Monday morning I rushed right to Principal Pickford’s office. Miss Nancy must have been somewhere else in the school, but his door was open, so I tiptoed in. He was typing quickly on his computer, ignoring the ringing phone and the fact that his glasses were about to slip right off his nose.
“Um, excuse me, Principal Pickford?” I said warily.
He glanced at me and took a moment to push up his glasses. “Yes, Riley?”
“I know you said you’d let us know when the next newspaper meeting would be, but I wrote an article that’s pretty timely that I think should go up on the site, and I’d like to e-mail it to you.”
“Okay,” he said, barely looking up from his computer. “But I prefer to read printed copies. You can just toss it on my inbox. I’ll read it when I can.” He motioned toward a basket stacked high with piles of papers and file folders.
Since this was my first time submitting an article to him, I’d been prepared for that just in case and pulled out a printed copy of the article. I carefully placed it on top of the pile. Who knew when he’d get to it? But at least I was trying. It felt better than doing nothing.
I backed out of the office and found Ava in the hall.
“How was your comp?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. How was your grandma’s visit?”
“Imagine it in your head for a minute.” I paused. “Now make it ten times worse.”
She winced. “Sorry.”
I shrugged like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. It was hard to watch Grandma and Mom bicker so much. And it made me worry that when I grew up, that would be me and Mom. I didn’t want us to end up like that.
As if she could read my mind, Ava said, “Don’t worry. You and your mom will never be like that.”
My heart swelled. Ava knew me so well. I was about to give her a huge hug, but Cee rushed up and grabbed my arm.
“Ready to go?” Cee asked breathlessly.
“Where are you guys going?” Ava asked.
“To try to get an advisor for the Red Club,” I explained. Cee and I had come up with a plan over text the day before. “We have to find a way to bring it back.”
Something flashed across Ava’s eyes.
“Good luck,” she said in a small voice.
Cee practically pulled my arm out of its socket dragging me down the hallway. “We only have a couple minutes before the bell is going to ring.”
Ms. Bhatt was organizing her desk when we burst in.
“Ms. Bhatt!” I called, out of breath. “We need to ask you something.”
She flashed a smile. “Sure, girls. What’s up?”
Cee straightened her shoulders. “We want you to be the advisor for the Red Club.”
Her smile fell.
“Before you say no,” Cee rushed on, “let us tell you about it. The club is so supportive and wonderful. It has created friendships and bonds.”
“And since Principal Pickford took the newspaper away from you, you’d have the time,” I added. “It’s only one afternoon a week.”
“You would help so many girls,” Cee said.
Ms. Bhatt put her hand up to stop us. “Girls, girls. I would never say no. I’ve always admired the Red Club. I wish I’d had something like it growing up in India.”
“So you’ll be our advisor?” I practically screeched with happiness.
“No,” she said sadly.
“Why not?” Cee asked.
“Because I already suggested the idea and got turned down.”
I staggered back a step. “What?”
“When I heard about the club getting shut down, I approached Principal Pickford and told him that I’d love to be the club’s advisor.” She glanced at the doorway and lowered her voice. “But the club not having an advisor was only a technicality, not the main problem.”
“What’s the main problem?” Cee asked.
“The complaints,” I said.
Ms. Bhatt nodded.
“So even if we got an advisor, we wouldn’t get our club back,” Cee said, putting it all together.
Ms. Bhatt gazed down at the floor. “I believe not.”
The bell rang. I had Ms. Bhatt for homeroom, so I could stay where I was, but Cee would have to rush off.
“What are we going to do?” Cee said, her voice low and discouraged. “I don’t want to give up.”
An idea formed in my brain. I’d tackled plenty of investigations in this school before.… “Maybe the key to getting the club back is uncovering the identity of the secret complainer.”
Cee flashed a wicked grin. “If only we knew an awesome investigative reporter.”
* * *
That night at dinner, I stared down at my enchilada in dread. It was my turn next in the Dunne Family Dinner Game, and I couldn’t think of anything to say. My day had been one frustration after another. I’d given Principal Pickford a new article, but I didn’t think he’d read it anytime soon. I’d tried to get an advisor for the Red Club and found out that wouldn’t work. Everything I’d tried had failed. And I didn’t really want to say that the thing I was looking forward to was investigating secret complainer suspects. Especially when my own mom was on the list.
“Riley?” Dad said, poking me lightly with his elbow.
I hadn’t realized Danny had finally stopped talking. I thought he’d go on forever about that dodgeball game. I had nothing positive to say about today, but I could think of the second half of my turn. There was one other idea I’d gotten. A work-around that I could use until the newspaper started up again.
I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “I didn’t have a great thing happen today, but I do have something to look forward to. I’ve been thinking about starting a blog.”
“A blog,” Mom repeated. “What for?”
“For my articles that Principal Pickford won’t publish. That way the writing isn’t wasted. Instead of going up on the school’s newspaper site, I can just put it up on my own site.”
“How would that work, exactly?” Dad asked.
I chewed on my lower lip for a moment. I hadn’t thought it through completely. It was a new idea.
“I don’t really know,” I admitted. “I’ll have to do a lot of research, figure out how to set a blog up and design it. And after I post my articles, I’ll have to figure out how to let people know how to find them.”
Mom put down her fork and put on her serious face. “Honey, that seems like a lot of work. You don’t have time for that.”
The little bit of hope I’d had deflated like a popped balloon.
Dad said, “Maybe you can start a blog next summer when you’re not busy with school.”
And write about what? I thought. All the big stories were happening now. I stared down at my soggy enchilada. I officially had nothing to look forward to. The Red Club was gone. The newspaper was on hold. Everything that I cared about was in disarray.
“I don’t know how long Principal Pickford is going to take to restart the newspaper,” I said. “I’m going to miss writing. It’s… it’s a part of me.”
“Well, no one said you couldn’t write,” Mom said. “I just don’t want you starting this whole blog business.”
“What about a short story?” Dad suggested. “I’d love to read it. Especially if it’s a mystery.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, poking my fork at the cheesy mess that used to be an enchilada. But the only mystery I was interested in ended with me getting my life back.
CHAPTER 13
WEDNESDAY, I WOKE UP WITH the excitement I usually did on Red Club mornings. It was my favorite weekday, knowing I’d get to hang with my friends after school, laugh, and help people. It took a full minute after my alarm went off for me to remember. The club was gone.
But it had been two days since I’d submitted my article to Principal Pickford. I thought that was enough time to check in.
I stopped at the office as soon as I got to school.
Miss Nancy looked up from her desk. “Good m
orning, Riley. How can I help you?”
“I was hoping to talk to Principal Pickford. I gave him an article for the newspaper on Monday, and I was wondering if he’d read it yet.”
Miss Nancy grimaced. “He’s been very busy lately—”
But just as she began, his door opened, and he barged out with a stack of papers in his hands. He plopped them down on her desk and said, “I need to finish those interviews for the new art teacher. Book them all for tomorrow, back to back.”
Miss Nancy barely had time to nod before her phone started ringing.
Mr. Pickford turned around and startled, not realizing I was standing there. “Oh, good morning, Riley.”
“Hi, Principal Pickford,” I began. “I see that you’re busy, but I was wondering if you had a chance to read my article?”
“I did, actually,” he said.
My heart sped up. I hadn’t expected that. I’d thought the paper would sit on his desk until it biodegraded.
“It was well written,” he said. “You have a gift with words. But it’s not really what I’m looking for. Instead of an opinion piece, write the facts. Detail the rules of the dress code and what will happen if students break them. I’ll publish that.”
I held back a sigh. So he just wanted me to copy the paragraph from the old handbook. That wasn’t writing. That wasn’t what I’d joined the newspaper to do. But I didn’t talk back or complain. I had a bigger mission this morning. Ms. Bhatt had said that getting an advisor wouldn’t help. But maybe if I tried in person. Begged.
“I was also hoping to talk to you about the Red Club again,” I began.
“Riley, I—”
I interrupted, “I’ve been doing some research and talking with people, and we would have no problems getting an advisor.”
“It’s not just that,” he said. “We had complaints.”
“I realize that, but if we’re following the rules—”
He cut in. “Parents think these things need to be discussed at home.”
“But that’s part of why the Red Club is so great. Not all girls get that support at home.” Like me, I thought. I wanted my club back. I needed this.
He looked at me with something like sympathy. “Riley, I understand why you’re upset. Believe me, I do. But I had upset parents to deal with too. Parents who had good points about the Red Club.”
“Could you tell me who complained? Maybe I could talk to them and help them understand.”
He shook his head. “You know I can’t do that.”
Miss Nancy pulled the phone away from her face and covered the mouthpiece. “Mrs. Scruggs is on line two. Brody got a test back that she feels was unfairly graded, and she’s demanding to speak with you.”
Pickford rubbed his hands over his face. “I’ll take it in my office.”
* * *
The morning dragged by. I didn’t know if it was the new dress code or what, but a lot of girls seemed sad. Not just me.
Paige came up to me in the hall between classes. “Is the Red Club meeting anywhere today?”
“It’s shut down,” I said. “You heard about that, right?”
“Well, yeah, but I thought you’d find another way. Like maybe we could meet somewhere else? I really need the club today.” Her eyes were rimmed with red.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Physically, yeah. But I’ve been feeling really…” She stopped and looked around, like she just remembered we were talking in the middle of the hall with a bunch of kids walking past. “It’s fine. I’ll go to a friend’s house and talk it out there.”
My stomach felt sick. Here was a girl who needed our support, and we couldn’t be there for her.
“If it doesn’t work out at your friend’s house, you can always text me,” I said. “Anytime.”
She nodded and walked away, head down.
At lunchtime I headed into the cafeteria and sat at my usual spot. Ava had left math early to head to the bathroom and still wasn’t there yet.
Julia was sitting a few tables away with Hazel, the two of them laughing. If it hadn’t been for the Red Club, they probably wouldn’t have become friends, but now they had each other. As they laughed, my heart warmed. The Red Club had done that.
And now it was gone.
I had to investigate. Maybe if I could figure out the identity of the secret complainer, I could use my superskill on them. I’d tell them my side, explain how important the Red Club was, and get them to change their mind. But first I had to figure out who the secret complainer was. And I knew exactly who I wanted to talk to.
I left my seat and walked over to Julia’s table.
“Hey, girls!” I said.
Julia smiled, and Hazel gave me a big wave.
I coughed into my hand. “So, um, Julia, how is your mom adjusting to living in a new town?”
She shrugged. “Pretty well, I guess. She doesn’t really have friends yet. She’s busy with work and fixing up our new house. But she likes it here.”
“Did she go to the school committee meeting?” I asked.
“I… don’t think so.”
“It was last Wednesday night,” I said.
Julia tilted her head to the side. “Why do you want to know?”
Uh-oh. What could I say? Because I think your mom could be the secret complainer who ruined everything for everyone?
I plastered on a fake smile. “Oh, because my mom goes to those meetings. It could be a good way for your mom to meet people.”
“Oh, well, I’ll let her know,” she said slowly with a slightly confused look on her face.
“Cool,” I said. “Um, enjoy the rest of lunch.”
As I walked away, I heard Hazel whisper, “Weird.”
I returned to my seat and put my face in my hands. So awkward. I was definitely a better writer than interrogator. I focused on eating my lunch, but halfway through, Ava’s seat was still empty. Super weird. Even though it was against the rules, I slid my phone out of my pocket and took a peek. Uh-oh. I had one text from her.
I NEED YOU.
The rest of my sandwich sailed into the trash can as I jogged past, headed to the bathroom where Ava had asked me to meet her. I pushed open the door and looked down for feet. There was only one pair, in the middle stall, and I recognized those little white sneakers.
“Ava? You okay?”
“No,” she said with a sniffle. “I got my period.”
“Oh,” I said. “Oh!” Her first time! This was what she’d wanted for so long. So why did she seem so sad?
“I don’t have… anything with me,” she said. “And I have a problem.”
The stall door slowly swung open, and Ava came out. Her eyes were wet. She’d been crying. She turned around, and I saw a small stain on her brand-new khakis.
Well, it was good that I’d worn a T-shirt under my hoodie again. I pulled the sweatshirt over my head and handed it to her. “No big deal. Wrap this around your waist. We’ll get new pants and some pads from the Red Club locker and you’ll be good to go.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s no problem. Just give the hoodie back to me whenever. That’s what friends are for.”
This only made her sob harder for some reason.
I grabbed her arm. “Okay, let’s visit the locker.”
Only a minute later, we stood in front of the infamous locker number one. I twirled the dial, spinning past the combination numbers, and opened it with a dramatic flair. This was her first time, after all. I had to make it special.
But then I was confused.
The locker was empty.
“Where’s the stuff?” Ava asked, her voice cracking.
“I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “I guess when they shut the club down, they had to clear the locker out.”
Ava’s eyes widened with panic. “What am I going to do?”
I wasn’t due for another couple of weeks, so I had nothing in my backpack. I was sure some girl would, but we couldn’t exact
ly wait for lunch to end and go up asking one by one until we hit tampon bingo.
“You can go to the nurse,” I said. “If you ask her, I’m sure she has supplies.”
“But I don’t want to ask,” Ava said. “I wanted to just quietly get something from the locker.”
“Ms. Owens is nice,” I said. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed.”
“I know I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but I still do,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes again. “It’s my first time. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Okay, I’ll go to the nurse,” I offered. “I’ll get you something.”
“And what about my pants?”
I hesitated. I didn’t know if the nurse could do anything about that.
“I’m going home,” Ava cried. “I need my mom.”
* * *
After school, I went next door to Ava’s house to see how she was doing. Her mom told me she was up in her room. I walked up the stairs like I had a thousand times before and gently knocked on the bedroom door.
A muffled voice responded, “Come in.”
I opened the door and poked my head inside. Ava was lying in bed, legs curled up, eyes rimmed red. When she saw it was me, she pushed herself up to sitting.
“You came over to check on me?” she asked through sniffles.
“Of course,” I said, easing myself down onto the edge of the bed. “You’re my best friend.”
Her face scrunched up, like she was going to start crying again.
“Did your mom help you out?” I asked.
“Yeah, but I have questions that she doesn’t know the answer to. And you wouldn’t know either. Like, gymnast stuff.”
“Can you text the other girls from your gym?” I asked.
She made a face. “We’re not close like that.”
I thought for a minute. “There’s a girl in Red Club on the swim team and one who does competitive cheerleading. Oh, and a ballerina! Maybe they could help?”
Revenge of the Red Club Page 6
