“Thanks,” she replied. “I’m, uh, in the seventh grade and I am so here for this. I can’t wait to get to work.”
And that’s what we did. We talked about how we wanted middle school to be: friendly, fun, nice, encouraging, fair. We talked about what we didn’t want to see anymore: bullying, mean comments, name-calling, people thinking we’re the problem because of how we’re dressed, and lots more.
“It all seems so … big,” Gina said after we’d made our lists. “The problems, I mean. And the way we want it to be is so far off from how it is.”
“I know,” I said. “But whatever we do will be better than doing nothing, right?”
“It’s hard to not feel down about it all,” Anastasia said.
“This is the most hopeful I’ve felt since I started middle school, though,” Maddie said. “Like, we’re gonna do something, you know? We’re going to show those boys that it’s not okay to treat us like dirt.”
We managed to come up with a few ideas and after that, I stood up and asked all the groups to pass me their lists of ideas along with each girl’s cell phone number and email address. “I want to make a list of all the ideas and have everyone vote on them. So I’ll work on that this weekend and send it out, okay?”
“Hazel?” Paris said. “You should ask for volunteers to talk to the principal. You’ve done a lot. You don’t have to do that, too.”
“I’ll volunteer,” Maddie called out.
And then a chorus of “Me too”s followed.
So many girls who wanted to help me. Help us. Girls who wanted to do the right thing and give us a school where we didn’t have to feel worried or afraid all the time. It made my heart so happy, I almost started crying.
“Thank you,” I said. “But I want to talk to him, too. I found the notebook, so I should be the one to tell him about it, even if it’ll be hard.”
“We’re with you!” Lexi called out.
Tori bounded over to where I stood. She looked at me, her hands pressed in front of her like she was begging. “Okay. So. With all that out of the way, is it time?”
“Yes!” I said.
She waved her hands in the air and yelled, “Yay, karaoke time!”
We spent the next hour singing and dancing and laughing. It was so much fun!
When it was all over, and Tori and I were the only ones left, I collapsed onto the sofa and said, “We did it. I can’t believe it. But we did it.”
Tori sat next to me and said, “No. That’s not true.”
“What?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
“You did it, Hazel. You got them here. You came up with what to say. You got them into groups. You got them talking. You got them to brainstorm ideas.” She patted my leg. “It was all you, boo.”
“I kind of feel like I suddenly have thirty-seven new friends,” I said.
“You do,” Tori said. “I know you do. And I bet it’s just the beginning.”
“I’m glad you came,” I told her. “Really glad. And the karaoke machine was brilliant.”
“Why, thank you,” she said as she stood up and took a bow. “I agree, it was brilliant. I mean, you called it a party, so I figured we should do something fun besides figuring out how to smash the patriarchy.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s something my moms say sometimes,” Tori said. “Patriarchy is when men hold the power in society. And smashing it means—” She started laughing. “Well, you know what that means.”
“I just want things to be equal,” I said. “The same, you know? I want them to see us as people, not as girls who are cute or ugly.”
She got serious all of a sudden. “I know my brother has apologized, but I just want to say, I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry he was involved in that.”
“I know. He seemed pretty horrified that your moms were going to contact the other parents.”
“Well, that’s not all,” Tori said. “They’ve also told him he has to read one book a month and write a report each time about what he’s learned. Books about gentle and kind boys. Books about girls doing incredible things. Books that make him really think, you know?”
I smiled. “I like that. Maybe he should read Pippi Longstocking. She’s kind of my hero.”
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll suggest that. So, we’re still going to Dion’s later, right? Want to meet up and ride together or …”
“Tori, I’m not sure—”
She waved her finger. “Oh no. No! You were just out there dancing like it was no big thing. And Dion needs you!” She waited for me to say something, but what was there to say? “Just come and try it with us. Please?”
“Okay.”
“Awesome! Text me later, ’k?”
“Yeah. See you later.”
After she left, I took out Ben’s note and read it.
Dear Hazel,
What we did was wrong. I know that now. Even if we never meant for any girl to read what we wrote, it was wrong and I’m sorry. Can I bake you some cupcakes to try and make up for it? I’ll be at your soccer game Saturday. Text my sister and let her know what flavor you want and I’ll bring some for your team.
Sorry,
Ben
Cupcakes? He was going to make us cupcakes? Now, that was more like it!
“Come on in and make yourselves right at home,” Dion’s grandma told us when she opened the door. She was short and wore red lipstick to match her glasses, which looked good with her dark skin and short, curly hair. She had on a gray tracksuit and held a book in her hand.
A little black dog, a schnauzer I think, wagged its tail and came over to greet us when we stepped inside the old house. It smelled good, like cake baking in the oven.
“Hi!” Tori said, bending down to pet the dog.
“That’s Jack,” Dion’s grandma told us.
“Hi, Jack,” I said, stooping down to give him a pat, too.
Just then, a much taller woman with her black hair piled high in a bun came around the corner with Dion and another boy.
“Hi!” Dion said. “Grandma and Mama, this is Hazel and Tori. Hazel and Tori, this is my grandmother and my mother. And this here’s my brother, Kalen. Pop’s at work, so you can’t meet him today.”
“Please, call me Dorothy,” his grandma said.
“And you can call me Stacy,” his mom said.
While Tori went over to shake their hands, I said softly, “Nice to meet you.”
Stacy smiled. “Dion tells me you’ve been kind and welcoming to him. I sure do appreciate that. I’m always telling him it’s not what people think of you that matters. It’s what you do and how you treat others. So thank you for being a good example to him.”
“Well,” Tori said, “he’s a good egg, and we’re glad to have him as our friend.”
That made Dorothy’s face light up. “He sure is, isn’t he? Except he won’t kill spiders for me. Just found a big one in my bedroom I had to get rid of myself. Gonna have to work on that.” She winked at us to let us know it wasn’t that big of a deal.
“Spiders and mice?” I teased.
Kalen looked at Dion. “You told them about the mouse?”
Dion shrugged. “They wanted to know why I hate mice, so I told them. Plus, it’s a good story.”
“Yeah, ’cause you weren’t the one who got bit,” Kalen said.
“What about snakes?” Tori asked Dion. “You hate snakes, too?”
“Forget snakes,” I said. “How about elephants?”
“Love elephants!” Dion exclaimed.
I smiled. “Then you’re good.”
“Kalen, you need to let your brother and his friends practice,” Stacy said. “So you finish cleaning your room, you hear me? I’m in the sewing room finishing up that baby blanket I’m making for the shower tomorrow. You kids just let me know if you need anything, all right?”
Dorothy said, “I’ve got to get ready for my shift at the hospital. Y’all can help yourselves to a brownie if you’d like. Should be cool
enough by now.”
Kalen ran to the kitchen and grabbed a brownie, then bolted upstairs. Dorothy and Stacy both went down the hall and around the corner.
“She made us brownies?” I asked.
“Yeah, she loves to bake,” Dion said. “She’s been teaching me recipes, too. Back in Alabama, our next-door neighbor taught me how to bake a peach pie so I’d make them in the summertime, but Grandma’s teaching me a lot more. See, my mama isn’t a very good cook. And my pop, well, he’s good with the barbeque, but that’s about it. Come on, let’s grab a brownie and go upstairs.”
We each took a brownie and a napkin and walked toward the gorgeous wooden staircase in the middle of the house. Even though the home was old, with its creaky wooden floors and a kitchen without a single modern-day appliance, the place was bright and welcoming. I felt right at home.
“This house is super cute,” Tori told Dion. “I love it.”
“Me too,” Dion said. “My room’s pretty small, but you can see it if you want. I thought we could practice in the attic. It gets hot in the summer, but it’s fine today.”
I nibbled on my brownie as we went while Tori and Dion had already finished theirs. It was soft and gooey and really delicious.
He opened a door, and we all stepped into his neat and tidy room. It had just a single bed with a brass headboard, a dresser, and a little white desk. On the dresser were a couple of soccer trophies. He’d also hung three posters on the walls.
“You must have been on some good teams,” I said as I walked over to check out his trophies.
“I bet you have really good footwork, huh?” Tori said. “And that’s why you’re probably an amazing dancer.”
He just laughed. “I mean, sure. I try, I guess.”
“Who’s that?” I asked, pointing at a white man in a tux and a white woman in a fancy dress dancing together.
“Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.” He pointed to one of the other posters, this one with a black man wearing a suit and hat and kicking his heels up. “And that’s Sammy Davis Jr.”
“And now we know you’re team cat.” Tori said as she pointed to the last poster with six of the cutest kittens I’d ever seen, all piled together in a basket. “Maybe because they eat mice?”
“Got that right,” he said. “’K, come on, let’s go up to the attic.”
We went up another flight of stairs into a room that had sloped ceilings and boxes and other stuff lined up along the walls. It was warmer than it’d been downstairs, and the air smelled kind of stale.
“So, how was the party?” Dion asked as he went over and opened a small window.
“It was good,” I said. “At least I think it was.”
“Yeah, really good,” Tori said. “Think some of us are going to try and talk to the principal on Monday.”
“Cool.” Dion pointed to the bag Tori carried. “So, you bring a notebook of talent show tips or something?”
Tori reached in and pulled out an iPad. “I was thinking maybe we could watch some videos before we plan out what we’re gonna do. I found some other people who’ve performed this song.”
“Yeah, okay,” Dion said.
There were some folded chairs up against one of the walls, so he grabbed them one by one and unfolded them for us so we could sit in a small circle.
Dion leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest. “I’m curious, Tori. Why do you want to be in the talent show so bad, anyway?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just always thought it’d be fun. My brother’s done it the past couple of years, and I don’t want to be left out this year.”
“You can say it,” I told her.
“Say what?” she asked.
I picked at a hangnail on my pinky. “That you want to be popular. Even more popular than your brother.”
She kind of stared at me for a minute before she said, “I … what?”
“It’s true, right?” I swallowed hard. “I’m not enough anymore. You want more. It’s okay. Just say it. I mean, he asked, right?”
Her mouth was still open and she kept staring. “That day you signed up,” I said. “I saw how happy you were. Those girls hanging around the sign-up sheet, taking selfies, were more like you than me. And you want more of that. I know you do. I just want you to admit it. It’s fine. I can eat lunch with Dion if you don’t want to eat with us anymore.”
“When did I say that?” she asked.
“I won’t ever be popular, I can tell you that right now,” Dion said, slumping down in his chair and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “I thought we were doing this talent show thing to make a statement or something.”
“We are!” Tori said.
“Really?” I asked.
Now Tori’s shoulders slumped. “Look, you don’t know what it’s like being his little sister.”
“What do you mean?” Dion asked.
She bit her lip, like she was thinking hard about how to answer. Finally, she said, “I feel like everyone looks at me and judges me. Teachers. Coaches. Students. Everyone. I’m not as charming as him. Or as good-looking. Or as athletic. And yes, not as popular as him. I just wanted …” She sighed. “Middle school felt like a new beginning. I wanted to try and prove that I’m just as good as him.”
“But you don’t judge people on how they look,” Dion said. “Seems to me you’re already good.”
Dion amazed me. He said things in a way that made so much sense.
Tori stood up, put the iPad on her chair, and went and looked out the window at the end of the room. “I’m tired of being Ben Robinson’s little sister. I want people to see me for me, you know? Especially now, after what’s happened. Whatever he’s done, good or bad, I’m trapped. Trapped as Ben Robinson’s little sister.”
I hadn’t really thought of it like that and I felt a little guilty, to be honest. She was my best friend. How had I not known she felt that way? Since I didn’t have any siblings, it was hard for me to know what it must be like, but I wanted to try.
“Like, if Abby Wambach were my sister,” I said, “people would think of her when they saw me. They might even ask, ‘Where’s Abby?’ and make me feel invisible.”
Tori turned around. “Exactly. I guess I don’t really care if we eat in the library the rest of the year. And I don’t care if you’re the only two friends I have, because you guys are awesome and I know I’m lucky. I’m just …”
Her voice trailed off.
“Tired of living in your brother’s shadow?” Dion asked.
Tori bit her lip and looked like she was going to cry. “Yes.”
Now Dion stood up. “Well, it’s not gonna solve all your problems, but I guess our performance at the talent show is a good chance to step out on your own, so how about we get started?”
Saturday morning, as I walked toward the field, the sun peeking behind the clouds, Ben stepped onto the gravel walkway from the parking lot and walked alongside me. He had two pastry boxes in his hands.
“Where’s Tori?” I asked.
“On the field already,” he said. “I waited for you. Got your chocolate cupcakes with raspberry frosting. Just like you asked for.”
“Thanks,” I told him. “Can you keep them for me until after the game?”
“Sure,” he said. “I really am sorry, Hazel. I’m sorry for being so rude to you, and for the notebook, too. I never meant for anyone else to see it. You get that, right? I never meant to hurt anyone’s feelings. Especially yours.”
“But it’s horrible either way,” I told him. “We’re not just something pretty to look at or something ugly to laugh at, you know?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I know. And you’re probably gonna be mad for a while. Hopefully not forever, though.”
That’s when I had a thought. “If you want to help change things at our school, you could come with us when we talk to the principal.”
“Are you, um, gonna mention my name?”
I shook my head. “There are
a lot of problems. The notebook is just one of them. All we want is for things to change. But I can’t promise …”
“I get it. And I’ll be there. Just let me know if there’s anything specific I can do to help, okay?”
We’d reached the field. Tori waved at me and I waved back.
“Have a good game,” he said.
And it was a good game. Close, but we won, two to one. And when the game was over, the girls loved the cupcakes. Ben still wasn’t forgiven, but it was a start, I guess.
Afterward, we went home and Mom helped me set up a survey online so I could ask the girls who’d come to the girl power party to vote on their favorite ideas. By Sunday night, I had the results and couldn’t wait to share them. I sent everyone an email with the top three ideas.
Training for all students about what toxic masculinity looks like and how to make changes at our school to keep it from happening
A poster contest where kids can make posters displaying positive messages with awesome prizes offered
A one book, one school program where everyone reads books highlighting girls
And then I wrote, We need to decide on the team who will meet with the principal and vice principals. My mom said she’ll call on Monday and arrange the meeting for us sometime this coming week. Who wants to go?
I made a point to log on to my computer Monday morning before school and was surprised to find that twenty-seven girls had volunteered. I couldn’t believe it. They knew it would be hard, but they were willing to do it, anyway. It was like I had a whole crew of Pippi Longstockings, and it made me feel like I could do anything. Anything!
As I walked into school, I felt good. Better than good. Amazing! Until it all came crashing down because Aaron and Preston greeted me just inside the doors.
“We’ve heard things about you, Hazel,” Preston said.
Be Pippi, I told myself. “Whatever,” I said. “I don’t care.”
“We’ve heard you’re a snitch,” Aaron said. “A blabbermouth. That you’re gonna turn us all in.”
“You know what happens to snitches?” Preston asked.
“I told you, I don’t care!” I yelled as I rushed toward the sea of people in my hall, my heart racing. Thankfully, Tori was waiting at our locker and she could tell I was upset.
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