A chorus of cheers filled the room.
Lizzy raised a hand.
“Thank you for not calling out, Lizzy,” Miss Zips said. “Did you have a comment?”
“Well, a question, really,” Lizzy replied. “Did they decide what to buy?”
Miss Zips nodded. “Yes, the PTA made a decision last night.”
Deon’s shoulders slumped. His body sagged. The PTA has already decided? He didn’t even get a chance to tell anybody about his idea.
— CHAPTER 9 —
The Art of Persuasion
Miss Zips leaned forward in her chair. “The PTA has made a generous gift to our library. Ms. Ronson, our librarian, will use those funds to purchase books for the school.” Miss Zips smiled from ear to ear. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
Everyone in class seemed to think so.
Except for one person.
Deon was quietly devastated.
Miss Zips let the class take a snack break before heading down to the music room. Out came the strawberries and the Goldfish, the rice balls and mini bagels and diced mangos.
Lizzy felt disappointed, naturally. But she had smiled back at Miss Zips. Lizzy realized that books were important. She couldn’t possibly complain about books. Kym was thrilled. The idea of books filled her insides with tiny, happy bubbles, as if she were a human bottle of sparkling seltzer. She gushed to Lizzy, “I could just burst with happiness. Books, fabulous books!”
Meanwhile, Connor stared at his best friend. Deon seemed to shrink before Connor’s eyes. It was like watching the air slowly leak out of a balloon.
Connor patted his pal on the back. “Don’t feel bad, D,” he said.
Deon grumbled, “I never got a chance. My big idea just went poof. ”
Connor looked at Deon in surprise. He jabbed a finger against the desk. “So that’s it? Poof? You’re giving up?”
“You heard Miss Zips,” Deon replied. “It’s already been decided.”
“But you have a really good idea,” Connor said. “A terrific idea. You can’t give up now.”
Deon’s eyes flickered for a moment. Then he shook his head, defeated. “It’s over.”
“It’s ain’t over till it’s over,” Connor said. “At least that’s what my father tells me. We can’t give up. Think about Dinesh.” At those words, Connor strode to Miss Zips’s desk. In seconds, he was waving his arms, speaking a mile a minute. He turned and gestured for Deon to come over. “Tell her about the buddy bench,” Connor said.
So Deon began to talk. And Miss Zips listened. She really listened. Deon talked about Dinesh, and the playground, and making the school a better place for everyone. Soon Lizzy and Kym joined the conversation. After Deon was through, Miss Zips sat nodding her head. Her eyes sparkled like sunlight on the water. “Well, you’ve convinced me, Deon. It’s a wonderful idea.”
“Thanks,” Deon said. “But it will never—”
“Never say never,” Miss Zips said, grinning. “You can’t give up on a really good idea.”
“But what do I do?” Deon asked.
“It’s time for you to practice the fine art of persuasion,” Miss Zips said.
“Persuasion?” Lizzy repeated.
“Yes,” Miss Zips replied. “You have to convince others of your opinion—just like you convinced me. Deon spoke with real emotion. He tugged at my heart.”
“I did?” Deon asked.
“Deon, when you say you want to make the school better, what do you mean by better?” Miss Zips asked.
Deon blinked.
Kym ventured a guess. “Kinder? Gentler?”
“Yes,” Miss Zips said, clapping her hands together. “Those are good words.”
“We’ve done lots of research,” Lizzy said.
Kym remembered the key words from the article she had written in her notes: tolerance, kindness, respect.
“So what’s the problem?” Miss Zips asked.
“There are two problems,” Connor said. “First, no money. And second, how are we going to talk to the PTA? We’re just kids.”
Miss Zips tilted her head this way and that. “Keep thinking. Keep working on your argument,” she said. “You’ve already done the hard part.”
“We have?” Connor said.
“Yes, you’ve already come up with a beautiful, wonderful, terrific idea. Now you need to sell it to the people in charge.”
Kym tapped a finger against her lips. Her eyes narrowed. “If only we knew somebody . . . who knew somebody . . . who was on the PTA.” Her head swiveled toward the reading rug. Connor, Lizzy, Deon, and Miss Zips followed Kym’s gaze to where one girl in pointy glasses demonstrated a series of dance moves to her friends.
“Ah, Suri Brewster,” Lizzy said.
— CHAPTER 10 —
The New Librarian
Lizzy suggested that the Big Idea Gang meet the next afternoon in the school library after the last bell. “Instead of going straight home, we can meet to do more research on the buddy bench. Just because the PTA has decided to spend the money on books, we shouldn’t give up on our idea,” she reasoned.
“My mom can pick us up,” Deon offered. “She loves driving everyone all over creation.”
“Really?” Kym asked.
“That’s what she says,” Deon said. Then he paused, thinking it over. “Maybe she grumbles it.”
“Oh, sarcastically,” Lizzy said. “That’s when you say the opposite of what you mean.”
Deon tugged on his ear. Lizzy had a point. He’d try to remember to thank his mom when she picked them up.
The library was a large, well-lit room with low bookshelves and long tables. It had neat nooks and crannies, too—little alcoves with comfy chairs for peaceful reading.
Mrs. Buckminster had been the librarian at Clay Elementary forever. She used to joke that she’d been at Clay since before the dinosaurs. That wasn’t exactly true, but it seemed almost believable. That’s why it felt so strange when she retired and a zippy new librarian, Ms. Sasha Ronson, took her place.
Ms. Ronson didn’t look much older than most middle-schoolers. Small and thin, she wore her hair short and dyed bright red at the tips. Ms. Ronson was young and energetic. She wore colorful scarves and six earrings in each ear. She even had tattoos. And, of course, the kids loved her immediately—mostly because of her lively personality.
Lizzy sat at the table with the others. Padma Bitar and her friend, Maggie Uggums, studied together at a nearby table. The assistant librarian, Mrs. Jaffe-Klein, pecked away at the computer, her long nails tap-tap-tapping on the keyboard. Ms. Ronson was crouched on the rug, energetically pulling random books off the low shelves and stacking them in piles. She seemed to be muttering to herself.
Lizzy stared at a blank sheet of paper. Suddenly all her previous enthusiasm seemed to drain out of her. It seemed too hard. The PTA had decided to buy books. Lizzy looked around the library. She loved books. How could she persuade the PTA to spend money on something else?
She noticed that Padma, one of the best artists in the entire school, was sketching on a pad. Lizzy walked over to take a look. “What are you drawing?” she asked.
Padma had a long, thick, black ponytail. She looked up at Lizzy. “I’m supposed to be doing homework. But I got inspired. Do you like it?”
“I do, but will there be colors?” Lizzy asked.
“Oh yes,” Padma said. “This is a pencil sketch for a big painting I just dreamed up.” Padma gestured with her hands, pressing them like a mime against an imaginary wall. “I was thinking I could fill a canvas, or a wall, with handprints using a rainbow of colors.”
“Hmmm,” said Lizzy.
She was getting the beginning of an idea. Just the tiniest flicker of something—like a small fish glittering in the vast sea—stirred deep inside Lizzy’s brain.
Lizzy put her hands in her front pockets. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. The buddy bench was a great idea—but maybe it needed a little help.
And, hey, maybe it wouldn’t cost so much after all.
“Excuse me, Lizzy? Padma?” a voice called. It was Ms. Ronson, now on her hands and knees by a back bookshelf. “Could you please bring over those boxes? Thanks ever so much.”
Ms. Ronson dumped some of the books in the first box. “Good riddance,” she muttered.
Lizzy was alarmed. “What are you doing? You can’t throw away books! It’s a waste of money.”
“Oh, Lizzy,” Ms. Ronson said, “some of these books have been here forever. No one reads them. They are taking up valuable space. Look at this book.” The young librarian held up an old science book. The cover read FUN WITH COMPUTERS! “This book is twenty years old. It’s terribly out of date. It’s useless, Lizzy, and it’s got to go.”
Lizzy could see that Ms. Ronson was right.
“Here’s another,” Ms. Ronson said, her voice rising. The cover read CAREERS FOR WOMEN. Ms. Ronson flipped through the stale, yellowed pages. “Look at these jobs. Secretary, flight attendant, piano teacher, bank teller!” Ms. Ronson actually growled, grrrrr. “Where’s scientist? Or financial analyst? Or astronaut? Or how about president? Maybe that’s what our country needs—a woman in the White House!”
The book sailed through the air, as if its pages were wings, and landed into the box marked TRASH.
Ms. Ronson laughed. “I’m sorry, it just makes me crazy.” She swept an arm across the room. “Our graphic novel section is much too small. I can’t keep enough scary books on the shelves, because they are so popular. I don’t have any of this year’s new award winners. Libraries have to change with the times. This is why it’s so wonderful that the PTA has decided to donate money for books. Don’t you agree?”
Lizzy and Padma nodded. Yes, they sure did. Lizzy tugged on Padma’s arm. “Come with me,” she whispered. “I want you to talk with the rest of the gang. I think I’ve got an idea—but we’ll need your help.”
— CHAPTER 11 —
Deon and Dinesh
Mrs. Gibson pulled a silver minivan up to the front doors. Deon sat in the front passenger seat, while Connor, Kym, and Lizzy climbed into the back with a big posterboard. It read EVERYBODY NEEDS A BUDDY across the top and had a drawing of a bench with Padma’s colorful handprint design all over it.
“So what was the Big Idea Gang up to this afternoon?” Mrs. Gibson asked.
They told her all about the PTA buying new books for the library and their idea for the buddy bench.
“I was ready to give up,” Deon admitted. He shot a look toward the back seat. “But Connor wouldn’t let me.”
“We decided to try harder,” Kym said.
“One big problem was the money,” Lizzy said. “Then I realized we had an old bench in our backyard. If the PTA could donate money, my family could donate an old bench.”
“You might want to check with your parents first,” Mrs. Gibson said.
“Already did,” Lizzy said, beaming.
“And this girl in our school, Padma, she’s, like, an amazing artist,” Connor jumped in. “She’s going to help us paint the bench—for free.”
“We still need to convince the PTA,” Kym said. “But we have a connection. Our friend Suri said we can come over tonight to share our idea. Her mother is treasurer for the PTA. If she likes the buddy bench, she can bring it up at the next meeting.”
Ms. Gibson glanced in the rearview mirror. “I’m so glad to hear about this project. This is an opportunity to make a difference right here in your own community. This is how positive change happens. With kids like you.”
“I’m positive we’ll get our buddy bench,” Connor said.
“What makes you so sure?” Kym asked.
“I’m wearing my lucky underwear,” Connor explained.
Kym gagged as if she’d just swallowed bad fish. “Ew, gross,” she groaned.
“What’s the matter?” Connor asked. “You don’t have lucky underwear?”
“Seriously? No,” Kym stated. She looked ill.
Lizzy rubbed the temples of her forehead. She apologized to Deon’s mother, “He’s my twin brother, but some days I wonder if he wandered over from a petting zoo.”
“What color is it?” Deon asked.
“Sort of aqua green,” Connor said. “It’s a happy color. Do you want to—”
“NO!” Mrs. Gibson said, waving a hand, laughing. “I’m shutting down this conversation. Please, no more talk about underwear.”
“But—”
“No!” Mrs. Gibson repeated. “No buts.”
No one said a peep. Finally, Deon asked in a soft voice, “So . . . just to be clear, Mom. We can’t talk about butts either?”
It was that kind of car ride.
After dropping everyone off, Mrs. Gibson and Deon drove home in silence. Deon thought about Dinesh Barazani. They had talked a little bit over the past couple of days. Dinesh was very quiet, but he was slowly beginning to trust Deon. Dinesh told Deon that he was from Pakistan. He liked math and video games. His English was very good, but very fast. He told Deon he grew up speaking two languages in his home—English and something called Urdu. His father came to America for a job in the hospital. He was a heart surgeon.
Deon explained to his mother how Dinesh had inspired their big idea. “I don’t know if a buddy bench will solve the problem,” Deon said. “But every single day I smile at him. I figure that everybody likes a smile.”
“I’m proud of you, Deon,” Mrs. Gibson reached a hand to Deon’s knee and gave it a squeeze. “The buddy bench is great idea. I’m positive the school is going to love it.”
“How are you sure?” Deon asked. “Are you wearing your lucky underwear, too?”
Mrs. Gibson looked at her son . . . and winked.
— CHAPTER 12 —
The Best Part
In the end, the school didn’t take the O’Malleys’ bench for the playground. Instead, they purchased two brand-new buddy benches—one for each end of the playground—because they loved Deon’s idea so much.
They got a local carpenter, one of the parents at the school, to build the benches. Padma supervised the painting. So one afternoon, a bunch of kids and teachers came together to finish the project. Everyone had a hand in the painting.
At first, the students at Clay Elementary were really excited about the new benches. There was even a long, scraggly line of kids eager to sit on them. But after a few days, life on the playground returned to normal. Boys and girls ran around like lunatics. They needed to jump and scream and shout. But on the day after Moses Federman’s cat, Puddles, died of liver failure, Moses felt downhearted. So he sat on the bench and waited for someone to come along.
“Want to play?” Lizzy asked.
Moses shook his head, eyes moist. “Not really.”
“How about a walk and talk?” Lizzy offered. “Or, you know, I could just sit here with you if that’s okay?”
And so she did.
Moses felt a little better after that.
On the fourth day, Dinesh took a seat at the bench. Deon was ready. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. But as he walked toward the bench, a curly-haired boy beat him to it. Deon watched as the two of them went off together. They climbed to the top of the geodesic dome, sat close together, and talked. Deon felt disappointed at first. The buddy bench was his idea, after all. Without even thinking about it, Deon walked to the empty bench and plopped down.
A minute later, there was Connor, holding a basketball. “Dude, you wanna?”
Deon smiled at his friend. “Oh yeah I do!”
They raced off together, passing the ball between them, because, after all, recess was absolutely, positively, 100 percent, totally the best part of the school day.
Why?
Because that’s when boys and girls got together with their friends. The tall ones and the short ones . . . the shy ones and the wild ones . . . the ones with blonde hair and brown and black. All of them, mixed up together like crayons in a box.
&nb
sp; Everybody needs a buddy.
Just ask Deon Gibson. He’ll tell you.
Miss Zips’s “Wow Me” Tips
So you want to make a difference? That’s great! There are so many ways that you can make a difference in your school, your community, and even the world! But making things better means making changes, and you’ll need to convince people that those changes are worth making.
A logical argument is the best way to get others to see your point of view, because you are giving them reasons to be persuaded. Let’s start at the beginning.
What’s the big idea?
Presenting an argument is not about being the loudest, or the funniest, or even the smartest. As I tell my students all the time, it’s about making a claim and supporting that claim with evidence.
What do you need to convince your audience of? A claim often starts with a big idea. An idea is “big” if it is something you feel excited or passionate about. If you don’t feel strongly, how can you convince anyone else to agree with you?
Deon had the big idea that Clay Elementary should get a buddy bench. To turn that idea into a claim, the BIG needed to be specific, direct, and make one main point: a buddy bench would be a positive addition to Clay Elementary to help students connect with each other and encourage kindness and inclusion. There is no question about what they are arguing!
Now what? Support that claim!
Supporting your claim means trying to prove it. Think about it this way: if you simply made a claim and stopped there, your audience would be left wondering, WHY? So you have to answer that question for them. You have to give your audience reasons to be persuaded, and back those reasons up with evidence such as facts and details.
Everybody Needs a Buddy Page 3