More Than Words, Volume 7

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More Than Words, Volume 7 Page 16

by Carly Phillips


  I do hope that I did Nancy justice and that you enjoyed the journey that Verna and Ronald took to find each other and the family that they have both longed for.

  Happy reading,

  VICTORIA PETTIBONE AND SASHA EDEN

  WET’s Risk Takers Series

  Close your eyes when talking to Victoria Pettibone and Sasha Eden and you will be hard pressed to tell the two women apart. Little wonder. The founders of the acclaimed nonprofit WET Productions have been friends since they were teens. Today they’re just as likely to share a twenty-year-old inside joke as a cup of coffee in the New York City office they split.

  That closeness has worked for them. When WET (Women’s Expressive Theatre) Productions isn’t developing or producing theater or films that challenge female stereotypes, Victoria and Sasha run its Risk Takers Series for teenage girls. The free citywide media-literacy and leadership program uses film as a launching pad for discussion, teaching girls invaluable communication tools in a trusting environment, enabling them to distinguish empowering risks from damaging ones.

  The program is designed to bolster girls’ self-esteem, providing them with leadership tools and valuable information on their health and well-being, ultimately helping them take empowered steps to make their dreams come true. An important component of the program is the participation of guest artists from each film screened, who provide inspiration to the girls in afternoon Q&As. Past guests have included Frances McDormand, Kerry Washington, Keri Russell, Mary-Louise Parker, Ally Sheedy, Olympia Dukakis, Lili Taylor, among many others.

  Helping teen girls redefine themselves by finding their inner strength is a primary mandate of Risk Takers. The program runs one Saturday a month for six months. Over one hundred and fifty girls from more than eighty schools throughout the city walk through the doors at 9:00 a.m. and screen a film about a woman or a girl being brave. Whether they’re settling in with The Breakfast Club (Ally Sheedy visited that day) or North Country (Frances McDormand fielded questions), the girls are encouraged to think critically about topics ranging from domestic abuse to suicide, teen pregnancy to overwhelming peer pressure.

  Following the screening, they break into small groups of eight or twelve led by adult mentors with a background in teaching, guidance and psychology for teens. Feeling safe and protected, the girls have an opportunity to open up about their own lives and explore negative feelings and problems that seem insurmountable and often dampen their self-esteem. “Changing the way teen girls see themselves is paramount,” says Sasha, but just as important, “girls need to learn healthy ways to communicate and address their fears and how to support one another. I know a lot of teenage girls who look in the mirror and say, ‘I’m ugly,’ and the others will say, ‘No, I’m ugly.’ Unfortunately that’s more common than someone saying, ‘Look how beautiful you are,’ or ‘But you’re a genius.’”

  Making a change

  Victoria and Sasha’s own teen friendship blossomed precisely because they didn’t fall into this trap of self-hatred and competition. To this day the women openly and lovingly praise each other’s best points. They’re consummate cheerleaders who model what healthy female friendships should be. Girls can’t help being inspired by them.

  “Vicki was the bravest person I ever met,” says Sasha about her first impressions of her friend, who got her pilot license as a teen. “She was sophisticated, funny and sweet and didn’t try to be cool. She just was cool.”

  Victoria is just as likely to offer praise, claiming that Sasha has always been confident and charismatic. “She was a light when she walked into the room,” Victoria says now.

  The two women grew up across the street from one another in Manhattan and acted in plays and joined singing groups together. They lost track of each other during college, but reunited afterward while both were working in the entertainment industry. Through their work experiences, they quickly recognized the lack of complex female characters in the media, and the two women decided to make changes for the better.

  “Rather than sitting around and complaining about things,” says Victoria, “we’ve always been people who say, ‘Okay, let’s create what we want to see. Something positive.’”

  In 2004, the two launched Risk Takers to get girls to openly question and challenge the messages the media offered and to feel empowered by the truth of their own strengths. Above all, the girls are taught how to take healthy risks rather than damaging risks.

  “We recognize that all the best things that have happened to us have been because we took empowered, healthy risks,” says Victoria. “And we realize how few young women are taught that.”

  The women are still taking risks every time they pick up the phone to cold call a celebrity and convince her to come speak to an auditorium full of teens. Happily, what once felt daunting is now just part of a day’s work.

  And it doesn’t hurt that word has traveled in the film industry. Today many well-known actors, screenwriters, directors and producers think nothing of hopping on a plane to New York. In an effort to break down the myth of celebrity, most of the women arrive in jeans or sweats and are ready to dish on what empowered risks they’ve taken in their own lives.

  The girls feel so validated by the experience, says Victoria, and the women are thrilled to be part of such an honest conversation about their work.

  “It’s incredibly life changing as a young girl to ask Mary-Louise Parker a question and have her say, ‘Wow, that’s a great question.’ Teenagers want to be heard and need to be validated for using their voices constructively.”

  Never alone again

  The messages stick. Victoria and Sasha routinely hear success stories from the girls, parents and teachers. Girls who go through the program say they no longer feel isolated and alone with their self-doubt. They feel stronger than ever and have the confidence to forge change in their lives—whether it is by breaking away from a bullying clique, saying no to drugs or applying for a college scholarship, the girls credit Risk Takers as the program that has made them take empowered risks to make their lives healthier and their dreams come true. One alumna has gone on to run her own film festival at school. Another teen, who was having serious problems in school and couldn’t forge friendships, now has made a ton of friends from the program.

  Alexandra Campos, an alumna who attended as a shy, high school freshman, says Risk Takers taught her the power of her own voice even years later when she was in college.

  “Within my first month at school I was exposed to intense racism and confronted with viewpoints that were contrary to my own,” she says today. “But I had resources, understanding and communication tools from Risk Takers. I had my voice and I knew how to use it.”

  Despite the successes, fundraising is still an issue for WET’s Risk Takers Series. Victoria admits much of her time is spent writing grant applications and drumming up all the volunteers they need to make the program a go. But every time Victoria and Sasha sit in a darkened theater with the teens or hear about their personal-breakthrough moments, they know the hours of planning have been worth it.

  “We tell the girls, ‘Here is your chance to be that person you know you are inside. Here’s a place where you will learn how to be true to yourself,’” says Sasha. “When you decide to take empowered risks to be your true self, amazing things can happen—your dreams become your reality.”

  JILL SHALVIS

  WHAT THE HEART WANTS

  JILL SHALVIS

  USA TODAY bestselling and award-winning author Jill Shalvis has published more than fifty romance novels, including her firefighter heroes miniseries for the Harlequin Blaze line. The three-time RITA® Award nominee and three-time National Reader’s Choice winner makes her home near Lake Tahoe. Visit her website at www.jillshalvis.com for a complete book list and her daily blog.

  DEDICATION

  Dedicated to the Women’s Expressive

  Theater (WET) organization—

  www.wetweb.org

  CHAPTER ONE


  All Ellie Cahn wanted was to get home to the hot bubble bath that had her name written all over it. And maybe she also wanted a more reliable car, since she was currently kneeling on the side of the road changing her tire—her second flat this month.

  Okay, and while she was making wishes, she’d also like a housekeeper, and hey, why not a vacay in the Turks and Caicos while she was at it.

  But she was nothing if not a realistic woman. Vacations, like housekeepers and AAA cards, didn’t grow on trees. Neither did money. Her meager teacher’s salary didn’t go far, plus it was further drained by funding Powerful and In Charge—PIC—her nonprofit program for teenage girls. That she was still in business at all in this economy was a miracle.

  One worry at a time. She stared at the set of pliers she’d managed to run over and let out a long breath. Only her. When her cell phone rang, she answered without taking her eyes off the very flat tire. “Hello?”

  “Honey, I’m glad I caught you,” her grandma said in her eighty-year-old quavery voice that belied the fact that her mind was still sharp as a tack. “I found you a man.”

  Oh, boy. “I’m a little too busy for a man right now. Maybe another time.”

  “Bah. Being so busy with those teenage girls is exactly why you need one now. A man would give you something for yourself. He could balance out your life.”

  Been there, tried that. “I don’t have time for that kind of trouble,” she said, rather than rehash her last few spectacular men failures.

  “Used to be you had too much time for that kind of trouble,” Grandma said. “But these days you’re taking the opposite path, and, honey, that isn’t healthy either. Now, I happen to know that Nilly’s daughter’s boy is single again. His divorce just became final and he’s looking for someone. He’s got a real good job down at the lumberyard selling nails and—”

  “No,” Ellie said firmly. “No more blind dates. You promised.”

  From inside Ellie’s car, a head poked out. Kia Rodriguez. Kia didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. Her expression was dialed to Bored in the way only a seventeen-year-old could manage.

  “Grandma,” Ellie said, eyeing Kia, “I really have to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “You off to save another teen?”

  Ellie didn’t save them, she simply did her best to provide a safe environment for them to learn self-respect and confidence. Or tried to anyway. She wasn’t always successful, but she did her best and gave it her all.

  “Remember,” Grandma said. “Tough love, honey. It’s tough love that saved your sorry-but-very-cute hiney.”

  Ellie figured she was probably the only one in the world who had a grandma who used the word hiney. “I remember.” She wasn’t likely to forget. Once upon a time, tough love had saved her, there was no doubt. Her grandma’s tough love. The woman drove Ellie crazy, but there was no denying that her heart was in the right place. “Don’t forget to take your cholesterol meds, okay? And stop trying to find me a man. Love you, bye.” She ended the phone call and looked at Kia. “My grandma.”

  Kia just looked at her in that universally teenage bland stare that said Don’t Care.

  “She’s a little crazy,” Ellie explained.

  “Does she really try to hook you up?”

  “No. Well, maybe. The last time I let her set me up on a blind date, he took me trash hauling. In my best heels.”

  What might have been a very small smile twitched at the corners of the girl’s mouth. This equated to great humor in Kia’s world. “Maybe you should take your own class,” she told Ellie. “You know, the one with the ‘no guy’s going to respect you unless you respect yourself’ spiel.”

  “Ah, so you were listening.” Ellie kicked her very dead tire. “You should know, I’m not sure how long this’ll take. I can change it, but I’m not the best.”

  “Whatever.”

  The girl’s favorite word. Her hair was long, thanks to ratty extensions. She wore so much mascara and liner on her eyes that Ellie was surprised she could even hold them open. Her clothes were black on black, and fit like a second skin.

  “Can’t you call someone?”

  Ellie fought with the car jack. “Like who?”

  “I don’t know. AAA. A guy.”

  Corners had been cut. AAA had been one of them. As for a guy…well, corners had been cut there as well.

  “Bobby’s supposed to pick me up at home in fifteen minutes.” Kia checked the time on her cell phone. “I need to get ready, and he hates it when I hold him up.”

  Ellie’s stomach dropped. “Bobby?”

  Kia shrugged.

  Bobby was a year ahead of Kia. He’d left high school and gone to work in construction. To say he was not the sharpest tool in the shed was an understatement, but that wasn’t the problem. Bobby had a mean streak a mile long and a temper to go with it. He’d been kicked off the football team for it, and couldn’t seem to hold a job.

  “You’re back with him?” Ellie asked lightly, not allowing any judgment in her voice. As she knew all too well, teenagers had a nasty habit of doing the opposite of what was good for them. She certainly had.

  Another shrug from Kia.

  “When we last talked,” Ellie said, “you mentioned you were going to take a break from boys.”

  “I took a break. Break’s over.”

  Just last month at PIC, Ellie had run a workshop about respecting your own body and making sure others respected it as well. Kia had admitted she’d let boys take advantage of her sexually. Made sense given that she’d been caught having sex at the high school four different times.

  With four different boys.

  She’d also been caught shoplifting lip gloss and suspended from school for fighting. She was one mistake away from ruining her life.

  And twenty minutes ago, Ellie had caught her hitching a ride home from the PIC office. Ellie had nearly had heart failure. The office was really a leased warehouse that wasn’t in the worst part of town, but definitely not the best either. Ellie’s greatest wish was to move to a better location she’d already found but couldn’t afford. Not happening, at least not this year. But Kia could easily have been mistaken for someone much older than seventeen, and in this area gotten herself into a situation she had no idea how to get out of.

  Ellie had made her get in the car, then executed a U-turn to go to the other side of town to take the teenager home.

  Except a pair of pliers had derailed the plan.

  “Ms. Cahn?” Kia said.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you really not have a guy to call for help?” She was texting as she talked, her fingers moving so fast they were nothing but a blur. “Guys are really good at the tire-changing thing.”

  Ellie shook her head. “I told you, I can do this.” Probably. “Maybe we should have a workshop on this at PIC’s next session so you girls can learn, too.”

  Kia sighed. “Great.”

  “Knowing how to do things yourself is important.”

  “Uh-huh. But having a boyfriend to do it is better.”

  Ellie’s last boyfriend had been smart, cute and gainfully employed as a dentist. He’d been great, except he’d neglected to mention something important—his wife. Before that, she’d dated an architect, but he’d traveled a lot and worked all the time. So did she, either teaching at the high school or at PIC. It didn’t leave a lot in the tank for extras, like men. “I don’t have time for a boyfriend right now,” she said for the second time that day.

  “That’s what girls say when they can’t get one.” Kia looked her over. “Maybe it’s the way you dress.”

  Ellie raised a brow as Kia took in her jeans and sweater. “What’s wrong with how I dress?”

  “It’s… Conservative,” Kia said politely.

  Ellie laughed. “We’re in Connecticut in the spring. It’s cold outside. I dressed to stay warm.”

  “You could still wear a tighter sweater and do something with your hair. You’re pretty, you know. Considering you�
�re…”

  “What?” Ellie asked, amused. “Old?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  She was thirty-two. Not quite ready for the old folks’ home. “You sound like my grandma.”

  “Does she think your jeans need to be tighter and lower, too?”

  Ellie’s jeans were plenty snug and hip-hugging, but it was true that they weren’t spray painted on or revealing her underwear. “Tighter and lower are uncomfortable.”

  Kia shrugged, like maybe wedgies were the price one paid to have a hot guy.

  Ellie gave up reasoning with her and struggled with the tire iron. Probably she’d done the car jack wrong, and she got down on her belly to check. In the mud. From above her, she could hear the keys of Kia’s phone clicking as the teenager continued to text at the speed of light.

  “You know,” Ellie said, crawling out from beneath the car and brushing off her hands, “if you put half the energy into your grades as you do communicating by texting, you’d probably get into any college you want.”

  Kia lifted a shoulder. “No money for college, and I’m not texting.”

  “And yet your thumbs are moving.”

  “I’m writing something else.”

  “Like?”

  “Like a stupid diary, okay? My counselor makes me.” She sighed dramatically, as if it was a fate worse than death. “I have to write down my feelings or I’ll fail English.”

  “So what are you feeling?”

  “Right now? Bored to tears. Seriously, I don’t see why I can’t just hitch a ride.”

  “Kia, you’re going to hitch over my dead body. I’ll be done soon.” Hopefully. She was working hard on getting the lugs off the tire, which was much more difficult than she remembered. She swiped her forehead on her sleeve. “And there are plenty of college scholarships out there for the taking.”

 

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