Revenge of the Red Club

by Kim Harrington

  “No!” she cried, and a couple of heads turned. “It wasn’t like that. I’m not explaining it well.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know how you could explain this. It makes no sense. You knew how much I loved that club.”

  “Yes, I did! And I would have loved it too, if I’d been allowed in.”

  I leaned forward, my voice rising. “What do you mean, allowed? You would have been in the club when—”

  She interrupted. “Just because I wasn’t bleeding yet, that didn’t mean I had no questions. I need support too. I need friends. I need… time away from gymnastics. But I wasn’t allowed in your little club.” When she spat out the words, I saw more than anger and bitterness. I saw that she’d been really hurt.

  “You could have asked to—” I began.

  “I did!” she yelled. Everyone at our table was listening now. “Anytime I tried to talk to you about the Red Club, you just pushed it off and told me I’d get my period soon. But I didn’t want my period. I wanted friendship. I wanted to hang out with you and maybe even the other girls too.”

  I sat back in my chair, hard. At least, in a twisted way, it made sense now. She’d killed my club because she was lonely. She was so busy with gymnastics, and the only open time was when I was having fun with my other friends. A group I wouldn’t let her join.

  “It was a selfish thing to do,” she said, tears streaming down her face now. Half the cafeteria seemed to be staring at us. “But I thought that if I couldn’t join the club, then maybe it shouldn’t exist. If the club was gone, I’d be able to hang out with you again on my afternoon off. So I convinced my mother that the reason I’d been so upset lately was because of this club that wouldn’t let me join because I didn’t have my period. And she complained to the principal that a club like that shouldn’t exist in school.”

  My chest heaved up and down with deep breaths. So many emotions flickered through me that I could barely keep track. But despite how angry I was, I still had to know. “What was the real reason you’d been upset?”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “There are too many to name. I’m tired all the time. The girls at my gym don’t like me. I feel like everyone at school belongs and I don’t. I miss you.” She shook her head. “And what I did solved none of that. I’m still tired. The girls at the gym are the same. And now you hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I muttered.

  She inhaled quickly, hope lighting up her face.

  “But I’m not ready to forgive you. And I don’t know if I ever will be.”

  I stood up, my metal chair screeching against the cafeteria floor. Then I ran to the bathroom, where I thought I might hide forever.

  * * *

  The bathroom door opened, and many footsteps shuffled in.

  Camille’s face peeked under the stall door. “She’s in this one!” She pounded her fist on the door. “C’mon, Riley, open up.”

  I slid the lock and let the door swing open. Camille, Stella, and Cee were clustered together with concerned looks on their faces.

  “How did you know I wasn’t actually using the toilet?” I asked.

  Cee tossed her braids over her shoulder. “Because you’ve been in here forever and everyone told us what went down at lunch.”

  The story was probably all over school by now. I felt a pinch of pity for Ava and pushed it away.

  “Was Ava really the one who complained about the Red Club?” Stella asked.

  I nodded, though I could still barely believe it. “What are you guys doing in here?” I asked. “You’re going to miss lunch.”

  It was then that I noticed Cee and Camille holding paper lunch bags.

  “We decided to come find you,” Cee said. And then she and Camille sat on an old broken radiator by the wall and started to eat their sandwiches.

  Stella gave them a disgusted look. “I was going to buy lunch today, but I’m all set without eating in an E. coli closet. I’ll eat when I get home.” She glanced at me. “Making sure you’re okay is more important.”

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Cee said through a bite, “your blog post has taken off. Everyone in school is reading it. They’re even sharing it with their friends in other towns.”

  “Cool,” I said, and I meant it. That did make me feel a little bit better. And today hadn’t been all bad. The meeting with Principal Pickford had actually gone really well.

  “So, fill us in,” Camille said.

  And I did. From my spot in the bathroom stall, I told them all about what Ava had done and why. And I shared my hope that Principal Pickford would convince the school committee to allow a student advisor. We needed any glimmer of hope right now.

  CHAPTER 28

  THE REST OF THE SCHOOL day was a blur. I missed half of history class due to hiding in the bathroom, but the gossip must have reached the teachers’ lounge, because Mr. Spaulding just gave me a sympathetic look and didn’t even ask for a late pass. By the end of the day the light buzz that had been building in my brain had turned into a headache. I couldn’t wait to get home and throw myself on the couch. But after the last bell, when I was on my way to my locker, Principal Pickford came over the intercom, once again summoning me to his office.

  “Oooohhh,” a few kids teased in that you’re in trouble tone as I passed by. It was good to know that even as many things changed, some stayed the same.

  Miss Nancy was on the phone at her desk as I walked in. She waved me toward Mr. Pickford’s office and mouthed, Go right in.

  I settled into what I mentally referred to now as “my usual seat” and stared at the photo of the palm tree on the wall. But I didn’t have long to zone out because Mr. Pickford came in quickly and sat across from me.

  “I heard back from the school committee members,” he began.

  Wow, that was quick, I thought. Too quick? They said no. They definitely said no.

  “They agreed.”

  “What?” I said, stunned.

  “The student-advisor position is a go. They don’t want it to be voted on by the students, though, because sometimes those become popularity contests.”

  I nodded. I still remembered last year, when all the jocks voted for Brody for class president and he did nothing all year. Literally nothing.

  “How will the advisor be chosen?” I asked.

  “The principal will choose. So for right now, that means me. And I choose you. If you’ll accept.”

  Now my world was really rocked. Like, it was a good thing I was in my usual seat and not standing.

  “Um, thank you. Definitely, I accept.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. This role will have a lot of work involved. Especially since I also convinced the school committee to update the handbook. It hasn’t been done in years, and while I agree that whatever rules are written in the handbook should be enforced, perhaps it’s time to update some of them. You will be involved in that process and sit in on those meetings.”

  My pulse raced. We could change the dress code. We could change so many things.… My mind started spinning with the possibilities, but then I realized Mr. Pickford was still talking.

  “And I would like to bring Ms. Bhatt back to her role as advisor at the newspaper, but I will still require story approval before anything is posted online.”

  “Isn’t that censorship?” I asked.

  He let out a heavy sigh. “We could have gotten sued for that chicken-nugget article, Riley.”

  “You wouldn’t have gotten sued for the article. You would have gotten sued for the mistake in the cafeteria. I only shined a light on it.”

  “You should have come to me first.”

  “But if I did that, you would have shut the story down. And it was important that people knew the mistake happened.”

  Principal Pickford took a deep breath. “But if we’d worked together, the story could have had a comment from me detailing what we’re doing to make sure the supplier’s mistake never happens again. And that would have pre
vented the several calls I received from very worried parents that day.”

  Oh. That did make sense. I just assumed Mr. Pickford would have killed the story completely. But maybe he wouldn’t have, if I had given him the chance.

  “So Ms. Bhatt will return?”

  “Yes, with our new approval rule in place.”

  It was a compromise, but one that could work out. Since he was in such a negotiating mood, I asked, “What about the Red Club? If we got an advisor, could we have meetings again?”

  He grimaced. “I don’t know, Riley. You girls have health classes and the Internet. Information is everywhere.”

  “It’s not just information. It’s support. It’s—”

  He put up a hand. “I know, I know. If I’ve learned anything in the last week, it’s how much that club meant to you girls. But we do get complaints. Some parents may not want their daughters to receive information from the Red Club.”

  I shrugged. “Simple. Then their daughters don’t go. Some parents don’t want their kids to play football because of concussions, but you don’t get rid of the whole team.”

  His mouth twitched, like he was holding back a smile. “If this reporter thing doesn’t pan out, I think you’d have a bright career as a lawyer.”

  “Does that mean the Red Club can come back?”

  I watched his glasses slowly slip down his nose as he thought for a long moment. Then he pushed them back up. “The Red Club can come back if you have an advisor and if all members bring in permission slips signed from their parents.”

  “Done!” I slapped the top of his desk, maybe a little too enthusiastically, but he just laughed. “I’ll have no problem finding an advisor.”

  “I’m sure Miss Nancy will volunteer,” he said. “It’s about time she made that official.”

  Official? Miss Nancy? She was the person behind the scenes! The one who made sure our locker was never taken. That we had the library reserved on Wednesday afternoons. That our emergency stash was always stocked. It had been Miss Nancy the whole time.

  Principal Pickford was gazing up at the photo on the wall, my favorite one, of the palm tree, and a dreamy look came over his face. “This is my last semester at Hawking Middle School. I’m retiring.”

  I felt myself sink deeply into the chair. Despite the times we disagreed, I really liked Principal Pickford.

  “I hope it’s not because of all the chaos we caused this week,” I said.

  “Of course not,” he said with a chuckle. “This has been planned for a long time. I’m retiring because I’ve saved enough, I’m old enough, and Florida is calling my name. I tried to retire over the summer, but the superintendent begged me to stay for a few more months while she completed her search for a replacement. I agreed, as long as I’d get out of here before the second semester and all that snow.”

  “Oh, well, congratulations, then.” I started to get up from my chair, but he motioned for me to sit back down.

  “Do you know who my favorite student is?” he asked.

  I held back a sigh. Not this conversation again. I repeated his own words back at him. “Your favorite students are the ones you don’t see. The ones who never cause you trouble.”

  “Actually, I’ve changed my mind about that. My favorite students are the ones who make me think. You, Riley Dunne, are my favorite student.”

  If my jaw could have unhinged itself and fallen to the floor, it would have. “What?”

  “I wanted to sail through these last couple of months with as little drama as possible. And maybe that’s part of why I gave in to certain parents rather than consider the broader implications. Your mom was spot-on with her squeaky-wheel comment.” He looked at me meaningfully. “But I’m glad this happened. You challenged me, Riley. Facing a challenge isn’t always easy or fun, but you learn from it. You’re going to change the world, Riley Dunne. And I’ll be watching… from my pool float in Florida.”

  And, in a rare moment, I found myself speechless.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE DUNNE FAMILY DINNER GAME was my best yet. I took so long that my turn lasted all through the meal and everyone else had to go during dessert. And later that night I got a text from Cee that my blog post’s views were in the hundreds. People were really liking it and sharing it. This was good timing, with our club coming back. We’d have no trouble recruiting new members.

  Tuesday morning, I strutted into school with my head held high for the first time in weeks. I wasn’t feeling down or hopeless or angry. In fact, I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt giddy.

  And that only intensified when I saw who was waiting for me at my locker.

  Cole pushed himself off the wall and waved as I approached. “I just heard the good news. You’re getting your club back!”

  “And Ms. Bhatt is returning to the newspaper! With a little compromise. But I think things are going to be great, actually.”

  He smiled. “I think you’re great, actually.”

  I laughed, and he grinned shyly.

  “That was cheesy, wasn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, but I liked it.”

  “And I like you.”

  “Okay, now that was cheesy.” I grinned, and added, “But I like you too.”

  His face turned the brightest red I’d ever seen. Worse than the time Danny got a sunburn at the beach.

  “Cool,” he said. “Can I text you later?”

  “Sure!”

  And then he and his cute red face ran off.

  I put a hand on my chest as my breathing slowly started to return to normal. I’d done it. I’d really done it! It was only a couple of weeks ago that I’d been scared to even make small talk with Cole at newspaper meetings, and now I’d told him I liked him. I’d never felt this brave. I felt like I could do anything!

  The school day was awesome. I paid attention better in my classes because I wasn’t worried about everything else—other than avoiding Ava in math and at lunch. But that was pretty easy because she was avoiding me too. And once the announcement was made about my advisor job, so many people—boys and girls—had ideas for updates to the handbook. They were excited that they’d actually be represented this time, by one of their own.

  After the last bell, I was about to head to my locker when Stella and Camille each grabbed one of my arms and pulled me into the library, where Cee was waiting, staring at something on her phone.

  “What?” I said, pulling my arms back. “What is it?”

  “It’s your blog post.” Cee looked up at me, and her eyes were rimmed with red. She reached out, handing me her phone.

  I steeled myself for the worst. What now? Just when things were starting to look up. Had someone gotten my post removed somehow? Was I in trouble again?

  But as I glanced down at the phone in my hand, I saw that the post was still there.

  “Scroll down to the comments,” Cee said, her voice tight, like she was trying not to cry.

  I scrolled with my finger, stopping when I reached the bottom of the article. My finger froze. Two hundred fifty-seven comments. When we’d hit a hundred views, we’d only had five comments. How was this number possible?

  I glanced up, hoping for some sort of explanation.

  “Sometime today you went viral,” Cee explained. “Everyone’s been sharing it far and wide, and it crossed the Twitter feed of some big-time reporter. She reposted it to all her followers. And then thousands of other people retweeted. And it just blew up from there. I can’t even keep up!”

  My mouth opened as I turned her words around in my head. All those people had read my article? And they’d liked it enough to share when they didn’t even know me?

  Stella leaned over my shoulder. “Just start reading.”

  The first comment was only one word. Cool.

  Others came quickly after that.

  This is a great idea.

  I wish we had a Red Club at my school.

  What an empowering idea for young women. I would fully support this at the schoo
l where I teach.

  I’m going to try to start a Red Club at my middle school!

  It continued, on and on, comment after comment.

  “You started something,” Cee said. “Really started something. It’s going to be bigger than us. Bigger than our school.”

  And then I understood why her eyes had been all glassy and red, because mine had started to water too. A single tear first, then another, streaming down my cheeks. I couldn’t control it.

  * * *

  I took the bus home in a state of shock. We made plans to meet at my house and talk about how to make the Red Club even bigger. I had some ideas of my own and shared them in our group text. I was so lost in thought I nearly missed my stop.

  But then I noticed Ava get up and walk down the aisle.

  Ava… why was she on the bus? She always got picked up from school because her mom had to rush her to the gym.

  It was weird, following her down the sidewalk to our houses, neither of us speaking, not even acknowledging the other’s presence. I hated it. What she’d done was terrible and selfish, but I kind of understood it. I hadn’t handled things perfectly either. But I had a plan to make sure no one felt left out like that ever again.

  Ava stopped as the sidewalk met her driveway; then she slowly turned around to face me.

  “I heard you got your club back.” She was always tiny, but she looked even smaller now, her shoulders hunched, her face staring at the ground.

  “Yeah, I did,” I said flatly.

  “I’m really glad,” she said. “I read your blog post. It was amazing.” Her voice began to tremble. “I’m so sorry, Riley.”

  “I know you are,” I said quickly. I didn’t want her to cry again.

  “I talked to my mom last night and told her the whole thing was wrong. I never should have asked her to complain to the principal. I even thought I could have her call again and say she’d changed her mind.”

  “We don’t need that now, but thanks.”

  “My mom and I had a good talk,” she said. “A long one. I’m cutting back on gymnastics.”