The facts range from “I can eat a whole pizza in fifteen minutes” to “I play the flute” to “I’m part Native American.”
“Isn’t it funny how this is so not what we planned to do for this?” I ask Chelsea.
She nods. “Yeah, and it’s not cheesy. It’s like we’re making our point, but not hitting people over the head with it. You know what I mean?”
“And it’s almost unanimous,” I add, looking down at the piece of paper with the tally. “People hate chipping.”
“It’s called ‘being chipped’!” Chelsea yells, and laughs. “But yeah, only three people said they liked it, and I think they were being sarcastic.”
As I’m editing, I see the clips of the Favorables. Maura saying how she can make the best cheesecake in all of New York State. Katherine saying how she can type faster with one hand than most people can with two. And Trisha saying how she can peel a clementine all in one piece.
They’re not boring like I thought they were. They’re just regular girls who have unique things to say but never really felt like they could.
“I figured out how we can include Sasha!” Chelsea says, looking over all the footage on the computer. “We can have her do a little introduction.”
Chelsea grabs a piece of paper and a pen and quickly writes something down. She hands it to me to read.
Some people felt like outsiders looking in. Some people were seen as insiders but didn’t feel that way. Some felt angry. Others felt sad. But what we really learned was that everyone had something to offer. Here are the faces and voices of Rockwood Hills Middle School’s eighth graders.
All different. All accepted. All cool.
“That is so good!” I high-five her. “You’re such a good writer. I didn’t know that!”
She smiles. “Maybe that’s my thing?”
“Yeah! You should be the one saying that. You can introduce the video,” I tell her. “It’ll mean so much coming from you.”
Chelsea gives me a look. “Come on.”
“No, I mean it.”
“Fine, but we have to incorporate Sasha in another way then,” she says.
“She’ll be the last student! The last one, at the end.” I jump up onto Chelsea’s leather couch. “It’ll be perfect.”
So I take a break from the editing and e-mail Sasha.
Hi Sasha,
Can you believe it? Our video is almost done. We just need one more thing from you—if you can. Would you video yourself just saying your name and an interesting fact about yourself? We want to put you at the end. We literally taped every single kid in our grade saying their name and an interesting fact. They’re all different—some are funny—some are serious. We think it’s going to be great.
Thanks!
Dina & Chelsea
“We’re waiting for one finishing touch,” I tell Mr. Valakis at school on Monday. We just showed him the video, and he seems perplexed but pleased. “But we still have a few days so once I get it, I can finish it, and then bring the final thing to the gala.”
“It’s very interesting, girls,” he says. “I have to be honest, if you had told me you were going to go in this direction, I wouldn’t have thought it would work. But it does. And everyone wants to see themselves on screen. And being recognized for something they’re proud of—even better.” He pauses. “Even if Colby Flarrety is proud of being able to burp the alphabet.”
We laugh.
“Good job, girls. Really and truly, a job well done.” He shakes our hands. “And I’m excited to see what the finishing touch is.”
Chelsea and I look at each other like we’re debating if we should tell him or not.
“We want you to be surprised,” Chelsea says.
He agrees.
Chelsea and I walk to the cafeteria together. “We did it,” I say. “Mr. Valakis likes it. We finished the video! And we even have a few days until the event.”
She smiles and stops walking. “You did it, Dina.” She nibbles the corner of her mouth. “You were the one who cared about it, who thought about it, who found Sasha. You were the one who continued to work on it even after I was a total you-know-what.”
I don’t know what to say, because what she’s saying is true. Yes, it was what I had to do. But it’s also what I wanted to do. “I felt like we could say something with this video, make things better,” I add. “And I knew I couldn’t be the only one who hated being chipped and didn’t feel accepted. I felt like we could make the video mean something to people. And so we did.”
We get to the cafeteria and part ways. It’s not like I’m just going to sit at Chelsea’s table. I don’t even want to. That’s a big thing that’s changed, I guess. I like the people I’m friends with.
I get to the Favorables table and tell them about Mr. Valakis. “He likes the video,” I say. “He’s actually happy with it. Can you believe it?”
“Yeah.” Katherine laughs. “You’re good at that stuff. That’s, like, your interesting thing.”
I smile. “Yeah. You’re right.”
We eat our sandwiches and talk about tests coming up. No one brings up Chelsea. After that day when everyone was waiting to be interviewed and Chelsea declared that her life wasn’t perfect, the Favorables stopped talking about her.
“Hey, girls,” we hear someone say, and obviously everyone knows who it is without even looking. My back is to him, so I turn around and smile. He pulls up a chair.
“So, what’s going on?” he asks the table, not only me. I think that’s nice. A boy should care about a girl’s friends, not just the girl he likes.
“Just bugging out about the math test, as per use,” Trisha says.
“As per use?” Ross makes fun of Trisha’s crazy abbreviation, and we all crack up.
“I’m tempted to do that thing where people store formulas in their calculators,” Trisha adds.
Ross makes a face at her and then looks over at me. “She’d never cheat.”
“I know.”
So we sit there talking, and it feels totally calm and normal. The Favorables haven’t fainted because Ross is at their table or anything. I didn’t really expect them to, but given the way they acted at the beginning of the year, it could have happened.
Ross stays at our table for the rest of lunch, and we walk out of the cafeteria together like a real couple.
You’d think the whole Ross thing would be what I’m most excited about. But for some reason it’s not. It’s like a piece of a puzzle—a very, very important piece. But not the only piece.
Sasha Preston piece of advice: At an exciting event,
step back for a moment and take it all in.
The day of the fiftieth-anniversary celebration, my mom is happier than I’ve seen her in weeks. She’s getting decked out in her new dress. It’s navy, because she swears everyone else will be in black and she does not want to be like everyone else. She even got her hair done for the occasion.
We get to the Country Club and there are a million cars in the parking lot. The Country Club looks as beautiful as I’ve ever seen it, since it’s all decorated for the holidays, with tiny white lights everywhere.
Inside, the parents are milling about, sipping drinks and eating appetizers with tiny napkins. The teachers look so different in fancy dresses and suits, and it’s almost hard to recognize them.
The students are all dressed up, too, hanging out in a separate room with a buffet and music. Once everything gets going, we’ll all be in the main room together.
A few people will be making welcoming remarks, and then it’s time for our video! The thing that will kick off the event!
Dina texts me and we meet by the stage. When I get there, she and Ross are standing together and they look really happy. I never thought Ross could be with someone like Dina, someone who doesn’t care about fancy stuff, who doesn’t get manicures with her mom, who spends more time pondering life than pondering her wardrobe. But it’s like they bring out the best in each other.
T
hese thoughts are so totally cheesy and I’d never say them out loud to anyone, but seeing them together just makes me happy. Dina had to have a first boyfriend sooner or later, and who better for a first boyfriend than Ross Grunner?
Ross is wearing dress pants and a sports jacket and a tie, and I can tell he’s wearing cologne.
“Who has the disc?” he asks.
“I do.” I reach into my bag and hand it to him.
“Okay, follow me,” he says. He’s volunteering, helping with all the tech stuff for the event. Mr. Valakis told us to give the final video to Ross and have him make sure it’s all in place in the DVD player before the ceremony starts.
Dina grabs my hand and squeezes it, and I feel calmer right away. She always makes me feel calmer, and I wonder how she’s able to stay so calm herself or if she’s just acting like she’s calm.
“Girls, you’re all set?” Mr. Valakis asks. “Ross, thanks for being our resident tech expert. Texpert, you could say.” He laughs and then leaves the stage.
Finally, it’s time.
Ross stays backstage so he can help with the microphones and lights and sound equipment, and Dina and I go to the back, where all the other kids are.
Kendall and Molly are in matching little black dresses, but they swear they didn’t plan it.
“We didn’t,” Molly whines.
Dina and I laugh. We’re laughing at her, but I don’t know if Molly can tell. And I don’t really care.
All of a sudden, I notice that the room is totally quiet and everyone’s turned toward the back, to where we’re standing. I have no idea what’s going on, but it feels like something’s coming, like a billion balloons are about to drop from the ceiling.
Then I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn around and I see what’s going on.
“Sasha!” I scream.
“I had to come,” she says. “I know I e-mailed my clip, but I wanted to be here.”
Everyone’s standing around, staring at her, and it’s so crazy because Sasha looks so beautiful and amazing but also like a regular person, just hanging at this celebration.
She stands with us when the event starts and Mr. Oliver, the principal, comes to the microphone on the stage. Dina squeezes my hand—this is happening. This is really happening! I think back to that first day, when I laughed at Dina and got forced to do this, when Kendall and Molly didn’t include me in their group and everything seemed so messed up.
I never expected that I’d feel good about things when we got to this point.
“Welcome, everyone, to Rockwood Hills Middle School’s fiftieth-anniversary gala!” Mr. Oliver yells, and I swear this is as animated as I’ve ever seen the man. “We’re so happy you’re here! All the teachers and the eighth graders have worked so hard to make this night possible. We know you’re excited to view the science fair and catch some of the debate tournament, and to listen to the chorus serenade us, and to talk and enjoy each other’s company. So, without further ado, please turn your attention to a brief video that two of our eighth graders have made.”
It opens with a bang: “Be True to Your School” by the Beach Boys, with shots of kids in the hallways, the cafeteria, at their lockers talking with one another, and with the other footage we got in the beginning, when we really had no idea what we were going to do.
And then it goes into my introduction to the video and the thing about everyone being different and cool. It’s weird to see myself up there. But it’s good, too, because I feel like I’ve done something. For the first time, I feel like I didn’t just sit here and go along and have people see me the way they wanted to see me. For the first time, I feel like I made a difference and said what I wanted to say.
And when the video’s playing, everyone’s cheering, and not just for their friends—everyone’s cheering for everyone. Even Christine Whitmore and her thing about the Tshirts, and Paul Bellogs and his thing about arriving at school at exactly 7:43 every single day. And even the more common ones, like Drew Phillips loving to play guitar—people still cheer and clap.
The parents are happy to see their kids, and the kids are happy to see themselves and their friends.
And at the end, the surprise part: Sasha.
“I’m Sasha Preston,” she says. “And I’m proud to be an alumna of Rockwood Hills Middle School.” She pauses and smiles. “And from now on: no one gets chipped!”
After she says that, everyone’s yelling “Yeah!” and cheering so loud—louder than I’ve ever heard them cheer before. And it feels like some kind of private joke that only the kids in the room know about. Even though being chipped is a bad thing, right now it seems funny, and unique, and special to this school.
When the video ends, Mr. Oliver smiles and says, “It’s a special place. And there’s something you all should know: it’s only getting better.”
There’s lots of applause after that, and Mr. Oliver tells everyone about the events for the rest of the night.
Dina and I look at each other.
“I’m sad it’s over,” I tell her.
“Me, too,” she says. “But it was good, wasn’t it?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around.
“So this is what you were working on in the library all these weeks,” library helper says, and as he’s talking, I finally remember his name. Sebastian. Such an awesome name.
“Yeah, pretty good, huh?”
“It was awesome,” he says.
“You haven’t been in the library in a long time,” I say, and then realize that sounds a little stalker-ish.
“Yeah, I finished my community-service hours,” he says. “Guess you’ll have to find me in other parts of the school.”
We both crack up.
“I’m gonna go get some more soda,” Sebastian says. “See you in a bit.”
I turn back to Dina, and she’s standing there smiling at me like she totally knows what’s going on, that I had a tiny crush on Sebastian this whole time even though we didn’t talk at all and I couldn’t even remember his name.
We all spend the rest of the night dancing and eating and visiting the science fair and the debate team and watching the improv troupe.
Dina has her video camera, of course, documenting the whole thing, and when I see her doing that now, I don’t think it’s weird. I think it’s cool. There are things you want to remember and record, because if you don’t, you’ll forget them or you’ll remember them differently from how they actually were. There are moments you want to capture just as they are.
“You’re going to think I’m such a video nerd for saying this, but I’m going to say it anyway,” Dina starts, after she takes a sip of her Shirley Temple. “Sometimes in order to really see things, you just have to look through a different lens.”
I grab a few mini hot dogs off the tray. “I don’t think you’re a video nerd,” I say. “I think you’re right.”
And I really, really mean that.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I owe oodles of gratitude to: Dave, Mom, Dad, David, Max, Heidi, Aunt Emily, Aaron, Karen, and the rest of the Rosenbergs, Libby Isaac, the Indiana relatives, Shark Attack, the BWL Library team, and every single girl who has written me an e-mail or a real letter.
“Thank you” doesn’t seem like enough for Alyssa Eisner Henkin, the best agent in the history of the world, but I will say “Thank you” anyway. To everyone at Abrams and Amulet, especially Susan, Howard, Jason, Chad, Jim, Mary Ann, Laura, and Elisa: you all make the most beautiful books, and I am so lucky to be a part of that.
Maggie Lehrman, thank you for making me work so hard and for putting so much of yourself into my books. I owe you something huge, and I will send it along as soon as I figure out what it is.
Finally, to my little Aleah Violet: thank you for being you.
Lisa Greenwald is the author of My Life in Pink & Green and Sweet Treats & Secret Crushes. She works in the library at the Birch Wathen Lenox School on the Upper East Si
de of Manhattan. She is a graduate of the New School’s MFA program in writing for children and lives in Brooklyn, New York. Visit her online at www.lisagreenwald.com.
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