Mia the Meek (17 page)

“Everything looks great,” he said, “but we’re a little low on candy. You might want to keep an eye on that. Otherwise, I think we should have a profitable dance tonight.” He looked up and a scowl formed across his face. “Excuse me, I see some boys switching the signs on the boys’ and girls’ bathrooms—”

As Mr. Benson dashed off in search of the bathroom bandits, I grabbed Lisa’s arm.

“Let’s go see how Mr. Corrigan’s doing,” I suggested.

Lisa followed me to the front of the gym.

“I can’t believe Mr. Corrigan is really a DJ. He reminds me of the sort of person who parks his rusted-out Chevy in the front yard and calls it lawn art,” she said.

We approached the sound stage and found a woman sitting in a chair, fanning herself with a sheet of paper. She was wearing a fire-engine-red dress so large it easily could have covered a fire truck, and her hair was teased so high, a family of animals might have been living in it.

“Mrs. Corrigan?” I asked hesitantly.

“Who were you expecting? The Queen of England?” Mrs. Corrigan reached down, took off one of her shoes, and began rubbing her foot. “Wooee, my dogs are barking tonight.”

“You brought your dogs to the dance?” I asked.

“That’s a good one! Mr. Corrigan didn’t tell me you were so funny.” Mrs. Corrigan looked me over. “Say girl, you’re so skinny you’d have to turn around twice to make a shadow. You need some meat on them bones if you ever expect to hitch your wagon to a gravy train.”

“Um, have you seen Mr. Corrigan?” I asked, chewing on a hangnail.

“Just hold your horses—the show’s about to begin.” Instantly, the lights dimmed and Mr. Corrigan appeared under a spotlight, which was really just Mrs. Corrigan shining a giant flashlight on him. He was wearing a red and white checked shirt, a pair of Wrangler jeans, and a belt buckle with “Bud” stamped on the front glittered under the direct light. As if that weren’t enough, he wore a red bandana around his neck and a giant cowboy hat on his head.

“Howdy!” Mr. Corrigan yelled. The gymnasium became as silent as a funeral parlor. “I said, ‘Howdy,’ partners! Now y’all yell ‘howdy’ back!”

“Oh my God,” I moaned. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”

“Dawg gone, this crowd’s colder than a well-digger’s behind in the Yukon,” Mr. Corrigan hollered as fiddle music filled the air. “Well, I’m feelin’ finer than a frog hair split four ways, so I guess we’ll get this shindig goin’!” I rushed to the sound stage.

“Mr. Corrigan, what are you doing?”

“You said it was a fall dance, so we’s gonna have ourselves a gen-u-ine hoedown. Now, don’t you go worryin’ your pretty little head. The next song I’m gonna play is slicker than snot on a doorknob. It’ll get your friends a twitterin’ like a June bug in a bug zapper.”

To the tune of
Dueling Banjos
, I stumbled to the back of the gym in search of Mr. Benson. I finally found him in the coatroom, trying to organize the sea of coats on the floor.

“Hasn’t anyone ever heard of a hanger?” he grumbled.

“Mr. Benson, you’ll never believe what Mr. Corrigan is doing out there! He’s planning a hoedown, and I don’t even know what that means! What should I do?”

“That is the least of our concerns,” Mr. Benson said. “We’re running out of candy, the ice machine broke, so we’re serving warm pop, and the boys have switched the signs on the bathroom so many times that even
I
forget which is the correct restroom. Do you think parents will care if we make the bathrooms unisex tonight?”

“Be serious, Mr. Benson! I’m totally freaking out!”

“Calm down. Go try to explain to Mr. Corrigan this isn’t the music usually played at a dance, or for that matter, farther north than Arkansas. Ask him if you can look at his CD collection to see if there’s any music high school kids would enjoy. I’m going to organize this room.”

I approached the front of the gym, and Mr. Corrigan called into the microphone, “Here’s the pretty little filly I was lookin’ for!”

I quickly covered the microphone with my hand, and whispered, “Uh, Mr. Corrigan, can you turn the microphone off? I’d like to talk to you.”

Mr. Corrigan removed my hand, announcing even louder, “Wooeee, now that we have our star gal, we’s goin’ to get this shindig goin’ with a gen-u-ine square dance. What lucky feller would like to be this Missy’s partner?”

I frantically tried grabbing the microphone from his hand.

“Mr. Corrigan, I really don’t think–”

“Now, don’t be yeller, boys. She’s a feisty one!” Mr. Corrigan said, holding the microphone out of my grasp. “Come on, boys. Who’s gonna’ do-si-do with this little filly?”

I saw my dad come forward out of the crowd and head straight for the stage.
Oh God, the only thing worse than being auctioned off like a heifer would be if my dad was the only one who wanted to dance with me!
As I tried to wrangle out of Mr. Corrigan’s iron grip, I heard Tim shout, “I’ll be her partner.”

“Well, I’ll be a gnat’s whisker,” Mr. Corrigan hollered. “We’s got our first pardners. Now, don’t be shy. We still need three more couples to make this a gen-u-ine square dance.”

Thankfully, Lisa and Mike came forward, followed by Maggie, Kelly, and some guys from our art class. I quickly said a prayer to the saints—I didn’t know the patron saint of square dancing. Then, grabbing Tim’s hand, I mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

Tim met my gaze and smiled. “You owe me, Mia, and this time, the payback’s going to be huge.”

After our square dance ended, I convinced Mr. Corrigan to play some dance mixes, and then wearily headed to the back of the gym. Jake intercepted me.

“Yo, nice save on that hillbilly dude.”

“I told Jake to rescue you from Farmer Fred,” Anthony said. “But he dogged on you, man!”

Jake shoved Anthony.

“Stop capping on me, dude,” Jake said. “I got an image to protect. Anyways, Mia’s used to people baggin’ on her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.

“Chill, dude. I just meant how you used to be called ‘Mia the Meek.’ Now, when are we gonna get busy?”

Suddenly, Doug Dillard, a member of student council, ran up, grabbed my arm, and dragged me to the concession stand.

“Bad news, Mia,” he said.

“I wouldn’t know what to do if I heard any good news,” I said. “Tell me fast—that’ll make it less painful.”

“We’re out of food.”

“How can we be out of food? Didn’t we order a ton of candy? I remember voting on how much to order at the last meeting.”

“Somehow it got back-ordered, and they only sent what they had in stock. The good news is we’ll have ten boxes of candy sent to us in November. Maybe we can give it to the homeless in Thanksgiving packages.”

“That’s a nice thought, but what are we going to do now?” I replied, trying to calm my rising alarm.
I couldn’t believe the school board chose this year to take out all the vending machines for the sake of the students’ health.
“All right, I have to think. Where is there junk food in the building?”

“I always see teachers munching on candy when they come out of the teacher’s lounge,” Doug said.

“Doug, you’re brilliant! The teachers’ lounge candy machine! Now, how can I raid it?” I began pacing.

“Maybe your mom has a key,” he said.

I pulled my mom away from a group of parents.

“Listen, I have a huge favor to ask you. We’ve run out of candy at the concession stand and I want to raid the teachers’ lounge. I promise, we’ll pay it back when we get our back-ordered candy.”

“I don’t know, Mia—”

“Please, Mom,” I begged. “I won’t ever ask for anything again.”

My mom paused, then reluctantly handed me her set of keys.

“The key marked with an L will open the lounge. The key to the vending machine is on top of the cupboards, hidden in a cup. You’ll have to climb on the counter and feel around for it. I wouldn’t turn on the lights because someone might see you, and if you get caught, don’t tell them I had anything to do with this. Good luck.” She kissed me on the forehead.

“Thanks, Mom. I owe you one.”

“And I won’t let you forget it, either,” she said.

I ran out of the gym.

“What’s your hurry?” Tim asked.

“What are you doing out here? I thought you and Cassie would be groping each other on the dance floor.”

“I could say the same thing about you and Jake. Where is he?”

“I have important student council business to do right now,” I said.

“Cassie had a nail emergency,” Tim said, “so I decided to wait out here in the hall to cool down. Where are you headed?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Does a bear pee in the woods?”

“Then come with me,” I said, dragging Tim down the hall.

In the dark, the school seemed like a mysterious stranger. It was eerily silent and our footsteps echoed as we crept towards the teachers’ lounge. I put my mom’s key in the lock and silently turned the knob. When we were safely inside, Tim turned the lights on.

“Turn them off!” I yelled. “I swear, if you had half a brain, your head would be tilted.”

“I refuse to enter a battle of wits with you,” Tim said as he flipped the lights off. “It’s against my morals to attack an unarmed person.”

“Just be quiet and help me find the key to the vending machine,” I whispered, climbing up on the counter. Tim climbed up after me and started feeling around the top of the cupboard.

“I think I have something,” he said.

“Is it the key?”

“No, I think it’s a dead mouse.”

“Gross!”

“No, I guess not. It looks like an old sock. I wonder how that got up here.”

“Keep searching,” I commanded, rubbing my hand back and forth on the top of the dusty cupboard. “It would be a lot easier if I could see over the top.”

“Aha! Got it!” Tim said, holding the key close to my face so I could see it in the dark. I reached for it.

“Great, hand it to me.”

Tim hopped off the counter.

“No way—you’ll lose it.”

“Give it to me!” I yelled, hopping down beside him.

“Shhh! I found it—I get to open the machine. I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“You’ve always wanted to open a vending machine?” I said, mocking him, even though I was thinking the same thing. “For the last time, give me the key!”

“Hold on, I almost got it. Shoot, I dropped the key. Can you see it?” Tim asked, feeling around the floor. I crouched down beside him.

“Were your parents cousins?” I said.

Tim stood up and got in my face.

“I swear, Mia, if you make one more wisecrack about how stupid I am, I’m going to. . .”

“You’re going to what?”

“I’m going to do this.” Tim grabbed me and kissed me hard on the mouth. At first, I tried to get away, but as the kiss softened, I found myself leaning toward him. Our mouths explored each other for a few moments, and I wasn’t thinking about anything except how good Tim’s mouth felt. His tongue did what it was supposed to do and it seemed as if our mouths were perfect fits for each other. I could have gone on kissing him for hours if Mr. Benson hadn’t walked in and flipped on the lights.

“Uh, excuse me,” he stammered. “Uh, Mia, your mom said you came in here to get some candy from the machine and I thought I would help you. But I see you already found some, um, help.”