Girls in Charge

by Debra Moffitt

  You can start no fresher than to be an immigrant, leaving your country in, say, 1900, and coming through Ellis Island. I should have brought a jacket for the boat ride, which chilled us but provided an excellent view of the New York City skyline. And perhaps I should have worn more comfortable shoes, not strappy sandals, for the climb up, up, up into the Statue of Liberty. We took photos from every conceivable angle: from high up in the crown, looking down, to lying down on the grass beneath Lady Liberty. It was very hard to get her—head to foot—in the shot. The more we cut off her head or cut her off at the knees, the more uproariously we laughed.

  The boat ride also gave us lots of time to talk about the PLS. We went down below and sat at a table with Ms. Russo.

  “Seems too bad that just when the PLS is recognized, we have to move on and graduate,” Kate said.

  “Don’t see it that way,” Ms. Russo said. “Be proud of the work you did and how you got the PLS to this point.”

  “Mrs. Percy said something about announcing us at graduation. Is that going to happen?” Piper asked.

  “That’d be too weird,” I said.

  “Would it?” Ms. Russo asked. “Because I think it would be fitting for you to be recognized. Perhaps you can introduce next year’s Pink Locker Society members, too.”

  “People can’t know who we are,” I said.

  “Even though there’s not much time left, that could be a pain, actually,” Piper said. “If people knew who we were, they’d be bugging us and everyone would want to see the office.”

  “True. But maybe there’s some middle ground?” Ms. Russo said. “Think about it.”

  “We will,” I said. “And I guess we have to finalize our replacements.”

  “Yes, I’d get on that ASAP,” Ms. Russo said. “And are you all set for tomorrow—for your presentation with Forrest at the Tomorrow’s Leaders Today conference?”

  “Just about,” I said. This was like saying “I’m almost there,” when I hadn’t even left my house.

  Enough stalling, I thought. Time to find Forrest and make a plan.

  Twenty-nine

  I surveyed the entire ferry looking for Forrest. I would have texted, but our teachers had the brilliant idea that we couldn’t use our phones (except to take photos) during the entire field trip.

  “Be where you are, people,” Ms. Russo said. “Experience New York, not your cell phone.”

  That was all well and good, but now I was experiencing New York in a bit of a panic. Shortly, we’d be at a museum and then we’d be dining in Chinatown. After that, I knew it would be late. I had left approximately no time for Forrest and me to work on this presentation.

  “If you wouldn’t have volunteered to work with Forrest, you wouldn’t have gotten stuck making this big presentation,” Piper said with a wink.

  True enough. Kate offered to help, but it was one of those times when it was easier just to do it yourself than to involve a lot of people. I didn’t want to involve Forrest, either. But we were stuck doing a joint presentation because the Tomorrow’s Leaders Today organizers had insisted our talk be relevant to both girls and boys. On the agenda they sent, it was titled “Pink Locker, Blue Locker: Peer-to-Peer Intervention for Middle Grade Students.”

  I still didn’t know what to expect from the Tomorrow’s Leaders Today conference. The only people I had known to go to this conference were eighth-graders in overdrive. You know the ones—they’ve won every conceivable local award and scholarship. Many are their newspaper clippings. Their parents are likely to be super-duper-involved in their lives. Sometimes, they are immensely talented in science or already know how to speak Russian. Perhaps they’ve identified a need in the community—say, warm pajamas for needy kids—and they’ve mounted a drive to correct this problem straightaway.

  Adults love these students, who are on a straight road toward whatever university or life path they’d like to select. I think of them as grown-ups disguised as eighth-graders. It wasn’t that I didn’t like these people—I mean, technically, Bet was in this category. It’s just that I couldn’t understand how they had figured out their life’s passion so quickly. I was just Jemma and, let’s face it, I had stumbled into the Pink Locker Society.

  Fortunately, I also stumbled into Forrest when we were filing into the Chinese restaurant. It was ablaze with red lanterns and pink tablecloths and smelled nothing short of heavenly to weary, hungry travelers.

  “After we get back to the hotel, we’ve gotta do this,” he said.

  “Yes. Perfect. Meet you in the lobby.”

  And then he was gone again. Mrs. Pinsky gathered our group and pointed us toward Ms. Russo’s table, where she was already pouring us warm cups of tea. Weirdly, Piper was not at our table.

  “I saw her on the bus. She must be here somewhere,” Kate said.

  We scanned the restaurant for her and came up empty, until Kate pointed her out across the room. She was sitting next to Forrest, who was sitting next to Taylor. Piper and Forrest seemed to be talking conspiratorially, as if they didn’t want Taylor to hear.

  So, this meant only one of two possible things:

  1. Piper and Forrest were getting back together.

  2. Taylor and Forrest were getting back together. Remember how protective he was about the bullying?

  I looked down at my wrist for my soda tab bracelet. It wasn’t there. I had left it behind like more than a few other things I forgot at home (my straightening iron and my lip balm, to name just two). OK, I thought, I don’t need the bracelet to remind me of my five goals: being a good friend, becoming a good big sister, running, the PLS, and stopping the whole Forrest thing.

  In these last months, I had succeeded at almost all of them, almost all of the time. I decided not to give up. I turned my attention from Forrest to my tall Chinese menu, which served as an excellent screen between me and the rest of the restaurant. I immersed myself in its pages, its multiple sections and sometimes-confusing descriptions of the dishes.

  There were twelve soups listed, including shark’s fin. Should I stick with something traditional, like kung pao shrimp, or go out of my comfort zone and try pig’s belly with preserved mustard greens? There was always whole fish, Hunan style. Or maybe I’d ask the waitress to explain the difference between Double Delight, Triple Delight, and Double Winter Delight. I also considered how I’d enjoy the shock value of ordering boneless duck feet with black bean sauce. But I was hungry and I couldn’t imagine boneless duck feet being very filling.

  Just as I was settling on chicken with ginger and scallions, Piper returned to our table.

  “What’s everyone ordering?” she asked.

  “I’m getting the vegetable lo mein,” Kate said.

  “Where’d you go?” Mrs. Pinsky asked.

  “Um, I had to talk to someone. About something,” Piper said.

  “Well, that’s nice and vague. What are you getting? The waitress will be right over,” Mrs. Pinsky said.

  “I don’t even need to look. I’m getting the orange chicken.”

  I didn’t chime in with what I was planning to order. In truth, I was pouting, but no one noticed. The restaurant was noisy, our table was large, and there were lots of other talkers. Bet, for instance, was deep in conversation with Ms. Russo about You Bet!

  “All I’m saying is, if the PLS is a recognized club, why can’t I show the episodes that Principal F. wouldn’t let me broadcast before? I think I should be allowed to do it before school lets out.”

  Of course, Ms. Russo agreed that she should be able to.

  “Principal Finklestein has been giving in on a lot of issues this week. I’m just not sure you’re going to convince him on that one,” Ms. Russo said.

  Thirty

  Back at the hotel, the adults wanted us in pajamas with heads on pillows by eleven. But we sensed the tiredness of our chaperones; it was like a window of freedom opening. There was talk of watching movies, finding the hotel’s game room, and, for the truly fired up, the swimming pool.
But Forrest and I had homework to do. I started to resent this whole conference and how it was going to force us to miss the Empire State Building and the tour of Radio City Music Hall.

  “I can’t believe we have to do work right now,” I said when Forrest found me in the lobby.

  “Sucks, right? Maybe it won’t take that long,” he said.

  I had started making some notes on the back of a Statue of Liberty pamphlet, but it wasn’t much. We walked toward the elevators and I remembered that I needed to get the laptop from my room. Forrest pressed the up button and shoved his hands into the pockets of his army-green shorts. He looked nervous, which was a switch because it was usually me who was all weird around him.

  “I, uh, have something to say to you, Jemma,” he said.

  I turned to him and the elevator doors opened.

  “Hold up!” Luke Zubin yelled from across the lobby.

  With him, about half of the Margaret Simon baseball team crashed toward us and joined us in the mirrored elevator.

  “We’re going swimming, McCann. You comin’?”

  “Can’t,” Forrest said.

  “Uh-huh,” Luke said, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive way.

  Was this a reference in some way to Piper, or Taylor? Or even both of them? I instantly guessed that what Forrest was about to tell me had something to do with one of them. Just great.

  A handful of the team got out on seventeen, but the rest were apparently with us all the way to twenty-one. When it was my floor, I said I could handle it and just meet him in the lounge—a kind of living room we had scouted earlier in the day.

  “It’s all right. I’ll come with you,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  The hallway was clear, but he didn’t say anything more. I knocked on the door, got my computer, and told Mrs. Pinsky where I’d be.

  “Good for you, Jemma. The rest of them are just goofing off tonight,” she said.

  Oh, how I wished I could also be goofing off. Aside from the awkwardness with Forrest, I didn’t know if I could focus my mind on the task. Something about New York left me so overstimulated that my brain just wanted to shut down for the night. A swim and a movie sounded perfect.

  Forrest and I were not alone in the lounge, a cozy space with soft red couches, TVs, and an elegant glass water dispenser with a silver spigot. Inside, slices of lemon and lime floated in the chilled water. Bet was there, shooting video of some chorus members singing an old song about New York and how if you could make it there, you could make it anywhere. Nearby, an intense game of Nerf basketball was just getting started. Not a grown-up in sight.

  “Let’s play H-O-R-S-E,” Tyler Lima told a couch full of basketball players.

  “This doesn’t look like a very good spot,” I said.

  “It’s amazing, actually,” Forrest said.

  “Not for getting work done.”

  “No, but in general,” Forrest said.

  “We have to find someplace quiet or we’re doomed,” I said.

  “I know a place,” Forrest said, and led me back to the elevators.

  “Not again. Now where to?”

  He pressed the up button and again plunged his hands in his pockets. Was he really that nervous to tell me about his latest girlfriend? The elevator doors closed but the car hadn’t moved.

  “I can handle it, you know. Just get it out and let’s get it over with,” I said.

  He started to say something but the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal Ms. Russo and Mr. Ford. Their New Year’s Eve wedding had been so romantic and I still thought of them as newlyweds.

  “Good evening, kids. Having fun?”

  “Yeah,” I said unconvincingly.

  “We’re going out for a late-night stroll,” they said as the doors closed.

  “Then why are you going up?” Forrest said.

  “We’re not,” Mr. Ford said. “You must have gotten on the wrong elevator.”

  As we went down twenty floors, I felt myself losing what little grip I had.

  “Oh, great,” I said.

  “Don’t panic. I know a quiet place. For real,” Forrest said.

  He led me to a bank of elevators I hadn’t seen before. We entered the skyward car and took it to the very top of the hotel, the thirty-second floor. The doors opened and we were much more alone than before. We walked through glass doors and found ourselves outside. The view of the city took my breath away. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been to big cities before this trip. I had, but this was different. My brain just couldn’t quite absorb all those buildings and all those people and all those lives going on in every window and taxicab. As I got hold of myself, there was more to bombard my senses. On the deck, candles illuminated umbrella tables and chaise lounges around a rooftop pool.

  “Zubin’s looking for the pool, but you can’t get up here unless you know where the special elevator is,” Forrest said.

  “I don’t know how anyone gets anything done in this city,” I said.

  “I guess you get used to it. Like anyplace,” Forrest said.

  I thought about confronting him again to tell me whatever had to be said. But I felt like I needed to reserve my energy. We sat at a table set apart from the handful of other couples, and I opened my laptop.

  “So, I forgot my index cards, but I can tell you what I was going to say.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m supposed to talk about the Blue Locker Society as a pilot program. And I can say that it was good.”

  “What happened?”

  “We had meetings. On the school roof, which was not nearly so cool as this one.”

  “Did you answer questions?”

  “Um, yeah. Sort of. I mean, guys don’t have questions like girls do.”

  “A long time ago, you told me they did.”

  Stupid, stupid. Why do I always reveal to Forrest that I remember every word we’d ever exchanged?

  “Okay. That’s not what I meant,” Forrest said. “Guys don’t want to talk about stuff. They keep things to themselves, you know?”

  I knew a little too well.

  “So you took no questions and you answered no questions. What did you do on the roof?” I asked.

  “Played trash-can basketball, mostly.”

  It was tempting to just flip out, but I had to laugh. The Pink Locker Society had answered more than two hundred questions and the Blue Locker Society had answered exactly zero. Maybe it was the exhaustion but I did start to laugh.

  “What?” Forrest said.

  “That,” I said between laughing, “is going to make for an impressive presentation tomorrow.”

  He laughed a little, too, and said, “Well, it’s your show for the most part, right?”

  “I guess it will have to be. You just stand there and look good,” I said.

  And then, again, I had massive regret for how my mouth gets ahead of my brain sometimes. Did I really just suggest to Forrest that I think he looks good? Perhaps I should dive into the pool, clothes and all, just to change the subject.

  “I do have something to tell you, Jem. Nothing related to this thing tomorrow.”

  OK. Go. Go. Just say it already.

  “I’m—I’m sorry…”

  Bad news, just as I expected.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “Sorry that I … put you in that spot. Asked you to, you know, be my fake girlfriend.”

  Oh, that. Why was he apologizing now? I had broken up with him. That moment had been impossible to forget.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m not mad at you.”

  “I know. I just see now that—that it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t a fair thing to ask.”

  “It all worked out, right?” I said. “We’re friends.”

  “Yeah,” Forrest said. “And you ended up going out with Jake, who’s liked you since fourth grade or whatever.”

  Oh, Jake. Now I felt even worse. Fourth grade!

  It wasn’t as bad as me liking Forrest since preschool, but still. I
thought about correcting him, telling him Jake and I broke up. But I wanted to let him keep going, see where this was headed.

  “So that’s what I wanted to say,” Forrest said.

  I was happy to switch topics to the presentation and my PowerPoint slides. I quickly threw together some basics ones, explaining how the PLS started, how many questions we had answered, and how many girls we had helped. Forrest seemed interested and made a few suggestions. Thirty minutes later, I felt prepared enough and told Forrest we’d better go.

  “Really? I don’t want to go,” he said. “Zubin’s going to find this pool and then it’s going to be all cannonballs and squirt guns.”

  “Fine, let’s stay a few more minutes, but I’m about to fall asleep right here in this spot.”

  We turned our chairs to face the twinkling skyline. Once we stopped talking, we could listen to the other small parties chatter. Then we watched a family with two toddlers go for a late swim. I thought of my mom when I saw the little ones, and all that awaited me at home. But mostly I thought about how New York was so very full of surprises. Just forty-eight hours ago, I thought I wouldn’t be taking this trip at all. And somehow, I was in New York sitting atop a glamorous hotel with none other than Forrest McCann.

  Thirty-one

  The hotel’s wake-up call came over the telephone and sounded like someone playing the xylophone. Zing-zong-zing-zing. It was soft and unalarming, yet it was such an unusual sound that it woke me instantly. Lying in a heap of luxurious sheets and blankets, I had that moment where you don’t remember where you are or what you’re supposed to be doing. Then it all came rushing back at once and I started checking things off the to-do list in my head. Shower, personal grooming, find the laptop, wake Bet and Kate. Piper said I could wake her, too, but she was a bear without sleep so I just let her and her mom keep right on snoozing. Bet could show them the video later.

  I put on my presentation outfit, carefully assembled back at home with help from my mom and Bet. Bet, I figured, had onstage experience and could tell me a thing or two. I slipped on my cream skirt, a lightweight navy sweater, and pearls. It looked professional without making me look too old, or like a sailor. I briefly considered wearing something pink, but it seemed way too cute. I slipped my feet into my navy flats and we were off.