Natalie and the Bestest Friend Race Read online

  Peter says a name that isn’t me.

  Laurie says a name that isn’t me.

  I wish I could be home right now. And not here. I hate here.

  When only four slow-running kindergartners are left, Jason says, “Pick Nat! Come on, Peter! Nat can run. Pick Nat!”

  Peter scrunches up his face at me. Then he says, “Natalie, I guess.”

  I get up and walk to Peter’s side. I watch my shoes and that’s all.

  “I am glad we are on this same team,” Farah whispers when I get to the front. Peter picked her right before he picked me.

  I try to smile back at Farah. But my smiley face has left kindergarten.

  I take one secret look at Laurie and her team. She had a gazillion chances to pick me. She promised we’d be on the same team.

  Laurie should have picked me. She didn’t. And I will never ever never forget it. That’s what.

  Miss Hines sends us out to recess early. I don’t run to the swings.

  Farah walks up beside me. “Are you all right, Natalie?”

  Part of me wants to say, “No! I’m very not all right. On account of my bestest friend didn’t pick me. And I got picked almost last. And Laurie doesn’t even care. And that makes my heart hurt with so much sad in there.”

  But some of that sad is changing into mad now. And that mad part of me wants to say, “Yes! I’m better than all right. Better ’cause I’m not going to be on Laurie’s team. On account of she is a big traitor girl. That’s what!”

  “Natalie?” Farah sweeps her long hair behind her shoulders and gets big in her eyes. “Are you sick?”

  I look up. And that’s when I see that we are at the swings. Sasha and Laurie are swinging very high. I can tell without even asking that Laurie did not save me a swing.

  And this turns the rest of the sad in me to mad.

  I take Farah’s arm and pull her away from the swings. But before we go, I say loud enough for Laurie to hear, “We don’t want to swing, Farah. We need to find our team and be with them.”

  Jason and Peter are kicking a soccer ball at each other. I head for them, yelling, “We’re number one! We’re number one!”

  And this yelling turns into a promise in my head. I’m going to do everything I can to beat Laurie and Sasha’s team in the Kindergarten Olympics.

  Chapter 11

  Life after Laurie

  Miss Hines gives us school time to meet with our teams. Peter’s team gets one side of the classroom. Laurie’s gets the other side. I try not to look at Laurie’s team. Looking there makes the sad come back.

  Peter is bossy. “I’m racing in the first race,” he bosses. “Carlo can be in the long race.” He gives out jobs like he is the boss of the world. Only not to Farah and me.

  “What races are for Natalie and me?” Farah asks.

  “I don’t know,” Peter answers. “You can cheer or something. I want to win.”

  Miss Hines has sneaked up to listen to Peter’s team. She comes all the way over for this one. “Peter, I told you that everyone on your team will compete in at least one event. You should have plenty of openings for Farah and Natalie.”

  “I do not mind,” Farah says.

  “Well, I do,” Miss Hines says. “Now, who’s running in the first event?”

  “Brandon and me,” Peter says.

  “All right. Who’s in the second event?” asks our teacher.

  “Carlo and me,” Peter says.

  “Then how about the shot-put throw?”

  “Me and Bethany,” Peter says.

  Miss Hines gives Peter her line eyes. “Peter, you can’t compete in every event. Pick two. That’s it.”

  Peter kicks the floor.

  Our teacher smiles at Farah. “Farah, I think you would be perfect for the shot put. All you do is throw a special ball as far as you can.”

  “But I—” Peter protests.

  “Two events only, Peter,” Miss Hines reminds him. She smiles at Farah again. “How about if you and Bethany do the shot put together?”

  “Yes,” Farah says.

  “What about the hurdles?” Miss Hines asks.

  “I want to do that one!” Peter shouts.

  Miss Hines lets out a big, fat sigh. “Fine. You and Natalie can run hurdles. And that takes care of everybody, right?” She looks over at me. “Is that all right with you, Natalie?”

  “I don’t care,” I say. But I don’t know what running “hurls” means. I know what hurling means, on account of I do that when I’m stomach sick. But I never saw that one on the TV Olympics.

  School gets over. For the first time forever, Laurie and I don’t walk out together. This makes my heart hurt again. But I act like it doesn’t. I make my feet skip on the sidewalk. I am a good skipping girl. Sometimes.

  My feet skip all the way to Buddy. Only my heart doesn’t. Before I get in, I look back and see Laurie getting into her mom’s car. Laurie looks over at Buddy. I can see Laurie seeing me. Now is when we always wave at each other.

  Only this time we don’t.

  Granny is sitting down in our front yard when Mom and I drive up in Buddy. She’s digging in the dirt. If I didn’t feel so sad and mad already, I would laugh at my granny.

  “Hey, Nat!” Granny calls. “I could sure use some help planting these flowers.”

  “Please help your granny, Nat,” Mom whispers. “I have some business calls to make.” Mom is the flower planter in our house, except for this time.

  “Okay.” I am thinking that there is nothing else to do. Nobody to play with. Nobody to call and ask to come over.

  Granny hands me a little shovel that’s as big as my hand. “Start digging, cowgirl,” she says.

  It feels a little good to dig, dig, dig in the dirt.

  “You’re not much of a talker today,” Granny says. “How was school?”

  “I don’t know.” I don’t want to talk about being un-picked.

  Granny doesn’t say anything. But I feel her staring.

  “So, Nat,” Granny says. “Why don’t you phone Laurie and see if she can come help us plant these flowers?” She reaches into her pocket and holds out her cell phone.

  “No, thanks.” I keep on dig, dig, digging.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to. That’s what.”

  Granny is quiet for minute. But not for long. “Nat, did you and Laurie have a fight?”

  I stop digging. Laurie and I have never had a fight. Peter and I have. Sasha and I have. Even Granny and I have. Not Laurie and me. “We didn’t yell at each other.” In those other fights, there was a lot of that yelling going on.

  Granny’s eyes have sad in them. “Some fights don’t come with yelling, Nat.”

  Chapter 12

  Hurling Secrets

  Beep! Beep!

  A big black car drives into our driveway. My daddy gets out. The car belongs to Daddy’s boss, who goes by the name of Mr. Adams. He and Daddy and another guy car pool to work. And that isn’t fun like it sounds. There’s no swimming in a car pool.

  I run up to my dad. He lifts me high and spins me around. And I kind of wish he would stay holding on. But he puts me down and tells his boss good-bye.

  “Nat,” Daddy says when the black car drives away, “what’s the latest on the Kindergarten Olympics?”

  My stomach feels twitchy just at the sound of that word. “They happen on Friday.”

  “Friday? That doesn’t give us much time to practice, does it? What’s your event?”

  “Hurling.”

  “Hurling? Like the sport they play in Ireland? Why would they make kindergartners learn hurling? I don’t even think it’s an Olympic event. Are you sure that’s your event, Nat?”

  “Miss Hines made Peter let me be the one to run those hurls with him,” I explain.

  “Run those hurls? Hurdles! Is that what you mean, Nat? Are you running hurdles?” Daddy is really excited about this. “I ran hurdles in high school!”

  After dinner, Daddy hurries me out
to the backyard to practice hurling. It turns out hurdles are like little fences you jump over. I even saw those things on the TV Olympics.

  “I don’t suppose you know how high your hurdles will be, do you?” He’s hammering nails into skinny boards. “No. Of course you don’t. We’ll just make different kinds of hurdles and different sizes, so you’ll be ready for anything.”

  We pull out boards and empty boxes and build things to jump over. Daddy moves a yellow tube thing that Laurie and I crawl in and pretend it’s a tunnel. Thinking about this makes my sadness come back. But I try to push it out with mad and remember how Laurie didn’t pick me for her team.

  By the time Daddy finishes our hurdles, the sun is dropping down in the sky.

  “Nat, why don’t you just run and jump over our hurdles to start out. Okay? Then we’ll work on style.”

  “I’m not very fast,” I warn him.

  “You’re plenty fast,” Daddy says. “And hurdles are as much about jumping as running. You’re a good jumper.”

  “I am?”

  “Sure you are!” Daddy says. “How many times have you gotten in trouble for running up the hall and jumping over my footstool?”

  This is a true thing. “Many times,” I admit.

  “On your mark!” he shouts. “Get set! Go!”

  I run to the yellow tunnel, stop, jump, and run again. Then I do the same on the other two jumps. “I did it!” I cry.

  “You sure did!” Daddy yells. “Not bad for a first try.”

  I walk over to Daddy. “But I wasn’t very fast, was I?”

  “You were fine. But let’s do it again. Try the yellow jump. But this time, don’t stop before you jump. Just keep on going. Lean forward, jump, and keep running.”

  “I’ll try,” I say. I take a big breath and run to the tunnel. I slow down, but I don’t stop.

  “Great!” Daddy shouts.

  It feels a little great too, to have my dad say this. “Can I do it again?”

  Mom comes out to watch. She sits on the swing, and I do all of the jumps again. And again. And this last time, I don’t even slow down before I jump.

  “You’re a natural, Nat!” Mom says.

  “She gets it from me,” Daddy says, like he’s proud about this. “Nat, come over here!” I do. “I’m going to tell you a secret, Nat. It’s something my high school coach taught me. It’s the reason I made it to State my senior year.”

  “What’s the secret?” I ask.

  Daddy looks over his shoulder like he wants to make sure nobody else can hear. Then he whispers, “Look at your watch when you sail over the jump.”

  This is not sounding like a very good secret to me. “Daddy, I don’t have a watch.”

  “Look where your watch would be, on your wrist. That’s how you make sure your arms are in the right place when you jump. Go on, Nat. Try it.”

  I try it. Only I forget the watch part. I do it again. This time I think about the watch I don’t have. And I look.

  “That’s it, Nat!” Daddy shouts. “Keep going!”

  I keep running to the next jump. This time I feel like I’m flying over that hurdle. When I look at where my watch isn’t, I feel fast. That’s what.

  Mom and Dad clap for me when we quit. This feels like a happy thing.

  I am still happy when I jump into my bubble bath. Only when I lean back, I see purple wallpaper. We have boring black-and-white wallpaper in here, except for where I’m looking. It’s purple, on account of Laurie and I colored it that way one day before my mom made us stop.

  By the time the bubbles are gone, so is my happy feeling.

  I get in my jammies and still have a little time to play before bedtime. I pull out all of my stuffed animals and pretend I’m choosing up teams.

  “Steg-O,” I say, moving my dinosaur to one side. But my bear and my moose and my bunny and all the others look too sad. So I change my mind and scoop all of them to my side. “I pick all of you,” I tell them. “On account of I don’t ever want you guys to feel unpicked.”

  Chapter 13

  How Did the Hamster Cross the Road?

  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. Th
ey’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.”

  Chapter 14

  Bad Team Spirit

  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.