Gertie's Leap to Greatness (7 page)

But when she reached her seat, she jerked to a stop so fast her tennis shoes squeaked against the rubber floor. Junior sat with his arms crossed over his chest. His smile stretched almost to his ears. Gertie stared. Around her, the whispers rose in volume.

“What is that?”

“Why'd he do it?”

“He'll probably get
expelled
with that—”

Junior's hair was shaved to short stubble on the sides of his head, and he had a stripe of longer, gelled-up hair down the center.

“I call this,” he told her, “the Riptide.”

Gertie sat. She had never imagined that hair could be like
this
, that it could make feelings unfurl inside a person.

Junior's hair made her feel like snapping her fingers at the whole world—
mmm-hmmm, oh yeah.
The Riptide was the satisfying
snick
of roller skates over sidewalk seams. It was grape Popsicle, frosty from the freezer. It was seeing your own face reflected, small, in someone's sunglass lenses.

“Can I touch it?” she asked.

Junior's neck turned pink, but he nodded.

Holding her breath, she ran her palm lightly over the spikes. She let her breath out in a shaky sigh. “Wow. Junior, that's really…”

“I know.” He looked as pleased as Gertie had ever seen him. “Mom did it last night so we could show it off today.”

The Riptide really was the most amazing thing. It was better than anything she'd ever imagined. A cloud passed over the sun, and the color faded out of the world. She tore her eyes away from Junior and slowly traced her finger across the names graffitied on the seat in front. Even her very exciting speech wouldn't be enough to beat the Riptide. But this was Junior Jr., and he was carefully running his hands along his buzzed head, so she made herself smile and pat his arm.

“You're going to be great,” she assured him in the brightest voice she could manage, hoping Mary Sue wouldn't ruin it for him by bringing her dad and a couple of movie stars.

*   *   *

When Gertie and Junior walked into the classroom, everyone rushed over to examine Junior's hair up close. It was impossible to get enough. A person didn't want to look away from it. So many students stared at Junior's head that Ms. Simms asked him to sit in the back of the class so that the others would be able to focus on their work.

When the first adults started arriving, the students were so excited that Ms. Simms abandoned the lesson altogether and allowed them to greet each new person who walked in the door.

Mr. Zeller showed up wearing his uniform that said Zeller's Carpet Cleaners on the back. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and inspected the giant
Look What We've Accomplished!
board that Ms. Simms had set up. Gertie wondered if Mr. Zeller was counting the gold stars on Jean's homework assignments.

Gertie studied all the parents, matching them to the students. She was looking for someone who looked like he might be a famous movie director. Instead, a tall woman in a pale pantsuit waved to Mary Sue from the back of the classroom where the parents all crowded together.

Gertie knew then that Junior would be the best. And maybe she would be a close second, which wasn't enough, but she had to act like it was okay for Junior's sake.

Everybody demanded that Junior and his mother stand up first. They went to the front of the classroom. Mrs. Parks winked at Gertie. Nobody would have thought that skinny, nervous Junior was related to Mrs. Parks, who was plump and pretty and always had a calm smile. Junior rubbed his shoes against each other, but he was grinning.

“I'm Junior's mama,” Mrs. Parks said, even though almost all of them knew her from years and years of haircuts. “I'm a hairstylist. It's a very exciting career because
this
”—she gestured at Junior's head like she was displaying a fantastic game-show prize—“is the kind of work I do at my salon.”

Junior shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

Mrs. Parks said, “For only fifteen dollars, ladies and gentlemen, you, too, can have your very own Riptide.”

The class gasped. Gertie hoped Aunt Rae would give her fifteen dollars.

The other parents glared at Mrs. Parks and shook their heads.

Her smile grew brighter. “I'll see you all after class.” She and Junior went back to their places.

The students clapped and pounded their fists on their desks. One thing was for sure, thought Gertie. Mary Sue Spivey might have had the best of everything else, but at least she wouldn't have the best Career Day speech.

The other Career Day adults were nothing compared to Mrs. Parks. June's aunt was a dental hygienist, and she gave them each their own new toothbrush and a packet of floss and told them if they didn't use them she would know. Roy's father did something with numbers that even Roy didn't understand. Then it was Mary Sue's turn. She and her mother went to the front.

“Hello, children,” said Mrs. Spivey.

“I know everyone wanted to meet Jessica Walsh and hear about the film,” said Mary Sue, “but my father is very busy with—”

Mrs. Spivey put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. “I'm an environmental lobbyist,” she said.

Everyone nodded, but Gertie bet none of them knew what she meant. Gertie thought of trees and clouds and hotel lobbies.

Mrs. Spivey must have seen their confusion. “That means I work with politicians. I ask them to pass laws that protect the environment. So our air and oceans will be cleaner.”

People nodded. This was okay. It was no Riptide, but it was okay.

“What are you working on right now, Mrs. Spivey?” asked Ms. Simms.

“Since we moved here, I've taken a special interest in offshore oil drilling. I'm sure you've all seen the oil platforms off your coast. I'm working on ways to stop that.”

Jean grabbed Gertie's arm. Gertie looked at her and saw that Jean was giving her a what-are-you-doing stare. Gertie looked around in confusion and understood that, without realizing it, she had pushed her chair back from her desk like she was about to get up. She probably would have stood right then if Jean hadn't stopped her. She would have gotten out of her chair and … and … and she didn't know what. Leaving seemed like a good idea—walking right out the door. But running around the room and kicking things might also be a good idea. Since she couldn't decide what to do, she stayed in her seat.

She imagined the giant platforms that stood on stilts in the middle of the ocean. Why would anyone want to get rid of oil rigs? They were so
interesting
. Gertie had always been proud that her father worked on an oil rig. She'd thought about working on one herself one day.

Mrs. Spivey was still talking. “Well, those things are bad for the fish and the ocean. They're hurting our planet—”

In the back of the room, Mrs. Parks coughed several times. Ms. Simms frowned at her.

Mrs. Spivey went on. “So I'm trying to convince our representatives in Congress to pass laws to keep companies from building new oil rigs, and maybe one day we'll shut them down completely.”

Gertie was observing the scene as though from a great distance. Mary Sue's mother was saying that oil rigs were bad things. She wanted to shut them down. If Mary Sue's mother destroyed all the oil rigs, then Gertie's father wouldn't have a job and he'd sit around the house all day getting sad and they wouldn't have any money except the teeny bit they got for babysitting Audrey and then they wouldn't have anything to eat and Gertie would be hungry all the time but she didn't care about that but she did care because her daddy would be hungry and Aunt Rae would be hungry and …

People shifted in their seats. Everyone knew that Gertie's father worked on an oil rig. Everyone except Mary Sue and her lobbyist mother. But … what if Mary Sue
did
know? What if she knew and she had invited her mother to Career Day on purpose?

Gertie could feel her classmates' eyes dart to look at her and then look away before she noticed. For once, Junior Jr. was perfectly still.

Jean nudged her leg under the desk. “Gertie,” she whispered.

Gertie looked at her.

“It's your turn.” Jean tilted her head toward the front of the room.

Even when she was standing up—even then—Gertie didn't know what she was going to do. She was like a thundercloud that gets fuller and taller and darker, lightning crackling on the edges, until it rips apart. She stormed to the front of the room. She turned around to face her classmates and their parents.

Jean leaned all the way forward toward Gertie so that she was lying on her desk like, if she could, she would jump over her desk and the front-row desks so that she could stand before the class with Gertie. Junior put his head down so that he didn't have to watch. He helmeted his hands over his head, crushing the Riptide flat. Gertie looked down at the speech she'd worked so hard on. The words were small and wobbly, and she couldn't read them.

“My daddy works on an oil rig,” Gertie said, and she looked up, right into Mrs. Spivey's eyes. “Some people don't like oil rigs. People like
lobbyists
.” She hoped she'd pronounced that right. “But without oil rigs, there would be no oil. Without oil there wouldn't be any gas for people's cars or for … ambulances.”

Mrs. Spivey blinked several times, but Gertie didn't break her stare.

“Without ambulances there wouldn't be any way for people to get to hospitals when they had awful accidents in their houses.” She looked away from Mrs. Spivey and gazed at the rest of the class. Mary Sue glared at her. “So I think people who work on oil rigs are saving the planet.”

The classroom was silent as she walked back to her seat and settled herself at her desk like she didn't have a care in the world. In front of her, Mary Sue's hands clenched into fists on her desktop.

Mrs. Parks lifted her chin and applauded, breaking the silence. Jean started clapping with her. Roy clapped twice, but he was laughing while he did.

Ms. Simms cleared her throat, and in a small voice asked, “Who wants to go next?”

 

11

Well Done, Gertie

After her crackling, Category
5
Career Day speech, Gertie didn't think she'd have to worry about Mary Sue anymore. Not if Mary Sue knew what was good for her.

Now it was time to concentrate on what was really important, which was finding a way to show Rachel Collins that Gertie was the best thing that ever happened to Carroll Elementary School. But the next Monday, when Gertie stepped off the bus, the first thing she saw was Mary Sue and Ella putting flyers on the wall. They had already covered the front of the building in pink and yellow papers.

Gertie read the one that was closest.
Clean Earth Club, Recruiting New Members,
it said.
Don't believe what some people say. Learn the truth about offshore oil rigs.

Gertie stared at the flyer. Was Mary Sue calling her a liar? She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulders and marched up to the two girls.

“What—what—” She was so angry she didn't even know where to start. “What in the Sam Hill are you doing?” she said in her most dangerous voice.

Mary Sue and Ella ignored her.

“What do you mean
some people
?” Gertie asked. “What do you mean
Learn the truth
? I told everyone the truth!”

Mary Sue rolled her eyes. “You said all that because you don't know any better. You're so ignorant.” She pursed her lips. “I think we need one here,” she said to Ella, and pressed her finger against the wall. Then, with a violent snatch, Mary Sue ripped off a length of tape.

Ella passed her a flyer.

Breathing like she'd just run a race, Gertie made herself squeeze her backpack straps and hurry down the sidewalk so she wouldn't do anything she'd regret.

She was
not
ignorant or stupid, and she would prove it. With or without Jean's help, she would show everyone that she was smarter than that lying seat-stealer. Gertie scraped her ponytail up to the very top of her head for maximum brainpower, and she started to study again.

*   *   *

She studied harder than she ever had in her life. She studied for days and then weeks.

Until one November afternoon, Gertie was holding her breath and crossing her fingers while her teacher swept around the room, dropping test papers on desks. Most people stuffed their tests into their books before running out of the classroom to wait for the buses and car pickups. Roy grimaced at his grade and rolled his test into a tight scroll that he used to whack people as he left the room. At least he didn't have his cast anymore. When he had whacked people with that it had hurt a lot.

Then Ms. Simms dropped Jean's test onto her desk, and Jean leaned over her paper so Gertie couldn't see. But by craning her neck and grabbing Jean's hand and prying her fingers away from the paper, Gertie just managed to see Jean's grade: 97.