Real

by Carol Cujec

  Ana kept breathing deeply, loud enough so I could hear.

  I closed my eyes, and my breath fell in line with hers.

  Inhale hope. Exhale fear.

  Hearing my name, I peeked one eye open and saw Celia talking to the three committee members. Her hands held my progress reports, sample assignments, and statements from teachers.

  After a few minutes, my restless body started to jiggle. No puzzle to work on. No fidget to twist.

  I shifted in my seat. My shoulders started shrugging.

  Shrug. Shrug. Shrug. Shrug.

  If I had a kettle explosion in front of the committee, that would be the end of it. My feet shuffled on the floor.

  Shuffle. Shrug. Shuffle. Shrug.

  Ana squeezed my hand in a slow, even rhythm.

  Jergen shook his head at Celia and pointed to a chair.

  He stepped up to the podium and spoke into the microphone. “Quiet, please as we begin this hearing.”

  Celia sank into her seat next to Mom, and the room fell silent.

  Jergen smiled at an older woman wearing a mint-green jacket and heavy wooden bracelets. She wore reading glasses and took notes on a yellow pad.

  “That woman is the district superintendent,” Ana whispered. “She doesn’t usually participate in investigation committees.”

  I tried to judge the superintendent’s mood, but I could not read her at all. My sixth sense was not working. Friend or enemy? I had no evidence for a hypothesis.

  Jergen clenched the podium with both hands as if it might float away. His lips turned down, and he spoke in a deep voice. “The committee is here to address the claim that Miss Charity Wood and/or her aides have violated the school’s policy on academic honesty. Additionally, she is accused of disruptive behavior that puts other students at risk. Ultimately, this committee must determine whether Miss Wood should be removed from Lincoln Junior High and placed in a school better equipped to handle her . . . special needs.”

  He turned to Darcy’s mom. “We invite the first witness, Mrs. Mitzy Warner.”

  Mrs. Bling-Bling smoothed her flamingo-pink skirt and walked up to the podium. She turned to the committee members and flashed a glamorous grin.

  “In the course of this school year, Miss Wood has disrupted classes and assaulted several students, including my daughter and her own cousin.”

  “What is she talking about?” Celia whispered to Mom and Dad.

  Mrs. Bling-Bling picked up a remote control and pointed it at the screen behind her. “I present you with Exhibit A.”

  Five seconds of security video played on a repeating loop—Mason grabbing me by the jacket. Me hitting him in the face. Blood draining from his nose.

  The audience inhaled a gasp.

  “Shocking, isn’t it?” she said.

  Where did she get this? How did she know?

  “Hey!” Brave Mason stood up from his chair in the row behind me. “She couldn’t help that. It wasn’t her fault.”

  Mrs. Bling-Bling snapped at him. “Sit down and be quiet, young man. Has no one taught you respect?”

  Aunt Kiki pulled Mason back down into his seat.

  So far . . . so bad.

  Mrs. Bling-Bling smiled again to the committee. “It has also been determined by the board that Miss Wood’s assistants have been completing work on her behalf, leaving the school open to accusations of fraud.”

  My head, my shoulder, my neck, and my arm jerked as if I was being hit by stones.

  Mrs. Bling-Bling continued. “This is particularly disturbing in the case of Miss Wood’s research paper for English class, which was found to contain several plagiarized passages. In spite of all this, she is eligible to compete for a spot on the school’s honor roll and on their basketball team. She is, frankly, a first-class embarrassment for the school. Is this the way we want Lincoln represented?”

  “I object. That is not true!”

  I turned to see Stuart pointing his finger at her. The room hissed, but my mind focused on her words.

  First-class embarrassment . . . Is this the way we want Lincoln represented?

  Could it be her?

  I looked over at Darcy. Her face frowned. I saw her reach into her mom’s purse and pull out a sparkly phone. Darcy scrolled and tapped, scrolled and tapped her mom’s phone.

  Was it her all along?

  Mason poked me from behind.

  “Those are the same lines. The exact same lines from the gossip app!”

  Fear leaked sweat through every pore. Bright lights pierced my closed eyelids.

  If Darcy’s mom was Sassygirl72, there was no way for me to prove it.

  My body rocked hard.

  Rockrockrockrockrock.

  I let out a moan.

  Ahhhhhhh . . .

  But my cry was drowned out.

  “Boooooooo. Boooooo.”

  Shouts came from the back of the auditorium.

  My mouth closed. My head turned to look at the spectators behind me.

  Why hadn’t I seen them on my way in? The audience was angry, but not at me. Dozens of classmates and teachers held posters—some decorated with Skyler’s cherry trees and bunnies. They all said, “Let Her Stay!”

  I spotted Grace, Stuart, Skyler, Jaz, and Julian. There was Mr. Harding, Ms. Beckett, Coach George.

  On the other side, my usual cheering section—Gram and Pops, Aunt Kiki, and there was Elvi standing, holding a poster over her head—“SHAME ON YOU LINCOLN!”

  It took my breath away.

  Mr. Jergen rushed up to the podium.

  “Anyone who cannot maintain a respectful tone will be promptly removed.” He nodded to a security guard, who stepped forward as proof of his threat.

  Grace stood on top of her chair and shouted, “We stand with Charity. C’mon, girls!”

  She raised her hands and voices began chanting.

  She got the ball (clap)

  Get outta the way (stomp)

  C’mon, Charity! (clap)

  LET’S SCORE TODAY! (stomp)

  The Lincoln Hornets made an uproar, waving their arms for other students to join in.

  And they did.

  Teachers too.

  Jergen motioned to the guard, who pulled Grace by the arm down from her seat to the sound of more boos.

  “Silence! Silence, students!” Jergen shouted.

  Shouts faded to whispers.

  “Those of you who think you are helping Miss Wood’s case are seriously misguided,” Jergen said. “I insist that you allow Mrs. Warner to continue her statement.”

  “No!” a voice shouted out.

  It was Darcy.

  She held up her mom’s phone. “I think you’re done speaking, Sassygirl.”

  Darcy flung the phone onto the stage and stormed out.

  Mrs. Bling-Bling turned pale. She shook her jittery head. “No, angel. You don’t understand . . .”

  She scanned the crowd. Kids whispered and pointed.

  “No, no, no . . . it’s not what you think . . .”

  Translation: Sassygirl revealed!

  Mrs. Bling-Bling kept shaking her head as her strappy sandals sprinted her off the stage and out the door after her daughter.

  Jergen returned to the podium, looking like he had been stung by a jellyfish.

  Page 131: Jellyfish tentacles release toxins to stun prey before eating it.

  “Ahem. It would seem that Mrs. Warner has concluded her statement.”

  The superintendent raised her hand to speak, and Jergen nodded.

  “I am indeed impressed by the support for Miss Wood tonight,” she said. “However, the facts of the case are troubling. The idea of a student handing in plagiarized work, along with testimony to that effect from a former aide, Ms. Ivy Thornton. How does the student respo
nd to these accusations?”

  Jergen turned his gaze toward me. His intense blue eyes drilled into me. He smiled. I guess he was happy. He would finally get his wish. “Good point, Dr. Schwartz,” Jergen said. “I want to give Miss Wood the opportunity to speak for herself.”

  He nodded at Ana, who took my hand and led me to the stage.

  What’s going on here?

  Jergen turned to the committee members. “I feel it is important for those of you who never met Miss Wood to see her for yourself and listen to her words. I could only say that the first time I witnessed it, my mind opened to the realization of my own ignorance. Miss Wood taught me something about myself, as I believe she has done for many of the people here tonight.”

  “Come, Charity,” Ana said, “it is time for you to be heard.”

  I wanted to resist, but my body followed her up the four steps and onto the brightly lit stage.

  Darcy’s father bolted in front of us toward the podium. He put his hand over the microphone as he and Jergen began a battle of whispers.

  A voice from the audience began to chant, “Let her speak! Let her speak!” It was Jaz leading the cheer, shaking her pom-poms.

  Dozens of others joined in.

  Dr. Schwartz stood and joined the whispered conversation at the podium. After a few seconds, all of them sat down, and Dr. Schwartz nodded to us.

  Ana led me to the podium. “Charity has prepared her own statement, which I will read to you.” She looked at Mr. Warner, who huffed a big sigh and waved his hand, as if to say, “Whatever.”

  Ana rested her hand on my shoulder, and I closed my eyes, praying to stay still for these few minutes. She cleared her throat and spoke each of my words with care.

  For 13 years I had no voice. No way to say I love you or I am hungry or I want a strawberry milkshake.

  Some people chuckled.

  No way to scream for help. I spent years not at a school but at a prison where no one thought of me as a real person with a brain. Hungry to learn, I was welcomed here by caring teachers and students who gave me a chance to be one of them. Every person has a right to be included. As Frederick Douglass said, “the rights of the humblest citizen are as worthy of protection as are those of the highest.” That is a quotation. I know the difference between quoting and plagiarizing.

  A few more people laughed.

  I regret any trouble I have caused with my body that I struggle to command. You and I fear nothing in life when we are accepted for who we are.

  The audience started to clap, but Ana put up her hand to quiet them.

  “I believe Charity wishes to add something else.” Ana nodded at me and placed the iPad and the keyboard on the podium. She pulled me closer and whispered, “Remember what we were practicing before I left? I know you can do it. Speak your truth, Charity.”

  The room became pin-drop silent.

  My mission came down to this moment. I looked out at the crowd—hundreds of eyeballs staring at me, including Mason right up front. But these stares did not make me feel puny. An army of supporters sat in front of me. The love I sensed from each one of them superglued my broken heart together and filled it with helium.

  Ana steadied the keyboard, but she did not hold my elbow. Instead, she put her hand on my shoulder. I heard her breathing and my lungs inhaled as much hope as they could.

  I felt my finger reach for the keyboard. As I did, every creature in the Amazing Kids’ Animal Encyclopedia filled the stage with me, from aardvarks to zebras.

  Page 210: Amazon parrots.

  Page 23: Black bears.

  Page 311: Warthogs.

  I tapped one key. Then another.

  “Keep going,” Ana said. “Is that the letter you want?” “What comes next?”

  Page 30: Chameleons.

  Page 89: Goats.

  Page 212: Pelicans.

  She did not hold my arm, but her spirit guided me with faith in my ability.

  I do not know how much time passed.

  I do not know if the audience was noisy or quiet.

  Page 301: Wallabies.

  Page 29: Bobcats.

  Page 176: Moose.

  All the world faded away. Only me and my animals facing the keyboard, tapping letter by letter, word by word until my arm lowered.

  “Are you done?” Ana asked. I reached over to type one more letter: Y.

  She read my words. Not perfect, but hopefully clear.

  I want a rreal education so I cannn save other children who are hurting like I was. I am a vvvoice of never heard voices.

  No one in the audience moved or spoke. Then Mr. Jergen stood and started to clap. He was joined by other board members and audience members, until the whole auditorium vibrated with cheers and applause. Celia came up and kissed me on the cheek. Grace ran up to us too, along with Skyler and Stuart.

  Mom and Dad sat frozen in the front row with teary smiles.

  Dr. Schwartz approached the podium.

  “I want to thank Miss Wood for her wise words.”

  She turned to Mr. Warner. “I believe some of the information I was provided on Miss Wood was incorrect. Given her statement and the tremendous support in this room, I recommend that we dismiss this complaint.”

  More cheers and applause filled the room. My lips smiled—at least I think they did—and my helium heart soared to the sky.

  Like Pinocchio, being loved made me real.

  Mission Possible

  Mom rushed to get my clothes ready for the presentation. This was our second trip to the state university. Dr. Peterman asked me to speak at a teachers’ conference about being included in regular junior high classes. No pink dresses—that was my rule. Instead, I chose black pants and a peacock blue sweater with cool leather boots. I even got dressed today with almost no help from Mom, except for sticking the earrings into my newly pierced ears—silver starfish that Stuart got me for my birthday. Actually, not fish at all, but sea stars, according to page 254.

  “Here,” Mom said, “take a look at yourself, Charity.” She encouraged me over to the full-length mirror, and I stared into the looking glass.

  For a decade, my own reflection made me sad. I saw myself the way the world saw me—worthless.

  Today, I am beginning to like me. The real me. Okay just as I am.

  Celia says anger is a prison we lock ourselves into. I am still trying to bail myself out as I forgive Darcy and Miss Marcia and everyone who caused me pain over the years. Let’s just say it’s a process.

  I entered the auditorium, and Dr. Peterman gave me a warm hug. “Good to see you again, Charity. I heard your science fair project got second place. Bravo! By the way, I visited Abby at Pine Valley again last week, and she’s started typing some words now. Her mom is so grateful to you.”

  Best news ever.

  Because the presentation would be streamed live through the internet, I waved into the camera. I knew Skyler, Jaz, and Julian would be gathered around the big computer screen in Celia’s classroom . . . along with Isabella. Once her mom saw my picture in the local paper for topping the honor roll, she requested a transfer for Isabella. Celia, with the help of Mr. Jergen, sped up the process as a favor to me. Every morning, I got to see Isabella’s bouncing red curls in homeroom. I could not believe how far she’d come in only two months. Skyler was showing her how to draw with pastels, and the girl was a natural.

  Jaz would probably be wearing her cheerleading uniform today. After Darcy left, the girls on the squad all begged Jaz to join. Jaz agreed right away, but she drew the line when Rachel invited her to sit at the cool kids’ table. “I have standards, you know,” she joked.

  We did not have to worry about Darcy teasing us. She transferred to an expensive private school that overlooks the ocean. I hoped she was doing well. I really did.

  As for Borden, Mom emailed the reporter a copy of m
y paper, and the reporter dug up even more evidence against them. Borden’s enrollment tanked after her article came out in the newspaper. Then the state suspended their license, “pending investigation.”

  Will the school finally be shut down?

  Probability: hopeful.

  When it was time for me to present, Mom led me to the podium and squeezed my hand as she read my prepared statement. Once she was finished, I took questions. Today, there was a woman in a canary-yellow jacket who raised her hand.

  “Charity, I am very moved by your story. People assumed for years that you could not learn. Then you scored in the top tier on your school’s assessment test. Do you think there are other kids like you who are left behind by being labeled with low expectations?”

  Mom held my iPad so I could type. She encouraged me with each letter and word, but today, as on many days, I did not need her to support my arm. The tablet helped too by using predictive text to complete some of my words faster. My dependable pointing speed today made me feel less like a typing snail and more like a powerful punching kangaroo.

  Mom read my response.

  It does not matter if a test says they are smart. It matters that they are human. Believe that treasures are in all. Believe that all kids can learn. Everyone deserves to be included.

  The woman nodded her head. “I understand. You’re right, Charity. Thank you for showing me that.”

  A man in a striped shirt raised his hand.

  “Charity, can you describe what it’s like to have your challenges?”

  I see the world differently. Often I cannot control my body. I cannot do many things that other people do. But I can open my heart. Can you?

  The man smiled and nodded.

  I am Charity. Tomorrow is my fourteenth birthday. I still love sour gummies and pepperoni pizza. And like my name says, my heart is open to all the world.

  Afterword by Carol Cujec

  This book was inspired by the wisest, most courageous person I know, my friend Peyton Goddard. Peyton could not speak and did not have full control over her body when she was young, so the experts (she called them the Thinkers) labeled her “severely mentally challenged.” They could not see her brilliant mind trapped inside. Here is how she describes it: