Part 8 (1/2)

I slipped the plate on my tray and headed out to the floor. Marge had come in with a group of ladies. Her loud mouth carried throughout the restaurant. Dad was at the table, talking and laughing with the group. I waved when she saw me.

”Beatty, come join us, darling,” she yelled to me.

”I'm working, Marge,” I yelled back.

”How'd your debate go yesterday?”

”I won,” I said nonchalantly.

She smiled at me. ”I knew you would, honey.”

She turned her attention back to the ladies at her table and I dropped off the plate of spaghetti at table three. An older man and woman sat at the table. They were both dressed in suits and seemed stiff in the fun atmosphere.

”You debate?” the man asked me quietly.

”Hmm? Oh, yeah,” I said politely and was about to walk away, but he stopped me. Oh, great, I thought. He was going to be a talker, and frankly, I didn't feel like engaging in a conversation today.

”I did debate in high school and college. Now, I'm a lawyer.”

”Really? I think I want to pursue law, too,” I told him.

”He was amazing at debate in school,” his wife said sweetly. ”That's how I met him.”

The man chuckled. ”I pretty much won everything,” he said. ”I was quite prideful in those days. Winning does that, you know. Make you prideful. People don't want to be around pride.”

”Yeah, but if you're good, you should be proud,” I said. I felt a knot of conviction in my stomach.

”Oh, I agree,” he replied. ”But if the pride becomes self-serving where you treat people less than you, then it's inappropriate. I'm sure you don't have that problem though.”

”Did someone send you in here to talk to me?” I asked suspiciously. I had good instincts about people.

A look of surprise crossed his face. ”Why, no. Why would you ask that?”

”I'm not stupid, mister,” I replied bluntly. ”Everyone on the debate squad has it in for my t.i.tle. Why don't you go back to whoever sent you in here and tell them that I have reason to be proud? I work harder than anyone else--that's why I win. Why don't you ask them why they're so jealous? Maybe that's the problem that needs to be resolved.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked off. They started whispering as soon as I left. I just knew they had been planted in the restaurant to make me change my strategy. I looked back to see my father talking with them at the table. Great. He would think I was overreacting. Sure enough, it wasn't long before my father approached me in the kitchen.

”Bea, how many time do I have to talk to you about your rudeness?”

”You don't understand, Dad. Those people were sent in to try to get me to change my debate technique--”

”Do you hear how paranoid that sounds, Bea? Not everything revolves around your debate.”

”It does to me,” I said pa.s.sionately. ”Debate is everything to me right now, Dad.”

He sighed and reached out to touch my cheek tenderly. ”Debate this, debate that. I should have known your big mouth would lead you down that path. You were always arguing with me, even when you were just barely able to talk.”

”That's because you were trying to feed me lima beans and wouldn't listen to how much I hated them.”

He chuckled. ”What am I going to do with you, Bea?”

”How about support me, Daddy? Believe me when I tell you things.”

His big arms wrapped around me and I snuggled my head into his shoulder. I was never too old to enjoy a hug from my dad.

”You want me to kick that man and his wife out of my restaurant?” he asked with a gangster lisp.

I had to laugh. Dad always made me feel good--at least, when he wasn't trying to get me married off. ”No, it's all good. I'll try to be better, Daddy, I promise.”

”That's my girl,” he said.

I watched to see when the man and woman left. Something was weird about them. I know, I know. I'm paranoid about some things--like boys, for instance. But I had a hunch about the man and woman. I crept out the back door and around to the side of the restaurant. The man was on the phone with someone.

”Sorry, Bill, I tried,” he was saying. ”She caught onto me. Somehow, she knew.”

I couldn't hear anything else when he climbed into the car. I just knew he was talking about me. Who was Bill? One thing was for sure. Debate was getting very interesting this year.

CHAPTER 7.

I can't stand Mondays after a debate tournament. The princ.i.p.al always gets on the loud speaker and announces who has won. If I happen to be in a cla.s.s where other kids know me, they always say stupid stuff, like call me a brainiac or Einstein. After too many of those announcements, the kids start looking at me like I'm an alien.

This year was no different. I had just settled into the back of English cla.s.s. As always, I was one of the first to arrive. I don't think Brody was even aware that he was in the cla.s.s with me. He always arrived late with his friends and was forced to take the empty desks at the front.

Ms. McEnroy was writing on the white board when the loud speaker went off. The princ.i.p.al's voice came on, congratulating the debate team on it's superior performance at the debate tournament. When my name was called as the winner of the tournament, Brody jumped to his feet, clapping loudly.

”That's my girl,” he shouted.

His friends looked at him like he had lost his mind. I slunk down into my seat. I was so quiet in the cla.s.s that no one knew who I was. Ms. McEnroy frowned at Brody.

”I appreciate your enthusiasm,” she said, ”but sit down.”

Brody sat back down. I couldn't believe he had done that. For me, of all people. He endured a few jokes from the guys around him, but he seemed to take it in stride.

I waited until everyone had filed out of the cla.s.sroom before I left. Ms. McEnroy caught my eye as I tried to slip past her desk.

”Congratulations, Beatrice,” she said warmly. ”Looks like you have a cheering section.”

I gave her a short laugh and mumbled, ”Thank you.”

Outside, I got a few ”congratulations” from some kids I knew. I wondered how Jared was doing with his Aggie friends. I would find out soon enough in debate cla.s.s.

I waved to Johanna when we met in the hall between cla.s.ses. She grabbed my arm to stop me. ”I feel like we don't see each other any more,” she complained.

”We don't,” I said bluntly. ”You dropped me for your new friends.”

Her face fell. ”Sorry about that, Bea,” she said in a soft voice. ”I was so caught up with Dale that I--”