Mia the Magnificent (16 page)

“Yep, I finished the tofu, rhubarb, and asparagus muffin right before I left. And,” I quickly added, “I did it while listening to the Tibetan monk top-40 countdown.”

“Good.” Lisa smiled as she pulled a walkie-talkie from her backpack. “I know St. Hilary’s has a strict policy against cell phones, but I read the entire school handbook last night, and there’s no rule against using these. If you need me, click on this button and say, ‘Mama Bear needs a little porridge from Baby Bear,’ and I’ll be right there.”

I looked at her. “Can’t I just say, Lisa, I need some help?”

“But that’s no fun,” Lisa said. “I made up handles—that’s CB radio talk for names. You’re Baby Bear and I’m Mama Bear. Unless, of course, you want to be Smokey and I can be the Bandit.”

“No, Baby Bear is fine.” I tucked the walkie-talkie into the book bag Lisa had designed for my chair, and discreetly turned it off. I was already calling enough attention to myself as it was—I didn’t need Lisa asking me every ten seconds if Goldilocks had broken my chair.

“OK, now, be careful out there,” Lisa said. “I’ll see you at lunch. I made you a Brussels sprout and portabella mushroom frittata to eat while listening to a Tibetan chant about goat fertility.”

“I can’t wait,” I said as I wheeled myself away, wondering how I was going to avoid her lunch menu. Maybe I could shove the frittata down my cast when Lisa wasn’t looking.

“Hey, Mia!” Tim called. “Wait up!”

“You can’t catch up with me in a wheelchair?” I asked, not bothering to slow down. “You must really be out of shape.”

“No, seriously, I need you to stop so I can give you this,” Tim said, jogging beside me while holding out a dusty plastic flower arrangement.

I eyed the chrysanthemum covered in cobwebs. “Did you get that from the flower vase Mrs. Olson keeps in the back of her classroom?”

“I didn’t have a chance to get to the florist.” Tim shrugged. “It’s the best I could do on such short notice.”

“Oh yeah, short notice,” I said, pushing my wheelchair down the hall more vigorously. “It’s not like I was in the hospital for
a week
or anything.”

“I know, I know,” Tim said. “I should’ve come to see you, but—”

“Uh, yeah, considering you’re the reason I was in the hospital in the first place.”

“You think I’m the reason you broke your leg?” Tim said with surprise. “You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention to the road.”

“I wasn’t paying attention because you were trying to kiss me!” I sputtered.

“More like you were going to kiss me. It takes two to tango,”
Tim replied. “And if I remember correctly, you were definitely in the mood to dance that night.”

“I was temporarily insane after watching four hours of the Three Stooges!”

“No excuses,” Tim said, walking beside me. “You wanted to kiss me. Don’t deny it.”

“I can’t deny that you’re a selfish jerk who didn’t have the courtesy to visit me once while I was in the hospital,” I said as I nudged my chair to the right and ran over his toes.

“Ow!” Tim jumped away from my chair.

“That’s just a taste of what you’re going to get if you don’t leave me alone,” I said as I put the chair in reverse and ran over his toes again. “And that’s what you get for telling Chris it’s OK to two-time a girl. It’s a good thing I told Gina all about Chris’s plan before he became any more like you.”

“OK, I’m confused. Why are you mad at me? Is it because I didn’t visit you at the hospital, even though you just told me to leave you alone, or is it because I told a fourteen-year-old guy it’s all right to not settle down with just one girl? You’re so hard to understand sometimes.”

“You’re right. I’ll never understand why I dated such a self-serving twit for eight months,” I said as I swerved to miss the massive pyramid of cans, which our school had collected for the fall food fund drive, stacked in front of the main office. “Even with his busy schedule, Eric found out what happened and stopped by every day.”

“That’s because Eric wasn’t with you when you crashed,” Tim said. “Your dad is psychotically mad at me right now. After he found out you and I were about to kiss right before you rammed into that car, he came to my house and told me to stay away from you, or else.”

“Or else what?” I scoffed. “He’s a civil engineer. What did you think he was going to do? Design a bridge for you?”

“All I know is that he freaked me out,” Tim said. “I thought it would be better for everyone if I stayed home and let the dust settle
before I visited you.”

“And since you’re such a resourceful guy, you decided to multitask and use that time to get back with Alyssa.”

“How’d you hear about that?” Tim asked.

“I was in the hospital, not on another planet,” I said. “Chris told me.”

“Oh, I guess Kevin must’ve told him,” Tim said. “I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to keep that news from you forever.”

“Yeah, good gossip travels fast,” I said, wheeling myself in front of the door to the classroom. “Now, if you will kindly get out of my way, I have a lot of schoolwork to catch up on. Not everyone has as much free time as you apparently do.”

As I rolled into the room, Mr. Juarez walked over to greet me. “Welcome back, Mia! I reserved a spot for you right up here in the front of the classroom.”

I smiled wanly at him, wishing with all my might I could disappear into the back of the room, as I usually did. I mean, it was bad enough I was the center of attention as I wheeled down the hallway. Did I have to be the center of attention in the classroom as well?

“In addition to your reserved section in the front of the room,” Mr. Juarez continued as I secured the brake on my chair, “in order to make your transitions between classes a little easier, you can leave each class five minutes early to avoid congestion in the hallway. And because all your teachers thought it might be helpful for you to have an assistant, we were wondering if Tim might lend you a hand—or leg, so to speak—for the next few months, considering you two have a similar class schedule.”

“I really don’t think I—”

“I’d be glad to help out,” Tim said.

“Great,” Mr. Juarez said. “Then it’s all settled. You and Mia are a team until she gets back on her own two feet.”

Mr. Juarez walked away and Tim smiled at me. “Wow, I get to miss five minutes of each class? This broken leg thing is working out
pretty well for me.”

“I’m glad I could help,” I replied, deciding I might just eat that frittata after all. In fact, now that Tim and I were a “team,” I’d do just about anything to get better as fast as possible.

“I can do it myself,” I said, slapping Tim’s hand away from my wheelchair handles as we headed to our last class of the day. “Besides, you push too fast.”

“Hey, teachers don’t give
you
the stink eye when we roll into class late,” Tim said, grabbing hold of the handles and pushing me even faster. “You push like an old lady.”

“Excuse me for trying to protect what few limbs you haven’t already broken,” I replied.

“I keep telling you, the accident was not my fault!” Tim said.

“Yes, it was. If you hadn’t—”

“You two sound just like Cain and Abel,” Father Carlos said as he stepped around the pyramid of canned goods with a stack of papers in his hand. “And you remember what happened to them, don’t you?”

I quickly checked to make sure my skirt was discreetly covering my knees and no unnecessary skin was showing. “I’m sorry if we were being too loud in the hallway, Father Carlos, but Tim was pushing my wheelchair too fast, and I didn’t want to get into another accident.”

“I believe it was Napoleon who said, ‘There is no such thing as an accident; it is fate misnamed,’” said Father Carlos.

“You think my car accident was fate?” I asked, slightly terrified. I mean, I knew God had it in for me, but even He wouldn’t make me suffer this much, would He?

“Of course not,” Father Carlos said. “But I
will
suggest there seems to be a pattern of behavior between you two. And the animosity between you and Tim
does
seem to be keeping you from enjoying life. So, you might want to consider taking Jesus’ advice and love your neighbor as you love yourself as you make your way to your next class. And while you’re doing that, I’m going to reflect on the advice that ‘idle hands are the devil’s tool,’ and get ready for
my
next class.”

As he walked away, Tim leaned over my chair and whispered in my ear, “You heard the padre. You need to show me some love.”

“Considering I couldn’t possibly match the extent of love you have for yourself,” I said, pushing his face away, “I think I’ll ignore Father Carlos’s advice and wheel myself to class.”

“No way,” Tim said as he gripped the handles of my chair more firmly. “Mr. Juarez said I could miss class if I wheeled you around, and I’m not giving up that chance just because you’re so stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn, and let go!” I said, my hands grasping the top of the wheels like a vice. “I can do this myself. So just leave me alone!”

“Fine! Do it yourself. See if I care.” Tim retorted, letting go of my chair with a final shove just as I spun one wheel to turn myself around. I veered sharply to the right, and before I could even try to stop, my outstretched leg crashed into the right side of the pyramid of canned goods, and I screamed in agony. Struggling to get away from the rolling cans on the floor, I pushed my chair to the left, knocking down another side of the pyramid.

Instantly, cans rained down all around me. And just as I was about to be smashed by a collection of creamed corn, Tim pushed me out of the way. But in our haste to get to safety, my leg hit what remained of the pyramid, and a thunderous explosion reverberated through the hall as the whole structure collapsed. We watched in horror as the pyramid completely disintegrated like rows of dominoes, each can knocking down another row until the floor was a sea
of preserved fruits and vegetables.

“Oops.” Tim winced as the final can toppled on its side.

“All you all right?” Father Carlos said as he ran toward us. “What happened?”

I bit my lower lip and said hopefully, “Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?”

“You two could easily test the patience of Job.” Father Carlos sighed as he stared at the dented cans rolling across the floor. “And considering I do not have that much patience, I suggest you get out of here before I say something I may have to confess later.”

“You heard the man,” Tim said, grabbing hold of the handles to my wheelchair. “Mind if I drive?”

“Are you kidding me?” I whispered. “Get us out of here. And fast!”

“This is so stupid,” I said to Lisa as she rolled me up on stage that night. “How can I be in a musical while I’m in a wheelchair? This play is called
The Music Man,
not
The Mutilated Man.”

“I think your situation makes the musical more real, more politically correct,” Lisa replied. “We need a little diversity in the show.”

“But I can’t sing or dance, and now I can’t walk. Doesn’t that stretch the boundaries of a musical?”

“Stop worrying so much. It’ll be fine. Besides, Mrs. Ingram is completely on-board with keeping you as a townsperson and Marian understudy,” Lisa said.

“Why?” I asked. “She can’t be that hard up to find a replacement for me. No one would notice if I wasn’t a townsperson, and I know a half-dozen upperclassmen who would love to be the understudy.”

“Let’s just say that Mrs. Ingram has a great appreciation for social justice,” Lisa replied. “The second I reminded her of the 1995 Disability Discrimination Act and how St. Hilary’s couldn’t afford to be sued, she said she had no problem with you still being in the musical.”

“You told her I would sue the school if I didn’t keep my part?” I said.

“I don’t think I used those precise words, but I think I might’ve mentioned something about how we live in such a litigious society,” Lisa said as she wheeled me onto center stage. “Now, do you have your walkie-talkie with you?”

“Lisa, you’re going to be sitting in the front row. I can just call to you if I need your help.”

“Oh, all right,” Lisa said with a pout. “I thought it would be neat
if I could use some of the lingo I picked up during my research into the history of CB radios. I can’t wait to say, ‘What’s your ten-twenty? My treetop is loud and strong.’”