Nobody's Perfect (5 page)

“These are too easy,” she protested. “Give me a tricky word.”

Cindy was aware that Megan was under pressure, especially since the class spelling bee was scheduled for the next day. The winner from each classroom won a blue ribbon and went against the winners in the rest of the grade. Then the school winners from each grade went to compete against other schools in the county, then those winners went to compete against other schools in the state—and those winners went to the National Spelling Bee. At some point the blue ribbons turned into trophies and scholarships. “If you win the National Spelling Bee,” Ms. Endee had announced, “you can be proud for the rest of your life!” It was a very big deal.

Cindy was also aware that Megan wanted to come home with a ribbon or maybe even a trophy even though she was only an average speller. Megan wasn't anywhere near being the best speller in class. Still, she was determined to give the spelling bee her best shot.

“Here you go,” said Cindy, referring to the list. “Cornucopia.”

“Cornucopia?” Megan repeated. “I don't even know what that is.”

“Yes, you do,” said Cindy. “Cornucopia.”

“You're making that word up,” said Megan. “That's a nonsense word. That's like ‘kabillion.' That word doesn't exist.”

“Yes, it does,” Cindy insisted. “Cornucopia is that wicker thing, the ‘horn of plenty' pilgrims used at Thanksgiving. Remember we studied colonial days at the beginning of the year? You fill it up with little pumpkins and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah, I remember ‘cornucopia,' ” said Megan, making the shape of the horn with her hands. “But I forget how you spell it.”

“You spell it like it sounds,” Cindy said before she caught herself. “Oops, sorry, that was stupid of me.”

Megan didn't mind. “You spell it like it sounds if you can hear it,” she said easily. She grabbed the list of spelling bee words from Cindy and searched for the word until she found the word. “Cornucopia,” said Megan. “C-o-r-n-u-c-o-p-i-a.” She dropped her hand onto the table and practiced the word once through, using the manual alphabet to let her hand feel the word.

“That's no fair,” said Cindy, looking down at Megan's hand.

“What's no fair?”

“Spelling the word with your hand while you spell it with your mouth,” Cindy replied. “That's cheating.”

“How is that cheating?” Megan demanded.

“We can't write the word down when we spell it,” said Cindy.

“But I'm not writing,” Megan argued. “I'm
spelling
. I'm just spelling with my
hand
.”

“I still think that's cheating.”

“No, it's
not
,” Megan insisted. “Think what you want, but until Ms. Endee tells me that's cheating, that's how I spell.” She extended her arm until her hand almost touched Cindy's nose. “So
there
,” she said, closing the subject by spelling “there” in Cindy's face.

“There's no point to competing in this year's spelling bee, anyway,” Cindy said, pushing Megan's hand away. “You know Alexis is going to win it. Miss Perfect wins everything.”

“That's not true,” said Megan. “She doesn't win everything. She's only been here for three days. There hasn't been that much to win.”

“Why are you defending her?” asked Cindy. “You're the one she embarrassed on the playground with your birthday invitation.”

“I don't want to talk about that,” said Megan. “I'm trying to forget it. I don't even want to
think
about that.”

Cindy didn't say anything. But she knew Megan, and she was thinking that it would probably take a lot of time to forget about that particular little incident.

“I've decided to give Alexis another second chance,” Megan announced.

Cindy could hardly believe her ears. “You've given that girl
seven
‘second chances' already.”

“So what?” Megan responded. “She's the new girl!”

“So what? I was the new girl once. Nobody did me any favors!”

“My mom says I should give the new girl as many second chances as she wants!” Megan argued.

“What!” Cindy shrieked.

•  •  •

The night before, Megan had put a big pout on her face and approached her mother to talk about what had happened in school.

“What's with the long face?” said Lainee, pinching Megan's chin and stroking her cheek.

“I tried to give Alexis a birthday party invitation like you said,” Megan explained.

“Yes, and what happened?” Lainee asked.

“She wouldn't even look at it,” said Megan.

“What!” said Lainee.

Megan took the opportunity to act out the story of the birthday invitation incident. She recreated the complete blow-by-blow of her exchange with Alexis so that her mother would know exactly what she said and what Alexis said—although, of course, Megan made Alexis seem meaner and much more unreasonable than she had actually been at the time.

Megan's mother listened sympathetically. She stroked Megan's hair and agreed that what had happened was awful. Nobody should have her own birthday party invitation pushed back in her face. By that point Megan had curled up into a ball in the crook of her mother's arm. She felt better getting the story off her chest, but she was still confused about what to make of Alexis.

Megan's mother offered to make Megan hot chocolate with extra minimarshmallows—the way Megan liked it. As Megan's mother dropped the minimarshmallows into the mug, she asked Megan to think about how Alexis must have felt, being the new girl at a new school. She talked about what it was like to be shy. Megan's mother confided that she herself had been rather shy when she was a young girl. Megan had never been shy, so perhaps Megan didn't really understand.

Megan wondered whether she hadn't been right the whole time about the new girl not liking her because she was deaf. But her mom insisted that probably wasn't the case. And even if it were, there was nothing Megan could do to control other people's reactions. Maybe, Lainee suggested, Megan could afford to be the bigger person about what had happened on the playground. After all, Megan had lots of friends at school and the new girl didn't have any. By the time they were sharing the last chunks of marshmallow from the bottom of the mug, Megan had agreed to give Alexis a second chance. As many chances as Alexis wanted.

•  •  •

“But just yesterday you said Alexis was stuck up and conceited!” Cindy was still in a snit.

“I never said that,” Megan protested.

“You did so!”

“Okay,” Megan said, scanning the list of spelling words. “Maybe I said she was o-b-n-o-x-i-o-u-s.” She spelled the word in a flurry. “Obnoxious!”

Cindy laughed. She grabbed the list and searched for a good word. “An obnoxious . . . barracuda!” Cindy cried. “B-a-r-r-a-c-u-d-a!”

“She's not an obnoxious barracuda,” said Megan. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“Well, she's still not very nice,” Cindy insisted.

“She's shy, Cindy,” said Megan. “And she's new! She doesn't know how to behave.”

Cindy sighed. “Megan, you're too accommodating,” she said. “A-c-c-o-m-m-o-d-a-t-i-n-g!”

Megan didn't tell Cindy, but Megan had already given Alexis another chance. By complete coincidence Megan had been the person behind Alexis when they went through the cafeteria line at lunch that Wednesday afternoon.

Megan had watched as Alexis grabbed a container of chocolate milk from the tub of ice that the cafeteria ladies placed at the far end of the food display. Kids who knew the score at Wilmot Elementary knew that the containers on the top of the ice were never very cold. The containers underneath were always frosty cold.
A new kid wouldn't know that
, Megan thought.

Megan stuck her hand deep into the freezing ice water and retrieved a colder container of chocolate milk. She nudged Alexis's elbow with the ice-cold carton—and Alexis jumped. Megan offered her the milk without saying a word.

“But I already have one,” said Alexis, somewhat confused.

“This one is
cold
,” said Megan, and she shivered a bit to make sure she was understood.

Alexis smiled the slightest half smile and accepted the chocolate milk. She returned the other container to the top of the tub, but Megan reached for it and forced it underneath the ice.

“So that it's cold for the next kid,” Megan explained.

“Thanks,” said Alexis.

With that, Alexis turned away and continued down the cafeteria line.

Megan touched Alexis's elbow once more, to encourage her to come sit at a cafeteria table with Cindy and Casey and some of the other girls. But Alexis shook her head, with the same little smile, and headed for a spot on the patio.

Nothing really went wrong, but Megan was still confused. Alexis seemed more than shy. Alexis seemed determined not to make friends.

•  •  •

Megan managed to find another opportunity on Wednesday to give Alexis a second chance when Ms. Endee ran math drills with the students that afternoon. Megan's class was supposed to have learned multiplication tables in the third grade—and most of them had—but Ms. Endee said it was important to cover them again before the class buckled down to the challenge of fractions. The class groaned dramatically at the mention of the word “fractions.” Anybody who ever set foot on a school playground knew about the mountains of homework involving fractions. To make math more fun, and to help make fractions easy, Ms. Endee concocted her famous math drills. It was like doing basketball drills only with multiplication tables instead of a basketball.