Natalie and the Bestest Friend Race (6 page)

I wake up and get ready for school, and it’s still dark outside. Percy stays sleeping on my bed.

“Percy,” I tell my sleepyhead cat, “maybe Laurie will get to school early. And maybe she will see me. And she will say, ‘Nat, I’m really sorry I didn’t pick you for my Olympic team.’ And I will say, ‘Laurie, I’m really sorry about spilling your ’slexia secret.’ And then I’ll have my bestest friend back.”

And I think this might be a true thing about today. On account of I thought about this thing all night.

I change my purple shirt to the pink shirt that Laurie has one just like.

“You’re ready for school already?” Mom asks when I come out to the kitchen.

She is not ready for anything. She’s sitting at the table in her blue fuzzy robe and green slippers.

“Can we go to school now?” I ask.

Mom sets down her coffee mug. “Don’t you think we should eat breakfast first?”

I don’t think this. But she makes me anyway.

The phone rings, and Mom runs to answer it. She is still not in real clothes.

“Morning, my little hurdler!” Daddy shuffles into the kitchen in his torn-up slippers that he won’t let Mom throw away. He still has sleepy eyes.

“Morning, Daddy.”

He pours his coffee and sits down with me. I can hear Mom talk-talk-talking in the living room.

“Tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” Daddy asks.

I feel like
today
is the big day. But I know he means the Olympics day. “Yep.”

“I imagine you’ll get time to practice today, though. Just remember. No stopping. And check your watch.”

“Got it.” I wish Mom would come. I want to get to school.

“You’re going to blow them away, Nat,” Daddy says. He takes the newspaper Mom was reading and goes to a different page.

I wait a gazillion minutes.

Mom sticks her head in. She is still in her robe. “Sorry, Nat! I’ll run and get dressed. We won’t be late to school. I promise.”

Mom keeps her promise. We’re not late. But we’re not early. Kids are pouring into my school when I walk up the sidewalk.

I don’t see Laurie until I get inside the school. She and Sasha are talking outside the door of my
classroom. Sasha looks up at me. Then she pulls Laurie into our room.

When I walk into our room, Sasha and Laurie are laughing by the cubbies. I don’t want to go where they are together. Only I have to hang up my jacket.

“Jason says you’re running in the hurdles race,” Sasha says.

I don’t answer, on account of it isn’t a question.

“You might as well drop out now,” Sasha says. “Laurie and I are both running in that race.”

This feels like a not fair thing, but I don’t know why. Plus, the sad in me is turning back to mad. “So?” I say, wiggling out of my jacket.

“So, we beat you to the swings every single day,” Sasha says. She has laughing in her voice.

“Well, we don’t jump over the swings.” I reach up my jacket and hang it on the hook in my cubby. Only Laurie’s jacket is hogging up room.
Her
sleeve is in
my
cubby. I shove it back where it belongs.

“Hey!” Laurie shouts. “Leave my jacket alone.”

I turn my line eyes at her. “Then keep it in
your
cubby!”

“Come on, Laurie,” Sasha says. She takes Laurie’s hand. “Let’s go talk about
our
team plans.”

I watch them walk away together to their desks. My stomach is twitchy, and my neck is chokey. And
I want to go home.

Jason runs by me. Then he runs backwards, back to me. “Hey, Nat! Did you tell Ham a joke yet?”

I shake my head. Almost every day, I tell our class pet, Ham the Hamster, a joke I make up. But I don’t feel jokey today.

“Come on, Nat!” Jason begs. He loves my hamster jokes.

I look over at Sasha and Laurie. They’re laughing. And it feels like they are laughing at me.

Fine
, I say to myself.

I follow Jason to the hamster cage. Ham
scritch-scratches
his way over to me for his joke. “Go on, Nat!” Jason says.

“How did the hamster cross the road?” I ask. This is almost how I start all the jokes. Only I usually ask
why
Ham crossed the road, instead of
how
.

“I don’t know,” Jason says. “How did the hamster cross the road?”

“By jumping way high over hurdles and winning the Kindergarten Olympics and beating the other team. That’s what.”

The only real school we do in the morning is reading. But we are more like bumbly bees than birds in our groups ’cause kids are excited about the Olympics.

“Boys and girls?” Miss Hines taps her desk to make us quiet. “We’re going outside now to practice our Olympic events. Our principal will lead Peter’s team to the track. I’ll take Laurie’s team on the north side of the building. Then we’ll trade places, so Laurie’s team can use the track. Line up!”

“Me first!” Peter cries.

“And don’t forget!” Miss Hines shouts. “The other kindergarten class has teams there too. They should be just about finished with their practice, I think. Let’s be good sports, though. I want good team spirit.”

I line up with Peter’s team. Farah and I are the very last in the line. Principal Fritz comes to lead us outside. We are very quiet, on account of she can be scary when she wants to. Right now, she isn’t. She has frizzy black hair, black glasses, and a black jogging suit.

We pass the other kindergarten class on our way to the field. They make faces at us, and we make faces at them.

Peter breaks out of line when we get close to the track. Carlo runs after him, and Jason passes them both.

Principal Fritz blows her whistle at them. “I want everyone over there by the volunteers. First-race runners, line up now.”

Peter runs to the beginning line. “Me first!” he shouts. Peter did what Miss Hines made him do and put everyone on his team in a race. Only he and Jason still ended up with two races.

In the first race, Peter is running with Julia. She was the very last person chosen in our kindergarten class. Julia takes tiny steps to the beginning line. She is way wider and bigger than Peter, only maybe the same tallness.

Principal Fritz shouts into a funnel thing, “On your mark! Get set! Go!”

Peter jumps ahead and keeps getting more and more ahead. When he crosses the finish line, he shouts, “I won! I won! Me first!”

We wait for Julia to get here too. I guess she’s running, but it might be walking. Principal Fritz cheers for Julia when she’s finished racing.

There are more races. Jason wins both of his. He doesn’t even shout, “Me first.” But he keeps running when he crosses the finish line ’cause the run isn’t all out of him yet.

Bethany and Farah have to throw big brown balls. Farah’s ball goes way farther than Bethany’s.

I run up to Farah. “Wow! You’re a great ball thrower!”

Farah smiles without her teeth. “Thank you, Natalie.” She turns to Bethany and shakes her hand. “I like your throw as well,” she says.

Principal Fritz hollers at the grown-up helpers, “Volunteers, please set up our hurdles!”

“That means me and you, Natalie Lizard Breath,” Peter says.

I pretend I don’t hear Peter. On account of my name being Natalie 24 and only sometimes Natalie Elizabeth. But nobody ever calls me Natalie Lizard
Breath, except for Peter the Not-So-Great. And maybe sometimes Sasha the Not-So-Nice.

I can see three hurdles set up on our running circle. They are all way shorter than the jumps in my backyard. Shorter is easier. My heart is a little thumpy in a good way.

“Good luck, Natalie,” Farah says.

I move to the start line. Peter lines up next to me. He scoots his toes as close as he can to the line.

“I’m going to beat you bad, Lizard Breath!” Peter says.

Principal Fritz calls over, “Don’t forget, you’re on the same team! Let’s see some team spirit!”

Peter growls. He has team spirit, but it’s all bad. That’s what.

“On your mark!” shouts Principal Fritz. “Get set! Go!”

Peter is a very fast boy and gets way ahead of me. Only when he gets to the first hurdle, Peter stops, jumps, and starts running again.

I keep on running, jump, and keep running. And I’m almost up with Peter, on account of I didn’t stop.

Peter frowns at me over his shoulder. He’s not far ahead of me. But now he runs even faster. I run the same fastness as I did.

We get to the next hurdle. Peter stops. But I keep
running, jump, and run more.

“Hey! You can’t pass me!” Peter yells.

But I’m still running. When I get to the next hurdle, I do my running jump. And this time, I remember to look at my watch I don’t have. I am a flying girl.

I run across the finish line. Jason and Farah are there, cheering their heads off.

“You won!” Farah shouts.

Jason yells, “Nat’s number one! Nat’s number one!”

Peter stomps up to us. “No fair! I’m faster than you are!” He yells over at Principal Fritz, “I don’t want to do that race! I want to run in a different race!”

“Too bad!” Principal Fritz hollers.

My heart is thumpy. I won. I beat Peter.

And there is another thing in my head. This thought makes me want it to be the real Kindergarten Olympics and not just practice. I want to beat Peter again.

Plus, I want to beat more than just Peter. I want to beat Sasha.

And Laurie. That’s what.

Lunch is not as much fun as it usually is. I sit at one table with Farah and Anna. Laurie sits at another table with Sasha and Bethany. Nobody trades half of her sandwich with me. Plus, I can see Laurie. And she takes a giant piece of cake from Sasha’s lunch.

“What is wrong with you and Laurie?” Farah asks.

This question makes my sandwich stop going down my neck. So I can’t get an answer out.

“They’re not friends anymore,” Anna says.

I choke down my bite of sandwich. “What?”

“That’s what Sasha said,” Anna says.

“She said Laurie and I aren’t friends? Not just not bestest friends? Not any kind of friends?”

“Sasha told Bethany and me that she and Laurie are best friends, and you and Laurie aren’t even speaking-to-each-other friends,” Anna says.

I put my sandwich back in my lunch box. On account of I’m not hungry anymore. Plus, my stomach hurts. And other things inside of me hurt too.

Granny picks me up from school in her car, which
goes by the name of Charlotte the Chevrolet. She takes me back to her house to plant flowers there.

I
dig, dig, dig
where Granny shows me to by her front step. Only this is not so much fun as you think it is.

Granny is humming a church song that goes by the name of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” I can’t help having these words in my head while she hums. It feels part good, on account of I know I have one friend. And part bad, on account of that’s all.

“Okay, kid. What’s up?” Granny has sneaked over to sit on her step.

“I’m digging,” I tell her.

She takes my little shovel from my hand. “Are you and Laurie still at odds?”

I stare at the hole I made in the dirt. “Laurie didn’t pick me to be on her Olympic team.”

“Well, you can’t always pick who you want if—”

“She could! Laurie was a team captain. She didn’t pick me first. Then she didn’t pick me again. And again. And again.” I stop ’cause my neck is too chokey to keep going.

“I see,” Granny says.

“And it hurt my feelings really bad. And she should say sorry to me.” Tears start leaking out of me.

“I can see why you’re so upset,” Granny says.

“Plus, Laurie only talks to Sasha. And eats her cake. And they laugh together without me.”

“Hmmm,” Granny says. “That doesn’t sound like the Laurie I know.”

“Plus also, Laurie said she’s not my friend anymore.”

“Laurie said that?”

“Anna said that Sasha said Laurie said that,” I explain.

“Hmmm,” Granny says again. “Something tells me there’s more to this story. Did you do something to make Laurie upset?”

“No!” I shout. “Well, maybe. Kind of.”

Granny is quiet. But she’s waiting. And she is a good waiter.

“You know how you said not to let anybody call Laurie’s group dumb? Well, Peter did. So I told him not to. And he said Laurie was dumb. And I said, ‘No, sir! Laurie’s not dumb. She just has ’slexia.’ ”

“Ah. You told Peter this?”

“I didn’t mean to, Granny.”

“Laurie asked you not to tell anybody, didn’t she?”

“But Peter—”

“But you did,” Granny goes on. “And Peter probably told everybody, right?”

“He blabbed all over the place.”

“Which he wouldn’t have been able to do if you hadn’t told him Laurie’s secret in the first place,” Granny finishes.

My head is running that whole horrible picture when I yelled to Peter that Laurie had ’slexia. And I don’t like thinking about this part.

“Did you tell Laurie how sorry you are?” Granny asks.

“I tried! She won’t even let me.”

“How hard did you try, Nat?” Granny asks.

“Hard! Only Laurie only talks to Sasha.”

Granny’s face scrunches like she doesn’t much like this answer.

“Laurie should say sorry for not picking me for her team!” I explain.

“Sounds to me like there’s plenty of sorry to go around,” Granny says.

“Well, she should go first!”

Granny laughs.

I cannot believe my Granny is doing this laugh. “It’s not funny, Granny!”

“No, it’s not,” Granny agrees. “I was just thinking. I sat out in that schoolyard waiting for you this afternoon, and I must have heard a dozen kids yell, ‘Me first!’ ”

I still don’t get it. Kids yell this all the time. “So?”

“I was chuckling because everybody wants to be first, except when it comes to saying sorry.”

I stare down at my hole in the dirt. It looks empty. And I think that’s how I probably look on my insides. On account of that’s how I feel. ’Cause I told Laurie’s secret and didn’t even tell her I was sorry. And empty ’cause I miss my bestest friend.

Granny goes back to planting and humming that song about having a friend in Jesus.

I close my eyes, and my tears splash into the dirt. Then I talk to my friend Jesus. And the first thing I say is
sorry
.