Ann Martin - Jessi's Gold Medal

It wasn't until we were walking back to school that I said, "I can't believe the festival is coming up so soon."

Elise sighed. "Yeah. Do you think we'll be ready?"

"I hope so," I replied. I didn't dare say no, but that was how I was feeling.

"I'm sort of nervous about this," Elise admitted.

"Me, too."

"You know, it's funny. Yesterday the swim team had a meet, and I won a first place in the butterfly — "

"You didn't tell me that!" I said. "That's great!" .

Elise smiled modestly. "Well, I wasn't saying it to brag or anything. What I meant was, it's weird how one thing comes easily to me and the other one doesn't."

"I know what you mean!" I said. "I feel the same way. Yesterday in ballet class I did this incredible combination that ended with a triple pirouette and an entrechat."

"A what and a what?" Elise said.

"Those are two really hard movements I never used to be able to do."

"I thought they were French pastries," Elise said.

I couldn't help but laugh, and boy, did it feel good. "I don't know, Elise. I guess I'm taking this too seriously, but it's hard not to. I mean, one day my ballet teacher is telling me I should train to be professional, and the next day I come here and feel like a total dork."

Elise looked at me and frowned. "You're not

thinking of dropping out, are you?"

"No way!" I stopped in my tracks. "Are you?"

"No way, Jose! I want to keep working till I get it right!"

"Me, too." Then an idea came to me. "Why don't we get together and practice by ourselves?"

Elise's eyes lit up. "Yeah! The pool's open for the season now, so we can use it after school and on weekends."

"Every spare minute," I said. "Like . . . after school today?"

"Sure!" Elise said. "If my parents will let me."

I looked at my watch. "Well, we have three minutes before next period starts. Last one to the pay phone is a rotten egg!"

We ran the rest of the way to the school. I was beginning to feel inspired. I kept thinking of the Olympic athletes I saw on TV. They worked day and night to get where they wanted to be.

If that was what it took for them, that's what it would take for us.

Chapter 8.

I think Stacey was too hard on herself. She always means well. Anyway, no one's perfect.

Let me tell you about Charlotte. She's eight years old, but she's in fourth grade already, because her parents let her skip. She is very smart (so are her parents — her mom's a doctor and her dad's an engineer), but she's also fun and sensitive and friendly. In fact, she was the first kid in the neighborhood who didn't avoid us because we were black. Other kids were acting like we were poisonous or something, but not Char. She made friends with Becca right away. That meant a lot to our family.

Char's really cute, with chestnut brown hair, dark eyes, and a great dimply smile — and she's an only child, which makes sitting jobs especially easy. Her favorite sitter is Stacey. They call each other "almost sisters."

The evening Stacey sat for Char was warm and muggy. Stacey ran straight to the Johanssens' house from the community pool complex (she was using it after school to work on her breast stroke). By the time she got there, she felt all sticky and gross.

Putting on her best smile, she rang the doorbell. "Hi! Anybody home?" she called through the front screen door.

Dr. Johanssen came into the living room,

holding a briefcase. "Hi, Stace!" she said, pulling the door open. "Thanks for coming. My meeting shouldn't last more than two hours, but at any rate, Mr. Johanssen will be home around dinnertime. I left the emergency numbers by the phone."

"Okay," Stacey said.

"Char's in her room, reading," Dr. Johanssen went on, hurrying out the door. "Help yourself to anything in the fridge. 'Bye!"

" 'Bye!"

Stacey shut the door behind her and walked upstairs. She knocked on Charlotte's door. "Can I come in?"

"Stacey?" said Char's voice. "Hi! I didn't hear you downstairs."

Stacey pushed the door open. Char was sitting on her bed, holding a set of earphones. A pile of books was on her left and a cassette recorder on her right. "Hi! What're you doing?" Stacey asked.

"Listening to 'Peter and the Wolf.' It's exactly the same words as this." She held up an open copy of the book. "I can read it, but I love hearing the music, too. Want to hear?" She pulled the earphone plug out of the machine.

"Sure," Stacey said.

They listened for awhile, until Charlotte looked at her Mickey Mouse clock on the wall

and announced it was time to walk Carrot.

Carrot is Charlotte's pet schnauzer. He was snoozing in the shade under the maple tree in the Johanssens' backyard, but he sprang up the moment he heard the back door open.

Charlotte took a leash off a hook near the door and called out, "Want to go bye-bye?"

Carrot went wild, running around in circles and yapping excitedly.

Giggling, Charlotte raced after him and clipped the leash on his collar. Then she and Stacey started walking with him down the driveway.

"Did you come from school?" Char asked Stacey.

"Yup," Stacey answered.

"Then how come your hair's all wet?"

"I was practicing at the community pool. I'm going to be doing the breast stroke in the SMS Sports Festival."

"You are?" Charlotte seemed amazed.

Stacey laughed. "Yeah. Why does that surprise you?"

"I don't know."

That was when Stacey thought about my idea. "Hey, Char. Have you heard about the Mini-Olympics?"

"Uh-huh," Charlotte said, stopping while Carrot sniffed a tree.

"Do you want to be in it?"

Charlotte made a sour face. "Yuck."

"Come on, Char. Why not?"

"I hate all that stuff," Charlotte said. "I hate sports and I hate gym class. Besides, all these people are going to be there, and you know I get nervous in front of an audience."

Stacey did know. A long time ago, Charlotte was supposed to recite a passage from the book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in a kids' pageant, and she got so frightened she forgot the whole thing.

Stacey knew she shouldn't push Charlotte. But when she thought about how much fun the kids were going to have in their Olympics she wanted so badly for Charlotte to be included.

"I guarantee it won't be this big, high-pressure thing," Stacey said. "There'll be silly races, awards, refreshments, all kinds of fun stuff. And your friends are going to be in it. Really, Char, I know you'll have a good time."

Charlotte just stared silently at the road as Carrot pulled her forward.

"What if Becca said she'd be in it?" Stacey suggested.

Charlotte shrugged. "I don't know ..."

"Hey, why don't we invite her over? Would you like that?"

Finally Charlotte perked up. "Sure!"

They finished walking Carrot around the

block. Then, when they returned to the Jo-hanssens', Stacey called our house.

Guess who answered the phone. Becca. When Stacey asked her over, she got all excited. In minutes Becca was at Charlotte's. Stacey took the two girls into the backyard. She wanted to try out some ideas. "Char," Stacey said, "do you still have bubble stuff in your bathroom?"

"Yeah."

"Can you get it? Two bottles would be better, if you have them."

"Sure."

"I'll go too!" Becca cried.

The girls raced inside. Sure enough, they each returned with a bottle of bubble soap and two wands.

"Okay," Stacey said. "We're going to have a bubble contest!"

"Yippee!" Charlotte yelled.

Well, the two of them had the best time. Becca and Charlotte spent the next ten minutes blowing big, wobbly bubbles and running after them.

The next game Stacey played with them was "Trash Fashion Models." You wear the tops of plastic garbage cans like hats (clean ones — you wash them off first), then you try to walk in a straight line without letting them fall — like those runway models you see on TV. That