Rebel Girls

by Elizabeth Keenan

  Sister Catherine’s mouth returned to a tight line. Helen’s punishment coming through the guidance office rather than the dean of discipline made a lot more sense now. So did us not getting into trouble for uniform violations. Sister Catherine wanted us to get away with it. She probably would have liked the original Forgiveness slogan.

  “But what about my friend? She’s being punished for no good reason,” Leah said insistently, moving closer to Jamie and to Sister Catherine’s microphone. “What if I protested that?”

  I didn’t know what Leah was trying to do here. She operated in an underground world of secrets and lies, but this was serious flipping-out territory, in public, in front of the entire school. It was totally out of character for her.

  Sister Catherine turned off the microphone and walked over to Leah, who now stood in front of our semicircle.

  “Your friend confessed to destroying the ballots,” she said. “So I suggest you let Miss Taylor finish her speech.”

  “Miss Taylor,” Leah sneered, “is about to tell you all about her abortion last summer. Isn’t that right, Miss Taylor?”

  Sister Catherine backed away from Leah. She had to—Leah didn’t so much say the words as boom them in her hyperprojecting cheerleader voice, and no one wanted to be in front of her when that happened.

  “Leah Sullivan! Do you think that anytime you have a problem with another student, you can accuse her of having an abortion?”

  Sister Catherine rarely lost her temper, and Leah never showed her hand. This was better drama than 90210. From the corner of my eye, I saw Wisteria, her mouth open and gaping and her hands clutched with tension. She wasn’t alone—by now, the entire school encircled the members of the homecoming court.

  “But I did,” Jamie said, her voice a tiny counterpoint to Leah’s booming projection and Sister Catherine’s angry bellow.

  A dramatic shushing murmured in a wave across the homecoming court and fanned out across the gym.

  Sister Catherine looked startled for a moment. “Jamie, we can talk about this later,” she said quietly. “Don’t go any furth—”

  “I did,” Jamie said, louder this time. “And I’m not going to apologize for it.”

  Even though I’d had my suspicions for some time now, I still sucked in a shocked gasp when I heard her come out and say it.

  I had been right.

  Jamie, our homecoming queen, was the one who’d had an abortion.

  Jamie, who had aced the US History AP test her junior year.

  Who led at least three clubs.

  Who had dated the same boy for three years.

  Jamie, the only person from our school who was being recruited by an Ivy League college, and it was Yale.

  She was risking everything by revealing this. And yet here she was, not apologizing for her abortion, to a nun, in our school gym, while a news crew and twenty or so protesters were outside, waiting for something like this to happen.

  Jamie grabbed the microphone from the stand and turned it back on. Sister Catherine stood in front of Leah, seemingly too stunned to move.

  Jamie stepped forward, turning her sash. I leaned forward to get a look. Unlike all of ours, hers read I Did.

  “This past summer, I had an abortion,” Jamie said. A wave of gasps fanned across the gym. “And this fall, someone else got blamed for it.” She paused to take another breath. “But I don’t think either of us should be ‘blamed’ for it. I made my choice for a lot of reasons. I didn’t want to be a ‘teen mom.’ I didn’t want to miss out on my senior year of high school. I wanted to go to Yale. Some of you might think that all of those reasons are selfish, and that’s okay. That’s you. But I also knew I wasn’t ready to be anybody’s mom, and adoption wasn’t the right choice for me, either. Abortion was the right choice for me. And I’m not ashamed of it.”

  She stopped again, but the room remained silent. I would have thought someone would yell something, scream like a protester, but instead, everyone was transfixed. Even Leah. Even Helen, who stood near the front of the crowd, staring at Jamie with her mouth open.

  “What I am ashamed of, though,” Jamie continued, “is that I didn’t speak up earlier. I watched as gossip spread about someone else because I didn’t want to be found out. I told myself people would eventually figure out that Helen hadn’t had an abortion, and everything would blow over. But really, I was afraid that, because I really had had an abortion, I would be kicked out of school. I didn’t want to lose all the things—all the possibilities—that were still open to me because I had the abortion. And I want to apologize to Helen Graves for that.”

  Jamie looked at Helen, who returned a face of shock. “Helen, you got so much garbage thrown at you, and none of that should have happened. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak up sooner, but I’m glad I could do it here, in front of everyone, so all of you can hear me.” She broke eye contact with Helen to sweep her eyes across the crowd. “I wouldn’t change having my abortion, but I would change what I did after. And I am willing to face the consequences, whatever they might be. Because I’d rather face the consequences than feel ashamed.”

  Jamie’s speech echoed throughout the gym, followed by dead silence where there should have been applause for her bravery. I couldn’t believe she’d done it. But she sounded so genuine, so powerful, and so clear in her beliefs. Everyone should at least have empathy for her, I thought.

  I looked around, trying to figure out people’s reactions. But everything was so still. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, one of the other senior girls pulled Jamie into a protective hug. Another girl joined her. And then Melissa. And me. And Cady. And Sara. All of us protecting Jamie in a big, awkward, but honest and true hug. The only ones not participating were Angelle, who bit her lip nervously and hovered like she wanted to join, but couldn’t bring herself to, and Leah, who looked shocked that she hadn’t gotten her way—again.

  People in the audience around us whispered to each other, a steady murmur that sounded like cicadas in the summer.

  Sister Catherine’s shoulders sagged. The homecoming dance had turned into the biggest disaster anyone at my school had ever seen, and she had to deal with it. I didn’t envy her at all.

  “Miss Taylor, we’ll talk about this more later, with your parents,” Sister Catherine said at last, letting out a heavy sigh. “You’ll have to come with me. I’ll call your parents, and they’ll come pick you up. I’m sorry.”

  Jamie shrank back into our group, the implications of her words hitting her full force. Leah looked on, her familiar smirk returning to her face. Maybe she had won after all.

  Then Sister Catherine turned back to Leah, and her eyebrows went up when she saw Leah’s triumphant expression.

  “Miss Sullivan, what you did was quite possibly the least Christian thing I have ever witnessed at this school,” Sister Catherine said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “In my office. Now. We’re calling your parents.”

  Leah’s smirk slid off her face, replaced with a fierce defiance. She didn’t move from her spot adjacent to the homecoming group hug.

  “How is it un-Christian to be honest?” Leah tilted her head so that the stiff curls jerked as one, and placed her hands on her hips. “My dad won’t punish me for this.”

  Sister Catherine put her hand to the rosary she wore near her waist, worrying one of the Hail Mary beads between her thumb and forefinger.

  “Christianity is also about forgiveness,” Sister Catherine said after a significant pause. “And kindness. And, above all, loving your neighbor as yourself. Now, if you don’t follow me out of this gym right now, you can count on never coming back in.”

  Leah crossed her arms, stomping out behind Sister Catherine. Jamie, her head hanging low, followed, as well.

  Right before she reached the door, Sister Catherine signaled to the DJ. He started the music again, a pumping dance r
emix of EMF’s crappy “Unbelievable.”

  It was a weird way for Sister Catherine to leave things, but I’m not sure what else she could have done.

  37

  People clustered in twos and threes and fours, trying to figure out what had just happened.

  “Did you hear what Leah said to Sister Catherine?”

  “Oh, my gawd! I cannot believe that Jamie Taylor had an abortion! Do you think she was raped?”

  “I don’t know! How could she do that, though?”

  Lies, whispers, and speculation flew across the gym. A moment of triumph where Helen was finally vindicated had turned into a moment of terror about what might happen to Jamie. There was no awesome moment of special enlightenment about treating people nicely or talking about politics or helping people out. All the gossip just switched from Helen to Jamie, with an extra side dish of speculation as to what would happen to Leah.

  The homecoming court gradually drifted apart, as confused as anybody else. We’d watched, powerless, as Sister Catherine pulled Jamie and Leah from the gym. For all we knew, Sister Catherine was drawing up the expulsion papers right now, calling the diocese for guidance, and apologizing to Louis Bettencourt in order to save her job.

  Jamie had sacrificed herself for Helen, and I’d wanted everyone in the room to cheer her on, but she’d been met with silence. Though I hadn’t clapped, either—I’d been too stunned. So maybe I was being a little uncharitable to everyone in thinking Jamie hadn’t changed anyone’s mind. I couldn’t hear what everyone was saying, and I certainly couldn’t tell what everyone was thinking. But even if she got through to one person, it meant something.

  But still, it bothered me. She was going to face all the punishment—and more—that Helen had. And we’d all just stayed behind in the gym, like it was nothing. Everything returned to a forced, fake normal, and I was beginning to feel like I shouldn’t be any different from anyone else, and I should act like nothing had happened. Sean and Helen had their heads together, deep in discussion, at one of the tables that lined the far side of the gym. Sara and Jennifer were off with their dates in the freshman corner. Across the room, Melissa was making out with her date, some college guy I’d never seen before and would probably never see again.

  It felt like Trip and I were the only platonically oriented couple at the dance, and apparently I was the only one who was bothered by the fact that we’d let Jamie hang—even Melissa seemed indifferent to everything, and it seemed clear to me that she had helped Jamie plan for this moment. After all the rumors and preparation and plans and dramatic gestures, were we really going to let Jamie fall to the same thing that had almost gotten Helen?

  I sat on the bleachers and looked down at the corsage on my wrist. It was starting to wilt in the humidity of the gym. Sure, we had air-conditioning, but five hundred sweaty teenagers—half of them boys, and half of those boys with questionable hygiene—had started to steam up the place with a gross gym-sock funk. I looked for Trip, thinking maybe I could ignore the nagging feeling about abandoning Jamie if he wanted to dance. But he was doing his own thing, a wild and goofy dance with some of the other football players to Run-DMC’s “Walk This Way,” which I’m pretty sure they’d been perfecting since they were ten.

  I didn’t blame him for abandoning me. I was miserable company.

  I felt the familiar weight of someone sitting down next to me. Even without looking up, I knew it was Sean.

  “Hey, grumpy,” he said, patting me on the head. “What’re you doing over here by yourself? Don’t you have a date?”

  I shrugged. “Did Helen send you over here?”

  “No,” he said. “You’re my friend, and I noticed you were staring at the floor like an ad for one of those bullshit teen angst bands you like. What’s the name for them? Shoe-face?”

  “Shoegaze. And you know that.” I smacked him hard on his arm reflexively, like I’d have done when we were twelve, crushing the wilting corsage in the process.

  He smiled, raising his hands in a faux defense. “Ah, there you are. You know, with everything that’s happened, you haven’t punched me in weeks. Well, at least not until earlier tonight anyway.”

  I let out a cynical laugh. “Well, that’s the price you pay for growing up. A lot fewer punches from someone with no upper-body strength.”

  Suddenly, I noticed that his knee was bouncing up and down like a jittery jackhammer.

  “Hey.” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, was wondering if you’re okay with me dating your sister.” He looked at me, and then looked away a second later, as if afraid of my answer.

  It was funny. It felt like he should have asked me by now, but then I realized it was only last night that I’d seen them holding hands at the game. Between the hair salon, and the dressing up, and the presentation of the homecoming court, and the grand implosion of our plan, I hadn’t talked to him at all. Helen had done all the arranging of the great date switch of 1992.

  “Of course I don’t mind!”

  He let out a huge sigh. “Good. I was worried that was why you were over here by yourself—that you were mad at me for setting you up with Trip. I mean, not really ‘setting you up.’” He used air quotes on setting you up, and then dropped his hands. “But...you know what I mean.”

  I was at least halfway sure that it had been a setup with Trip, but I wasn’t going to say anything.

  “Ha, no. That’s not it,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m totally happy for you. I did think this would happen, but like, when she was a grown-up, and not now.”

  Open mouth, insert foot. I didn’t mean to sound like I thought Helen was a kid. I only meant that I thought this would happen in the future, like after college.

  Sean smiled. “When she grows up? Helen better not grow up any more, because then she’d be taller than me, and I don’t know if I could handle that.” He nudged me with his shoulder. “So what’s wrong? Are you upset about Jamie?”

  I shrugged. “I mean, yeah,” I told him. “I’m a little depressed that we probably didn’t change anyone’s mind, and that Jamie is probably going to get kicked out of school. And we’re sitting here like nothing happened, because it’s easier to do that than face the fact that if we really did something, we’d wind up in the same boat as her. And it’s full circle to what she said about how she was scared to stand up for Helen when she heard the rumors. Only this time, it’s not gossip—she actually did it, so it’s a whole lot worse.”

  Sean put his arm around me and squeezed. “Oh, it’s not so bad,” he said. “You tried to change people’s minds, and that’s what counts. And I’m sure that some people did change their minds. And I hate to say this, but it’s kind of like what that politician—”

  “Louis Bettencourt,” I hissed.

  “Yeah, that guy,” he continued. “He said that everyone thinks they’re doing the right thing, even when they’re wrong. And even though he and I would disagree about what’s the right thing, he’s right about that much. I think you guys—I mean, girls—” He corrected himself, probably due to the annoying way that I’d consistently told him not to call me and Helen “guys” for the past year. “You tried to help Helen, and I know she appreciated it. You did the right thing for her.”

  It didn’t make me feel any better.

  “But we didn’t do the right thing for Jamie,” I protested. “Or at least, we didn’t stick with her.”

  Sean pointed toward the opposite side of the gym.

  “Well, I think Helen might be talking with Melissa about that right now.”

  Across the darkened gym, Helen was walking away from Melissa and her anonymous college dude toward Sara and Jennifer, who stood petrified against the wall. Helen was frowning, but from a distance, it was hard to tell if she was angry, or confused, or just thinking about something really hard.

  Once she passed them, Sara and Jennifer fell in line behind her as Helen co
ntinued her march across the gym. Sara held her dress up so that she wouldn’t trip at the quick pace that Helen was setting. Jennifer’s face was blank, like it was anytime she wasn’t sure of something, but her hand clutched her tiny purse like she might lose it.

  As they got closer, I could see that Helen’s face wasn’t white with fury. No, her look was somewhere between profoundly confused and despondent, and she barely acknowledged Sara and Jennifer trailing behind her. She threw herself onto the bleachers next to Sean and grabbed his hand in a swift motion, her fingers snaking into his and clutching with distracted force. I saw Sean wince, but I knew he would never say anything.

  “Athena, you have to talk to Melissa,” she said. “I give up. She won’t listen to me. She thinks that I’m upset that this is all about abortion now. And I kind of am, but that’s not it.” She shook her head. “It’s all my fault that Jamie’s going to get kicked out. This went too far.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Sara said over Helen’s shoulder.

  I looked up at them. “None of this is anyone’s fault but Leah and Aimee’s. As ever.”

  I thought of what Sean said to me about Bettencourt, and suddenly, everything made sense. We all thought we were doing the right thing, and for a while, the right thing had been easy. It had been the same thing for all of us—to make sure that no one believed the lies about Helen.

  But then it became something else, and the right thing wasn’t so clear, and it was different for different people. And now we were stuck.

  Helen slumped next to Sean, one hand gripping his ever tighter, the other propping up her chin. Jennifer and Sara stared at me with varying degrees of hope on their faces, expecting me to fix everything.

  I wasn’t sure I could, but it was definitely, absolutely wrong to leave Jamie alone with Leah in Sister Catherine’s office. If we couldn’t fix this, she shouldn’t go down by herself. The Gang of Five had to stand for something.

  “You don’t have to come with me for this,” I said, getting up from the bleachers. “But I’m going to Sister Catherine’s office.”