

“It’s someone with a hook for an arm,” explained Stephanie. “On a boat!”

George
did
know the word “arm.” His smile slowly faded.

Stephanie stomped her foot and tugged at George’s hand. “Come on, George. Let’s go!”

The sun shined in George’s sparkly eyes. “It is ... okay.” His sad mouth suddenly grew into a huge smile. “I am a pie rit!” George swung his good arm all around and laughed. “I am a Pie. A Pie Rit!”

“Whoa, dude,” laughed Jerry.

“Don’t you see?” I hissed to George in our language. “They’re making fun of you. They’re being
mean!”
I turned toward Bobby Ray and stepped straight up to him. Our noses would’ve touched if he hadn’t been a head taller than me.

Bobby Ray backed up and smiled. “Wait, wait. Wait a second! You both come from the same country, right?”

George and Stephanie and the second graders inched behind me.

“So, is everybody missing something there? Are people, like, missing their heads and stuff?” Bobby Ray laughed like he might explode. “It’s called ...
Frankenstein Country!”

Jerry snickered and both of them pulled their T-shirts up over their heads and walked around with their arms out like monsters.

I looked down at my red buckle shoes. Some of the second graders giggled until Stephanie hushed them up.

George quietly said, “It is from war.”

“And the circus,” I added.

“What a bunch of bull!” hooted Jerry.

“Total bull!” agreed Bobby Ray. “Let’s ask the little pirate.”

“Yeah. So was Betti famous in some circus?” Jerry asked. “With her mom and dad?”

George looked up at me. Then he looked at Jerry and Bobby Ray. He squinted his eyes and swung his arm. The rest of us waited until ... suddenly George said, “Yes. They ... we are ... in circus!”

“Oh sure!” said Jerry. “Now the pirate’s lying too!”

“He doesn’t even know what he’s saying!” cackled Bobby Ray. “He doesn’t even speak English!” Bobby Ray turned to me again. His eyebrows arched up in scary arrows.

I bugged out my good eye and stared long and hard. The meanest, scariest look my EYE could give.

George said very quietly in our language, “It’s okay, Babo. I don’t think they understand about our country.”

I nodded. George understood everything.

“Why don’t you prove it then?” snickered Bobby Ray. “Come on, circus girl!”

“I ... WILL!” I shouted back.

“What about up there?” Bobby Ray pointed at the monkey bars. “Why don’t you do your great circus act with the little pirate right now. That’ll work. Close enough to a high wire, right?”

At once, all of us looked over at the monkey bars. They were sort of high-wire lines. In the sky. Long and straight and very skinny. I gulped.

Then I took a deep breath and raised my head in the air. I put my Empty Book back into my orange bag and threw my bag over my shoulder. I bravely stomped through the play yard of Betsy Ross Elementary. I swung my arms back and forth as I walked. Straight to the monkey bars.

I had planned to show them. I had practiced very hard.

But I hadn’t planned to prove that I was a star on the monkey bars.

“What? You’re gonna do it?” Bobby Ray had to jog to keep up with me.

George was running after me too. And Stephanie. And the second graders.

When I stomped past the little campers, Lucy was hopping around with her sprained foot in the air. She was trying to get the first graders to do circus tricks. Very bossy. “Betti!” she cried. “Watch us, okay? Watch!” But I think she realized that my circus act was going to be much more exciting. She hobbled after me, and so did the first graders.

Then I saw Mayda and Nanny, the slowest walkers in the whole world, inching their way across the play yard.

Mayda waved. “Hi, Betti!”

“Oh, it is Betti, isn’t it!” Nanny smiled.

“Where are you going?” asked Mayda.

I pointed.

“The monkey bars?” Mayda squinted behind her crooked pink glasses. “Why?”

“I am ... in the circus.”

Mayda looked at Nanny and touched her hand. Nanny stood still while Mayda followed us: Bobby Ray and me. And half of the day campers.

“Betti, wait!” she called out, but I had to keep going.

From up close the monkey bars looked awfully high, taller than Mr. Buckworth. But I was very talented at climbing trees, almost better than monkeys. I could definitely climb the monkey bars. Easy.

I set my orange bag in the sand and shook off my red buckle shoes. I put my hand on the bottom bar. It was the first of a lot of bars, just like a ladder, that went halfway up to the sky.

Mayda put her hand on one of the bars. “Betti,” she whispered. “You don’t have to prove anything. Don’t listen to them.”

The rest of the Summer Six had come over to see what was happening. Sam and Tabitha and Timmy. I was suddenly very interesting.

Bobby Ray and Jerry were already laughing, flapping their arms and cackling. “Bawk bawk.” They didn’t understand how brave I was. But I could barely hear them anyway. I climbed up to the next bar, and the next. My feet slipped a little, but I kept climbing.

Ms. Stacy looked up from the volcano table. She probably thought that I was just going to swing on the monkey bars like most Melon kids. She probably thought that Bobby Ray and I were playing together because we were great dudes.

From the top of the monkey bars I could practically see the whole play yard of Betsy Ross Elementary. I was so tall. The tallest girl in the world! All the kids were watching. I could hear the whispers. They were afraid for me; afraid I might fall.