“The problems in the neighborhood have already started,” the man says. “Mr. Giovanni’s fence got knocked over the other night.”
“Yes, and the fence had already been covered in graffiti,” someone else chimes in.
“I think this is just the start of our problems with that place.”
Unfortunately, I recognize the last voice. It’s Mr. Jamieson. And now he has found other people with the same bad attitude. I glance to my right and see that Jude has slipped away. I feel like doing the same thing. I need to get away from these people and their nasty comments.
I pull out my phone to check the time. As I’m doing that a text comes through.
Bonjour, chérie. Are you getting my texts?
Maman! I grit my teeth and stuff my phone back into my pocket.
“It’s time to pack up.” I say it louder than necessary. I hope everyone will move on. Thankfully, they do.
Amira turns to me as we take down the display boards. “I can’t believe those people,” she says.
“Me either.” I drop the pamphlets into a box.
“And why did they say those things right in front of Jude?” Eliza says. “That was so mean.”
“I know,” I say. “Even if there has been some damage in the neighborhood, they have no proof the kids from the group home did it.”
“I hate to say it,” Liam says, “but the timing is pretty suspicious.”
I glance over at Kaden. Given how negative he has been lately, I’m bracing myself for what he might say.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Kaden says. “Stuff like that happens all the time.”
Wow, he is full of surprises.
“I’m with Kaden.” I smile and try to make eye contact with him. But he looks away. We pick up the boxes and lug everything down the hall to store in the drama room.
I think about what Mike told me about NIMBY—not in my backyard. I had hoped this kind of negativity about the group home wouldn’t happen, yet it has. But I won’t let it carry over into the Unity Club. No way.
After the open house, the group decides to meet up at our neighborhood coffee shop, Beans Bistro. I’m surprised when Kaden joins us.
“We so earned our hot chocolates tonight,” Amira says as we grab some chairs and wedge them around a table.
I’m still burning about what those parents said at the school, so I mostly let everyone else do the talking. Suddenly a loud voice from the far corner of the shop catches everyone’s attention.
Jude is sitting at that table with a guy who looks a few years older than him. The guy is flailing his arms and speaking so loudly that nobody can miss what he’s saying.
“Nobody gets to tell me where I can—”
Jude is trying to shush him. “Ricardo, keep it down.”
“He owes me money.” Ricardo pounds his fist on the table. “He promised me I’d get it this week!” Then he gets up and storms out the door.
The coffee shop has fallen silent. Everyone is looking at Jude. He picks up both coffee cups.
“Sorry about that,” he says to the woman behind the counter as he hands her the cups.
Jude wasn’t the one doing the yelling, so it was nice of him to apologize. As he’s heading toward the door, he sees our table. He pauses as though he can’t decide whether to stop and talk to us.
“Hey,” Kaden says. “Don’t you have curfews or something?”
The kind thoughts I’d had earlier for Kaden vanish. Jude turns and walks out the door without a word.
“Why did you say that?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Amira says. “Jude was already embarrassed.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.” Kaden shrugs his shoulders. “I’m just pretty sure they have curfews in group homes. I mean, I think they do.”
As for me, I’ve had enough. Despite the positive example I’ve tried to set, I realize it’s happened. Negative thoughts about the Blue House and the teens who live there have crept into the Unity Club.
I need to do something to counter them before things get any worse.
Chapter Eight
When I get home, I open the Unity Club’s Facebook page. I need to post a group message.
I think back to when the grumbling about the group home began. It was the day I met Mike at the Blue House. At least, that’s when I first heard Mr. Jamieson complain about it. I haven’t seen Mike since then, but I remember what he told me.
I start writing my post. I explain what NIMBY means. I give examples of how people often agree that things like landfill sites or women’s shelters are necessary, but then they complain if those things are built in their neighborhoods. I point out the importance of supporting all members of our community. I finish by saying I feel the Unity Club has a duty to set a strong example by supporting the group home.
The comments that the club members make on the post over the next few days are positive. That’s a huge relief. But it bothers me that I haven’t seen Jude lately. Maybe he’s still upset about the horrible things people said at the open house. And Kaden was so rude to him at the coffee shop—right in front of the rest of the Unity Club. I wonder if Jude thinks we all look down on him because he lives in the Blue House.
When I see Jude leaving school the next day, I call out to him. At first, he just keeps walking. Then he slows down and waits for me.
“I was going to text you,” I say as we trudge through the snow. “But then I decided to wait. Because I wanted to say something to you in person.”
Jude glances sideways at me. “What’s that?”
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry about what Kaden said to you at the coffee shop. You know, about curfews.”
Jude doesn’t say anything.
“That was really rude of him,” I say. “I wish I’d spoken up right there and told him that. But he caught me by surprise.”
Jude nods, a slow smile crossing his face. “Thanks,” he says. “You know, we actually do have curfews at the Blue House. And there are a lot of rules. But I guess we need some rules. Some of us do, at least…”
Jude trails off. I wait to see if he is going to say anything else. He doesn’t. But I think he has accepted my apology. I decide to change the subject.
“Remember you said you might be interested in joining the Unity Club?” I say. “We could really use some extra volunteers tomorrow at Mini Gym Kids. We catch the city bus outside our school at four o’clock. Then we go downtown and play games with the kids at Lennox School.”
Jude smiles. “Lennox was one of my old schools,” he says. “It was my fourth school.” He tilts his head. “Or maybe my fifth. I can’t remember. I’ve changed schools a lot since I moved here from Haiti.”
“Haiti? Cool,” I say. “And hopefully you’ll get to stay here.” I feel a familiar heat spreading across my face. I clear my throat to try to cover up. “And it’d be great if you come with us on Tuesday,” I say. “You know, so you can get to know some more people.”
Even as I say that, I know it’s not just about Jude meeting new people. It’s about me getting to hang out with him too.
“What time does it end?” Jude asks.
“We’re usually back by around six o’clock,” I say.
Jude nods. “That would work,” he says. “I have to check in at the Blue House sometime after school. But as long as I do that by seven, it’s all okay.”
“That’s pretty much what I have to do with my dad too,” I say.
“What about your mom?” Jude asks.
I shake my head. “She doesn’t live with us anymore.”
As if on cue, my phone vibrates. I give it a quick glance.
“Speak of the devil,” I say.
“The devil?” Jude laughs. “She can’t be that bad.”
I decide it’s better not to say anything. Before I know it, we’re at the group home.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jude says.
“Yeah,” I say. “See you.”
I only pause for a moment to wa
tch as Jude walks into my mom’s old house and closes the door behind him.
The next day I’m shivering at the bus stop with the other volunteers when Jude steps out of the school. He races toward us. I smile when I notice he’s wearing the beige scarf with the cable.
We all pile onto the bus, and before long we’re downtown. Including the new grade-one students, over two dozen little kids are waiting for us. A roar goes up the moment we step into the gym.
“So who’s going to have fun today?” Cohen calls out.
“Me!”
“Me!”
“I will!”
Their cute little-kid voices echo around us.
“Today,” Eliza says, “we have some new people to play with. Can all the grade-one students raise their hands?”
About ten hands shoot into the air.
“Let’s all take a look at our new grade-one friends,” Eliza says. “These new buddies are a little bit smaller than everyone else. That means we’re going to be extra careful today to make sure they all get turns. Does that sound fair?”
Many of the kids jump up and down as they call out in agreement.
“Good,” Eliza says. “And now there’s someone else I need to introduce. A new big buddy has joined us today. Can everyone say hi to Jude?”
Eliza points at Jude. He looks surprised but then he smiles and waves at the little kids.
“Hi!”
“Hi!”
“Hi, Jude!” They cry as they wave back at him.
When the gym is quiet again, Cohen speaks up. “Does anyone have a favorite game they’d like to play today?”
“Dodgeball! Dodgeball!” Everyone shouts at the same time.
“We played that last week,” Liam says. “Let’s ask our new grade-one friends what game they’d like to play.”
“Dodgeball! Dodgeball!” they shout.
“Okay,” Cohen says. “I guess we’re playing dodgeball. Remember, we’re not going to throw the ball too hard. We don’t want anyone to get hurt. And if you get hit, you have to go wait at the side of the gym for one minute. Then you get to come back in.”
Eliza and Amira divide the students into two teams. Each team has three Unity Club members on it too. Before long the ball is bouncing around the gym.
Nora, a little girl in grade one, has attached herself to me. She gives me a sad look when the ball hits her leg. “That’s okay, Nora,” I say. “I’ll go sit out for you.” I cheer her on from the sidelines.
Our crew moves among the little kids. They hand the ball to the ones who haven’t had turns yet. Kids are laughing and bouncing all over the place. The excitement ramps up even more as Jude somersaults and flops to keep from getting hit. The little kids howl with laughter at Jude’s goofy stunts.
“Here, Cooper.” I hand the ball to a quiet little boy with big square glasses. “I bet you’ll get Jude out!”
Cooper gives me a quiet smile and throws the ball. When it hardly dribbles past the center line, I get it and hand it back to him. “Try again,” I say. “You’ll get him this time!”
His next throw isn’t much better. But as it rolls to the other side of the gym, Jude pretends to trip. He flops onto the gym floor so that the ball touches his foot. A cheer goes up around the gym for Cooper, who pumps both fists into the air.
When our gym time ends, the little kids give us waves, fist bumps and high fives. Then we make our way outside to the bus stop.
“That was fun,” Cohen says as we ride back to school.
“It totally was.” Amira turns to Jude. “Great dodgeball moves!”
Jude’s smile is almost as big as Cooper’s was. “Thanks,” he says. “Cooper is a pretty cool kid!”
The streetlamps are coming on just as we’re getting off the bus. As we pass the seniors’ residence, Liam comes to a stop and points.
“Oh no!” he says.
Chapter Nine
We all gasp when we see the bench. The Unity Club raised funds to buy it last year. It was practically brand-new. But now it is tipped backward into the snow. Its metal frame is twisted, and the wooden slats are broken.
We’re still looking at it when a police cruiser passes by. Ever since the group home went in, I’ve noticed the police doing more regular checks through the neighborhood. I wave to flag them down.
The police car pulls up alongside us. A female officer is the first to step out of it.
“Did any of you see what happened?” she asks.
Nobody says anything right away. It occurs to me that maybe she thinks we’re responsible for this. A group of kids out after dark. I decide to speak up.
“No,” I say. “We just got off the city bus. We were all volunteering downtown. The bench wasn’t like this when we left.”
“Yeah,” Liam says. “We would have noticed.”
The entire group still looks shocked. But when my eyes land on Jude, I see something else on his face. Fear. That’s weird. He was with the rest of the Unity Club when this happened. He definitely had nothing to do with it.
The officer’s words interrupt my thoughts. “What time did you leave to go downtown?”
“We left here at four o’clock,” Amira says.
The officer checks her watch. “So this happened between four o’clock and six o’clock?”
“It must have, yes,” I say.
Some people from the neighborhood are gathering to see what’s going on.
“If I were you, I’d go talk to the kids at the new group home.” A man tugs on the dog leash in his hand. “This sort of nonsense started right after that group home opened up down the street.”
The heat is rising within me. I suddenly notice Jude isn’t here.
“Jude left a few minutes ago,” Amira whispers.
I’m not thrilled that she figured out who I was looking for. But right now, I need to get out of here before I say something I’ll regret.
“Who would destroy our bench like that?” Amira asks as we head home. “We spent months fundraising to buy it. Now the seniors from Fairview Court will have nowhere to sit while they wait for the bus.”
“I know,” I say. “I have no idea who would do such a thing.”
Under the streetlamps, I see Amira biting the side of her lip.
“Do you think it’s possible,” she finally says, “that some of the kids from the group home might have—”
Before I can stop them, the words are out of my mouth. “Not you too! People are blaming them for everything. It’s totally unfair.” I realize my voice is louder than I intended.
“Okay, you don’t have to bite my head off. I was just asking.”
We walk the rest of the way in silence, past the Blue House. When we get to the turnoff to Amira’s house, she walks away without saying another word.
Does this qualify as my first fight with my best friend? Do I need to text her and say I’m sorry?
It feels like all the air got sucked out of my lungs. I slog the rest of the way home through the snow.
The next day, our principal calls a school assembly. Everyone is usually pretty rowdy when all the students get together in the gym like this. But today the serious look on Ms. Chen’s face keeps everyone quiet.
“As you know,” she says, “I don’t usually call an assembly for the whole school. I dislike interrupting our instructional time. But this seems rather an unusual situation.”
She pushes her bright-yellow glasses back up on her nose. “Our staff and our students work hard to create a positive environment at Addison Junior High School. But recently we have had a number of incidents of vandalism. Earlier this week a window was smashed. That was the third broken window in two weeks. We’ve also had to power-wash graffiti off the brick wall out behind the school. And, as some of you know, the bench that our Unity Club bought and donated to the seniors at Fairview Court was destroyed last night.”
Angry murmurs ripple through the gym.
I see Amira sitting two rows ahead of me. She didn’t meet me this morning
to walk to school. She also didn’t find me before the assembly so we could sit together. Then again, I didn’t go find her either. I still don’t know if she’s angry with me or not.
“I’ve spoken with the police,” Ms. Chen continues. “I don’t believe they have any leads so far. As you know, many of the seniors at Fairview can no longer drive. They rely on the bus to get to their appointments. And I am pretty sure that when I am seventy-five or eighty years old, I would like a bench to sit on while I wait for the bus.”
The mention of the seniors gives me a pang of guilt. I realize I haven’t even checked in with Mrs. Rashid to see if she’s feeling better.
“This particular act of vandalism did not occur right on Addison school grounds. Still, the bench was a gift from our students. And those seniors are an important part of our community.” Ms. Chen frowns. “This is why I brought everybody here today. In situations like this, someone often knows who was responsible. If you have any information, I ask that you come and talk to me privately.”
A silence has fallen over the gym. I take another look around, and my gaze lands on Jude. He is sitting near the back of the gym, beside Brady. Brady has been a student here for a few years now. He has a reputation for having an explosive temper. I wish Jude was sitting with somebody else. I also wonder about the guy Jude was with at the coffee shop the other night. And why did Jude slip away last night as soon as the police arrived?
Ms. Chen’s words interrupt my thoughts. “Before I close the assembly, I want to be clear on one final point,” she says. “When problems like these occur, it’s easy for people to start pointing fingers. And for people to start accusing others without having any facts to back them up. The last thing I want is for people to turn against other groups within our school or within our community. We need to address this situation together. And we need to do it respectfully.”
It feels like a weight lifts from my shoulders when Ms. Chen says that last part. But then my hopes crash back down—because in the buzz of voices around me, I can hear that students are blaming the kids from the group home. It’s already happening.
Unity Club Page 3