As Mr. Beck opened the door, we gave each other a thumbs-up and headed inside. Sonali and I sat down at Cluster Four.
Tara scoffed. “What was that all about?”
“You’ll see,” I answered.
The moment school announcements were over, Mr. Beck stepped to the front of the room. “Before we get started today, I’ve decided to make some changes in seat assignments.”
A few groans went up from the classroom.
“But I like where I’m sitting,” someone complained.
Mr. Beck held up his forefinger. “Gwen, please trade desks with Jadyn.”
“What!?” Jadyn’s eyes flashed green. “This isn’t fair.”
“But Mr. Beck,” Tara said sweetly, sitting tall in her seat. “Remember, you let us choose our clusters in January.”
“And Tara,” he continued, “you will trade with Joel in Cluster Number Two.”
Tara’s eyes narrowed, and she whispered, “He can’t do this. I’m going to tell my mom.”
No one budged.
“Let’s move now, people,” Mr. Beck stated. “For the rest of you, this would be a good time to take a few minutes to clean and organize your desks while we wait.”
My desk hadn’t had much time to get messy, but I lifted the desktop and moved around my pencil and marker containers anyway.
Tara yanked out her textbooks and notebooks and dropped them to the floor.
Bam!
“Pick those books up,” Mr. Beck ordered, “and try that again. Quietly this time.”
Tara obeyed. Then she leaned around the edge of her desk and whispered to me, “This is all your fault.”
“I don’t think so,” I whispered back.
“You’re going to pay,” she added, “for stealing Sonali.” Then she went back to emptying her desk.
In less than ten minutes, Tara and Jadyn were separated and relocated to new desks in different clusters. As Tara sat down, another girl in her new cluster pulled a stretchy headband out of her backpack and put it on. She flashed me a quick grin as she adjusted it in her hair.
With the two Mean Bees gone and Gwen and Joel added, Cluster Four had taken on a whole new look and feel.
“Hey, I don’t mind being in this cluster,” Joel said, “but I’m not wearing one of those.” He pointed at our headbands.
Sonali, Gwen, and I laughed.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We won’t make you. It’s a free country.”
And for the very first time since I’d started at Edgewater Elementary, I felt ready to be part of my new school.
Change, I realized, can be a good thing.
Meet the Author
Mary Casanova has published more than twenty books, including Jess and Cécile: Gates of Gold, also for American Girl. To write Chrissa, she tapped into her own childhood memories, as well as drawing on her experiences as a parent of two children who are now in college. She and her husband live in northern Minnesota, where they ride their horses, Midnight and JJ, and explore Rainy Lake and Voyageurs National Park with their two dogs.
Special thanks to Patti Kelley Criswell, MSW, Dr. Michael Obsatz, and Susan Kovacs
Letter from American Girl
Dear Readers,
We receive thousands of letters from girls every year. From these letters, we know how hard it can be to stand up to bullies and, unfortunately, how often bullying happens. We wrote Chrissa’s story to show how one fictional girl learns to handle some difficult relationships—and to inspire you as real girls to find ways to handle challenging people in your own lives.
One way to put an end to bullying is to keep the conversation going. Read the following real letters from real girls who are looking for ways to stand strong when dealing with bullies. Get together with others who have read Chrissa’s story, and talk over the discussion questions.
Keep trying. Keep talking. Together we can make a difference.
Your friends at American Girl
Real Girls, Real Letters
Too Scared to Speak Out
Dear American Girl,
There’s a girl who goes to my school, and she’s different. I try to be her friend, but my other friend is really cruel to her. I’m too scared to stick up for her.
–Scared
You know in your heart what you need to do. The next time your friend is cruel to this girl, be brave and say something like, “Why don’t you just leave her alone?” Don’t pass up the chance to do what’s right because you’re afraid of a bully. You won’t feel good about yourself, and you might miss out on a new friendship, too. You can also give the heads-up to the teacher, so she can keep an eye out for the bullying and put a stop to it.
To: American Girl
From: A victim
Subject: A rotten girl
Dear AG,
There’s a girl in my class who often comes up to me surrounded by friends and says with a smirk, “I think you’re really pretty.” I know she’s being rotten, but I guess she thinks I’m too dumb to figure out that she means the opposite. How do I deal with her?
You need to let this bully know that you understand what’s going on. One way to do that is to look annoyed and walk away. Another way is to look her in the eye, use her exact same tone, and say, “Thanks, I think you’re really nice.” You have to act very confident for that to work, though, so you may want to practice at home in front of a mirror or with a parent. Also, know in your heart that one of the things this girl doesn’t have is inner beauty, so hold your head up and let yours shine.
Been There! Done That!
Dear American Girl,
A mean girl at school won’t leave me alone! My mom says, “Just try ignoring her.” Been there! Done that—about 20 times!
–Miserable
It takes nerves of steel to tune out someone who’s deliberately tormenting you. And it may not stop this girl. If ignoring is going to work, it will work in the first week or two. If the bullying continues past that, you need a new plan. Keep track of what she says and when she says it. Get support from your parents and teachers. You can also try letting her know that you want her to LEAVE YOU ALONE. Let her know that if the bullying doesn’t stop, you’ll have to report her to the principal. Then, if need be, do just that.
BF Bully
Dear AG,
One of my best friends is kind of a bully. I know I shouldn’t be friends with a bully, but I’ve been friends with her for a LONG time. I know why she acts like that—it’s because she doesn’t get a lot of attention at home. When it’s just me and her, she’s great, but when we’re around others, it’s like she’s a totally different person. I wish I could get her to stop.
–Frustrated
Have you tried talking to her? She may not realize she acts so differently around others. When the two of you are alone, let her know how much you appreciate the nice side of her. But also let her know that it hurts your heart to see her be mean to others. When she is being mean, be sure not to join in—and stand up for others when you can. Also, if she has told you she misses her parents, encourage her to talk to them and let them know she needs more family time.
Hot and Cold
Dear American Girl,
I have a “hot and cold” friend. One week, we’ll save seats for each other, play at recess, and tell each other secrets. Then, the next week, she won’t talk to me, she says mean things behind my back, and she lies to me. I want to be her friend, but she is too unpredictable. Help!
–On-and-off Friend
Your friendship sounds like a toxic one! You need to have an honest talk with this girl the next time she tries to freeze you out. Let her know that it’s bully behavior and that you are not willing to put up with it. Then don’t. Put some distance between the two of you, and put energy into other relationships. By doing this, you might be able to still be friends, just not as close as before.
To: American Girl
From: Afraid
Subject: Bullies
Dear American Gi
rl,
The boy next door always kicks me and pulls my hair. I’m afraid if I fight back, he might hurt me even more. If I tell his parents, he’ll get punished, but he’ll still beat me up. What should I do?
Putting your hands on someone else in anger—or otherwise— is serious. You should report this, fast. Talk to your own parents first. They can talk to this boy’s parents or come with you when you do. You also need to stop playing or interacting with him for a while. Try not to go near him and ask that he not enter your yard. This boy may never be the ideal neighbor. But if he knows you won’t cover up for him, he’ll think twice before he hurts you again.
Discussion Questions
1. Chrissa had many chances to talk to adults about what was going on, but she didn’t. What makes it hard for a child to go to an adult when he or she is being bullied? What do you think Chrissa was afraid of? If she had talked to an adult, would it have changed things? What would you do?
2. Throughout the story, Sonali appears to be torn between listening to Tara and listening to her heart. Why do you think Tara had so much power over Sonali? What does that say about their friendship? What would you have done if you were Sonali? Have you ever been stuck in the middle?
3. Initially, Tyler didn’t understand that he was being pulled in and used to bully Chrissa. When do you think he started to understand what was happening? How do you think he tried to “make it right” with Chrissa? When you make a mistake, how do you heal things?
4. Chrissa wasn’t able to stand up to the mean girls until they tricked Gwen into coming into the deep end of the pool. Why do you think she stood up for Gwen then? Is it easier to stand up for someone else than it is to stand up for yourself? How do you think it made Chrissa feel to speak out? Have you ever stuck up for a friend?
5. When it comes to relationships, we learn a lot from our parents. What did you think of the way Tara’s mother acted? If you had to choose, which mom would you want, Tara’s or Chrissa’s? Why?
6. Solidarity means to stand together for the same purpose or cause. How do you think Gwen felt when her classmates wore headbands? If you were in the class, would you have worn one? Why or why not? Have you ever joined with others in a cause you believe in? How did it make you feel?
Chrissa is having a blast this summer, hanging with friends and practicing her swimming. When Chrissa and her friends receive mean text messages, someone must stand up to the bullying that could ruin their summer fun.
Keep reading for a preview of Chrissa’s second book!
Lake Chandler called to me. Though I usually love shopping with Mom for back-to-school clothes, all I wanted to do this Saturday morning was to get back to the lake. Tryouts for the Edgewater Swim Club were on Monday—only two days away—and I wanted to keep practicing my dives from our swim raft.
As music blared overhead, I pulled on another outfit and then stepped out of the dressing room. In front of a three-panel mirror, I turned this way and that.
“Hey, I tried on that outfit and it looked awful.”
The voice sent a twinge from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes. I didn’t turn around, but I glanced at the reflection behind my own. It was Tara James—the biggest bully in last year’s fourth-grade class.
“But it looks really great on you!” Tara nodded at my reflection.
I smoothed the top across my waist. Tara being nice? I doubted it.
“Honest,” she continued, “it’s cute.”
I forced myself to turn around. Petite and with flashing eyes, Tara wore her usual nothing-can-stop-me attitude. In a flash, the second half of fourth grade played over in my head. From the moment I’d arrived as a new student in Mr. Beck’s class the day before Valentine’s Day, Tara had been unfriendly. More than unfriendly—she’d been mean. She and two other girls, sometimes called the Queen Bees and sometimes called the Mean Bees, had played tricks on me and on Gwen, another fourth-grader who had plenty of troubles of her own. And then, when one of the Mean Bees—Sonali—finally left their group because she was tired of their mean pranks, Tara had been furious at me and accused me of stealing Sonali. Now the Mean Bees were down from three to two: just Tara and Jadyn.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Tara asked with a teasing smile.
In only a few seconds, my stomach had managed to get as tangled as a ball of yarn after my grandmother’s cat has attacked it. But at least Nana’s cat attacks only out of playfulness! It’s different with Tara. I couldn’t be too careful.
“Hi, Tara,” I finally said. “And, um, thanks, I guess.”
“Hi, Tara,” I finally said. “And, um, thanks, I guess.”
I turned back to the mirror. “So where’s Jadyn?” I said to her reflection. It somehow felt safer than talking to her face-to-face.
“She’s meeting me here in a little while.” Tara turned into a different dressing room and returned with a dress. “Hey, you should try this one. It didn’t work on me, but I bet that it’ll look great on you.”
I hesitated, then accepted the dress. I slipped into my dressing room but in seconds was standing back at the mirror. I was surprised how much I liked it.
“You have to get it. It’s totally you,” Tara said.
Just then, Mom walked back into the dressing room corridor. She had a few more outfits draped across her arm. In the reflection, I saw her shoot a questioning glance at Tara. She knew how hurt I’d been and probably wondered why I would come within a mile of Tara if I didn’t have to. Then her gaze shifted to me and my reflection. Her face cleared and she smiled.
“That’s adorable on you, Chrissa! I would never have guessed. Let’s get that one for sure.”
“Um, it wasn’t my first choice, but then Tara suggested it. Uh, Mom, you remember Tara?” Mom nodded. “And Tara, this is my mom, Dr. Maxwell.”
“Well, Tara,” Mom said, studying my reflection again. “It’s clear you have an eye for fashion.”
“I know.” Tara looked pleased. “That’s what everybody tells me.”
Mom’s right eyebrow flicked ever-so-slightly upward at Tara’s outright boastfulness. It made me think of one of Nana’s rules: Don’t boast. Clearly, no one had drilled Tara on that one.
I took one last glance at the dress, which I loved, and headed to my dressing room. “Mom, I think I have enough now. We can go.”
“Enough?” Tara mimicked. Then she said in a silly queenly voice, “But a girl can never have enough clothes!”
Mom laughed, and I giggled, too.
After checking out, I followed Mom past racks of shirts and skirts, pants and dresses. Just as we were leaving the store, someone touched my elbow. “Before you leave,” Tara said.
I stopped and pivoted.
“We’re going to be competing for spots on the swim team,” she began.
I braced myself. If I knew Tara, she was probably going to tell me that I didn’t have a chance or that I shouldn’t even try out, just to give herself an advantage. She had been the best fourth-grade girl swimmer and diver until last year, when I arrived at Edgewater Elementary. It turned out that we were pretty well matched.
“I know things didn’t go well last year,” she said. “But this year, things could be different…Maybe we could be friends this year.”
There was something soft in her eyes and the way she angled her head. She seemed, well…sincere.
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, cautiously. “That would be good.”
As I pushed through the mall doors into the steamy outside air, I passed Jadyn—the other Mean Bee—with her mother a few steps behind her. “Meet you at the Food Court in five,” she said into her pink cell phone, then clicked it shut with a snap. I was apparently invisible to her, which was fine with me. A conversation with one Bee was enough for the day.
I still couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. I glanced at my shopping bag. In it were not just one—but two—outfits that had come with Tara’s compliments. I never would have guessed.
Gwen and Sonali were not going to believe this!
“Hey, Tyler, watch this!”
Perched on the edge of the swim raft, I prepared for another back dive. With my weight on the balls of my feet, I brought my arms down, bent my knees, and pushed off. Clasping my hands in a V over my head, I sliced through the warm air and then disappeared into Lake Chandler.
Yes! The dive felt perfect! I surfaced, wiped water from my eyes, and beamed at my brother. “So, how was that?”
Tyler sat cross-legged on the raft, his eyes hidden beneath his hair, almost like our mini llamas, Cosmos and Checkers, before shearing. “Not bad, Chrissa,” he said, “but your feet were three zillion miles apart!”
His words stung. Over the summer, I’d worked on back dives. At first I only back-flopped, but I’d made progress. I swam to the raft’s ladder and climbed up. “How can you say that? Maybe you need a haircut so you can see better.”
“I can see fine,” he said. “And so will the coach. On a scale of ten, you’d be lucky to get a two.”
“A two?” I slumped down beside him. “C’mon!”
A light breeze rippled the bay’s surface and nudged a half-dozen sailboats in the distance.
Tyler stood. “Remember how you used to pretend you were a mermaid?”
“Yeah.”
“Next time,” he said, “think of your feet as a mermaid’s tail. Keep them glued together like this.” He strode to the edge and somersaulted into a forward one-and-a-half.
As he surfaced, he dared me to score him. “That was a ten, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe a one,” I said, lying. Mom was right. My being eleven months younger than Tyler made us too close in age. I hated to always be outdone by my brother.
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