Revenge of the Red Club

by Kim Harrington

“But where should we meet?” Camille asked. “Someone’s house?”

  I thought about what we’d said before. How the sixth graders could feel weird showing up at some eighth grader’s house. “Too private. Starbucks?” I suggested.

  Stella shook her head. “Too public. They’ll be less likely to talk and share with a bunch of coffee drinkers listening in. What about the park? It’s big enough that we can find a space just for us.”

  “At four o’clock the clubs and sports practices will be done,” Camille added.

  “That sounds good,” Cee said. Her fingers flew over the letters on her phone. She added as many girls as she could to the text, hoping others would pass it on; then she hit send.

  Now we just had to see if anyone showed up.

  * * *

  The park had an open field of grass and a playground with a slide, some swings, and a rickety climbing structure that I’d always been too chicken to attempt. But we were headed toward the gazebo. Which wasn’t really a gazebo—that was just what we called it. It was much larger and more like a covered bandstand. The town had a concert every July Fourth, and the “gazebo” was the band’s stage.

  Today it was ours.

  Or it would be, if anyone showed up. For now it was just the four of us. And a mother and child on the swings, but they seemed to be packing up and leaving.

  Cee sat on the brown built-in bench. “So, who’s going to run the meeting?”

  “You,” I said, as if it were obvious. “You ran the Red Club meetings this year.”

  “Yeah, but this is different. It’s not just calling a meeting to order and seeing who has questions. We need, like, a motivational speaker.” She motioned to Stella, who stood stiffly at the gazebo entrance, waiting for people to show. “Stella, you’re the most fired up right now.”

  “But Riley is the best at convincing people,” Stella said over her shoulder.

  My mouth dropped open in surprise. Stella had never complimented me on anything before.

  Stella rolled her eyes at my shock. “You know your articles are awesome. You have a way with words. You should run the meeting.”

  “We should all run it,” I said. “Red Club doesn’t belong to anyone. It’s all of ours. We’ll all speak. It’ll just flow.”

  Camille snickered. “You said ‘flow.’ ”

  I sighed and looked out across the grass. No one yet and it was almost four o’clock.

  There had been a ton of yeses on the group text, but that was different from doing the work. It was easy to say yes to a text. Much harder to leave the house and actually show up.

  I swallowed hard as I started to wonder if no one would show. Maybe the Red Club didn’t matter as much to other girls as it did to us. Maybe they didn’t need the extra support and camaraderie. Maybe we were just needy.

  No. I hadn’t imagined the Red Club’s effect on people. It meant something.

  “You guys,” Stella said, pointing toward the parking lot.

  A group of girls poured out of the back of an SUV; then the mom sped away. Another group came in from the side, walking arm in arm. Then even more came, walking and jogging across the grass toward the gazebo.

  Paige still had her cleats on from soccer. Julia, whose mom didn’t even want her at regular Red Club meetings, pulled up with Hazel on bikes, faces flushed from pedaling the whole way.

  They came right up to the gazebo entrance and plopped down on the grass, as if expecting a performance. A feeling fluttered in my stomach. Not nerves… excitement. It was strange how I got nervous talking one-on-one with Cole, but here I was standing in front of twenty girls without a twinge of anxiety. The brain worked how it worked, I guess.

  “Who’s going to start?” Stella whispered.

  I stepped out in front. “I will.”

  Gazing out at the sea of faces—from eighth-grade friends to barely familiar sixth graders—I was filled with hope. These girls had all come because they cared. Because they wanted change.

  I cleared my throat. “I guess you all heard about the maxi-pad prank in the gym.”

  A chorus of giggles spread across the crowd.

  “The ones who did it,” I said carefully, “didn’t do it for laughs. They didn’t do it to cause someone clean-up work.” I paused as I grasped for the right words. “They did it to tell people that they’re fed up and they’re not going to take it anymore.”

  The giggles stopped, and the girls sat up a little straighter and leaned forward.

  I didn’t really know where to go next, how to pull them all in. Maybe more of a conversation style would work, like the Red Club meetings.

  I raised my voice. “Who here has felt ashamed when they have their period? Or scared that someone would find out?” I raised my own hand, and all the girls followed suit. “Someone tell me about that.”

  A sixth grader who’d gone to a couple of meetings, Prisha, spoke out. “I’m sick of working so hard to hide that I have my period. Like if a boy finds out I’m going to the bathroom to change my tampon, he’ll think I’m gross or something.”

  “Yeah!” her friend yelled. “And it’s not gross. It’s normal.”

  Stella stepped forward. “Who has felt ashamed about their body? Boobs too big, boobs too small?” She raised her hand, as did everyone else.

  Paige stood up and dusted some grass off her legs. “None of it makes any sense. You have to have, like, one percent body fat, but it all has to be concentrated in your boobs and butt.”

  A seventh grader from behind her added, “And you have to photoshop your pics for Insta. Filter your face. Change the shape of your waist.”

  Stella jutted her chin out. “We should all love ourselves. We shouldn’t feel ashamed.”

  “I’m tired of hating myself for not looking perfect all the time,” Julia complained.

  Camille flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “People say they like the natural look, but the one day I didn’t wear makeup, three people asked if I was sick.”

  Kristy nodded quickly. “I have to get up one hour earlier than my brother for school. Makeup, hair straightening… I spend all that time getting ready so I can look like someone else. Like not me.”

  “I love makeup, though,” Stella said. “It’s fun. If you’re good at it—like me—it’s basically an art form.”

  “You are awesome at makeup,” I said. “And it’s great that you love it. But I think Kristy’s trying to say that she doesn’t love it and feels pressured to wear it anyway.”

  “Huh,” Stella said, like she’d never considered that before.

  I followed the conversations back and forth, sometimes with a smile, sometimes with sadness, but always with support. And that was what it was all about. We had to get our Red Club back. It couldn’t die forever. So many girls would need it in the coming years. We had to try.

  Lin Cheung raised her hand. “So, what is this ‘movement’ you mentioned in the text? We’re not just going to talk, right? What are we going to do?”

  Stella’s eyes twinkled. “We’re going to cause a bit of a stir.”

  An excited buzz rose up from the crowd. I’d made the right move, opening things up for discussion first. It had pulled them all in, made it personal. And now we’d make our plan.

  Cee clapped her hands to regain everyone’s attention. “What would be your goals for the movement? Anyone?”

  Julia raised her hand. “I want girls to be treated fairly.”

  Paige stood up. “I want to vent my anger. I want certain people to know that we’re not going to take this anymore.”

  Stella clapped at that.

  “I want my leggings back!” Vanita yelled, and a chorus of cheers followed.

  “I just want the Red Club back,” said a small voice from the back. I recognized her as a sixth grader who’d recently started coming to meetings.

  Nods and words of agreement rose up from a bunch of others.

  I cleared my throat. “And I’d like to make sure our plan doesn’t cause innoc
ent people any extra work.”

  Camille fake coughed into her hand. “Janitor Mike and the maxi pads, cough cough.”

  We spent the next half hour brainstorming ideas, working together, and coming up with our goals. Cee explained a concept from the world of psychology—she’d learned it from her psychologist dad—that would come in handy. Finally, our voices spent, we finished just as it started to get dark.

  “Tomorrow is Tuesday,” I said. “Everyone knows the plan?”

  A murmur of agreement went through the crowd.

  “And each day follows with its new objective,” Cee said, “culminating in Friday… the reckoning. Remember to get other girls on board. Everyone has to participate Friday, or it won’t work.”

  Excitement traveled through the group like electricity. We had the motivation, we had the desire, but I didn’t know what would happen. Would it change anything at all?

  It would be fun to find out.

  Stella clapped her hands together. “Let the revenge of the Red Club commence!”

  CHAPTER 19

  TUESDAY MORNING, I STOOD OUTSIDE the main entrance to the school with an anxious feeling in my belly. It felt like waiting in line for a roller coaster. I was excited, I wanted to do this, but also… this might be very, very scary. Day one of the plan was here.

  Part of me wanted to wait and see if the other girls were doing it. But what if they were waiting to see if others were doing it too? What if we were all waiting to see, and no one actually did it? Someone had to lead.

  I slowly unzipped the small front pocket of my backpack and reached my hand in for the thing. It was there. I had it in my fingers now. I just had to complete the task. I took a deep breath…

  And pulled the tampon out.

  I mean, it was still in the package and everything. I didn’t pop it out of the applicator like a firecracker. But it would be totally clear to anyone looking that I was carrying a tampon. And that was the point.

  Now or never, I told myself. Then I pushed open the front door.

  Part of me wanted to slip by unnoticed, but that wasn’t the point of the day. We were doing this to get attention for our cause. I hiked the backpack up higher on my shoulder, keeping the tampon in my right hand at all times. Each person I passed felt like a test. Would they notice? What would happen?

  The first few people were too involved in their own stuff—grabbing a book from his locker, checking her phone, talking to a friend. But finally someone did notice. And it wasn’t even a kid.

  Miss Nancy, the principal’s assistant, did a double take. Then she tilted her head to the side, like she was figuring something out, connecting the dots. But I breezed past, and she never said a word.

  A hand clamped down on my shoulder.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” Cee said as I turned around. She had a tampon in her hand too.

  I held mine up. “Hey, same brand!”

  “Are people noticing?” she asked, her eyes cutting left and right. “Has anyone said anything to you?”

  I shook my head. “I just got here. Have you seen anyone else? Are they doing it?”

  “Oh yeah. Stella is basically waving it above her head. A bunch of sixth graders walked down the hall twirling them like batons. Even some girls who weren’t at the meeting.”

  “So, they’re spreading the news like we asked,” I said, pleased.

  “Yeah. It’s all happening. But that doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable.”

  “Well, that’s the point, right?” I reminded her. “To make people uncomfortable and then, eventually, comfortable. This was your idea.”

  “I know. It sounded great when I brought it up at the meeting. But it just feels weird. It’s going to be a long, interesting day.”

  With that Cee headed off for her homeroom. I still had to make my way down the next hall to stop at my locker. I made it halfway there before an annoying voice yelled, “Oh, look! Riley’s on the rag!”

  I squared my shoulders and turned around to face Brody Scruggs. “What makes you say that?”

  “Um, because of that lady stick you’re not doing a great job of hiding in your hand.” He snorted and elbowed his friend, who joined in with a fake laugh.

  I held the tampon up in front of me like a Jedi wielding a light saber. “You mean this?” I waved it close to his face, right under his nose.

  He stumbled back a bit. “Gross. What are you doing?”

  I barked out a laugh. “What? Are you scared? It’s not like it’s used or anything. Though I could get you one of those.”

  His mouth dropped open. “You’re disgusting.” He turned on his heel to get away from me and ended up face-to-face with Julia, Stella, and Camille, who’d snuck up behind him, waiting.

  “You have a problem with these?” Stella asked, and the three of them waved their tampons at his face.

  Julia hissed, “You weren’t scared of periods when you were calling me Bloody Julia.”

  His minion took off—smartly—but Brody was alone with us. And for the first time, I saw a glimpse of fear in the eyes of the bully who spent his time making others afraid.

  “You girls are crazy,” he said with a nervous twinge in his voice. “This is what happens when you’re all on the rag at the same time.”

  Then he pushed his way between Julia and Camille and practically jogged down the hall.

  Stella raised her eyebrows. “This is going to be a great day.”

  I aimed my thumb down the hall. “I have to get to my locker. See you guys later.”

  I finally made it, grabbing what I’d need for my first few classes. Then I closed the locker door and spun around to find Cole standing there. I’d been perfectly willing to embarrass myself for the cause in front of anyone else. But Cole?

  His eyes drifted to my hand and the tampon, and his brow creased. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

  “Um, sure.”

  His cheeks reddened slightly. “Do half the girls have their period at the same time or is this tampon thing the latest fashion accessory?”

  A laugh escaped from me before I could hold it back. “Walk me to homeroom and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

  He fell in step beside me. “So there is something going on. I’m not hallucinating!”

  “You’re not hallucinating,” I said, laughing again. “Have you ever heard of exposure therapy?”

  He gave me a funny look. “That is not how I was expecting this explanation to start. No, I haven’t heard of that.”

  “Cee’s dad is a psychologist,” I explained, “so she came up with this idea based on something he does with his patients. He uses exposure therapy on clients when they’re afraid of something they don’t need to be afraid of.”

  “Like dogs?” Cole asked.

  “Yes!” I exclaimed. “What Mr. Butler says is that when people avoid the things they fear, it makes their nervousness grow, because it’s telling their brain it’s right to be afraid.”

  “So rather than avoid dogs, they should be with dogs,” Cole said.

  “Yeah. First he’d make them hold a picture of a dog. Then be in the same room with a dog. Then eventually pet a dog. And after a while the brain makes new pathways or whatever and learns it isn’t something to fear and the phobia usually goes away.”

  Cole stopped walking. “So are the girls carrying tampons around all day to make people face their fears with… period stuff?”

  “Exactly! A girl shouldn’t feel ashamed that people might see her bringing a tampon or a pad into the bathroom. So we figured if everyone is walking around all day carrying tampons, then people will get used to seeing them and it won’t be such a big deal.”

  He paused for a long time. I hoped he didn’t think the whole thing was totally stupid.

  Finally he said, “That’s brilliant.”

  A huge smile broke out across my face. “You think so?”

  “Totally. It makes sense—the more you see something, the more normal it becomes.”
>
  “Exactly!”

  “So, can I have one?” He held out his hand.

  “Wh-what?” I stuttered.

  “A tampon. Or pad. Or whatever. If the rest of the boys see that I’m not grossed out or freaked or whatever, that will help you, right?”

  “Yeah, it really would,” I said, surprised that he was brave enough to join in.

  “Then… tampon me! Or whatever you ladies say.”

  I unzipped the front pocket of my backpack and pulled one out.

  He took it in his hand and examined it for a moment. “I’ve never actually really looked at these before.”

  “They’re pretty harmless,” I said, laughing.

  “To homeroom we go!” He held it up high, like a sword. “Hey, do you guys have anything else planned?”

  “Oh, do we,” I said with a grin. And I told him about our week.

  * * *

  The girls got looks all day from students and teachers alike. But the more people who carried tampons, the more others joined in. I was pretty sure I saw Ms. Bhatt carrying a tampon down the hall. And even Ava asked to carry one after lunch. Even better, no one got in trouble. I mean, how could they? A teacher wasn’t going to check to see if you actually had your period or not.

  A few more boys joined in after Cole took the lead. Some just because they thought it was funny, but many because they knew it was the right thing to do.

  At the end of the school day, I leaned up against the wall near the front entrance, waiting for my bus. I felt someone sidle up next to me, and I expected to turn and see one of my friends. But it was Miss Nancy.

  Her white hair was permed into tight curls, and she wore a pale blue dress that matched her eyes. I liked Miss Nancy. She always had a smile for the students and knew everyone’s name. I’d hated seeing her walk through the cafeteria dress-coding girls. There had been a sadness on her face as she’d done it, like it was something she really didn’t want to do.

  “So,” she said in my direction, “you seem to have tapped into some pent-up feelings among the girls.”

  “Me? What?” I pointed at my chest like I had no idea what she was talking about.