Mia the Meek (16 page)

Jake slung his arm around me on the way to English class.

“Dude, I’m barely hangin’ onto a C minus and I like totally forgot to get a costume. Will your mom dog on me?”

“Yeah,” I answered honestly. “She’s pretty strict about stuff like that. Maybe I can help you think of a costume really fast. Who did you write a speech about?”

“Walter Payton.”

“Is he an actor or something?”

“Are you clowning on me? Dude, Walter Payton was the best running back in the history of football.”

“Well, what would Walter Payton wear?”

“Duh, he’d wear a football uniform.”

“So, what do you have in your P.E. locker?” I asked.

“Deodorant?”

I bit my tongue as I prayed for patience. Slowly, I said, “Go get your football uniform out of your locker, and I’ll tell my mom you had to run an errand for Mr. Benson.”

“You’re da’ bomb!” Jake called, running down the hallway.

My mom handed me my suit of armor.

“Hurry up and get your costume on. Everyone is already in the restroom getting ready for their speeches.”

I took the costume and nearly collapsed under its weight.

“Um, Mr. Benson wanted me to tell you that Jake’s running an errand for him, so he’ll be a little late.”

“Meaning, Jake forgot his costume and you’re covering for him?”

“Don’t bust him—he really wants to hold on to his C minus.”

“I won’t bust him this time, but he had better give a good speech. Now, go try on your suit of armor, Joan.”

I entered the restroom, dragging my costume behind me.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Cassie asked.

I dropped the suit of armor onto the bathroom floor. “Joan of Arc.”

“Good thing you’re flat. This cross-dressing thing should really work for you,” Cassie replied.

Even though I knew I’d end up regretting it, I said, “What a surprise; you’re wearing another cheerleading costume. Originality doesn’t seem to be your strong suit, does it, Cassie?”

“For your information, I’m dressed as Paula Abdul. She was, like, the most famous Laker Girl ever. Which I have to say is much better than dressing up as a hallucinating virgin.” Then she and Stephanie left the bathroom, their evil laughter echoing behind.

I waited until I had the entire bathroom to myself before opening my costume bag. I pulled out all the pieces of armor and laid them on the bathroom floor. Deciding the gray sweats must go on first, I slid out of my skirt and blouse and climbed into the suit. I had no difficulty with that, so I confidently sized up the rest of the costume.

Figuring the armor leggings would logically go on next, I tried strapping them around my legs, but I couldn’t bend over far enough to grab the straps and tighten them onto my calves. Every time I thought I’d fastened the strap, it would unhook and fall off. Finally, I figured out if I sat down on the bathroom floor with my legs extended in front of me, I could stretch out and strap the armor legging onto each of my legs.

“Hey, that wasn’t too bad,” I said, praising myself as I hooked the last strap.

I started to stand up, but realized my legs were staunchly set straight out in front of me. I couldn’t bend them and, considering each legging weighed about twenty pounds, I couldn’t even lift my legs off the ground. I was stuck sitting on the bathroom floor with my legs in front of me. If I took off the armor leggings, I’d never get them back on while standing up, so I rolled myself over, thinking I could get up from my hands and knees. But, since I couldn’t bend my legs, I just ended up lying face down on the bathroom floor.

“Come on, Mia, what would Joan of Arc do in a situation like this?” Deciding that Joan would be too smart to get stuck on the bathroom floor, I threw my arms up and grabbed hold of the bathroom sink. I slowly hoisted myself up into a standing position. “I knew I could do it,” I panted.

Bending over with my legs erect, I lifted up the fifty-pound breastplate harness. When I strapped it around my chest, my knees immediately buckled under the weight, but thankfully I didn’t fall.
How in the world did anyone fight in one of these things?

With sweat dripping down my face and underarms, I strapped on one of the shoulder armors that extended all the way down my arms. Then I grabbed the other shoulder armor. But, since I couldn’t bend my arm, I couldn’t reach over to fasten the harness on my other shoulder. I finally figured out that if I extended my arm straight out in front of me, and then flapped it using a quick motion, I could gain enough momentum to throw the strap over my arm without having to bend. After fifteen tries, I finally fastened it.

“All right, only the helmet is left,” I told myself confidently, panting like a dog on a hot day. I heaved the helmet off the sink and placed it on my head. But the weight of the helmet was so unbearable, my head immediately dropped forward, followed by the rest of my body. I fell, sprawled out on my stomach, stranded on the bathroom floor!

I lifted my visor and yelled, “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” No one answered, so I yelled even louder. “Help me, please! I’m on the bathroom floor in a suit of armor and I can’t move!” No response, so I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Please help! I see all kinds of hair and other gross things down here and I’m going to be sick!”

Great! No one could hear me. Trying to emulate Joan of Arc’s can-do attitude, I tried to unfasten my suit of armor. After several attempts, I knew it was useless. I couldn’t bend my arms or legs and the weight of the armor made it feel as if a sumo wrestler was sitting on my back. I was stuck until some unsuspecting soul had to use the bathroom. Then a horrible realization filled my head. I groaned. At this very moment, why did I have to think about using the bathroom?

To occupy my brain with other thoughts, I started counting each and every floor tile, but eventually every thought led back to the fact that if I didn’t use the bathroom soon, my mom would have to purchase a very soiled suit of armor. Just as I was about to rust the armor, Lisa peeked her head into the bathroom.

“Mia?”

I almost cried with relief.

“Thank God you’re here!”

“Mia, what are you doing down there? English class is almost over, so your mom sent me to find you. Have you been down there the whole time?”

“Pretty much—I can’t get up, and if I don’t go to the bathroom soon, I’ll pee my metal pants.”

Lisa began laughing so hard that tears started streaming down her face.

“It isn’t funny!” I yelled. “Help me up!”

Lisa wiped the tears from her eyes and began unfastening the leg armors.

“Mia, you’re the only person I know who can get stranded on the bathroom floor wearing a suit of armor.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m hilarious. Now, would you please hurry? I’m dying here!”

The moment she removed the shoulder armor, I ran into a stall. As I heaved a sigh of relief, Lisa called, “How in the world did you put this on by yourself? These directions from the costume shop say that in medieval times, a squire would assist a knight in putting on his armor. It says here at least one, if not two people, should help someone put on this costume.”

“I never was very good at reading directions,” I said, coming out of the stall and washing my hands. “Is class really almost over?”

“Yeah, pretty much everyone has given a speech but you,” Lisa said.

“How were they? Did I miss any good ones?”

“Tim was Curley from the Three Stooges and he was hilarious!”

I rolled my eyes.

“By the way, who are you supposed to be?”

“Marie Curie, the person who discovered radioactive polonium and radium. She also was the first person to win two Nobel prizes. I, of course, will win at least three.”

“I’m sorry I was a jerk and I’m tired of fighting,” I blurted out. “What do you say we call a truce?”

Lisa gave me a big hug.

“How can I say no to Joan of Arc?”

“W
hat’s that awful smell?” I asked no one in particular as I came down the stairs from my bedroom.

My mom walked out of the kitchen.

“Bratwurst and sauerkraut,” she said. “Tonight’s multi-cultural night, so we’re eating German food.”

“I can’t go to the dance smelling like soggy cabbage!”

My mom gave me an exasperated look.

“Listen, I put a lot of time and research into this meal, so I’m not going to change the entire family’s plans just because it doesn’t fit into your schedule.”

“I didn’t complain on Chinese night, when we had to eat with chopsticks while sitting on the floor, or on Mexican night, when we all had to dance with sombreros on our heads, or even on Irish night when Dad sang
Danny Boy
after downing a pint of Guinness, but I’m drawing the line at smelling like a sausage on the most important night of my life.”

“We eat as a family,” she said, “so sit down and zip it.” She placed a pot of German potato salad on the table.

“Are there onions in that?” I asked.

“Lots of them.” She smiled as she placed a heaping spoonful onto my plate.

“Hurry up, Mia, it’s time to go!” my mom yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m coming—I’m still trying to get the bratwurst odor out of my hair!” I sprayed a last round of perfume on myself and dashed down the stairs.

My mom pointed at my midriff.

“Pull your shirt down—I can see your stomach.”

“You can only see an inch.”

“On you, any skin is too much,” Chris muttered.

“You’re just jealous because you don’t get to go to the dance.”

“Like I
want
to go to a dance the Freak Queen planned.”

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it—it’s probably Lisa.”

But when I opened the door, Tim was standing on my front porch.

“What are
you
doing here?” I asked.

“This wasn’t my idea,” he said. “My parents couldn’t take me to the dance, and, before I knew anything about it, asked your parents to drive me.” Tim joined Chris on the couch. “By the way, what’s that smell?”

“That’s just Mia’s breath,” Chris remarked. “I sure hope Jake likes the smell of sauerkraut.”

“Very funny,” I said, deciding to brush my teeth one more time, just in case.

Miraculously, we had transformed the gym into an autumn field covered with hay bales and pumpkins. Indian corn graced the concession stand and there was even a scarecrow standing watch in the corner. If we could’ve lost the sweaty sock odor, everything would’ve been perfect. I found Mr. Benson at the concession stand.