Say It Out Loud

by Allison Varnes

  “Do you have any idea who might have thrown the gum?”

  Oh no. He changed the question, and now I can actually say something. I know it had to be Tristan and Josh. I can still hear them laughing. But I didn’t see them do it. I shrug.

  “Okay.” He hands me a clipboard. “I’d like you to write a brief statement, then. In your own words, tell me what happened.”

  I sigh and pick up a pencil. I scribble out, Someone threw gum into Ben Hooper’s hair on the bus this morning. I didn’t see who did it. I pause with my pencil still to the paper. That’s all I’m going to write. I’m safe with that. But with a twinge of guilt, I realize that Ben won’t be.

  Mr. Sinclair says, “And whatever you write is strictly confidential.”

  I look up at him. He didn’t say that before. What am I supposed to do? If I tell, it could come back to me, but if I don’t…Tristan and Josh will get away with it. I can’t let that happen. It could’ve been me instead of Ben. It could’ve been any of us. “P-promise?” I look away from him when I start to stutter.

  “No student will know you wrote it.”

  Do the right thing, Charlotte. Maybe this will stop them. But if Mr. Sinclair doesn’t keep his word, if anyone finds out…I don’t even want to think about it. I wipe my sweaty hand on my jeans. I know what I should do, but actually doing it is much harder. It’s a million times easier than saying it, though. Writing it means there are no words to stumble over or embarrassing stares when I mess up. I take a deep breath. I have to do this for Ben. My hand shakes as I write, But I heard them laughing. It was Tristan and Josh.

  Somehow I manage to put the words on paper. I may have been silent on the bus, but at least I’m telling the truth now. No one deserves what they did to Ben. And as I sign my name to the bottom of the page, I feel so much better.

  Mr. Sinclair beams at me. “Thank you for your help, Ms. Andrews. Let’s hope we won’t have to call on you again.”

  As I walk out of his office, I notice another room with a big table. And sitting at that table is Ben, his eyes swollen, and a woman with red hair patting his shoulder. It must be his mom. She looks up, and I quickly move away from the doorway. Part of me wants to say something to try to make it better, but I can’t find the words. I fix my eyes on the exit sign and walk quickly down the hallway.

  In the waiting area, Tristan and Josh sit huddled together. Tristan glances up at me, then whispers something to Josh. They both stare as the secretary signs my note so that I can return to class.

  My empty stomach gurgles. Stay calm. It’s okay. I just wrote what I thought happened. And signed my name to it. I was in there a while, too. What was I thinking? That I was going to be a secret snitch and ride off into the sunset? Maybe if I could ride a horse, but too bad for me, I’m riding the bus.

  The bell jingles as the office door shuts behind me, and my heart flip-flops.

  When they get in trouble, they’re going to know someone told. Someone like me. Like Maddie. And even if they never find out who did it, it won’t matter. They’ll decide who’s guilty.

  I think they already did.

  I still haven’t gotten used to middle school lunch. In elementary school, the cafeteria was okay because I knew everyone. But now, all the kids from three elementary schools are in one middle school. And it feels like I don’t know anyone at all, and the ones I do know don’t want to know me or have different lunch periods. Maybe I can just sit on a bench and eat in the lobby. Anything would be better than this.

  At the door, the teacher on lunch duty jumps up and blocks my path. “Where are you going?”

  “The lobby.”

  “Not with that tray. Food stays in the cafeteria.”

  This is one of the worst days ever. There’s no escape.

  I scan the tables and zero in on one near the back with some empty seats. No one even looks up when I sit down. I’m completely invisible. I poke at the soggy carrots with my spork. If only Maddie had the same lunch period. We sat together every day in fifth grade, and now…I don’t know what to do. I have no one. I didn’t think it was possible to be surrounded by people all the time and feel so lonely.

  After lunch, it’s social studies, and then PE.

  Finally I go to musical theater, which I’m taking only because my mom made me. I begged and pleaded all summer to get out of it, but she wouldn’t budge. She said, “But, sweetie, you love musicals!”

  I said, “That doesn’t mean I want to be in one!”

  She gave me a look—the one that says, Of course you do.

  “Mom…I’m going to stutter in front of everyone. I can’t do it!”

  Mom said, “Charlotte, we’ve been over this. You don’t stutter when you sing, and you have such a great voice! It might even help you get more comfortable standing up and speaking in front of people.” Before I could say another word, she added, “And it’s high time you got involved in a group. You might make some really good friends. Do this for a year, and if you hate it, you can quit.”

  “But what if I embarrass myself in front of everyone?” As far as I was concerned, there was no other way for it to go.

  Mom hooked her arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “What if you love it?”

  I glared up at her.

  “Just sing, Charlotte. It’s going to be okay,” she said, dropping a kiss onto my forehead before I could duck out of the way.

  It’s been fine so far. I sing, and no one really notices me…except Ms. Harper. She smiles at me after each song. Is she just being nice? Does she like my voice? Or has she seen that official piece of paper explaining that I go to speech? If she has, it’s just a matter of time before she pulls me aside to talk about it and I’ll want to crawl under a desk and hide.

  Right before Ms. Harper and Ms. Bishop, the chorus teacher, bring musical theater class to an end, Ms. Harper says, “I know you’ve all been waiting to hear which musical we’ll be performing—”

  “Can we do Hamilton?” blurts out Jack, his black hair swooping down over his deep brown eyes and olive complexion. He’s in sixth grade, same as me. I smile. He’d be such a good Alexander Hamilton! But then I realize I’m flashing my braces at the world, so I quickly cover my teeth.

  “No, let’s do Legally Blonde,” says Aubrey, flipping her long blond hair over her perfectly tanned shoulder. “I’d be the best Elle! I have stage and screen experience!”

  I sigh. She’s been in community children’s show choir since first grade. Then she did a local commercial for a car dealership over the summer, where she climbs into a car and says, “Gee, Dad, look at all the legroom!” It’s the goofiest thing ever. If it were me, I’d never be able to live it down. But it just made her a more popular seventh grader, and people are even saying she’s going to get a free car when she turns sixteen. Part of me wants to say, The commercial isn’t that great. It wouldn’t matter, though. Everyone treats her like she’s the star of a new TV show.

  Ms. Harper frowns and says, “I’ll wait for you.”

  When no one else speaks, she says, “We’re going to perform The Wizard of Oz.”

  I gasp. Is this for real? I know the words to every song. I could sing it in my sleep, I know it so well! Maybe this means I won’t embarrass myself. Maybe this means I could actually like this class.

  “Auditions will be during class next Monday in the auditorium.”

  My jaw drops. Monday? That’s not enough time! But at least I know all the words. If I practice all weekend, it will be okay. Maybe.

  Ms. Harper continues. “You should prepare sixteen bars of a song from any musical except this one and bring the sheet music. You’ll be expected to read lines for the character you want to audition for, and then we’ll do a dance tryout. Sound good?”

  NO! I know other musicals, sure, but not like The Wizard of Oz. I can’t read lines without messing up. And
what was that she said about dancing? So much for not embarrassing myself. This is going to be a disaster.

  “Oh, and please don’t make us listen to ‘On My Own’ again,” she adds. “I can’t take it anymore after last year.”

  Ms. Bishop chuckles and pushes her glasses higher on her freckled nose.

  Well, there goes Les Misérables.

  The bell rings.

  “Have a good afternoon!” says Ms. Harper, her blue eyes sparkling against her tan. “Make good choices! Think about audition songs!”

  I fight the sea of kids to get to my bus, and slide into a seat. My mind is racing with ideas for the audition. I could sing one of Audrey’s songs from Little Shop of Horrors! I’ve always liked that show. Or maybe something from Beauty and the Beast. I could totally sound like Belle.

  The doors shut, and the engine whines as the bus pulls away from the curb. I prop myself on my elbows and look around the half-full bus. That’s weird. I knew Ben wouldn’t be here, but neither is Maddie. I swallow the lump forming in my throat as I realize that Tristan and Josh are also missing.

  Maybe they just checked out early. Their parents could’ve picked them up for an appointment or something. Or they could be staying late for an after-school activity. But I know that’s not what happened.

  * * *

  I let myself in through the front door, spread peanut butter onto a graham cracker, and go upstairs to my room. My parents won’t be home for another hour or so, since they’re still at the elementary school. Dad is a school counselor, and Mom teaches fourth grade. I miss the time when we all went to school together and I didn’t have to ride the bus to Carol Burnett Middle.

  I pick up the phone to call Maddie, but I put it down mid-dial. I don’t even know what to say to her right now. She knew I wanted to stay out of it, and yet she gave them my name. At least, I think she did. Maybe I’m wrong and they were going to interview the whole bus anyway. I don’t know.

  I try to work on my homework, but all I can think about is Maddie. Where did she go? Is she okay? I finally close my books and wander downstairs to distract myself. When my parents walk through the door, they find me streaming The Wizard of Oz. It’s the part where Glinda asks the Wicked Witch of the West if she’s forgotten about the slippers. Glinda has a huge smile on her face.

  Mom clears her throat. “What about your homework?” She’s a lot taller than I am, which means maybe I might actually grow this year. We have the same light brown hair, and even our complexions are alike: fair skin that flushes bright pink every time we get embarrassed. I pause the movie. “It is homework.”

  Dad laughs, the lines around his blue eyes crinkling behind his glasses. His eyes are the same color as mine. Unfortunately, I also got my vision from him. My parents made me start wearing glasses last year when I couldn’t see the whiteboard at school. “Uh-huh. Books first. You can watch TV when you finish.” He heads for the kitchen.

  “But we’re going to perform The Wizard of Oz in musical theater!”

  Mom crashes onto the couch next to me. “Ah, your favorite! That’s wonderful, sweetie.” She grins. “Being in a musical might not be so bad after all, huh? I think you’re going to like it!”

  “Maybe,” I say. It’s one thing to watch The Wizard of Oz, but it’s totally different to perform it. I just don’t know if I can do it. I frown. I definitely can’t dance.

  “When are auditions?” Mom asks.

  “Next week. I think I might sing a song from Beauty and the Beast.”

  She nods. “You’d feel okay with that one?”

  “Maybe,” I say, but only because I know I won’t stutter during the song. It’s the only time I can be like everybody else. If the world could sing all the time instead of speak, my life would be so different.

  “Maybe? You’ll totally knock it out of the park!”

  I shrug. “I’m just so nervous.” The thought of singing alone, with everyone staring at me, makes my heart beat faster. What if I mess up?

  “Just sing, Charlotte. Who wouldn’t love that gorgeous voice of yours?” she says with a smile. “Which character are you going to try out for?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “You can’t go wrong. Just don’t forget about your other homework.”

  “I won’t! P-promise.”

  “Oh, and I’m going to let you set the table.”

  I grin. “You’re going to let me?”

  “Yup. It’s all yours.” She pries herself off the couch and joins Dad in the kitchen to make dinner. After a minute, it sounds like they’re starting a rock band with pots and pans.

  I reach for the remote and glance up at Glinda’s face on the screen. I don’t know why I never noticed it before, but she looks happy to have just asked the witch about the slippers. Too happy. I know what happens next: the Wicked Witch reaches for the slippers, but before she can touch them, they vanish and reappear on Dorothy’s feet. I frown. I always thought Glinda was this kind lady who helped Dorothy. But with that smile, she looks a lot like Tristan and Josh did when the gum landed in Ben’s hair.

  The next morning, I slide into the bus seat next to Maddie. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she says, shutting her red journal. She never lets me see what’s in it, but I’ll bet I can guess what she just wrote.

  I give her an expectant look. “Well?”

  She sighs. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.” A few pieces of her black hair dance in the breeze from the cracked windows.

  “You didn’t mind talking about it yesterday!”

  She glares at me. “I did the right thing, okay? I’m not like you, Charlotte. I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

  Maddie has it all wrong. I start to say that I did the right thing, too, but then Ben boards the bus. He looks around and drops down into the seat closest to the driver. A huge chunk of his hair is missing in the back. Someone cut his hair close to his scalp to remove the gum.

  Maddie motions toward the front of the bus and whispers, “And that’s why I did it.”

  The bus slowly fills up with more kids as we drive through another section of our neighborhood. It’s like the cafeteria all over again. Most of them are older than me, and even though I remember their faces from elementary school, I don’t know all their names. They play on their cell phones, listen to music, or sprawl across their seats talking to friends until they have to make room for someone else. My ears perk up at a Dolly Parton song playing on the radio, but this is no time for singing. Tristan appears first on the landing, then Josh. They grin when they spot Ben, but they keep walking toward their usual spot closer to the back of the bus.

  “Just so you know,” I say, “I think—” Tristan and Josh fall into the seat behind us. I freeze, my words forgotten. My heart dances a frantic rhythm fueled by cold adrenaline. Each second feels like an eternity.

  Maddie takes a deep breath and stares straight ahead.

  Tristan hooks his elbows over the seat and says, “Hey, Josh! I think we found the snitch!”

  I want to cry. I knew they’d figure it out. They’re going to make us pay for this.

  His voice is smooth and soft. “We know it was you. Did you think you were going to get us into trouble?” He laughs. “Aww, you did! That’s hilarious.”

  Josh pops up over the back of our seat. “We didn’t even get detention!”

  Seriously? I never would’ve—

  “Except our parents had to meet with the principal all because of your big mouth,” Tristan says. “Good thing they couldn’t prove anything.”

  A flicker of anger flashes across Josh’s face. “Yeah, that part was messed up. You almost cost us our football game.”

  Tristan says, “Who does that?”

  Stay calm, Charlotte. Breathe. Maybe if I just don’t react, they’ll get bored and leave me alone.

>   Maddie stares straight ahead. She must be thinking the same thing.

  “Hey, snitch! I’m talking to you.” Tristan kicks the back of Maddie’s side of the seat.

  She whirls to face them. “You,” she says, her voice coming out low and firm, “need to stop. Now.”

  Both boys laugh.

  “Or what?” Tristan smirks. “You’ll tell? Yeah, that really worked last time.”

  She rolls her eyes and turns back around.

  Wait, so…They’re not after me? Relief washes over me, and quickly turns to panic.

  “You didn’t answer my question, loser!” Tristan says. He punches the back of her side of the seat a lot harder this time and laughs.

  Maddie clenches her jaw.

  If only someone would help. I glance at the kids watching in the seats around us, but they look away. I can’t just sit here. My heart hammers in my chest and drowns out their laughter. I have to do something. “Stop!” I say, the word falling out of my mouth before I can talk myself out of it.

  “Oh, look, another one! They come in pairs. Hey, UGLY!” Josh strikes the back of my seat so hard, it feels like he’s punching me right between my shoulder blades. I gasp. I know I’m ugly, but I wasn’t prepared for someone to actually say it. He has no idea that he doesn’t need to hit my seat. The word hurts more.

  “Cut it out!” Maddie says.

  “Make me!” Punch. “Rejects!” Punch. They beat the backs of our seats together in a perfect left-right, left-right rhythm that blends with the humming engine and the radio. We lean away from the back of the seat to escape the continuing blows. Our eyes meet. Maddie shakes her head.

  “Hey!” Punch!

  “D-don’t!” I yell, and immediately cringe. I know better than to start with a hard sound like D, but I didn’t even think about it. It just came out.

  “D-d-d-don’t!” Tristan mimics. “Talk much?” He laughs.