The Reinvention of Bessica Lefter (23 page)

“What’s your name?” Maddie asked.

“Bessica Lefter,” I said.

Her eyes grew very big. “The girl who kicked in the vending machine?”

I shook my head. “That was Nadia Strom.”

But Maddie Bell’s eyes stayed big and she moved a little bit away from me. I tried not to take it personally. Then a teacher showed up who was wearing a lot of spandex. “I’m Ms. Rich, the mascot advisor. I’ll be teaching you a series of cheers. Word of warning—the mascot position is usually won or lost based on school spirit.”

She handed out a piece of paper with a bunch of cheers written on it.

“I have one piece of advice,” Ms. Rich said. “When it’s your time to shine, you better bring it. Also, make sure you read our cheer sheet. It contains important information.”

Reading through the cheer sheet, I noticed there weren’t any wolf ones. Dolan noticed this too.

“These are all bear cheers,” he said.

Ms. Rich nodded. “We’ve taken the wolf off the table. There’s been a recent spate of coyote attacks. We want to steer clear of animals that resemble wild canines. We want our mascot to be a reassuring symbol of school unity.”

And so now that I couldn’t be a wolf, I thought about what it would feel like to be a bear. I had to be honest. It felt weird. Then Ms. Rich had us stand up, and she led us in a bunch of fun exercises that involved kicking and
leaping and crawling on the floor. And I only looked at the cheerleaders a couple of times. Mostly when I heard a thud or a scream. Luckily, none of them broke their necks. Before I knew it, it was time to go. Ms. Rich explained that we had one final practice before school auditions. She also repeated that we needed to read the cheer sheet. I grabbed my backpack, and when I went outside, my mom was in her car waiting for me. I ran straight to it.

“How was cheer practice?” she asked.

“Forget cheer practice,” I said. “I’m trying out for mascot!”

“You’re going to be a wolf?” my mom asked.

I shook my head. “Wolves resemble coyotes and they eat local dogs. I’m trying out for the bear.”

My mother frowned. “Speaking of local dogs, Betty lost her dog last night to a coyote. He got snatched right by the mailbox.”

“I heard about this in math! That’s horrible!” I said. “I didn’t know it was mallet-toe Betty’s coward dog.”

My mother sighed. “Can we quit with the labels?”

“Okay,” I said. Because I wasn’t trying to be mean. Just accurate. “Are you going to bake her another casserole?”

I was afraid that I already knew the answer.

“We’ll visit her tomorrow,” my mom said.

And then I thought of a great idea. “But I need to practice for mascot!”

“All day?” my mother asked.

“Absolutely,” I said.

“You’ll miss seeing your friend Raya.”

I looked out the window at the hay fields turning yellow. “I can live with that.”

hen I was practicing for mascot in my bedroom, I realized that Ms. Penrod was right about something. Having the right clothes really did matter. Because I wasn’t able to act “bear” enough without looking a little bit like a bear.

I realized this when I put on my dad’s winter gloves and it helped me tap into my inner animal. But I needed something more. I explained this to my mom while she made mallet-toe Betty’s casserole.

“Having the right athletic gear is essential for optimum performance. That’s why I need a furry head,” I said, pointing to my pixie.

“You want me to make you a bear costume?” my mom asked.

“Or you can buy me one.”

“Do you know how much something like that probably costs?”

“No.” I had never seen one at the mall.

My mother poured a can of cream of mushroom soup over a mushy substance. “That looks very gray,” I said.

“Well, it tastes delicious.”

“When you get back from mallet-toe Betty’s, can we go to the craft store and buy fake fur so that we can make me some bear clothes?”

My mother looked down at me with a very frustrated expression. “I only sew hems. I don’t know how to make bear clothes.”

My mom was really bumming me out. Because we had a sewing machine I was sure we could figure it out. Didn’t she want me to win?

“I have a question for you,” my mother said. “Have you thought about calling Sylvie?”

I couldn’t believe my mom wanted to rub that terrible situation in my face right now. Then I remembered that my mom really didn’t know about the entire terrible Sylvie situation.

“I’ve already called her,” I said.

My mother’s face broke into a smile as she opened the oven and inserted her gray casserole. “How did it go?”

“Meh.” I shrugged and started to leave the room.

“Care to elaborate?”

But I didn’t care to do that. So I just kept walking.

“I need to practice. I’m not used to behaving like a wild animal. It’s harder than it sounds.” Then my mom said something pretty wonderful.

“We can stop by the craft store when I get back from Betty’s. Maybe we can make you some fierce paws.”

I flipped around and gave my mom a thumbs-up sign. “That sounds awesome! And tell mallet-toe Betty that I say hello. And that middle school hasn’t turned me into a potato yet. And tell her to get well soon. And to maybe buy a couch.”

“I’ll censor that a little,” my mom said.

I went to my room and practiced and almost died waiting for Mom to get home from Betty’s. At least ten times, I used a pencil to sketch what I felt would be the ideal costume. I needed a furry head. And a furry body. And my legs and arms needed to be extra furry. And in addition to massive amounts of fur, I wanted both my front and back paws to have claws. I was going to look amazing. While all the other wannabe mascots were trying out for mascot looking like normal people, I was going to be trying out for mascot looking like an actual bear.

To help kill time, I did practice some mascot moves. I crawled like a bear. And jumped off furniture like a bear. And I made a ton of bear noises. Also, I looked up bears on the Internet so I could figure out which shade of brown fur to buy. I decided on medium brown, which was a color that would also match my brown sneaker tongues.

I was very relieved when Mom finally came home. So she wouldn’t change her mind, I ran right out to the driveway and didn’t give her a chance to come in the house. Also, I brought her some crackers.

“Thanks, Bessica,” she said, stuffing them in her mouth.

“No, thank
you
!” I said. “I am going to be a bear.” When I said this, I sort of sang it a little.

When we arrived at the craft store, I had a hard time waiting until my mom had parked and turned off the car.

“Uh-oh,” my mom said.

“What?” I asked. I worried she’d forgotten her purse.

“That’s Mrs. Potaski’s car.”

I followed the aim of my mother’s finger. She was right. Mrs. Potaski’s big green monster of a car was parked in front of the craft store.

“Is this okay?” she asked.

“It has to be. I need my fur,” I said.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure she won’t say anything rude to you.”

But I wasn’t even worried about that until my mom said it. As I walked through the parking lot, I was hoping that I could just look for Mrs. Potaski’s head and avoid it. But that didn’t happen. Because before I even got inside the store, I saw Mrs. Potaski.

“Holy crud! She’s in the store window,” I said. “Painting eyelashes!”

My mother and I froze in front of the store window. This was something that Mrs. Potaski did sometimes to drum up business for Country Buttons. She sat in the store window display at a small craft table and demonstrated how to paint eyelashes on ceramic doll heads. She looked so steady inside that window.

“I don’t know how she does it,” my mom said.

“I do. She’s a frozen person,” I said.

Right as I said that, Mrs. Potaski finished one doll head and picked up another one.

“She’s a robot,” I said.

“We need to stop staring at Mrs. Potaski and go buy your fur,” my mother said.

“Right.”

When we entered the craft store, I felt pretty thrilled. There was a whole corner dedicated to fake fur. There were so many colors that I could have been any color bear I wanted. I could have been some weird, rainbow,
neon-colored bear. But I didn’t want that. I wanted to be a grizzly bear and that meant brown fur.

“Can I help you?” a clerk asked us.

“Yes, my daughter is trying to make a grizzly bear costume.”

The woman clapped her hands together. “Are you trying out for the mascot? I just helped another girl buy grizzly bear fur.”

“What?” I asked, glancing around. “Who?” I couldn’t believe that another person had an idea that was as good as mine.

“That young lady over there,” the clerk said. “With the wrist brace.”

I couldn’t stop blinking. It was Alice Potgeiser. She was standing in line in the craft store buying yards and yards of fake brown fur. What was wrong with her? Did she want to be a cheerleader
and
a mascot? Jerk.

“It’s okay,” my mom said. “You knew other people were trying out.”

I stomped my foot and huffed. “I didn’t know Alice Potgeiser was trying out. She’s already a cheerleader. She shouldn’t be trying out. She’s an expert gymnast. I can’t believe this!”

“Well, it looks like she’s injured her hand,” my mom said. “Maybe she can’t be a cheerleader this season.”

“I don’t care about her injury. She’s rude.”

“I didn’t mean to start a ruckus,” the clerk said. “I suggest that you select a fur that doesn’t exceed a one-quarter-inch nap.”

“What’s a nap?” I asked.

“The nap is the length of the fur,” the clerk explained.

“Oh, then we’ll need a three- or four-inch nap. I’m supposed to be a bear,” I said.

“Will you be sewing it? Because I always remind my customers to sew with the nap. Not against it.”

My mother did not look thrilled to learn this. “We’ll take three yards of this,” she said, patting a furry brown fabric that I felt could have been furrier.

I watched Alice buy her fur and walk out of the store. “Looking like a bear was my great idea. It was going to be my secret weapon.”

My mother carried the fur in her arms to the checkout stand. “Just because she dresses like a bear doesn’t mean that she’ll beat you.”

“But she’s an expert gymnast!” I whined.

“She won’t be doing any tumbling with a wrist injury,” my mom said. “You two are on an equal playing field.”

This made me feel a lot better. “Yeah. In fact, her injury probably makes her a worse bear right out of the gate.”

“I don’t know that we need to put it that way,” my mom said.

“Sure we do!” I said. Finally, my mom was thinking like
a winner and we were back on the same team. “I’m going to kick Alice Potgeiser’s rude gymnastic butt.”

“There’s no need to get graphic,” my mom said.

“I’m just keeping it real.”

As we left the store, it was hard not to stop and stare some more at Mrs. Potaski. After she finished painting eyelashes on a doll head, she put it on the floor to dry. There were over two dozen heads spread out around her.

“She’s a machine,” I said.

“She’s very talented,” my mother added.

“Do you think she can hear us?” I asked.

And right when I asked that, Mrs. Potaski looked up at us. I felt a little strange. Because I hadn’t seen her since she’d split up Sylvie and me in my living room. After she looked at us, Mrs. Potaski did something she rarely did. She smiled. And waved!

“She’s smiling and waving!” I said.

“I know,” my mom said.

“Hi, Mrs. Potaski!” I yelled at the window. “I miss seeing you! And Sylvie!” Even though I hated Sylvie for being a blabbermouth, I still missed her.

Then I saw Mrs. Potaski’s lips move, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“What?” I shouted.

I saw her lips move some more.

“Speak up!” I yelled.

“She says you should stop by,” my mom said.

I turned and looked at my mom in disbelief. “I didn’t hear that.”

“I read her lips,” she said.

I didn’t even know my mom could do that. I looked back at Mrs. Potaski and her lips moved again. So I tried to read them too. And it worked. “Holy crud! She did tell me to stop by.