Mia the Meek (6 page)

I trudged up to my house and put my day in perspective—your typical combination of mortification, degradation, and humiliation. I couldn’t wait to see what the next day would bring.

My mom opened the door and greeted me. “How are you feeling, honey?”

I glared at her.

“Don’t ‘honey’ me. How could you possibly tell that
Petey and the Potty
story in front of my whole class? Don’t you care about me at all?”

“I tell that story every year. It’s so cute, and it playfully inspires students to read.”

“Every year? Didn’t you ever consider how much that story embarrasses me? You’re always saying how you’ll do anything for one of your students. Well, now that I’m forced into having you for a teacher, maybe you can care about me for a change!” I ran up the stairs to my room, slammed the door, and fell facedown on my bed.

A few minutes later, I heard a knock at the door.

“Mia, let me in.”

I wiped away the tears that had been on the verge of falling all day and yelled, “The door’s unlocked. You won’t let me get a lock for it. Remember?”

My mom opened the door and sat down next to me on my bed.

“I’m sorry—this is new for me, too. From now on, I’ll try not to tell any more of your secrets to the class. It’s just that I know you have so much to offer others and you always hide your talents. Just once, I wish you would let others see how wonderful, smart, and loving you are.” She ran her fingers through my tangled hair, which still had remnants of Jell-O in it. “I know I’m your mother, so of course I think you’re brilliant, but as a teacher, I’ve met hundreds of kids, and I know a special kid when I see one. Now, let others see it as well, Mia.”

I didn’t have the heart to look at her, because even though she made me feel better, I didn’t want to encourage her. She might decide to have meaningful talks with me every day. Instead, I picked at my cuticles.

“You sound just like a bad talk show host, ‘Let your inner beauty shine, next on
The Maureen Fullerton Show.
’”

She stopped untangling my hair and put her hands in her lap.

“You don’t have to be so mean to me all the time. It’s getting a little old.”

Part of me wanted to tell her I was sorry for being so nasty, so she would hold me in her arms and rock me like she used to. But the other part of me wanted to hurt her more so she would immediately leave my bedroom and not come back until I was twenty-one.

I decided to compromise.

“Before you hear about it in the teacher’s lounge, I guess I’d better let you know I’m running for ninth grade class president—Lisa nominated me. I know I won’t win because I’m running against Cassie Foster, so just let me get through the next week and lose the election graciously. And please, don’t make a big deal about this, all right?”

“Oh, honey, that’s wonderful!” She hugged me tightly. “I’m so glad you’re finally taking a chance in life instead of sitting on the sidelines, waiting for your turn.”

I silenced her with my death stare.

“You know my favorite slogan,” she continued. “Jump and the net will appear. It looks like it’s your turn to jump.”

“With my luck,” I said, “the net will have a huge hole in it.”

“You’ll never know unless you jump.”

My dad beamed at me across the dinner table. “So, my little princess is running for class president!”

“Mom, I told you not to make a big deal about this!”

“I had to tell your father. We’re both so proud of you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Chris said. “Personally, I think Mia is whacked in the head. There’s no way she can beat Cassie Foster for president. Cassie is phat.”

“Chris,” my dad said, “we don’t make fun of people’s weight in this house.”

“Dad, you’re so past it. Cassie’s
phat
, not
fat.
Like, she’s only the hottest and most popular girl in the freshman class at St. Hilary’s. Plus, she has a body that won’t quit. Man, I wish there were some chicks like her in my seventh grade class.”

“That is enough, Chris,” my mom said, spooning another heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

I swallowed the last chunk of my meatloaf and asked, “May I be excused?”

“No way! It’s your turn to do dishes!” Chris yelled.

“Can we switch and I’ll do them tomorrow night?”

“Why? What could you possibly have to do tonight, besides read the dictionary for fun?”

“I’m playing basketball with Tim from next door.” I poured on the charm. “So, will you please switch dish duty with me?”

“I’ll switch if you give me five bucks.”

I rolled my eyes. “No longer are you beneath my contempt.”

“I thought you were going to play basketball. Why’d you take a shower?” Chris asked as he pocketed the five bucks from my babysitting stash. “If you’re trying to impress Tim with your looks, you’d better forget it. You’re so ugly that when you walk into Taco Bell, everyone runs for the border!”

Ignoring him, I slammed the back door behind me.

I shot a few free throws to warm up before I saw Tim cross his backyard. It would’ve been much easier to hate him if he wasn’t so cute.

“Are you feeling better? I can handle a retainer on my shoe, but your dinner landing on me is a whole different story.” Tim took the ball from me and made a perfect free throw.

“I’ve never felt better,” I said. “You’re not trying to chicken out, are you?”

“No way. Are you ready for total annihilation?”

“Don’t bet on it. Play to ten, win by two?” I threw him the ball.

“Should be a quick game, then.” Tim tossed me the ball. “You check it.”

I took the ball out and as Tim came toward me, I was distracted by the faint scent of cologne. Coming to my senses, I faked left, cross dribbled, and went for a lay-up. This time, I made sure I pushed off with my left foot and followed through—there’d be no retainers flying through the air during this game.

“Nice shot,” he said. “Lucky I let you have that one, because that’s all you’re going to get,” Tim said, taking the ball. Dribbling once and stopping, he popped a perfect jump shot to tie the score. “Poetry in motion,” he said, tossing me the ball.

“More like motion sickness.” I dribbled behind my back so Tim couldn’t steal. I cross dribbled again and shot the ball. “Swoosh— nothing but net!” I said.

The game continued point for point. Tim thwarted every trick I knew, but I didn’t let him have the advantage. The score was twenty up—neither of us could get the winning two-point edge.

“I heard you’re running for class president,” Tim panted as he stole the ball from me.

“Yeah, where’d you hear that?” I replied, stealing the ball back and attempting a lay-up. The shot bounced off the rim and Tim rebounded it.

“Cassie called me before dinner. She wants me to work on her campaign. She says she wants fresh ideas,” Tim answered, knocking one in from the baseline.

“More like fresh meat,” I muttered as I fumbled the rebound.

“What’d you say?” Tim asked, missing his shot.

“I said I think it’s great. You two are perfect for each other.” I hurled an air ball. “Anyway, Jake Harris might want to help me—he’s the one who seconded my nomination.”

“Then I guess I’ll tell her ‘okay’.” Tim rebounded the ball and sank the winning shot. “That’s it, twenty-two to twenty. Next time I’ll play at full speed to shorten your misery.”

“Are you always this hostile with everyone you meet?”

“Nah, there’s just something special about you. For some reason, I especially enjoy seeing you sweat.” Tim smiled, then began whistling
We Are the Champions
as he walked through his yard without a backward glance.

A
s the earth towered closer, my classmates lined up along the roller coaster to watch me fly out of control. I heard their raucous laughter grow and grow until it reached a frenzied, high pitched buzz. When my car hit the ground, a terrifying scream escaped my lips. I woke up sweaty and confused as the buzz continued to assault my ears. Struggling for breath, I hit the snooze button and moaned.

“What did I get myself into?” I said.

Lisa was waiting for me at the corner.

“I have great news! Your whole campaign is mapped out.”

“I don’t have a campaign. All I have is my name on the ballot. We weren’t going to make a big deal about this. Remember?”

“Mia, this is your chance to make a difference. If you’re class president, you’ll have the power to make sure all the ninth graders’ voices are heard. If Cassie becomes president, her main goal will be to change the school’s colors so they don’t clash with her skin tone. Anyway, all the work is done. Mike came over last night and we made some awesome posters to hang in the hallway. He said he would get to school early today to hang them up before class starts.”

“Mike is working on my non-existent campaign?”

“As soon as I asked him to help me, he said he’d be right over. We had the best time together. He’s so funny and smart. . . and really cute.”

“Are you starting a Mike Finnegan fan club or what?”

“I just like him, all right?”

“Fine, calm down.”

“We had such a great time last night, I don’t want you to ruin it by making jokes. I mean, the time totally flew by when we were together and we didn’t even know how late it was until Mike’s mom called, telling him to get home before it got too dark. And then, right before Mike was going to leave—” Lisa paused, her face turning red—“he kissed me!”