Out of My Mind (20 page)

“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” he admits to us. “I am just so
very
proud of our team and our school!”

He pauses while the class cheers for the quiz team. Rose, Molly, and Claire smile happily. Connor and Rodney take bows. A few kids even turn around and look at me with a smile.

“Do we get free pizza or something?” Connor blurts out.

“Absolutely!” Mr. Dimming replies. “The principal has declared that next Friday is Quiz Team Day, and the entire school is being treated to free pizzas and sodas!”

More cheers from the class. Connor looks really pleased.

Mr. Dimming continues. “And I want to give a special shout-out to Melody, who really helped us secure our victory! Let’s give her a special round of applause!”

He begins the clapping and the class joins in, but it seems more polite than sincere. I guess I’m not as cool as free pizza.

“Who saw the eleven o’clock news last night?” Mr. D asks, still beaming.

About half the kids raise their hands. I had missed it—I had fallen asleep exhausted after we got home.

“I taped it and TiVoed it and put it up on MySpace!” he tells us excitedly. “But now we must get back to regular class activities.” He sounds disappointed.

“But how do we get ready for Washington?” Rose asks, obviously not ready to let him do that.

Teachers are
so
easily distracted! I knew he’d bite on that one.

Mr. Dimming smiles again and takes a deep breath. “We have only two weeks to get ready, Rose. I’ve prepared a packet for each of my team champs,” he says as he passes out the paperwork. “Take this home and bring it back tomorrow without fail. In it I’ve included information about how to redeem the free plane tickets and info about our hotel and schedule for the days we are in D.C. It also gives details about our practice schedule, which begins today. We will meet every day after school and half a day on Saturday.”

“Saturday?” Connor asks, disbelief in his voice.

I’m worried about that too. A whole half day? If Catherine can’t come, how will I get to the bathroom or eat?

“I’ll bring bagels for breakfast, fruit for snacks, and we’ll order in burgers for lunch,” Mr. Dimming tells him.

“Sounds sorta healthy,” Connor responds with a grin. “But I’ll be there.”

“You skip a practice and you get bounced to the alternates, Connor. I’m in this to win.”

“Why don’t you take a couple of days off, my man?” Rodney says to Connor. “I’d be glad to take your place. Slide you right out in a blink.” He sounds serious.

“No way, man. I’ll show,” Connor says hurriedly.

Molly raises her hand. “Mr. Dimming, do the alternates go to Washington also?”

“Absolutely!”

“So, should I buy a new dress just in case I get to be on the team?”

“That’s up to you, Molly,” the teacher replies.

Claire raises her hand then. “Mr. D, I think I know what Molly’s getting at. Since there are six people on the D.C. team instead of four, which of the alternates will you choose?”

“We will use a point system,” he replies. “The students with the six highest scores from all our preliminary rounds will make the final TV team. Sound fair?”

Claire looks satisfied at that, and she and Molly high-five each other.

Mr. Dimming finally gets back to regular class work— the study of Spain and Portugal—and I do my best to do nothing to call attention to myself. No weird noises or kicks or grunts for the rest of the class, no answers to questions I know. I just sit in the back of the room with Catherine and hope the morning will pass quickly.

I spend the afternoon in room H-5, where we watch Tom and Jerry cartoons for three hours. Can you
believe
it?

After school Catherine feeds me a pudding cup and
some juice just before it’s time to go to Mr. Dimming’s room for our first practice. She frowns as I finish my last sip of juice.

“What’s bugging you, Melody?” she asks. “You should be on top of the world, but you’re acting like somebody just popped you in the nose.”

“They don’t want me on the team,”
I type.

“That’s ridiculous. You were the star last night.”

“That’s the problem.”

“Without you, they would not have won!”

“They’re scared of me.”
I try to explain.
“They think I look funny.”

“You never let that bother you before,” she counters.

It’s hard to put my feelings into words that will come out right on my talker. I know the other kids are uncomfortable with me on the team. There’s no other way to put it. My presence was cute at first, maybe okay for a local competition, but for the big game—on national television—that’s different. I’ll make them stand out, and not in a good way.

I start typing again.
“I make them look . . .”
I hesitate, then type in,
“weird.”

“You’re the smartest person on the team!” Catherine exclaims.

“I drool.”

“So pack a box of tissues!”

“I make funny noises.”

“And Connor farts sometimes!”

I have to smile at that.

“No more of this feeling sorry for yourself, young lady! Let’s get down to Mr. D’s room and kick some butt!”

“Okay, let’s go,”
I type.

We roll down to the room, and I hold my head high. Well, at least as high as I can when it isn’t wobbling around. Nobody says anything more about the newspaper article, and practice goes on as usual. I answer most of the questions correctly, and by the time Mom picks me up, I feel a little better.

But I do notice Rose and Claire and Molly whispering together as I leave. It could be about a new music video or a shopping trip to the mall . . . or it could be about me.

How can they expect us to get ready in such a short time? Crazy! Plane tickets and permission slips. Paperwork and practice.

Practice every day for close to two weeks. Study every evening with Mrs. V. Words. Cities. States. Countries. Capitals. Oceans. Rivers. Colors. Diseases. Weather. Numbers. Dates. Animals. Kings. Queens. Birds. Insects. Wars. Presidents. Planets. Authors. Generals. Laws. Quotations. Measurements. Equations. Definitions. My head has been spinning nonstop with facts and figures. But I’m ready now. Our team is ready.

Mr. D kept his promise. The six highest scorers from all our practice rounds were announced at the last practice session a few days ago. Of course, just like the other kids, I had been keeping a mental tally of everybody’s points, so I was pretty sure I’d be one of the on-air contestants, not an alternate.

Mr. Dimming almost
glowed
with anticipation as he made the announcement. He paced nervously. A little more and the man would be dancing!

“Here we go,” he said. “I feel like I need a drumroll or something!”

“Read the list—please!” Connor shouted impatiently.

Mr. Dimming said slowly, “The six members of the championship Spaulding Street Elementary School quiz team are . . .” He paused. I thought Connor was going to throw something at him. “Rose, Connor, Melody, Elena, Rodney, and Molly. Claire and Amanda will be our alternates.”

“I’m an alternate?” Claire gasped.

“Molly beat you by two points, Claire,” Mr. D explained. “But you still get to come with us and cheer us on and tour the city.”

“But it was
me
who helped her study!” Claire said, outrage in her voice. “That is so
not
fair!”

I just shook my head and smiled a little. There is
so
much Claire doesn’t know about stuff not being fair.

Molly looked smug and not at all sorry. Her mother came to pick her up, and the practice was over.

The competition is tomorrow—Thursday evening. Assuming we win, we’ll have the
Good Morning America
appearance on Friday, followed by a trip to the White House. More sightseeing in D.C. is planned for Saturday, then we come home on Sunday. On Monday, hopefully, we’ll return to school as national champions. With that trophy.

So tonight we pack. I’ve never been on a trip away from home before, so we have some serious planning to do. I feel crazy excited, crazy nervous. Dad bought me a bright red suitcase with wheels. It smells like the inside of a new car. Touching it makes me smile.

Mom and I went shopping yesterday—something we don’t get to do much anymore. She let me choose a couple of new outfits—with
jeans
—none of those practical, baggy sweat suits for this trip!

As we rolled down the mall, we passed a card shop. I had a brainstorm and tapped out on my board,
“Go in. Get card, please.”

“For whom?” Mom asked as we wheeled in there.

“Catherine,”
I typed.
“To thank her. For helping me get ready.”

“How very grown up of you!” Mom said, clearly pleased.

“One for Mrs. V, too?”
I tapped out.

“Absolutely!”

The card we found for Mrs. V could not have been more perfect. The front was completely covered with hundreds of oranges, except for one blue one in the middle. Inside, it said:
You’re one in a million. Thanks.

“She’ll love it,” Mom said.

For Catherine, I picked out a card that showed a desk full of computers and MP3 players and video games, and a young woman connected to all of them with earphones. It read:
Glad you’re always there to plug in to me. Thanks for all you do.

“You couldn’t have designed those better yourself,” Mom said as she paid for the cards. Yep, pretty perfect.

Around seven o’clock the doorbell rings. It’s Mrs. V, coming over to help with the final packing preparations. She and Mom make a great team.

“I’ve made a checklist according to Mr. Dimming’s suggestions,” Mom says. “Black skirt and white blouse for the competition.”

“Check,” Mrs. V says as she neatly folds those two pieces into my suitcase.

“Sheck!” Penny mimics.

“Extra white blouse, just in case,” Mom says.

“Great idea,” Mrs. V replies, nodding.

Mom carefully folds in two more shirts and my
favorite pair of jeans. “Comfortable outfits for sightseeing in Washington. Spending money for souvenirs. Sunglasses. Camera.”

“Check, check, check,” Mrs. V repeats.

“Pajamas, toothbrush, deodorant, hair clips.”

“All there.”

“A warm jacket—no telling what this March weather will do.”

“Sheck!” Penny cries.

“Power pack for Medi-Talker, extra batteries, tissues, and wipes.”

“Got it!”

“Umbrella?”

“For you or for Melody?” Mrs. V asks with a laugh. “Do you have
your
bag packed?”

“Yeah, I’m just about ready. I’m nervous too.” Mom pauses. “You’re the best, Violet. I know Penny will be safe with you while we’re gone—”

“And Butterscotch,”
I interrupt.

They both laugh. Mom continues, “Frankly, without you, there is no way that Melody would be packing for this trip.”

“Get card, Mom,”
I type. I reach my hand to the side, but I can barely touch the edge of my book bag hanging on my chair.

Mom reaches into the bag, pulls out the envelope,
and sets it on my tray. I push it toward Mrs. V.

She opens it, reads it, then squeezes me so hard, I can hardly catch my breath. “This one goes on my refrigerator door!” she says quietly. “I want to look at it every single day.” She busies herself then with dusting off a pair of my shoes that have never taken a step.

“I’m a little scared,”
I admit.

“Nonsense, Mello Yello,” Mrs. V tells me. “I fully expect to see you on
Good Morning America
with that ten-foot-high trophy!”

“That would be awesome,”
I type.

“Now tell me once more,” Mrs. V says to Mom. “What time does the plane leave tomorrow? Penny, take Melody’s underwear off your head, you silly girl!”

Mom checks her papers. “Plane leaves at noon. That means we should leave here no later than nine, get to the airport by ten, get all checked in, make sure her wheelchair is properly taken care of and such, then we can relax until it’s time to board the plane.”

Mrs. V scratches her head. “I wonder why they chose the noon flight. That will get you into Washington around two. The competition starts at seven. That’s cutting it a little close.”

“Mr. Dimming told us the hotel has a late check-in policy. The TV studio is just across the street from the hotel, so we’ll be fine.”

As Mom closes and zips my suitcase, I feel tears come into my eyes. I can’t believe this is happening. In just one day I will be in Washington, D.C., on national television. I pray I won’t screw up.

I want to call Rose and see if she’s nervous too. I want to ask her what she’ll wear to the White House. Suppose we get to meet the First Lady—now, that would be the bomb! I want to know if we’ll be sitting near each other on the plane. I want to be like all the other girls.

I don’t sleep well that night. In the morning Mom gets me bathed and dressed and fed in record time while Dad gets Penny ready.

“Go see plane?” she asks repeatedly.

“Fly! Whee!” Dad says as he flies her around the room in his arms. She loves it.

We head outside, and Mrs. V hurries over, camera in hand. She snaps pictures of me getting strapped in, my suitcase being loaded, and my brave and hopeful victory smile. Then she does it all over again with Dad’s camcorder. No, we’ll never be able to forget this morning.

Penny darts about, chasing Butterscotch, running in circles around the car, which has been washed and shined. Mom, dressed in a cool denim suit and, surprisingly, a pair of late-style Nikes, loads our bags in
the car, and we’re totally ready to go by eight forty-five.

Dad takes Butterscotch back into the house, then locks the front door on his way out. “All set?” he asks.

“Let’s do it!” Mom yells. Even Penny can feel the excitement. She claps her hands. I can’t stop grinning.

Even though I know we have plenty of time, I keep wanting Dad to drive faster. I’m so afraid that we’ll miss the plane or that we forgot my ticket or that I’ll throw up and we’ll have to go back home.