Mia the Meek (14 page)

“A real friend doesn’t judge others when they finally succeed!”

“If you judge success by how popular you are, then we’re through being friends.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I said, storming into Mr. Benson’s room and choosing a new seat—next to Jessie.

For Friday’s lunch period, Jessie and I rolled into the cafeteria the ancient wooden cart that we used as our student store.

“No wonder they make freshmen push this cart around,” she panted. “No upper classmen would be caught dead wheeling this hunk of junk to the cafeteria every day.”

“I know, but next week, thank goodness, we can get the other freshmen student council members to start working the store. It’s been horrible.”

“Tell me about it. Between ordering sweatshirts, planning the dance, and organizing the student council meetings, I haven’t had a life the past few weeks,” Jessie said, unlocking the cart. “And I know it’s been the same for you. That’s why I feel so bad about making you work our last shift alone, but my mom is making me keep my dentist appointment. Are you sure you don’t want me to find someone else to work with you? What about Lisa?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “I’ll probably just use the time to work on some homework.”

“Yeah, that math test today sounds like it’s gonna be tough.”

“There’s a test today?” I said.

“Don’t you remember?” Jessie said. “Grizzling announced it last week. Haven’t you studied?” Jessie looked at her watch. “Look, I wish I could help you out, but I’ve gotta go. My mom’s gonna be waiting for me at the office.”

She left the cafeteria and I pulled my math book out of my backpack, frantically scanning the chapters. By the time the lunch bell rang, I’d sold fourteen pencils, three erasers, two notebooks, and one set of markers, and still wasn’t any closer to learning any math facts.

When I started putting the supplies away, Anthony, running over to the cart, yelled, “Hold up! I need a pencil for Grizzling’s class and I’m cashed out. Can you mack one for me?”

I hesitated.

“Well, I’m not supposed to give anything away. I might get in trouble. . .”

Jake walked up beside me and put his arm around my waist.

“Come on, dude, it’s just a pencil. You wouldn’t leave one of my dawgs hanging, would ya?” Jake looked directly into my eyes, melting all my morals. I handed Anthony a pencil.

“You’re right. Here—take one.”

“You are da bomb!” Anthony said, grabbing three more pencils and stashing them in his pocket.

“While you’re at it, I
really
need some markers for art class. I promise I’ll get you some Benjamins later.” Collin took a handful of markers and shoved them in his folder.

Jake grabbed a bunch of pens from the bin.

“Dude, your mom makes us write everything in pen, and I don’t want her tripping on me, especially since I’ll be kicking it with my breezy tonight at the movies.”

“We’re going to the movies tonight?” I asked, busily trying to add in my head how much money I had to pay back to the store before Mr. Benson noticed a discrepancy in the books.

“For sheezy. Be at the mall at seven.”

“Wait—I can’t go to the movies with you tonight. I told my parents I’d stay home with Chris because they won’t be home until late. If you’d asked earlier, I probably could’ve figured something out.”

“How old’s your brother?” Collin asked.

“He’s twelve, but they don’t trust him to stay by himself at night. My parents are kind of overprotective.”

“That’s totally whack,” Anthony said.

“I guess we’ll just have to chill at the dance next week, dude.” Jake put the pens in his pocket. “I’ll call you later.”

I watched Jake and his friends leave and sighed dreamily. I was going to my first high school dance with Jake Harris. It was all too good to be true.

“Earth to Mia,” Tim said, pounding a quarter on the counter.

“Sorry, the store’s closed. You’ll have to come back next week.”

“Oh, come on. I need to buy a pencil for Grizzling’s class,” Tim pleaded.

“Let’s make a deal. You help me get caught up for the Academic Quiz Bowl this weekend, and I’ll let you buy a pencil.”

“Why don’t you ask Lisa to help you?”

“That’s none of your business,” I said, dangling the pencil in front of his face. “If you help me, I’ll also make chocolate chip cookies while we study.”

“You had to say ‘chocolate chip cookies’, didn’t you? All right, it’s a deal. How about tonight?” Tim took the pencil and handed me the quarter.

“My parents are going to be gone, but I’m sure they won’t care if we study together. Why don’t you come over at seven?”

“I want those cookies warm, right out of the oven,” Tim ordered, running out the cafeteria door.

I put the supplies away in their bins, locked up the cart, and slowly rolled it to the doors that led to the courtyard. Holding one door open with my hip, I spread my arms out and pushed the other door open. I heaved the cart through the opening, but wasn’t quick enough. I ended up leaving a layer of ankle skin in the doorway.

Now the hard part: how am I going to push this two-ton cart past all these people, up the hill, and into the main building all by myself?
I rubbed my ankle and looked at all the students sprawled around the courtyard soaking up the warm fall sun before they headed to their next class.

I started pushing the cart up the hill, panting and wheezing. I felt like the Little Engine That Could and started chanting in my head,
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. . .

After the millionth
I think I can
, I finally reached the summit of the hill. Stopping to catch my breath, I was instantly swarmed by a gang of bees, obviously drawn to the sweat dripping down my cheeks. Ever since the TV movie
Killer Bees
, I’ve been terrified of bees, and these bees definitely looked like veterans of the movie. I swatted at them with both hands, forgetting I was holding onto a cart the size of Alaska. As soon as I let go, the cart started to careen down the hill, like the Little Engine on steroids.

The cart swayed to and fro, gaining momentum with every inch. Students hurled themselves out of the way as the cart plowed through the courtyard and smashed through the plastic orange traffic cones that divided it from the teachers’ parking lot. Miraculously, just as my parents’ insurance premium was about to hit a record high, the cart lost a wheel, teetered for a second, and then crashed, millimeters from Mrs. Jensen’s Hummer.

Pencils, pennants, and papers exploded into the air, flying across the courtyard and into the hands of the greedy masses. I dashed down the hill to the chaos as students swarmed the supplies like a flock of vultures diving onto a newly deceased carcass. It was total mayhem as people grabbed whatever they could, shoving school supplies into their pockets. All would have been lost if Sister Donovan hadn’t swooped down like an angel from Heaven and shouted, “What is going on here?”

I came forward meekly. “Um, I crashed the student store.”

Sister Donovan sighed. “Mia Fullerton, are you purposely trying to give me a head full of gray hair?”

“Not really.”

Sister Donovan turned from me and glared at the students with their pockets full of stolen goods.

“Any student who unlawfully obtained supplies from the student store will serve a week’s worth of detention.”

A few students guiltily emptied their pockets and dumped supplies onto the courtyard, not making eye contact with Sister Donovan.

“Remember,” said Sister Donovan, staring at the surrounding faces. “Jesus sees everything.” More students dropped their stash. A few whispered, “I’m sorry, Sister Donovan,” while making the sign of the cross.

“And anyone who is caught will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law,” she added. Finally, Anthony, Collin, and Jake emptied their pockets.

“That’s better. Now, I want you to give Mia some space so she can clean up this mess. I will see that Father Michael visits with all of you in religion class next week to talk about the seventh commandment: ‘Thou shall not steal.’ And it wouldn’t hurt for some of you to visit a confessional.”

As everyone shuffled away, I looked at the merchandise, scattered across the playground. Rubbing a hand across my eyes to hide my tears, I started gathering supplies and loading them back into their plastic bins. I wearily picked up a St. Hilary’s pennant when Tim knelt down beside me.

“Need any help?”

I threw the pennant into a bin.

“How many cookies is it going to cost me?”

“This favor is free. It’s just my good deed for the day.” Tim handed me a Kleenex from his pocket.

I eyed it warily.

“It’s clean, I promise.”

As I blew my nose into it, Tim added, “I mean, I only used it once.”

After we deposited the last of the bins into Mr. Benson’s room and lugged the cart’s remains to the dumpster, I said, “If we hurry, we can still make it to the end of math class.”

Tim closed the dumpster lid. “Good thing I’m faster than you.”

“In your dreams,” I said.

We reached the room just as our classmates were pouring out the door. I ran to Mr. Grizzling’s desk. “I’m sorry I missed class, but the student store collapsed in the courtyard and I had to pick up all the supplies. Sister Donovan can verify it for you.”

“What’s your excuse, Mr. Radford?”

“I was helping her.”

“Are you even on student council?”

“No sir, I was just helping.”

“A likely story,” Mr. Grizzling growled. “As you know, we had a test today. Ms. Fullerton, you will be allowed to take the test after school—after I verify your story with Sister Donovan. Mr. Radford, you will receive a zero, because you do not have a legitimate excuse. But I won’t turn you into the office for truancy.”

“But I was helping Mia!” Tim said, astounded.

“I think you should thank me instead of standing there sputtering,” Mr. Grizzling said.

“But I wouldn’t have been able to clean up the mess as fast without Tim,” I said.

“Ms. Fullerton, I suggest you hold your tongue.”

I put my hands on my hips. “That is so unfair. If Tim can’t take the test, then neither should I.”

Tim nudged me in the ribs. “What are you doing? You should take the test. You need the points more than I do.”

“No way! Either we both get to take the test or neither of us does.”

“Ms. Fullerton, I can see you have your mother’s fortitude.” Mr. Grizzling glowered at me. “Very well, I will allow both of you to take the test after school today. But I highly suggest you never talk to me in that manner ever again.”

I silently nodded my head, figuring I shouldn’t press my luck with Mr. Grizzling, and Tim and I walked into the hallway. Tim said, “I can’t believe you stood up to him like that for me. What got into you?”

I smiled. “I was just doing my good deed for the day. A friend taught me that.”

T
im opened the back door to my house. “I smell cookies!” “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” “Knocking’s for wimps,” Tim said, shoving a cookie in his mouth and grabbing for another one. “I got all my trivia cards. Are you ready?” “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, plopping onto the family room couch next to Tim. He pulled out the first question. “Which of the Great Lakes is entirely within the United States?” “Lake Michigan.” “Who drafted the Declaration of Independence?” “Thomas Jefferson.” “Who wrote
The Last of the Mohicans
?” “James Fennimore Cooper. Come on, give me a tough one.” “All right. What’s a henway?”