My index finger hovered over the “post” button.
And then my mom’s words came back to me.
“They’re doing the very thing that they accuse you of doing.”
And . . .
“We’ve all got flaws, Allie, and if that weren’t true, we wouldn’t need a savior.”
I put the phone down on the table. Stared at the words that had spewed out of my heart and onto the screen. They were angry, harsh, bitter words. Written about another girl, who was created by God, who had flaws, just like me.
I can fight better than this, Lord.
I picked up my phone and deleted the post. Then I threw the phone in the kitchen junk drawer and ran out to the Lickety Split, where I hit my knees, so I could just be still—and pray.
God, you can have this whole thing. The carnival. The dog show. The humiliation from the viral video. The failed dog clinic. Madison hating me. I can’t deal with any of it! I’m just a kid, and I’m in way over my head. I don’t know what to do.
I kneeled there for what seemed like forever. Then, when my knees finally turned numb, I lay down on the beanbag and stared up at the 1 Peter 5:7 Scripture board above my head again. This time, a different part of the verse popped out at me.
“. . . He cares about you.”
On Monday, everyone at school was quiet about the no-show at the dog park. I did notice lots of shifty glances coming my way during lunch, so I figured they had to be talking, but hey—as long as it didn’t end up on the Internet, I considered that a win.
But then, “Terrible Tuesday” arrived. During our morning nutrition break, Lola sent me a text with some pictures attached.
This is going around in our class right now.
I clicked on the first picture and then enlarged it so I could read the words:
Petition to Remove Student Project Manager
We, the students of Ouachita Middle School, hereby request that Allie Carroway be removed from her position as Student Project Manager for the year-end project. Since she took over the position, volunteers have withdrawn, events have been canceled, and negative publicity for the school has been generated by an inappropriate video that was posted on social media. We feel it is in the best interest of Ouachita Middle School and the West Monroe Animal Shelter for this action to be taken immediately, and that the second student in charge—Madison Doonsberry—be appointed Student Project Manager.
The petition demands were hard enough to read. The torture was reading names of my friends who had already signed it! I clicked on the picture of the next page, and there were 150 signatures.
Another text buzzed in from Lola.
Don’t worry, I didn’t sign it.
And she put a happy face emoji on the end of that text. I texted her back.
You’re the best.
She buzzed back.
What are you going to do?
I thought a minute.
What should I do, God?
A calm settled over me, and I knew exactly what to text back to Lola.
Wait to see what they do with it.
There wasn’t really anything else I could do. I knew Madison wasn’t the right person for the job. Right now, she was working on handing the school a lawsuit that could air on Lunker Law. I checked her funding page. Six-thousand dollars raised.
By the end of the week, three quarters of the student body had signed the petition. And on the day of the rescheduled dog clinic, only thirty kids and their dogs showed up. But everyone who came loved the special attention they received from Mr. Felix, and they took home extra breakfast burritos and dog treats.
I had a lump in my throat the entire time. Thankfully, Madison didn’t show up, or I might have pounced on her and wrestled her into the creek.
I sat on a swing on the nearby playground, watching the last of the dog owners thanking Mr. Felix. Miss Lewis brought her cute dog Daisy over on a leash, and she sat down on the swing next to me.
“That could have been much worse, Carroway.”
I dug my toes in the dirt as I swung a little. “Yeah. Too bad people stayed home. They missed something really special.”
I reached out to pet Daisy, and wished Hazel Mae were here. I guess I hadn’t shown much enthusiasm either—leaving my own dog at home.
“I talked to Christie—I mean, Mrs. Mellon—today. Bethany’s doing a little better.”
I perked up. “That’s great news.”
“She’s coming to my classroom Monday after school. We’d both like to meet with you. It’s important. Can you be there? 1600 hours?”
I gulped. “Sure. What time is that, exactly?”
“Four o’clock.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER 24
Resignation
Dear Miss Lewis,
To ensure the success of the Ouachita Middle School year-end project, I feel it is necessary to resign my position as Student Project Manager. I regret that things did not go more smoothly under my leadership, and I promise to do everything I can to support you and the new Student Project Manager from this point forward. Thank you for giving me a chance to serve.
Sincerely,
Allie Carroway
Miss Lewis and Mrs. Mellon sat across the desk from me in room 220. They took turns reading my letter silently, and then they placed it on the desk—right next to the “Petition to Remove Allie Carroway as Student Project Manager.”
“This must have been difficult for you to write,” Miss Lewis said.
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Mellon picked up the petition, and turned it to face me on the desk. “Did you, by any chance, know about this when you wrote your letter?”
I swallowed hard, bit my bottom lip, and nodded. “I’ve known about that for a week.” I reached for the petition and flipped through the pages. “That’s a lot of signatures.”
My eyes filled up with water.
Don’t blink, Allie. Don’t let the tears fall.
“I did my best.”
“I know.” Mrs. Mellon reached out and patted my hand.
“Do you think you did anything wrong?” Miss Lewis asked.
I thought a minute. The answer was no—except for one thing.
“I shouldn’t have made fun of you. I’m very sorry.”
Miss Lewis cocked her head and looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
Is it possible she didn’t know about the video?
I took a deep breath. “I performed a goofy skit at my family’s comedy night that went viral on the Internet. It was about you, and I shouldn’t have done it.” I looked down at the floor. “I’m so sorry, Miss Lewis. Will you forgive me?”
“For the Lewis-Beetle skit?” Miss Lewis was grinning now. “I thought it was hilarious.”
Both Miss Lewis and Mrs. Mellon were giggling a little. Miss Lewis—giggling!
I picked my head up. “You did?”
“Of course. I messaged it to all my friends and family.” Miss Lewis leaned forward. “Allie, has that been bothering you all this time?”
She called me Allie.
I finally lost a tear and had to wipe it from my cheek. “That’s what’s been bothering me the most! My cousin recorded that video. She never meant for it to get out. Some girls at a party stole her phone, downloaded, and posted it. Things went viral, and now it seems everyone has turned against me.”
“Hmmmm.” Miss Lewis tapped her fingers on the desk. “That doesn’t make sense. I would think the kids would love you even more after that video. I know I’m not everyone’s favorite.”
Mrs. Mellon nodded. “Sounds like a smear campaign to me.”
I sniffed. “Smear campaign?”
Miss Lewis picked up the petition and flipped through the pages. “Yes. It seems that someone is working hard to get you removed from this project. Do you have any idea who it could be?”
Yes.
“No, ma’am. I mean—I have some ideas, but no proof.”
“Any idea who called and cancelled the dog trainer? Because I know it wasn’t you.”
Well, that’s a relief.
“Once again—I have ideas, but no proof.”
“Carroway, stay right here. We’ll be right back.”
Whatever you say, Miss Lewis. I’ll even do push-ups if you want me to.
Both teachers got up and walked out the door. I turned my head and could see them talking through the window. Miss Lewis had her arms crossed, and Mrs. Mellon had one hand on her hip and one on her forehead.
Finally, Miss Lewis walked back in the classroom—alone.
“Is Mrs. Mellon all right?” I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I hadn’t even asked her how she was feeling.
“Christie’s fine. But she had to go meet with a specialist about Bethany’s eyes. I guess she may have major problems with her vision now. That poor little girl.”
Miss Lewis picked up my resignation letter.
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness in drafting this letter, Allie. It proves to me that you have the well-being of the school foremost on your heart.”
She picked up the petition and scanned it, then looked at me. “Madison Doonsberry, huh? That’s who they want to lead them?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I suppose we should give them what they want.”
Miss Lewis took my letter and placed it on top of the petition. Then she turned both documents sideways, and began to rip them to pieces!
My jaw felt like it hit the floor, and my throat dropped into my stomach. I’m pretty sure my eyes popped out for a second too.
Miss Lewis continued to rip, then she walked over to the trashcan in the corner of the classroom and threw the shreds in. She strode back, pressed her lips together, and breathed deep through her nose.
“Well, they’re not going to get what they want. They’re going to get what they need. And that’s you, Carroway. You’re going to continue as Student Project Manager, because I believe you’re the right person for the job. It may be a dog show disaster right now, but this thing is going to turn around, you’ll see.”
I shot to my feet. I didn’t know whether to jump up and down and cheer, or jump up and down and protest. The only thing I actually did was pound my fist on the desk.
Miss Lewis raised one eyebrow.
I put my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . . I don’t know. I really appreciate you standing by me.”
Miss Lewis pounded the desk too. “No, that’s good! I’m glad you have a little fight left in you.”
Miss Lewis sat back down. “Plus, it’s an honor to stand by you and finish this project. I understand how it feels not to be the popular one at this school.”
I hung my head. “I’m really sorry about that too.”
Miss Lewis shrugged. “I’m used to it. Hey—I’m not ashamed to demand excellence. It’s my job to shape my students and challenge them—not to be their friend. I know—I can be over-the-top intense, and that doesn’t help—but it’s my personality. And I know kids joke that I never smile, but do you want to know when I smile, Carroway? I smile when I see a kid like your brother get into college and study engineering. Someday he’ll invent something that will change the world, and I’d like to think I pushed him to try something better than pranking all the time.”
I smiled. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“So . . .” Miss Lewis stood up and walked me to the door. “Are we going to stick this thing out together—work as hard as we can, and let the outcome speak for itself?” She held out a fist.
I met it with my fist. “Sure. Let’s do it.”
Miss Lewis opened the door for me. “You know, we could use this unpopular team thing to our advantage.”
“Really? How?”
Miss Lewis tapped her temple with her index finger. “Oh no—I’m not going to do your thinking for you, Carroway. You’re a leader. Act like one.”
CHAPTER 25
Mother’s Day
The pep talk and fist bump from Miss Lewis energized me. The first thing I did when I got home was text all the steering committee and call a meeting for the next day. At the meeting, I apologized for making such a silly video and for letting it get out on the Internet to embarrass the school. I also apologized for not confirming the dates with Mr. Felix on the Friday before the first dog training. I suggested that we schedule one more dog training clinic, and then I asked them if they would consider showing some enthusiasm so that the kids of the school would come out. I also assured them that for the next month I would focus on getting all our volunteers back, and I told them how much I noticed and appreciated all their hard work.
I even said that to Madison. After all, her funding page was now up to seven-thousand dollars, and I did notice that she was working hard—even if it was to embarrass me and bankrupt the school.
When she scowled back at me, I ignored it.
This scowling and ignoring continued at meetings and during school for the next couple of weeks.
Finally, after what seemed like hours of Lickety-Split prayer time and God telling me to finally admit my part in the mess, I decided to be obedient and pull her aside after a meeting in Miss Lewis’s room.
“Madison, can you hang out here for a minute?”
Madison steamed. “What do you want?” She slammed her backpack down on the chair.
I dropped my arms to my sides with hands open, asked God for super-strength, and then spoke.
“I just want to say that if I’ve done anything to offend you, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it till recently, but I really miss my old house, and now you live there, so I’ve been mad at you, and I know that’s not your fault. Will you please forgive me?”
Madison said nothing. Just stared down at her backpack.
This isn’t going so great, God.
“Anyway, I hope we can start over, and be friends someday.”
Madison finally turned to face me with her hands on her hips, but she didn’t make eye contact.
“Thank you. I’ll think about it.”
And she turned and walked out the door.
I didn’t talk much more to Madison again until Mother’s Day—in the bathroom at The Cracker Barrel.
Mamaw had been recovering from a cold all week, so—though she protested—we insisted she not cook.
“We’re taking the moms out,” Dad said.
And The Cracker Barrel restaurant won the vote for best place to go, because of its delicious gravy, rocking chairs, and checker games.
When we all piled into the lobby, I thought the young hostess was going to flip out.
“Carroways? You’re coming to our restaurant?” She looked beyond us kids to count heads. “Uh, do you have a reservation? It’s Mother’s Day, and we’re kinda busy . . .”
The manager—Martha, who’s my mom’s friend from high school—came to her rescue.
“We have some tables set up for them in the side room, Charlotte.”
Charlotte breathed a sigh and put a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank heavens. I didn’t know how I was going to turn away the Carroways.”
She led us past full tables filled with families and over to the side room. It was a large space separated from the main restaurant by a half-wall, and it held just enough tables and chairs for our huge group.
At first, all us cousins clustered together at the same table, but then were reprimanded by my Uncle Wayne.
“Sit by your moms this time, kids,” he said. “You can hang out all you want later.”
So that just meant that we’d have to throw our napkin ball bombs a little farther to hit each other.
After we were seated, Hunter threw the first one, right at my forehead.
“Open and read,” he said.
So I did.
Dimple-Dunk 5000 = Complete! Check it out after dinner.
I gave Hunter a thumbs-up.
“What’s with the thumbs-up?” Lola hollered from across the table.
“The Di
mple Dunker is done. I’m going to check it out later. Wanna come?”
“What’s done?” Kendall yelled from where she and Hunter were sitting with Aunt Kassie.
“The Dimple Dunker!” I yelled back.
Mom put her fingers in her ears. “This isn’t working, Wayne. I’m going to go deaf on Mother’s Day. Please, let the kids sit together.”
At her request, we all played musical chairs, and the preteen cousins ended up sitting together after all.
We had a great dinner. I couldn’t tell what most of my family ordered, because everything was smothered in that heavenly gravy. I devoured some gourmet mac and cheese, and I ate way too many biscuits and cornbread for someone who also planned on ordering the s’mores dessert. We joked and laughed, Mamaw complimented the chef on his meatloaf, and both Ruby and my Uncle Josiah snorted milk out of their noses when we retold the T-Rex limbo story.
It was a perfect Carroway night out.
And then the Doonsberrys arrived.
I had to check twice, because at first it looked like a different family. Madison had on a lacey white dress, with pink low heels, and both Parker and his dad were wearing navy blue suits. A woman was with them. A tall blonde, with professionally done eye makeup. She wore a pink chiffon dress, white high heels, and a jeweled necklace with matching earrings that sparkled in the light as she walked toward their table. She sat down next to Parker on one side, and Mr. Doonsberry and Madison sat across from them. As soon as they were settled, the woman took out her phone and began scrolling.
Lola, who was now sitting next to me, nudged me with her elbow. “I bet that’s her mom. She looks like a model. I love her dress.”
I tried to look without them knowing, by taking a long drink from my water and peeking through the bottom of the glass.
Mr. Doonsberry was trying to talk to the woman, but she just kept scrolling.
Parker tapped her arm and then pointed to his dad. She threw her phone down on the table, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms in front of her.
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