Ben makes a few more loops on the page and holds it up. “Like it?”
It’s like his other sketch where he’s an alien and they’re taking him to their ship, except this time he drew me standing next to him. I guess he thinks I’m an alien, too?
“It’s really good,” I say. I frown. “Hey, Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s just one problem.”
“What?”
“We do belong here.”
* * *
Mom and I have an early mother-daughter dinner because Dad had to stay late at work today for a meeting.
I wonder where Maddie’s notebook is now. I roll my carrots around on the plate, separating them from the pile of peas.
“Charlotte.”
“Hmm?”
“Give peas a chance.”
I give Mom a half smile. Maddie’s pages will be all over the school tomorrow. Oh no. They could be online. I didn’t even think about that. If she ever needed a friend, it’s right now.
Mom frowns. “Aren’t you the least bit excited?”
“About what?”
She feels my forehead with her hand. “Are you sick?”
“No.” But I feel like human garbage. Does that count?
“Wicked! It’s tomorrow night!”
“OH! It is! I completely forgot!”
Mom shakes her head.
As soon as dinner’s over, I call Maddie’s cell. It goes straight to voice mail, which never happens. I frown and dial her parents’ number. The phone rings twice, and her mom answers.
“Hi, um, is Maddie there?”
There’s a pause. “Charlotte Andrews, is that you?” In the background, I hear Maddie say, “What! Charlotte?”
It’s not too late. I can hang up the phone right now and pretend this never happened. But I won’t, because I can’t get Maddie’s haunted, panicked eyes out of my mind. What was it Ms. Harper said? Tell the truth. Make it count. I brace myself. “Yes.”
“Hey, hon.” Maddie’s mom clears her throat. “I heard you had a rough time.”
I gulp. I wonder how much Maddie told her. “Yeah.” I say. “It’s, er, different now.”
As if she just read my mind, Maddie’s mom says, “Charlotte.” I don’t know how moms do it, but they can say my name and have it mean much more. It’s just one word, but when she says it, it’s like she’s saying, Sweetheart, I know there’s more to it than that. And then she actually says, “I know all about it.”
My heart plummets through the floor. I knew it. “You d-d-do?”
“Of course I do. Maddie told me.” Her voice is gentle. “She’s been having a hard time, too. Why don’t you sit with her again?”
I hug my knees to my chest and fight the tightening in my throat. I can’t cry now. “I, um, I didn’t know—that um, that is, what happened was—” The giant lump in my throat chokes my words, making them come out in a squeak.
The line is silent for a moment. This is going to be so much harder than I thought.
Finally her mom says, “Maddie doesn’t understand, and I’m having a hard time with it myself. We miss you.”
And I miss you. I’m so ashamed of what I’ve done. My lungs feel like they’re getting smaller by the second. I can’t breathe. I blurt out, “I have to go.”
“Wait. Don’t you want to talk to Maddie?”
I did. I do. I just can’t even speak right now. The questions are too hard, and my answers too shameful. “I’m sorry. I need to g-g-go,” I say, my voice cutting in and out.
“Wait a min—”
“Goodbye, sorry,” I whisper, and click off the phone.
I sit down on my bed with the receiver in my hand. The tears roll down my cheeks. It’s not like I didn’t know this would happen, but…I’m so ashamed. How long will it be until her mom tells my mom? What if she calls her? My breath catches. My mom won’t believe it, which will make it even worse. She sees me as someone who always does the kind thing, but I stopped being that person the moment I boarded the school bus. She has no idea who I really am.
I place the phone back on the base and burrow under the covers. Why couldn’t I have held it together long enough to talk to Maddie? I needed to tell her that I’m still here. She has to know. I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. Just once, I wish I could do something right.
Ben said it was really brave of Maddie to speak up, and he’s right. It must have taken so much courage to walk into Mr. Sinclair’s office like that and tell him what happened. There’s no way Ben would ever call me brave when I can’t even apologize to Maddie.
The phone rings. I bolt up and wait for the caller ID to flash across the screen. My heart hammers in my chest. Please don’t be Maddie’s mom. Please don’t be Maddie’s mom. Every muscle tenses. My grandma’s name and number appear, and the words “In Use” blink when someone answers. I breathe a huge sigh of relief as I sink back into my pillow. What am I going to do when Maddie’s mom does call? Or when my mom calls her?
I study the ceiling fan as it spins. What was I thinking? That everything would magically be okay if I called Maddie to say I’m sorry that she lost her notebook? I sigh. It wouldn’t have helped her, but maybe I would’ve felt better.
I’m the worst.
When I get on the bus the next morning, I’m ready. Anything could happen with Maddie’s notebook pages. Someone could read them out loud and humiliate her. They could give everyone their own copy of her notebook. They could leave the pages all over the school. But so far, there’s nothing weird, except Maddie isn’t here. I don’t think she’s ever missed a day of school in her life. I study the kids around me, sprawling out of their cramped seats and into the aisle. No one looks like they’re plotting some kind of disaster; they all look bored and tired. They had lots of energy when they wanted to throw around her notebook yesterday.
What will I do if Maddie’s pages are put on display? Try to reach out to her again? If it were my journal out there somewhere, I’d be puking right now. I pull out my notebook and stare at a blank page. There’s so much cruelty everywhere. There doesn’t have to be. Maybe, just maybe, I can do something to change that. All I have to do is reach a lot more kids with my notes.
I write:
It’s okay if you’re not perfect.
I wish I could be like you.
If you need a sign, this is it. Don’t you dare give up!
I tear the messages off in strips, fold them into squares, and stick them into my pocket. Just like my other notes, I don’t sign them with my real name. No one is going to care where they came from. It’s the words that matter. I saw Ben after he read my note, and now I know what words can do. I just hope they find their way to kids who need them.
And then I realize that I know two kids who really need them. Tristan and Josh would never listen to me on the bus. But maybe, just maybe, a note would help. Ms. Harper wants me to write about something that’s important to me. And this is really important.
Dear Tristan,
I stop. I started the other letters with something good about that person. What can I possibly say about Tristan? I don’t know him at all, and what I do know isn’t kind. I can’t just write something that isn’t true. He would know it wasn’t real, and the whole point is to make it mean something. But then I think about the lunch line, and it comes to me.
You are so strong. I’ll bet no one knows you’re having a hard time right now, but don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone. Middle school is hard for me, too. Sometimes I feel like I’m never going to be strong enough. Maybe you feel that way, too.
I search for the right words.
But you can be kind. I think way deep down, you are. The strongest people are. Don’t be afraid to show it.
I hope things get better soon.
I read over the note and let my pen hover over the place fo
r my signature. But it doesn’t feel right anymore to sign it as “The Biggest Chicken at Carol Burnett Middle.” A chicken wouldn’t write this note. A chicken wouldn’t do anything at all. I fold up the note and write Tristan’s name on it. It’s a letter from no one. It doesn’t need a signature.
When I get to school, I quickly walk by the bathrooms, glance up and down the crowded hallway, and slide the note into the slats of Tristan’s locker. I duck back to the bathroom just in time to pass Tristan in the middle of a group of kids. If I play this just right, maybe I can watch him read it! I bend down to pretend-tie my shoelaces by the wall while he approaches his locker.
He retrieves a book from his bag and stashes it in his locker, and then he pulls out my note.
A random kid grazes my shin with their shoe as they pass by me.
“Ow!” I say. I can’t stay here; it’s too dangerous. I stand up and shuffle over to wait my turn for the water fountain. I can see Tristan from the side as he unfolds the piece of paper. I bend down and press the lever, and the water goes straight up my nose. I have no future as a spy! I wipe my face and try again.
Tristan leans against the locker, head bent down. He’s reading my note. The bag in his hand falls to the ground, forgotten.
“Hurry up!” some kid behind me says.
I step away from the water fountain and walk down the hallway. I sneak a glance at Tristan as I pass by just in time to see him frown and fold up the note. For a split second, I think he might crumple it into a ball like I did with Ms. Garrett’s notes, but instead he slips it into his pocket and closes his locker.
I don’t know if the note will help. But it feels good to try. I head down the hallway and find Grace and Sophie huddled over a cell phone.
“Hey!” I say. I drop my bag next to them. “What are you watching?”
“Shh!” Sophie hisses, but she angles her phone so I can see the screen.
“Turn it up,” Grace says.
Maddie’s face is on the screen, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You just don’t know what it’s like. You don’t. You think it’s so funny, that it’s all a big joke, but I’m not laughing!”
I cover my mouth with my hand. Oh my gosh, what has she done? What have I done?
“Just stop. Please.” Her lower lip trembles. “It’s not supposed to be like this! I don’t know when we all stopped being kind. I didn’t do anything wrong. They did, and every day, the kids on my bus make my life awful.” She wipes her eyes on her sleeve. “So anyway, I just wanted to say that if you feel alone out there, I get it.” Her voice cracks. “I’ve never felt so alone in my whole life.” The video ends. At the bottom, it says “4,000 views.”
Grace shakes her head. “Wow.”
“She’s in my math class.” Sophie turns off the screen. “Her name’s Maddie.”
My mouth goes dry. This is all because of the Bad Thing. It’s my fault.
“Sounds like an awful bus,” Grace says. “Where’d you find that, anyway?”
“Someone sent me the link. It’s online,” Sophie says. Her phone dings. And dings. And dings again. “Oh my gosh!” she says. “Stop!” She changes it to vibrate and drops it into her bag.
My stomach twists into a knot. I slide to the floor and hug my knees.
The buzzing continues from Sophie’s bag.
“I feel so bad for that girl,” Grace says.
This is why Maddie wasn’t on the bus today. My lungs feel like they’re shrinking. What happens now? I wish I could tell someone that I left her alone, that I’m part of the reason why she’s so upset. But who would understand? I don’t even understand, and I’m the one who did it. What will Tristan and Josh do when they find out she posted a video?
Jack approaches us. “Sorry. We got stuck in bus traffic.” He taps his phone screen and holds it up for us. “Have you seen this?” Maddie’s teary eyes stare back. I think they’re going to follow me everywhere today, and maybe for the rest of my life. Why did I ever think it was okay to stop speaking up for her? To just not say anything at all?
Grace says, “Just watched it. Hey, send that to me, will you? I want to figure out who those kids are.”
“Yeah, no kidding. They’re the worst,” Jack says, tapping out the message and putting away his phone.
“Totally,” I say, looking from one to the other, with panic bubbling in my chest. What will they do if they find out it’s me who made Maddie feel this bad? I may not be the one bullying her now. But what I did—the way I abandoned her—it’s worse. They’ll never talk to me again if they know what a bad friend I am.
Jack drops his bag at his feet. “So, did I miss anything else? Where are we sending the letters for musical theater, Charlotte?”
They all look at me. I ignore my pounding heart and make my mind switch from Maddie to musical theater.
I know this plan could work. I try to speak slowly so I won’t stutter as much. “So, I was thinking we need to write to every single p-person on the school board. Then there’s the superintendent. And we definitely need to send a letter to every newspaper we can find.” I pull a piece of paper out of my notebook. “I made a list.”
Jack reaches for it. “Can we split them up?”
“Actually,” I say, “I was thinking we should all write letters to each person. More letters means it’s a bigger deal.” At least, I hope it does.
Grace says, “Ooh, I like that. More noise means more attention.”
“Exactly. They’re not going to be able to ignore us. And we need to invite them to the play. If they can just see what we can do, maybe they’ll change their minds.” I look up to find them all nodding in agreement.
“Great idea! Shouldn’t we get more people to write letters with us, then?” Sophie asks. “We should talk to other people in class.”
Wow. If everyone else sends letters, we might actually be able to do something. And all because I said something about it to Sophie in class. I nod. “That’s a great idea. T-t—” I pause and take a deep breath like I practiced with Ms. G and look each of them in the eye. “Tell everyone.”
They head toward their homerooms, and I start toward mine. I can’t stop thinking about writing letters. What if I wrote a note for Josh, too? He seemed upset that he had to work on football all the time for his dad. Maybe some encouragement would help him—and help Maddie. I sneak another piece of paper under my notebook during attendance.
Dear Josh,
You inspire me because you always work so hard, even when you must be exhausted from football and homework. I know it’s not easy. I think that’s pretty amazing.
I fold up the note, write his name on it, and on my way to class, I stick it into his locker. I hope it makes him feel better. Maybe if he gets a kind note, he’ll be inspired to be kinder.
I also stick each of the folded notes I wrote on the bus into random lockers.
I’m not going to be quiet anymore.
* * *
“Enjoy the show,” an usher says as she hands me a Playbill for Wicked. “Your seats are down the center, to the right.” The theater’s lobby is draped in burgundy and gold, with tinkly glass chandeliers and portraits of old people.
I squeeze my mom’s arm and try not to squeal as we walk down the aisle. It looks like it’s a sold-out show! We settle into red velvet seats that are a million times more comfortable than the plastic ones in our school auditorium. When I lean forward to check out everything, I spot Aubrey a few rows ahead, waving at someone in the balcony. What are the odds of her being at the same show? I’ll bet there are more musical theater kids here, especially since the show is only being performed a few times.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yes, Charlotte?”
I grin up at her. “This is really great. Thank you!”
She gives me a side hug. “Happy early birthday, kiddo.”
&
nbsp; When the lights go down and the first bars of music play, my smile gets bigger.
And the musical is so much like school. Enemies become friends, friends become enemies, and it doesn’t always make sense. I can’t help but think of Maddie and my mountain of guilt, but I try to put it out of my mind. This is for my birthday, and tonight is supposed to be fun.
When the house lights go up for intermission, Mom beams at me. “Do you like it so far?”
“What’s not to like? This is awesome.”
“I think we’re going to need some popcorn,” Mom says.
“Sounds good,” I say.
We head to one of the concession lines in the lobby, breathing in the smell of coffee and buttered popcorn. I catch a glimpse of someone who looks a lot like Maddie disappearing into the restroom. “Hey, Mom? I’m going to run to the bathroom, okay?”
“Sure,” she says. “I’ll watch for you.”
I dart into the restroom. “Maddie?” I check under the stalls, looking for shoes I recognize. “Maddie, are you in here?”
I guess it wasn’t her. I step out into the hallway as the lights flicker.
Mom rushes over to me with a bucket of popcorn and two Cherry Cokes. “Better hurry! It’s about to start!”
We’re just finding our seats again when Glinda walks out onstage with a microphone, followed by the Wicked Witch. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special guest in the audience with us tonight. And before we resume the show, we want to introduce her to you. Maddie Hobson, will you please come to the stage?”
I gasp. It was her!
Maddie stands up in the front row—how did she get those seats?—and runs around to the side of the stage. The two actresses take turns hugging her. The one playing the Wicked Witch puts her arm around Maddie’s shoulders and turns back to the audience. “Maddie has been having a hard time at school, and she posted an emotional video about it last night. What she didn’t know is that it would go viral today, and that we would see it before the show. We can’t take back all the hurt this young lady has been through, but we would like your help reminding her that there is goodness in the world. If you support Maddie and want her to know you’re rooting for her, let’s give her a big round of applause!”
Say It Out Loud Page 9