“Sure, honey,” she agreed through a huge smile. “I’ll be chill and relaxed. I’ll be chillaxed.”
“No,” I said. I hated when she tried to be a “cool mom,” but I couldn’t help but smile at the same time.
“What?” she said innocently. “I’m just saying it’s all good. It’s chillastic.”
“Mom, stop.”
“The whole rest of the night is going to be a chillathon.”
I hung my head and tried to bury my face between two hangers.
“What about this one?” Mom asked.
I peeked out and then stood up straight. She held up a blue dress that looked, well, perfect. I loved the color. It had cap sleeves and was knee-length, so I wouldn’t run into dress-code problems. It wasn’t too fancy or too casual. It was just right. Like the Goldilocks of dresses.
“I’ll try it on!” I said, grabbing the dress in excitement.
The fluorescent lighting in the dressing room didn’t do me—or anyone—any favors. I looked ghastly pale, except for the two zits that the bright lights seemed to amplify like a magnifying glass. I didn’t understand it. These stores wanted to make money, right? They should have used more flattering lighting. Maybe someday when Cee owned her own chain of stores, she’d make that change.
“How does it look?” Mom asked. I could see her feet bouncing in place on the other side of the door.
I took one last glance in the mirror. I thought it looked good. The only problem was that it was a V-neck style and I didn’t have much in the boob department. I took a deep breath and stuck my chest out. That looked a little better, but I couldn’t walk around holding my breath all night.
“Come on,” Mom said. “Let me see.”
I unlatched the door and let it swing open.
Mom covered her mouth with her hand. “It’s gorgeous! You’re beautiful!” She pulled me in for a hug, then pushed me away to look me up and down again. “You should get out of those hoodies more often.”
“Thanks,” I said, ignoring her dig about my daily attire and focusing on the compliment part.
She inspected me for a moment more. “You don’t seem happy. Do you want to keep looking? There are plenty more stores.”
“No, it’s not that.” I stared down at my bare feet. “I want the dress. It’s just… I had a bad day.”
She lifted my chin up with her finger to make me look her in the eye. “What happened?”
“The school is all of a sudden going hard on these rules from the handbook. We lost Ms. Bhatt as the newspaper advisor and we’re going on ‘break’ for a while until Principal Pickford writes up new rules. And all these girls lost class time because they were dress-coded, including Ava.”
She nodded slowly. “That was the focus of the school committee meeting last night. It’s been brewing for a while, but it must seem like it’s out of the blue for you students.”
“And even worse, the Red Club got shut down.” My voice cracked. “Someone complained, and Principal Pickford said we were an illegal club because we didn’t have an advisor, but he won’t let us get an advisor.”
She stared down at the floor for a moment. “I know that this Red Club meant a lot to you and you’re disappointed. I’m sorry about that.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“But maybe it’s time to move on. You’ve had your monthlies for years now; you don’t need that club.”
I held in a sigh and turned around. I’d give her my speech about support and sisterhood again, but I’d be wasting my breath. She hadn’t gotten it before, and she wouldn’t get it now. We were too different. Despite how nice the afternoon had been, she’d never understand me.
“I just think that you should let it go,” she said softly.
Something in her voice made me look over my shoulder. “You didn’t complain about the club to the school committee or Principal Pickford, did you?”
Her mouth opened, and she looked a little hurt. “No, of course not.”
“Did anyone mention the Red Club at the committee meeting?” I asked.
She thought for a moment. “Not the club, no. But a few mothers complained about rules not being enforced. For example, Mrs. Scruggs spoke at length about the dress code and how the administration needs to start taking it seriously and enforcing it so the boys aren’t distracted. Apparently, her son has some problems focusing on his work.”
Mom made a face, and I joined in—rolling my eyes so hard it hurt. Everyone knew that Brody was failing a bunch of classes, but it had more to do with him not studying or even attempting his homework than seeing a girl’s shoulder. But of course his mom, convinced that it couldn’t be the fault of her precious angel, blamed the girls. Brody spent most of his time torturing and bullying other students rather than studying, but yeah, it was definitely the leggings’ fault.
But still, that wasn’t the Red Club. “So no one asked the principal to shut the club down?”
“Not during the school committee meeting. But you have to understand, for every parent who stands up and complains during a public meeting, there are ten more who book time with the principal to complain privately.”
That was probably what had happened here. And that person had ruined the Red Club for all of us. I knew Mom didn’t approve and thought “talk like that” should be private. But she wouldn’t go so far as to get my club shut down, would she? I chewed on my lip. No. No way. Plus, she’d denied it.
I only wished I believed her.
CHAPTER 10
FRIDAY, EVERYONE WAS FREAKING OUT about the dress code. So many girls had been coded yesterday and sent home or forced to change. No one wanted to repeat that mistake, but emotions were high. Some were afraid; some were angry; almost all were confused.
I stopped at my locker beside an intense conversation between two seventh graders.
“You’re going to get coded,” a girl said to her friend, pointing at her legs.
“My shorts are the same as yours,” she said.
“But when you hold your arms down by your side, your fingertips can’t be past the end of your shorts, and yours are.”
“I’ve got long arms and short legs! It’s not my fault I’m out of proportion!” She buried her face in her hands and stormed off.
This wasn’t right. None of it.
I’d read the handbook the night before, to take notes for an article I wanted to write. The dress code was in there to prevent any “disruption of the learning environment.” But the only math that girls were focusing on today was arm length and strap width. The dress code itself was the disruption, not a rogue shoulder.
And the boys weren’t affected at all. There wasn’t anything in the handbook targeting clothing that boys wore. They didn’t make spaghetti-strap boy tanks or boy short shorts. (Or if they did, they didn’t sell them in the stores I went to.) The boys were all going about their day as normal, casually walking from class to class, studying their notes. And meanwhile the girls were filled with anxiety about whether they’d be sent home because of a centimeter.
I grabbed my usual seat at the far-corner lunch table where Ava and I sat every day. Cee and my other friends had second lunch. Sometimes it made me sad to think about the big group of them, all chatting and having fun. Though Ava seemed to like it being just us at first lunch. She had me all to herself.
But she didn’t look too happy now. She walked up to the table with a grimace on her face and slammed her tray down. The lettuce in her salad bounced.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s these jeans.” She eased herself down onto the chair. “They’re so stiff and hot. I hate them. I miss my leggings.”
I popped a grape in my mouth. “Maybe you’ll get used to jeans?”
She shook her head. “You don’t know what it’s like to be my size.”
I nodded, knowing it was true. Ava was so short, she needed tiny girl sizes. But her thigh muscles were legit from all those years of gymnastics. So those short, skinny sizes wer
e strangling her muscular legs.
“I just don’t feel comfortable,” she said. “I can barely concentrate in class.”
“Maybe try some khakis?” I suggested.
She stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork. “I don’t own any. My mom will have to take me shopping. But I don’t know when. You know what my schedule is like.”
“Yeah.” Man, did I know. She brought it up all the time. But still, I understood. “If they were going to suddenly start enforcing these rules, it would have been nice to give us some warning.”
“I know, right?” She used her knife and fork to cut up the slices of chicken on the top of her salad into tiny cubes.
Vanita, the other girl at our table who’d been dress-coded, sat down beside us with a friend. She shared a knowing nod with Ava, like two girls who’d been through something together.
“Missing your leggings?” she asked.
“More than you know,” Ava said.
“Me too,” Vanita said with a sigh.
“Hey, so, my grandmother is visiting this weekend,” I said quickly before I forgot. I’d been meaning to bring this up earlier.
“Ouch,” Ava said with a wince. “Like this week wasn’t rough enough already.”
“Why is that bad?” Vanita asked, curious.
“Riley’s mom can be kind of… formal,” Ava explained. “But her grandmother is that times a thousand. And then the two of them argue the whole time they’re together.”
I nodded in agreement. Ava knew. Over the years, she’d been around for so many of those visits, and she’d witnessed the weird passive-aggressiveness between my mom and grandmother. Ava had always been there for me during those visits. And I knew she’d be there for me now.
“So, can I sleep over Saturday night?” I asked. “It would be nice to get out of my house.”
Ava grimaced. “Sorry. I’m away at a comp this weekend.”
I heaved a sigh. I’d really been hoping for that break.
“Speaking of gymnastics,” she said, her face brightening, “in a couple weeks I’m having a little get-together at my house with some of the girls, and I want you to be there. It’s a Wednesday, our afternoon off from the gym. Will you come?”
“Me? Why?” I’d never hung out with her gymnastics friends before, though I’d chatted with them a little bit when I went to cheer her on at competitions. The girls were all from other towns. They’d probably be talking about gymnastics stuff I knew nothing about. It was nice of Ava to include me, but she really didn’t have to.
“Well…” She gazed over at the other girls at the table to make sure they weren’t listening anymore. “If no one from town comes to my party, they’ll think I have no friends.”
And there it was. She wasn’t inviting me to be nice. She was inviting me to make herself look good.
I took a bite of my sandwich and chewed it while I thought. “That sounds cool. I’ll let you know.”
Ava frowned, causing a little line to form between her blond eyebrows. “Why not let me know now? You won’t have a Red Club meeting. What else do you have going on?”
I stared at her blankly, trying to mask how frustrated I was. She hadn’t even asked me how I felt about getting my club taken away. Everything was about her. Her busy schedule. Her gymnastics friends.
“We’re not going to accept that the club was shut down,” I said. “We’re going to try to get it back.” I had no idea if that was true. We’d only had one emergency meeting so far. But I wanted to keep my Wednesdays open just in case.
Ava let out an annoyed sigh.
“I’m going to the dance next Friday,” I blurted, changing the subject.
Ava’s mouth opened in surprise. “You are?”
“Yeah, remember when I texted you a million times yesterday and you didn’t respond? That was for dress advice.”
She looked down at her fork, hanging in midair. “Sorry. I had a really bad day, and when I finally came home from the gym, I just went to bed and cried.”
Cried? I sat up straighter in my seat. “What happened?”
She pushed her food around a bit on the plate. “Well, first I got dress-coded. That was humiliating. Then I didn’t stick the landing off the vault two times in a row, and the girls were laughing behind my back.” Her voice got high and tight like she was fighting back tears.
She had somehow turned the conversation back to her again, but my heart clenched when I thought about those girls laughing at her. Ava was the best, and when the best screwed up, mean people loved it.
I gripped my sandwich tight enough to leave a thumbprint in the bread. “Are those the girls who are going to be at your house?”
“Yeah,” she said softly.
I couldn’t let Ava face them alone. She needed support. “I’ll be there.”
She looked up, her eyes grateful and wide. “You will?”
“Definitely. We’ll have a great time.”
A huge smile spread across her face. “Okay, now tell me about this dress.”
CHAPTER 11
GRANDMA SHOWED UP SATURDAY MORNING, and it took less than an hour for things to get awkward.
“Those jeans are too tight, don’t you think?” she said to my mother, while pointing at me.
“They’re called skinny jeans, Grandma,” I said. “All the girls my age wear them.”
She shook her head, clucking in disapproval.
Whenever I thought my mom was uptight, getting a visit from Grandma reminded me that it could have been way worse.
We were sitting in the living room trying to decide how to spend our day. Mom and Dad liked everyone to go out somewhere because things tended to be less testy if strangers were around. Grandma never wanted to “cause a scene.” But Grandma liked to stay in the house and “catch up,” which basically meant sit around and talk.
Thankfully, Danny had a soccer game. So that would get us out for a couple of hours.
“Everyone has to come watch me,” Danny said. “Remember, Mom, you missed last weekend’s game.”
“Yes, but I sold a house during that time,” Mom said, rearranging the same throw pillows she’d already straightened.
“You wouldn’t miss out on anything if you chose to be a mother rather than a real estate agent,” Grandma muttered.
Dad and I shared a look that said, Here we go.
“I am a mother,” Mom said. “These are my two children—Riley and Danny. Maybe you’ve met them?”
“You know what I mean,” Grandma said with a huff. “I’ll never understand how you can choose work over these sweet children.”
Dad put his hand on Mom’s knee and gave it a squeeze. Her face was turning a deep shade of red, like she was holding her breath for too long.
Grandma ruffled Danny’s hair. “So how long do we have before this soccer game?”
“One hour,” Mom said through gritted teeth.
Grandma smiled at me. “Do you think that’s enough time for presents?”
Before I could answer, Danny jumped up from the couch. “Yeah, yeah! Presents!”
Grandma shuffled over to the corner and pulled four wrapped boxes out of her overnight bag. Then she handed one to each of us. We immediately began tearing off the wrapping paper.
Danny got his open first and screamed in delight. “My favorite player!” He held up a soccer jersey from his favorite team, and the last name on the back was the guy he was always talking about.
Dad held up his next. “It’s a shoe-polishing kit. Thank you so much.” He got up and gave Grandma a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Now you’ll look even more handsome and professional at work,” Grandma said.
I finally got my box open and gasped. Inside was a beautiful, delicate silver bracelet. “Thank you, Grandma. This is gorgeous.”
“Just like you, sweetheart,” she replied.
Mom went last, holding up a pair of long gold earrings. “These are beautiful, Mom. Thank you.”
Grandma smiled. “I thought yo
u’d look pretty with dangly earrings, rather than the same old studs you wear every day.”
Those were the diamond studs my father had given her, but he didn’t say a word.
“No one can even see my ears,” Mom said. “The studs are comfortable. They don’t get caught in my hair like longer earrings would.”
“Well, it’s time for a haircut anyway,” Grandma said flatly. “You’re too old for that length.”
That length was just a bit below her shoulders. Lots of moms had longer hair. I didn’t want Mom to cut her hair super short like Grandma’s. It was pretty the way it was. But from the flames in my mom’s narrowed eyes, I didn’t think she’d be rushing out to the salon anytime soon.
“Well, thank you for the gift,” Mom said, keeping her voice even. “The earrings are beautiful, and I’ll save them for a special occasion when I wear my hair up.”
Grandma’s response was a small grunt and a change of subject. “I’m going to head into the kitchen and make sure you have all the ingredients for me to make my lasagna for dinner.”
“Oh, I’m cooking tonight,” Dad said. “Don’t you worry about that.”
“Nonsense,” Grandma said. “I’m sure you have much more important things to do than slave away in the kitchen.”
In addition to never having moved on from 1950s fashion sense, Grandma had weird feelings about men and women splitting household chores. The fight after she’d found out Dad did his own laundry still echoed somewhere in the house’s walls.
This time it was Mom’s turn to squeeze Dad’s knee.
“Lasagna sounds lovely,” Dad said.
“Riley, why don’t you help your mother and me with dinner?” Grandma asked, but it wasn’t a suggestion.
I looked at Mom, who was staring down at her hands.
Sometimes it was easier to go along than to fight it.
Grandma’s cooking was always amazing. And she gave great presents. But I’d have traded it all for peace. Just once, I’d have liked her visit to not end with my mom in tears.
CHAPTER 12
I SPENT MOST OF SUNDAY hiding out in my room writing an article about the dress code. First, it kept me away from any house drama that might have been going on. And second, it made me feel better to get my feelings down on paper. I hadn’t been able to talk about the dress code all weekend. Grandma definitely would have been Team No Leggings. So it felt good to let it all out on my laptop.
Revenge of the Red Club Page 5