by Lin Oliver
“Come on, girls,” he said. “GoGo’s already in the car with Alicia and Sara.”
“Oh, I didn’t know your friends were coming,” I said to Sammie.
“I couldn’t stop them. They wanted to be there to support me. Uh, I mean us.”
Alicia is the sweetest person in the world, but I have to confess, I don’t exactly get Sara Berlin. She’s really tall and has a huge head of curly hair that sticks out like a lion’s mane. Sammie says she’s earthy, but to me, she always looks like she’s just come back from living in a hut somewhere in the Amazon. Like, she wears jewelry made of sea shells, and peasant shirts with puffy sleeves, and the only kind of shoes she wears are sandals or boots, nothing in between. Today she was wearing black lace-up boots with a long flowered skirt that looked like it used to be couch pillows.
Wow, I thought to myself. She is really going to stand out at the Sand and Surf Tennis Club where the tournament was being held. It’s a very straitlaced place about two miles up the coast from us. Most of their members wear some combination of navy blue and white. The only couch-pillow material you see there is on the couches. But since Sara was being nice enough to come and watch us play, I felt it was my duty to be nice to her.
“Cool boots, Sara,” I said as I wiggled into the backseat next to her. “Thanks for coming.”
“Yeah, it’s so great to have supportive friends,” Sammie said as she climbed into the way back.
My dad started the car. “Just don’t let the presence of your friends distract you girls,” he warned. “You’re participating in this tournament to win, not to socialize.”
And win we did, but just barely. We finally beat Fritz and Fernandez in a tiebreaker that seemed to go on forever. Sammie played strong and steady, and it was her consistency that got us to the tiebreaker. But it was me who hit the two winning shots—a passing shot that whizzed right by Hailey Fritz, and a match-ending drop shot that Eva Fernandez couldn’t get her racket on. I have to confess, it felt great to win. I had been feeling like such a loser lately, so the rush of emotions that came with that victory was thrilling.
After the match, Sammie threw her arm around my shoulder and said, “That’s the old Charlie. Way to go. We’ll have to go out for our victory pizza later.”
We had actually skipped our last victory pizza dinner, a tradition we’ve been observing since we were ten. It was my fault. I didn’t go because I had plans with the SF2s.
“One large sausage and mushroom and two Vanilla Cokes, coming right up.” I smiled.
“Yup. The mighty Diamond twosome is back,” she said, and that felt good.
The whole group stopped at Chilly’s Frozen Yogurt on the way home, and everyone was in a great mood. I was feeling so loose, I even got the large cup of chocolate-vanilla swirl and loaded on the rainbow sprinkles and white chocolate chips, something I would never have done with my SF2 friends. They all get a small cup of low-fat vanilla with no toppings because it only has 150 calories.
When we arrived back at the Sporty Forty parking lot, Dad and GoGo went into the club while Alicia and Sara helped Sammie and me get our gear from the car. Sara was telling this really funny story about a time she slow danced with Will Lee, a boy so short he only comes up to the bottom of her boobs. When they were dancing, he didn’t know if he should look up, look down, or look straight into them. There was something about the phrase “bottom of my boobs” that sent us all into a fit of laughter.
We were still giggling when we pushed open the gate and entered the club. Sitting there at the table closest to us was Ryan, his laptop open in front of him. He was surrounded by Lauren, Jillian, and Brooke, who were looking unhappily at a pile of papers in front of them.
I immediately felt embarrassed to be seen having such a good time with Alicia and Sara. All I could think about was that Alicia was the daughter of the groundskeeper and that Sara was wearing a skirt that looked like a couch pillow. Would Lauren and the other girls think that I had given up wanting to be an SF2 and had suddenly joined the Geek Patrol? I know it wasn’t the nicest thought in the world, but it’s the truth.
“We were just at a t-tennis tournament,” I stammered, as though that explained why I was hanging out with these girls.
“I know,” Lauren said, barely looking up from her papers.
“Wow, word travels fast. Who told you?”
Lauren put her arm on Ryan’s.
“Your dad called Ryan to say you guys won. And you know Ryan, he tells me everything. We’re so close.”
“You are? Does Ryan know that?” Sammie asked, an edge in her voice.
“As a matter of fact, he does,” Lauren snapped. “Which is why he volunteered to help us fill out our application for Junior Waves. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone. Isn’t that right, Ryan?”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it volunteering,” Ryan explained. “But watching these girls try to fill out the form was driving me nuts, so Captain Ry-Guy and his trusty laptop stepped in to save the day.”
Lauren laughed like Ryan had just said the funniest thing in the world.
“Your brother is so totally hysterical,” she said. Ryan looked pretty pleased with the compliment and Lauren shot me a look that practically said, “See, I told you he has a crush on me.”
“Well, I need to use the computer after lunch to work on my history paper,” Sammie said. “So how long is this application thing going to take?”
“Maybe forever,” Jillian groaned. “They want to know everything about us. Not just our grades, but our extracurricular activities, and community service, and hobbies, and awards and honors.”
“I do a ton of community service,” Brooke said. “Just the other day, I gave a little kid on the beach my sunscreen because his shoulders were getting all red.”
“I think they mean real community service,” Alicia said. “Like, I work at the food bank, and Sammie tutors a first-grader, and Charlie cleans up litter on the beach.”
“Eeuuwww,” Brooke said, wrinkling her nose at me. “You mean touch other people’s trash? That’s not sanitary.”
“I wear rubber gloves,” I said, which only made her say “Eeuuwww” even louder.
“Well, I was just telling Ryan that I have an honor that would really impress the principal,” Jillian said. “I auditioned for Teen Super Model, and the producer said she’d call me if I got the part.”
“Did she call?” Sara asked her.
“Not yet. It’s only been six months. They could still call.”
“Good luck with that one,” Sammie snickered.
“Ease up, Sam-I-Am,” Ryan said. “You can’t blame the girls for trying to come up with things that sound good on the application. Not all of us are like you and Charlie, who can get good grades and be tennis champs at the same time.”
As he said that, I noticed that Lauren took her legs off the table and sat straight up in her chair. She turned and looked at me, as if she were just seeing me for the first time. I smiled at her, and then I noticed that Sammie was watching Lauren carefully. She was squinting, the way she does when she sees something she doesn’t like.
“Come on, guys,” she said to Alicia and Sara. “Let’s go inside. GoGo said she’d make up a bowl of guacamole and chips.”
“Did someone say guacamole?” Ryan said, jumping to his feet. “I’m there.”
He leaped out of his chair and sprinted toward the kitchen.
“But what about our application?” Jillian called after him.
“Guacamole first. Chips second. Application third,” he called back to them. “I’ll be back. You girls talk among yourselves.”
Knowing that I wasn’t welcome to hang out with them, I turned to follow Ryan and Sammie into the kitchen. I hadn’t even taken two steps, when I heard Lauren say.
“Hey, Charlie, can you hang back for a few minutes?” Lauren asked. “
We want to talk to you.”
I felt my heart leap.
“Sure,” I said.
Sammie stopped and took me by the arm.
“Don’t do it, Charles,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You know what they’re after.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered back. “Listen, you guys go inside. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
As soon as they left, I dropped my tennis bag and pulled one of the red cushioned deck chairs up to the table.
“We’ve missed you,” Lauren said, putting her hand on my arm.
“We have?” Jillian asked.
“Jills, let me talk,” Lauren said to her. Lauren is in charge of the SF2s, and when she talks, everyone listens. Turning back to me, she went on. “I was just about to say to the girls that we should ask you to come back to the group.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. As we were filling out this application, I was thinking how cool it would be if you were in the Junior Waves, too. You know, all of us together.”
“I’d give anything to be a Junior Wave, Lauren. It sounds so fun.”
“We’re going to get to go to the Friday night football games at the high school and sit with the real Waves,” Jillian said.
“Once I sat in the high-school section at a basketball game,” Brooke added, “but I only got to because the General’s brother is on the team and he snuck us in. Everyone there thought I was really in high school. It was the best.”
The General is Brooke’s boyfriend, and if I do say so myself, they make a great-looking couple. Of course, his real name isn’t the General, but everyone calls him that because he always wears camouflage cargo pants to school. It’s his look. Her look is blonde, tan, and gorgeous.
“Who else are you asking to be in the Junior Waves?” I asked.
“Me, Brooke, Lauren, Lily, and you,” Jillian said.
“What about the guys?” I asked.
“At the high school, most of The Waves are girls,” Brooke answered, “except for a few weird dudes. I don’t think Ben Feldman or Spencer want to be Junior Waves. And I one hundred percent know that the General would say no.”
“And we can’t even ask Jared and Sean,” Jillian said. “Since they’re on probation, they’re not allowed to do anything . . . after . . . well . . . you know.”
She looked at me, and I lowered my eyes, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. Was I ever going to stop getting blamed for what happened to them?
“Listen, girls, let’s not get into that again,” Lauren said. “There’s no point in holding a grudge, is there, Charlie?”
“No, there isn’t. I’ve been hoping you would come to see it that way.”
“Well, the point is, I think you’d make a good addition to the Junior Waves. Do you want to be included on the application? If you say yes, Charlie, we’ll put everything that happened behind us and go back to being friends.”
I couldn’t believe it. It was perfect. This is just the way the conversation between us had happened in my imagination the day before. But before I could answer, Ryan came galloping back from the kitchen, a plastic cup of orange juice in his hands.
“Nothing like GoGo’s guacamole followed by a cool OJ,” he said. “Best snack in the world.”
He went to leap over the back of his chair, but one of his flip-flops got caught and he stumbled. The orange juice flew out of the cup and spilled all over Lauren.
“Oh no,” she squealed, jumping up and trying to shake it off of her white T-shirt.
“Oops,” Ryan said. “I guess I underestimated the size of my feet. Sorry.”
Lauren put her hands up to her head.
“Did it get in my hair, Charlie?”
“A little. I’ll go inside and get you a dish towel.”
“Thanks. I don’t want my hair to be all sticky and gross.”
I dashed into the kitchen. GoGo was putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Sammie, Alicia, and Sara were sitting on stools at the counter.
“I need some towels,” I said, heading for the drawer under the sink. “For Lauren.”
“What’d she do?” Sammie asked. “Smudge her eye makeup?”
I opened the drawer and took out a couple of clean towels.
“Charlie,” Sammie said. “They asked you to join the Junior Waves, didn’t they? I just know it.”
“So what if they did?” I answered. There was irritation in my voice.
“Don’t you see? They only want you so you’ll make their application look good. Aside from Lily March, none of those girls have decent grades, or have ever done any community service. Your grades and our tennis titles will help them qualify. That’s why they’re asking you.”
“That’s not true,” I snapped. “You don’t know everything.”
“Principal Pfeiffer just turned down an application from our friend Etta to start an Electronic Dance Music Club,” Alicia said. “He said she had to prove that she could improve her grades and participate in other extracurriculars, too. Otherwise, starting a club could be too distracting.”
“I have to go,” I said.
“Just think it over before you agree,” Sammie begged.
Suddenly, I felt like I was going to explode. And I did.
“They’re my friends, Sammie!” I yelled, surprising myself at how much emotion came pouring out all at once. “Don’t you see? I don’t have any other friends!”
My eyes filled with tears.
“You have us,” Sara said. “Come with us to Truth Tellers. You’ll find a lot of friends there. Everyone is very accepting.”
“We’re having our regular meeting tomorrow after school,” Alicia said. “Just come and see what it’s like. You’ll be surprised how much fun it is.”
“And we don’t want you for your credentials,” Sammie said. “We want you just because you’re you.”
It was a sweet offer, it really was. At the same time, though, I knew that deep down I was not a Truth Teller type.
I looked over at GoGo for advice. She had stopped dishing out the chips and was listening carefully.
“What do you think I should do?” I asked her.
She just shook her head.
“I can’t make these decisions for you. That’s what growing up is all about. Sometimes you make the right decision. Sometimes you make the wrong one. You learn from both.”
That was no help. Clearly, I was on my own.
I grabbed the towels and headed out to the deck, letting the door slam behind me.
“Welcome, Truth Tellers, one and all,” Ms. Carew said. “Please gather in our acceptance circle.”
It was the next day and I was standing at the door of Ms. Carew’s room. She’s my English teacher, but also the sponsor of Truth Tellers, which meets every Monday at three fifteen. Sammie and Alicia and Sara were already inside, hanging out with about ten other members of the club. I had arrived five minutes earlier but just couldn’t get myself to step over the threshold into the room.
I had stayed up late discussing my situation with GoGo. She knew that Sammie wanted me to reject the SF2s and join Truth Tellers. GoGo told me that it was my decision who my friends should be, and no one else’s. When I went upstairs to get ready for bed, Sammie kept hammering me with her view that the SF2s were using me to get what they wanted. She wouldn’t quit.
In desperation, I called my mom in Boston. She suggested that I try going to Truth Tellers with Sammie and then decide how I was feeling. So, I promised Sammie that I would try it, that I would be open and accepting. But already I could feel myself closing up at the thought of entering the room.
Ms. Carew walked over to the doorway.
“Charlie, are you coming in?” she asked. “You are more than welcome, but I need to close the door for privacy.”
Tha
t sounded like an easy enough question. Are you coming in or staying out? Yes or no. But I didn’t answer. What was my problem?
I hadn’t told anyone except Sammie that I was going. I certainly didn’t mention it to Lauren. All I told her was that I had to ask my dad if it was okay to join the Junior Waves and that I would let her know today. At lunch, I went to the one place you’ll never run into Lauren: the library. When I saw her in PE, she asked if we could meet at the Sporty Forty after school and work on the application. I told her I had a dentist appointment.
“Charlie?” I heard Ms. Carew saying. “Are you in or out?”
“I’m in,” I said, stepping into the room and shutting the door. “At least, for now.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “We all welcome you. Come be part of our acceptance circle.”
The chairs in Ms. Carew’s classroom had been pushed back against the wall so there was room for everyone to stand in a big circle. They joined hands and started to hum. I stood between Will Lee and a girl named Etta, who had spiky green tips on her short black hair. Will gave me a big smile as he took my hand. His hand was pretty clammy.
“You’re very attractive,” he whispered.
“You’re only in sixth grade. You shouldn’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not? It’s what I feel.”
He might have winked at me, but I’m not totally sure because I quickly turned away and focused my eyes on Sammie, who was standing between Alicia and a redheaded boy named Bernard. Everyone, except me, was humming.
“We hum to get used to hearing the sound of our own voices,” Ms. Carew explained, as if she could sense my confusion. “The human voice is powerful when it speaks the truth. More powerful than any weapon in the world.”
I gave the humming a shot. I wasn’t sure what song I was supposed to hum so I did a little version of “Happy Birthday” until I realized that I was the only one humming a song. Everyone else was just humming a single note.
After we were all hummed out, Ms. Carew gave an introduction to the meeting.
“We welcome everyone here into our acceptance circle,” she said, “where each of us is free to be exactly who we are and know that no one will judge us. In this circle, in this room, we are free to speak our truths without fear.”
