by Annie Bryant
Isabel looked at her gratefully. “Thanks, Maeve. And—I’m sorry everyone’s not more excited about Birdland.”
“Let’s forget it,” Maeve said, feeling a giant lump in her throat. “The important thing is to agree on a theme we all can have fun with.”
“Hey, you girls feel like doing some work here?” inquired Chase. “Because we have things to do, people to see…so let’s get it over with and vote on the theme.”
Betsy was able to restore order and organize a vote. But when the results were tallied, the boys’ “Under the Sea” theme won by two votes. There were equal numbers of boys and girls in the room, so clearly some of the girls had voted for “Under the Sea.” The vote was done anonymously, but Isabel and Maeve didn’t have to look too far to figure out who had voted with the boys. Anna and Joline looked unusually pleased when the results were announced.
“I might have known they’d side with the guys,” Isabel muttered as she and Maeve packed up their stuff. “They spread gossip as much as Chase does.”
“Lucky it’s not some kind of germ that attacks every person who hears the gossip,” Maeve commented. “Otherwise, the whole school would be infected with it by now! Abigail Adams could be wiped out with gossipitis!”
Isabel couldn’t help laughing at that. Maeve always had a way of taking a rotten situation and making it funny, even when she herself was disappointed. Maeve really wanted to make the dance special, and she’d been more excited about it than anybody. Why do things sometimes work out so wrong?
But Maeve didn’t want to think about Birdland anymore. She decided she would think about it later…with her dad. He was good at helping people when they were down in the dumps. Right now Maeve was wondering what the other BSG were up to. Katani had said she planned to do a community service project, and Avery was all about the sports committee. But where was Charlotte? She thought Charlotte would have joined the dance committee to support her. She hadn’t heard that Charlotte was involved with any of the other groups. Where was that girl?
Spreading the News
Charlotte was sitting in the Sentinel office. She hadn’t expected to be; she’d planned to join the dance committee and vote for Maeve. But just before she started for the art room, she was told to report to the newspaper office right away; Jennifer wanted to see her on an “urgent matter.”
Now Jennifer was facing Charlotte, saying, “I’ve done a lot of thinking about your proposal for a Spirit Week article, and it’s just not going to work, Charlotte. Besides, we’ve got breaking news in school that I want you to cover. This Kevanda vs. Kisabel thing is a great story.”
Charlotte winced. Please, no. Not a story like that. Jennifer obviously didn’t recognize her discomfort because she kept going. “The gossip has spread around school, and it’s all anyone’s talking about. It would be a mistake to miss the opportunity. Let’s call it ‘Spirit Week…NOT!’ See if you can get some interviews with all the people involved. And how about getting it in by, say, Friday?”
Charlotte was stunned. As if she’d write a gossip article about her own good friend for the whole school to see! What kind of person would do something like that? Does Jennifer think I’m crazy?
“Jennifer,” she began, trying to keep her tone even, “I would never write an article like that for the Sentinel. The school paper is about news, not gossip. There are no facts to back up these rumors. Plus, you’re asking me to write something that would really hurt Isabel Martinez, who happens to be a very good friend of mine. That’s just plain wrong. I can’t believe you would ask me to do something like that.”
“I’m asking you,” Jennifer shot back, “to act like a real reporter and keep your feelings out of this. That’s what being a professional journalist is all about. Maybe in a few years you’ll get the hang of it.” Charlotte felt a flash of anger. Where did Jennifer get off talking to her like that? It’s not like Jennifer was some award-winning reporter or anything, Charlotte thought angrily.
“Being a professional journalist means covering real news,” Charlotte finally spoke up, “and not depending on stories about rumors and gossip, all of which are untrue. When you have a real news story for me, I’ll be glad to cover it. You know that I’m a hard worker and will do as much as I can to make the Sentinel a great school paper. But it’d be easier for me to do my job if you would help me and give me good tips instead of ordering me around like I’m in third grade. In the meantime, you can forget about my covering this kind of junk.”
And Charlotte walked out of the Sentinel office with her head held high, leaving Jennifer staring after her. Charlotte Ramsey was usually so meek. Jennifer was shocked, wondering what to do next.
When Maeve walked out of school, she was exhausted. She had spent the rest of her day trying to keep her chin up after the disappointment of the dance committee meeting. Now she couldn’t keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. She’d wanted so badly to make Birdland the dance theme, and that was all over now. Her idea was clearly a dud. She squeezed her eyes shut for a minute, trying to push the tears back, and when she opened them, the first person she saw was her father, waving at her from the sidewalk.
“How’d it go, sweetheart?” he asked, giving her a big hug. “Was Birdland the hit of the day?”
“Dad,” Maeve managed to say, burying her head in his sweater, “what’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Thought I’d pick you up and take you out for some pizza,” he replied, beaming at her. “I called your mom to let her know. I just had to hear how the presentation went—I was thinking about you all day, and I couldn’t wait ’til you got home to find out the news!”
Maeve tried to smile as her dad led her to his station wagon and opened the door for her. “Well,” she said, “it didn’t exactly go the way we planned it.” Maeve felt terrible. She knew her dad would be almost as disappointed as she was about the way things had turned out.
“No?” Mr. Taylor listened while he drove, as Maeve explained about the reaction of the girls to her idea and then, worse, how the boys took over the meeting and forced everyone to accept their idea for Under the Sea. Finally, she finished, and a little sob forced its way out of her throat.
Her father sat quietly, saying nothing for a few minutes, but he reached over and gave her a pat on the shoulder.
“Maeve, honey,” Mr. Taylor said softly when she stopped crying, “it mustn’t have been easy to have the boys make fun of you and your idea without even taking the time to hear about it. But the fact is, you can never really tell how people will react. I thought Birdland was great. But the important question is, how do you feel about it?”
Maeve fumbled in her coat pocket for a tissue and wiped her eyes, thinking about what her dad had asked. How did she feel? “You know something, Dad,” she said after a minute, “the funny thing is, I don’t feel totally horrible because you know what I really think…that Birdland really was a pretty great idea, wasn’t it?”
“It certainly was,” her dad agreed immediately. “You had a fantastic presentation and it sounds like you did a great job with it. Just because the kids didn’t want to do it, doesn’t mean you were wrong. They simply couldn’t recognize its greatness!”
Maeve smiled. “You know, that’s just what I was thinking, too.”
“Were you?” her dad teased. “How could you think at all with giant buckets of water coming out of your eyes?”
Maeve managed a weak smile. “Okay, I admit I was disappointed—for five minutes! But you know how big stars are—lots of drama and tears and then big smiles on the red carpet. Show business is tough, but you can’t let anything get you down for long or you’ll miss your next chance!”
“You are a real trooper, sweetheart, and that’s what counts,” her father reassured her. They drove the rest of the way with big smiles and dry eyes. Her father put on his CD from The Music Man and the two of them belted out “Seventy-Six Trombones.” The car was practically rocking.
Is
abel hurried home from school, eager to be in the one place where she could be sure no one was talking about her behind her back. At the door she got a big surprise…her mother, out of bed and smiling, was holding out her arms to her!
“Mamacita!” Isabel cried, using her pet name for her mother. “What are you doing out of bed? It’s so good to see you up!”
“I feel wonderful today,” her mother said. “And I love being able to meet both you and your sister at the door. Como esta?”
“How am I?” Isabel tried to laugh, but it came out as a choked-up sob. As she put down her backpack and took off her coat, she unraveled the whole story of the rumors and gossip that were following her around school. She tried to explain everything calmly, but her voice broke, and she had to hold back her tears. Her mother put her arms around her and patted her back soothingly, just as she had when Isabel was a very little girl. And as Isabel hugged her mother back, she felt better than she had in days.
“Let’s have tea together, bonita,” her mother said finally, patting Isabel’s long dark hair. “Elena made some delicious cookies.” She gave Isabel a grin. “We’ll test a few, all right?” She moved around the kitchen, fixing things for an afternoon snack, and Isabel watched, happy to see her mother doing the things that had been an everyday routine before she got sick. Multiple sclerosis was weird that way. Sometimes you felt okay; sometimes you didn’t.
When they sat down together in front of steaming mugs of tea, Mrs. Martinez nodded at the refrigerator, where several of Isabel’s best bird cartoons were on display. “Look at those, Isabel. Those are you. Those are who you really are. That’s what I hope you’ll be thinking about, not silly gossip by unkind children who always have to make themselves feel better by saying mean things about other people. They have nothing to do with the real you, Isabel. Your artwork, and your friends, and your schoolwork, and your family—those are the things that really define you. Do you see that?”
Isabel stirred a lump of sugar into her tea and squeezed lemon juice from the wedge her mother had placed on the saucer. She looked at her mother. “I think I forgot about all those things these last few days. It’s hard not to care about what those kids say, but you’re right. What they say doesn’t matter. But it’s embarrassing when everyone is talking about you behind your back.”
Her mother held up her hand, squeezed two fingers together, and made the sign of something small. “Little minds with nothing better to think about. Silly little minds,” she added for emphasis.
There was a bang at the front door, and then Elena was in the hallway, her teeth chattering. “Oooh, it’s getting cold out there! We all need a good hot dinner tonight to warm us up.”
“You’re right,” her mother said, “but there’s no need for you to cook this evening. You need a break.”
“Mama! I don’t mind making dinner at all. I actually like doing the cooking.”
“I know, honey, and I’m so glad you’re able to help out when I’m not feeling well. But tonight I feel wonderful, and I think we should let someone else cook dinner—how about going out to Village Fare for pizza?”
“Oh! Yeah! Let’s go to Village Fare!” Isabel suddenly felt as though the weight she’d been carrying for days was gone now. She didn’t care who was at the pizza joint and who stared at her or talked about her. Her mother was so right. It had nothing to do with who she really was.
The three decided to walk the few blocks to Village Fare since Mrs. Martinez was feeling so well. Just as they were rounding the corner onto Washington Street, they heard a shout from behind them.
“Hey, wait up!” It was Avery, skateboarding at lightning speed to catch up with them.
“Ave! Uh, it’s not exactly skateboarding weather. What are you doing?” Isabel asked.
Avery took off her helmet and unbuttoned her jacket a bit. “Just trying to get some boarding in before it snows or something. Where are you guys going?”
“Would you like to join us for pizza? We’re headed to Village Fare,” Mrs. Martinez said.
As if in response, Avery’s stomach let out a loud grumble. “Oops!” She giggled and glanced at her watch. “Well, I have to be back in half an hour, but I can stop in for a slice. Thanks!”
Isabel, Elena, Mrs. Martinez, and Avery were just deciding on their order—a large pizza with half pepperoni, half sausage, and onions and green peppers on both sides—when they heard someone trying to get their attention. Turning around, they saw Maeve and her dad waving and grinning from a table in the corner.
“Come join us!” Mrs. Martinez called to them.
In a few minutes they’d pulled the tables together and soon everyone was chatting away excitedly. It was just what they all needed…a break from illness and school and gossip and the Queens of Mean, and a fun dinner with family and friends.
CHAPTER
16
Bench Warmers
A very was already fantasizing about the Spirit Trophy before she even walked into school on Sports Day. She had dressed in her best warrior fashion—tying a blue bandana around her ponytail and smearing deep purple smudges of face paint under her eyes. Avery thought that made her look fierce. When they saw her, Anna and Joline burst out laughing. But then Dillon walked up behind Avery and draped his arm casually over her shoulder and asked, “What’s so funny, girls? I hope it’s not my buddy Avery, here.”
The Queens of Mean stuck up their noses and walked away, identical pony tails swinging behind them. Avery and Dillon high-fived each other and, together, raced into class. Charlotte gave her fellow BSG a wave; she had saved a seat for Avery. After the homeroom teachers took attendance, the kids participating in Sports Day were dismissed to the gym. Avery was up out of her seat like a shot and down the hall. She was full of energy, ready to compete and confident that her group would crush their opponents!
Several of the boys in Ms. R’s class had already made it to the gym and were warming up—passing the basketball back and forth across the court. The Yurtmeister was trying to lob the ball from half court into the net, but he kept coming up about ten feet short. Every time he missed, Yurt bowed low to the nonexistent crowd. One of the Trentinis shouted, “How many can you miss, dude?”
The boys gave a quick glance at Avery as she jogged in, and went back to passing the ball, practicing their shots, and joking around with each other. Nick and Dillon waved to her as they did sprints down the court, but no one else acknowledged her presence at all. What am I, the invisible girl now? Avery wondered. She followed Nick and Dillon with a few sprints and then hung around, waiting for one of the boys to pass the ball to her or call her name, but no one did.
This is so weird, Avery thought as she bent to tie her sneaker. She had never been left out of a sports event before, and this was a really important one: they were playing for the Spirit Trophy, which was awarded to the homeroom whose team won the most sporting events. Avery was determined that the trophy was going to be displayed in Ms. R’s homeroom, but it would be hard to win if her teammates acted like she wasn’t there!
Fortunately, Avery had brought something she thought would help unify the team. “Hey guys!” she called. “Come over here for a minute!”
The boys reluctantly slowed down their practice and wandered over to where she was standing. “Look what I have,” Avery said, holding up a supply of blue bandanas just like the one she already wore. “If we all wear these with purple paint on our faces, we’ll look like a super team. The other homerooms will be psyched out of their minds when they realize how serious we are about winning.”
The boys took one look at her purple-rimmed eyes and snorted. “You really expect us to wear that?” Chase asked. “We’d look so dumb. The other teams would just laugh at us.” Chase pumped his fist and said in a loud voice, “Purple paint. Rock it out, dudes.” All the guys laughed—it was hard not to. Chase was a bit of an actor.
Avery had a really good comeback on the tip of her tongue, but at the last second she held herself back. This was sup
posed to be about team spirit, and starting an argument with Chase wasn’t going to help one bit. “We should all wear the bandanas then,” she said instead, trying to be patient. “Team unity and all that,” she explained.
Chase hooted. “You mean I’d have to take off my lucky hat?” he asked, pointing to the Red Sox cap he wore backward on his head. The other boys nodded and stubbornly held onto their hats with both hands; none of them were giving them up, either.
Some of the girls who had joined Avery took a bandana and went to the restroom to smudge purple face paint under their eyes, but the boys ignored them and went back to their practice drills. Anna and Joline pointedly turned their backs and started practicing layups. I can’t believe them, Avery fumed. She’d thought that her bandana idea was a no-brainer, and now it was completely ruined. Even Dillon and Nick said they didn’t feel it would be right to dis the teammates who didn’t want to wear anything.
When Ms. R’s team finally assembled at the start of the game, there was nothing holding them together. The boys were in grungy sweats and T-shirts with various baseball caps, while the girls, minus Anna and Joline, stood out in blue bandanas and purple face paint. It made it look like the girls were on a totally separate team.
Whew, at least Katani showed up, Avery thought. Even though she might be the worst player on the team, at least she’s got the spirit, unlike some people I know. Avery wouldn’t even look at Dillon when he gave her a thumbs-up. If he wanted to stick with his secret society of boys, that was just fine with her. She went to sit by her friends.
Mrs. Fields made her way to the center of the basketball court to announce the rules of the competition. “We want this to be clean and fair,” she stressed loudly. “Everyone who wants to play will get the chance. There will be two basketball games and a tug-of-war. The team that wins the most games will be declared the winner, and the Spirit Trophy will be displayed in that homeroom for the rest of the year. And while all students will receive T-shirts, the winning homeroom will get #1 Spirit Week T-shirts!”