Read The Reinvention of Bessica Lefter Online

Authors: Kristen Tracy

The Reinvention of Bessica Lefter (9 page)

“And the beef nuggets. I think they fry the churro and the beef nuggets in the same oil,” Vicki said.

“Totally,” Marci agreed. “The churros taste way beefy.”

I nodded. “I’m used to gross and dangerous churros,” I said. “I went to Sugar City Elementary.”

“Bummer,” Vicki said. “We went to Elm Grove Elementary in Texas. We had an all-weather track.”

“Back to the cafeteria,” Marci said.

“I was thinking I’d bring my lunch,” I said.

Vicki and Marci looked at each other with a little bit of disgust and then looked at me and shook their heads.

“You definitely want to eat in the cafeteria and go through the lunch line. It’s the easiest way to join a
group.” Marci pointed to herself. “I eat with the cheerleaders.”

Vicki pointed to Marci. “I eat with them too. They’re great!”

“So I should eat with the cheerleaders?” I asked. Because it seemed like that’s what they were suggesting, but it also seemed like I would have to be a cheerleader to do that.

“You can’t,” Marci said, puffing out her cheeks and looking disappointed. “Only the cheerleaders hang with the cheerleaders.” She grabbed another piece of pizza and started chomping on it.

“I want to try out for the team,” I said.

Marci and Vicki looked at each other and then at me. “It’s a squad,” Vicki said, grabbing her own slice of pizza. “And it’s really hard for sixth graders to get on it. We only take, like, two, and they’re generally expert gymnasts who are freakishly flexible. Can you do a back handspring or a strong series of round-offs?”

“No,” I said. Then I took a huge bite of pizza.

“How are your backbends?” Marci asked. “Can you do a kickover to get out?”

I had never heard of a kickover. “Not quite.”

“Well,” Marci said, “you should probably focus on other groups.”

“I want to try out for chorus,” I said.

Vicki’s eyes bugged out. “That’s so cool! I was in chorus before I became the bee.”

“Did you love it?” I asked.

Vicki shook her head. “It took up a lot of time. You have to practice after school. And you’ve got to travel. And a lot of snobs are in there.”

“Oh,” I said. Traveling sounded fun, but I didn’t want to be around a bunch of snobs.

“Remember when Dolan was in the back row and he got sick during the Holiday Pageant and puked on everybody in front of him?” Marci asked.

“Ugh,” Vicki said, nodding. “The whole gym smelled like barf for a week. By the way, he’s still in chorus, so if you do make it, request to stand on the opposite side of him.”

“What’s his name again?” I asked.

“Dolan!” Vicki said, laughing a little.

“Vicki, you’re making chorus sound totally lame, and it’s not,” Marci said. “But I do think this year’s costumes involve red bow ties. Even for the girls.”

“Good to know,” I said. In my mind I was taking notes.
Avoid Crispitos and Dolan the Puker
.

“We’re making middle school sound awful,” Marci said. “Let’s stick to the good stuff.” They chewed their pizza more.

“Vending machines!” Vicki said. “They sell tons of junk
food and pop. Some schools have banned these items, but ours hasn’t. It’s awesome!”

“Chicken Patty and Tots Day for lunch,” Marci said. “Don’t miss it for anything. I had bronchitis once and I went to school just to get my patty and tots.”

Marci nodded. “They’re awesome.”

Vicki and Marci looked at each other. “I’m going to miss some of this stuff,” Marci said.

“I know. I’m not going to be the bee anymore,” Vicki said, looking sad. “And that was, like, the highlight of my life. Stirring the crowd. Rallying the team. Wiggling my stinger-butt at the opposing bench.”

Suddenly, Vicki looked sad.

“Sounds like you really enjoyed the costume,” I said.

Vicki sighed. “When I was the bee, inside all that felt and fur, it was like the whole world loved me. And that’s the best feeling ever.”

“Are you moving back to Texas?” I asked. Even though I wasn’t going to be able to sit with them at the cheerleading table, I’d figured I would still be able to wave to them in the hallways and not feel totally lonely.

“We’re ninth graders,” Vicki said.

“We’ve graduated,” Marci added.

Why my mother had set up a lunch date for me with two people in high school I had no idea. Then I sat and
listened while Vicki and Marci talked about how much they were going to miss Pajama Fridays.

“At first I was like, I don’t want to wear my pajamas to school!” Vicki said. “But it’s a totally rocking time.”

“I get to wear my pajamas to school on Fridays?” I asked. That seemed weird. I slept in boxer shorts. But I didn’t tell them that.

“Once a month they hold a movie night in the gym and you get to wear your pajamas,” Marci said.

“Should we tell her where to sit?” Vicki asked.

Marci nodded enthusiastically.

“Under the home-team hoop,” Vicki said.

“Okay,” I said. But again, I worried that maybe that was where the cheerleaders sat. And I wasn’t certain I could be one of those. Because I didn’t consider myself an expert gymnast or freakishly flexible.

“Do you have any questions for us?” Vicki asked. “Maybe about your teachers or the PE dress code?”

I hadn’t thought about asking them about my teachers. And I didn’t even know there was a PE dress code. I wondered if Sylvie had heard about that.

“I do have a question,” I said.

“Is it about Mrs. Wahrwold’s hair?” Vicki asked. “Because the rumors are true. It’s a wig!”

I hadn’t heard about Mrs. Wahrwold or her wig.

“It’s about the T,” I said.

Marci and Vicki looked at each other and then looked at me in an alarmed way.

“Is it true that kids try to lure other kids to the T and beat them up?” I asked.

And to my surprise—and horror—both Marci and Vicki nodded.

“Okay,” Marci said. “We didn’t want to scare you, but we should probably mention the psycho-bullies.”

I gasped. I feared that there might be bullies in middle school, but I had no idea they’d be psycho.

“Cola and Beacher are seventh graders. And they’re mean and awful and you should avoid them every day of your life,” Vicki said. “They’ll probably get expelled before Halloween.”

“So there are only two psycho-bullies?” I asked. Because I felt like I could avoid two.

Vicki and Marci looked at each other again and then they looked at me, even more horrified than the first time.

“Cola has a brother. He’s starting middle school this year,” Vicki said. “He’s supposed to be the worst of the worst.”

“I’ve heard that he’s done time in a juvenile detention center,” Marci said.

“For what?” I asked.

Marci leaned over the table at me and practically spat her answer, “For being psycho.”

Vicki shuddered. “Watch out.” She pointed at me and it made the hair on my arms stand up.

“Are you sure the psycho-bullies won’t be going to South?” I asked. It seemed like I had a fifty-fifty chance of avoiding them.

“All three psycho-bullies are going to North,” Vicki said. “I’m certain.”

“What are their names again?” I asked. I felt my throat growing tighter.

“Cola, Beacher, and Redge,” Vicki said.

Cola, Beacher, and Redge
.

Even their names sounded psycho.

“Uh-oh,” Marci said. “We’ve scared Bessica. She’s turning a weird color.”

“I am?” I asked. Because I’d never turned a weird color before.

“Don’t turn a weird color,” Vicki said. “You’ll be fine. Just avoid them in the halls. And avoid them at lunch. And never get close to the T.”

“Good advice,” Marci said, patting Vicki on the shoulder. “And hopefully you’ll be fine.”

“Hopefully?” I repeated.

“Should we tell her?” Marci asked.

Vicki shook her head. “No. Why scare her even more? Bessica isn’t going to get mixed up with the alt crowd.”

I felt my heart beating very fast. Sylvie and I had heard of the alt crowd. We’d seen them at the mall. They wore a lot of black and liked to pierce their ears and eyebrows and lips. Also, they smelled like motor oil.

“Don’t mess with the alt crowd,” Marci said. “You don’t want any of them as your friends. You don’t want any of them as your enemies.”

“Don’t even look them in the eye,” Vicki said.

Then Marci pointed her finger at me and said in a very low and serious voice, “And stay away from the row.”

“The row?” I asked.

Vicki squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered while her sister talked about the row. “It’s the hallway that leads to metal shop. Half the lightbulbs are burnt out and everybody who hangs out there is a potential criminal. Only the
altest
of the alt go there.”

I was surprised that the school would even have a hallway like that. But I didn’t have a chance to ask more questions about it. Because Marci and Vicki talked about how excited they were to start high school. It was hard for me to pay total attention. Because my mind kept leaping to the terrible churros and alt crowd and psycho-bullies.

When we were finished eating pizza, my mom came in and offered us dessert. But Vicki and Marci couldn’t stay.
They needed to drive to Rexburg and shop at the mall there.

“Did you guys exchange phone numbers?” my mom asked.

My mom handed me my cell phone. As Vicki and Marci rattled off their numbers, I loaded them into my contacts. But I didn’t know why. Because I couldn’t imagine calling these two. Ever.

I felt fuzzy and bummed out for the rest of the day. I kept my phone tucked in my pocket and I thought about calling Sylvie four thousand times. I wanted to warn her about the Crispito; I was pretty sure South had the same food as North. And I wanted to let her know about the dress code in PE. But that night, instead of calling my best friend and having a great conversation, I packed my backpack and picked out my clothes. And then I got in my bed and let my mind swim for an hour. The house felt very empty without Grandma. I didn’t hear her laugh. Or her voice. Or her terrible Frank Sinatra songs. I listened hard for all the sounds I missed. There was so much emptiness at one point that I thought I started to hear the ocean. And the next thing I knew, I had the weirdest dream of my life.

The weirdest dream of my life was short and terrible. I was in the middle-school bathroom. I recognized it from orientation. For some reason, I was standing in there and missing all my classes. Girl after girl came in to use the
bathroom. But none of them talked to me. Sometimes I gave them paper towels after they washed their hands. A few of the girls came in laughing with their friends,
ha, ha, ha
. But I didn’t laugh. Because nobody told me the joke. I was very nervous about missing all my classes. But, weirdly enough, not nervous enough to leave the bathroom.

Lots of girls kept cramming their way into the bathroom. Girl after girl after girl. They all seemed to know each other. Then the PE teacher showed up, and she made us do exercises. And I didn’t want to fail PE. So I did them. Jumping jacks. Squats. Push-ups. Then the cheerleaders showed up. And surrounded me. The whole squad. And they did cheerleader things, like flips and bends. I was afraid one of them would end up in the toilet. Or bang her head on a faucet. But they were very coordinated and that didn’t happen.

Then Principal Tidge showed up. And she stood right next to me. And nobody else thought this was weird, so I didn’t say anything. And Principal Tidge started doing exercises too. And the PE teacher yelled at us to jog. So we did.
Jog. Jog. Jog
. Even Principal Tidge. Then I saw Sylvie. I was shocked! Because she didn’t even say hello. And she was jogging too. Then I heard laughing. Why were people laughing? And then I realized they were pointing at me. Even Principal Tidge!

“What’s her name?” somebody asked.

“Bessica Lefter!” Sylvie said.

I couldn’t believe Sylvie did that. I couldn’t believe that Sylvie would tell all these bathroom laughers my name.

Then Principal Tidge was laughing so hard that she tipped over.

Then I woke up. But I wasn’t laughing. I was so hot I was sweating. I kicked the covers off me and stared into the darkness. This was the first dream I’d ever had where Sylvie acted like a complete jerk. I didn’t understand what it meant. I closed my eyes again. But I never totally fell back asleep.

THINGS TO DO IN MIDDLE SCHOOL