Don't Judge Me

by Lisa Schroeder

  “Good afternoon, students,” Mr. Buck said, his chest puffed out and his hands in his pockets. “Ms. Carson says you’d like to speak to me. I’ve got five minutes. Who wants to come into my office?”

  I was about to gather the seven of us and step forward when Ms. Carson spoke up. “Actually, I bet we could have the library for a little while. Why don’t we all go down there and anyone in the group who would like to stay is welcome?”

  Mr. Buck turned and looked at Ms. Carson. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Of course it is,” she said with a smile. “Mary, can you please call Mrs. Thompson and let her know we’re on our way?”

  As the secretary picked up the phone, Ms. Carson stepped between Tori and me, then went through the office door and out into the hall. Mr. Buck followed behind her, his feet kind of shuffling. He did not look happy. Meanwhile, a lot of the people in our group looked like they wanted to do cartwheels down the hallway.

  I couldn’t believe it. We’d done it. We were going to get to speak with him!

  Inside the library, some people sat at the twelve or so tables that are set up for classes to use while others stood back against the shelves. There’s a podium and a projector at the front of the library where teachers stand and give lessons sometimes.

  Ms. Carson stood next to Tori and me. “Why don’t you join me at the podium,” she told us. “Bring along anyone else who wants to speak as well.”

  I motioned to the others and we walked up to the front of the room. This wasn’t what I’d expected at all. It was supposed to be the seven of us in a small room with the principal. This was like standing on a stage, giving a speech.

  I told myself, This is what we wanted.

  I told myself, If I don’t do this, a bunch of boys will get away with something horrible and nothing will change.

  I told myself to be like Pippi.

  “Mr. Buck,” I began.

  “Louder, we can’t hear you!” someone called from the back.

  I cleared my voice and tried again. “Mr. Buck, we want to tell you about some things that have been going on at this school that you may not know about. I found a notebook with a bunch of girls’ names. A notebook that boys were passing around to each other. Under each girl’s name was a rating and comments about her looks. I brought the page with my name so you can see it.” I pulled the folded piece of paper from my pocket and handed it to the principal.

  “Imagine pages and pages like this. Imagine boys discussing girls like we’re cattle or cars or something. We’re human beings, and the way we look should be the least important part of who we are.”

  Now Tori moved up next to me to speak. “We have to change things at this school. The dress code that makes girls out to be the bad guys. The bullying that happens every day in our halls. And the way boys view us girls. Because the way it is right now, it’s not a fun place to be for a whole lot of us. And yeah, we get that school isn’t supposed to be fun like a carnival or going to the mall or whatever. But we shouldn’t hate coming here every day, should we?”

  “All we want,” I said, “is for people to treat us with kindness. With understanding. With respect.”

  And the entire library burst into applause.

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  As Tori and I walked toward the gym, I checked out some of the new posters that had been hung on the walls that week. Someone had drawn a bunch of happy faces with the words BE THE REASON SOMEONE SMILES TODAY. Another person had drawn two hands reaching toward each other with a heart behind it. It said, BE A BUDDY, NOT A BULLY.

  When I walked past Dion’s poster, I smiled. I’d probably looked at it a hundred times and I never got tired of it. It said, WHEN YOU SEE SOMETHING BAD AND YOU SAY NOTHING, YOU’RE SAYING IT’S OKAY.

  It wasn’t a haiku, but it really spoke to me just the same. He’d drawn a girl sitting against a row of lockers, her knees curled up and her head in her hands. It reminded me of the day we’d found Dion in the library, crying against the bookshelf. I was so glad things had gotten better since then. Not perfect, obviously. Nothing’s perfect. But better.

  A couple of weeks ago, the principal had announced two winners of the poster contest, one of them Dion, who received gift cards for free frozen yogurt. Dion treated Tori and me on a Saturday afternoon. We’d laughed and laughed at how full Dion had made his cup of yogurt. He’d gotten some of each flavor and then piled on mini M&M’S. The gift card had been for twenty dollars, and I’m pretty sure his cup used up half of it.

  “Tomorrow our class is discussing Hidden Figures,” Tori said as we continued walking. “You finished it yet?”

  “Yeah, we discussed it in my class yesterday,” I said. “It was so good.”

  “I know, I loved it.”

  So far we’d had two books that the whole school had been assigned to read, and then each Language Arts teacher was responsible for having a discussion about it. I loved seeing everyone carrying around the same book. The teachers were working hard to choose books that would inspire us to be good humans while also helping us to see that women could do anything men could do.

  Hidden Figures was about four African American women who were mathematicians and had worked for NASA. Without them, the United States would have taken a lot longer to launch a rocket into space. They’d done so much to help with the mission and had hardly gotten any credit for all their amazing work.

  I’d written both Mr. Buck and Ms. Carson thank-you notes for agreeing to all three of our suggestions. At first, the boys had complained about going to training about toxic masculinity, since they thought it sounded insulting. But once it was over, I’d heard a lot of people talking about how good it’d been.

  It wasn’t about saying boys are bad, because they aren’t. It showed us that a lot of it comes down to the way society treats boys and girls. We’d learned that even though the brains of boys and girls are practically the same, society treats us very differently. It happens from the minute we’re born and that’s the real problem. Like, why do so many shirts for baby girls have lollipops and cherries on them while boys get cars and trucks? Our instructor told us that it seems to her, just looking at baby clothes and the huge differences even then, that society is telling us girls should be cute enough to eat while boys are tough, tough, tough. And as kids grow, we don’t let boys cry or girls get angry, and so they learn to feel shame when they have those natural feelings.

  Sadly, nothing had changed as far as the dress code, but my parents and Tori’s moms and some other parents were working on it. Mom told me, “Sometimes change happens quickly. And sometimes progress takes time. The important thing is to not give up. Just have to remember, anything is possible.”

  “Hey!” Dion said, running up behind us. “Wait up.”

  We turned around. He had fancy pants on with velvet along the sides along with the T-shirt my mom had bought that said, ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE, EQUAL RIGHTS, AND CUPCAKES.

  Tori and I wore black circle skirts Alice had sewn for us, perfect for dancing and twirling. Our T-shirts said MY BODY IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

  “Sorry,” Tori said. “We waited out front after our families went inside, but we were getting cold. Glad you found us. Since we aren’t allowed to have cell phones backstage, our parents took them, so we couldn’t text you.”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “Sorry I’m late. Grandma couldn’t decide what to wear.”

  “Did you make sure her bra strap isn’t showing?” Tori teased. “That’s all that matters around here, you know.”

  We all laughed. Because sometimes, that’s all you can do.

  “Your parents and brother came, too, right?” I asked.

  “Yep,” he said. “I left them at the ticket taker and ran here to find you.”

  “They’ve all listened to us practice enough in the attic,” I said. “They’re probably glad to finally see it instead of just hear it.”

  “It’s this way,” Tori told us as she opened a set of double doors. �
��Probably shouldn’t peek out at the audience. It’ll just make us even more nervous.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I told her as she led us up some stairs, down a hall, and into a big room backstage where all the students were hanging out. Some of them were stretching, some were warming up their vocals, and a few were tuning their instruments.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I whispered. “Is it too late to change my mind?”

  “Yes!” Tori and Dion said at the same time.

  Then Dion told me, “If I can start dance class in a few weeks, then you can do this for five minutes.”

  I knew he was right.

  Just then, a woman came by with a list. “Here’s the order of the acts,” she said. “We have a space marked right offstage where the people can wait before it’s their turn. That way, no one is scrambling and surprised when it’s time for them to go on.”

  While she talked, I scanned the list for our names. We were the second ones to perform! Knowing I would be going out there very, very soon, my heart started to race.

  True, things had gotten much better. For me. For other girls. For the entire school. But I still got nervous. And people still did and said mean things sometimes. That’s just life, I guess. Two steps forward, one step back, as my mom had said so many times these past months as she continued to fight for the promotion she hadn’t received. We didn’t know how that would end, but one thing I did know? My mom was my hero, and I was so grateful for her help and support.

  “Come on,” Tori said, grabbing our hands and pulling us toward the waiting area offstage.

  We stood behind three boys who were going to perform a skit. We’d seen it during practice, and it was pretty funny. It seemed like a good way to start off the show. Laughter always puts people in a good mood.

  Ms. Carson went up to the microphone and thanked everyone for coming. She told them she was excited we were showcasing all the amazing talent at our school. “We’ve gone through a bit of a transformation these past couple of months,” she said. “A transformation powered by students. And I’ve never been prouder to work here. So let’s give these kids a big round of applause and get started with the show!”

  Next, the drama teacher, Ms. Franklin, introduced herself and told everyone the names of the boys in the first act. Then we watched them do their funny skit about camping. The audience roared with laughter and clapped really hard when they finished.

  The three of us looked at one another. Tori whispered, “We got this.”

  When we stepped out onstage, a flash of memories came at me all at once. All the things that had happened that helped me to be here now, standing next to my amazing friends.

  Finding the notebook.

  Meeting Pip.

  Meeting Dion.

  Stealing the notebook.

  Loving Pip.

  Seeing Pip scared.

  Seeing me in Pip.

  Realizing I could hide or stick my neck out.

  Giving Pip up so others could learn from him.

  Finding strength in others.

  Standing up.

  Speaking out.

  Months ago, I couldn’t have imagined myself on this stage. It had seemed impossible for me. But here I was. Here we were.

  I repeated Tori’s words to myself. We got this.

  As the music started, the three of us stepped side to side and then spun around, just like we’d practiced. The audience clapped right away!

  We’d found a video on YouTube of three girls signing this particular song for a college sign language class. No joke, I’d probably watched it a hundred times, at least. Those girls made it look so easy and it wasn’t at all, but thanks to them, it was easier than it would have been.

  As Tori belted out the lyrics for Aretha Franklin’s song “Respect,” my hands and Dion’s hands signed the words. I looked out and saw people bobbing their heads and snapping their fingers. It seemed like everyone was smiling. Everyone.

  When she got to the words, “All I’m asking is for a little respect,” I swear I got goose bumps all over my body.

  We’d stuck our necks out for some respect. And it had worked.

  Maybe, just maybe, adults weren’t the only ones with superpowers, after all.

  A big thank you to the girls at Bethesda-Chevy Chase High School in Bethesda, Maryland, who made the news and inspired this story. You stood up to the toxic culture at your high school and helped make change happen. While I’m grateful for the story inspiration, I’m even more grateful for your conviction and courage.

  I also want to thank the educators who work tirelessly day in and day out to make school a safe place for everyone. It’s not easy, I know, but it’s important, and those of you who realize that and do the necessary work deserve recognition and appreciation.

  Finally, thank you to my editor, Amanda Maciel, and the teams at Scholastic, Scholastic Book Clubs, and Scholastic Book Fairs for your support over the years!

  Lisa Schroeder is the author of twenty books for young readers, including See You on a Starry Night, Wish on All the Stars, Keys to the City, Sealed with a Secret, My Secret Guide to Paris, and the Charmed Life series. She loves tea and cookies, flowers, family hikes, books and movies that make her laugh and cry, and sunshine. Living in Oregon, she doesn’t get nearly enough sunshine, but the hikes are amazing. You can visit her online at lisaschroederbooks.com and on Instagram at @lisaschroeder15.

  ALSO BY LISA SCHROEDER

  See You on a Starry Night

  Wish on All the Stars

  My Secret Guide to Paris

  Sealed with a Secret

  Keys to the City

  Charmed Life:

  #1: Caitlin’s Lucky Charm

  #2: Mia’s Golden Bird

  #3: Libby’s Sweet Surprise

  #4: Hannah’s Bright Star

  It’s Raining Cupcakes

  Sprinkles and Secrets

  Frosting and Friendship

  On a starry night, anything is possible …

  Turn the page for more from Lisa Schroeder!

  Casper, my old, white kitty, sat perched on my nightstand, studying me like I might unpack a can of tuna any second. Poor cat. No tuna here; just all of the moving boxes marked “Juliet.”

  “Sweet kitty, I’m sorry, but you have to move.” I picked him up and kissed the top of his head before placing him on my green and purple striped quilt. Then I reached into the practically empty box and pulled out a framed family photo taken at my eleventh birthday party last August.

  As I put the photo down in its spot right next to my bed, I studied it and felt a pinch in my chest. Mom, Dad, my older sister Miranda, and I all wore pointy red and blue hats and had party horns in our mouths. The picture captures a short minute of a long day. Besides making me feel pretty ridiculous, the hat’s elastic strap had dug into my chin a little, so I hadn’t worn it long. None of my friends had either. They’d put them on for a picture before we started eating, then taken them right back off again. I’d only bought them because Dad had practically insisted on the hats and the horns when we went to the party store for invitations.

  When Mom had shown me the photo, I couldn’t believe how happy we all looked. I asked if I could have a copy framed.

  Now I loved it even more, because not only had we been happy, but we’d also been together—a family. I’d have worn one of those silly blue and red hats every day if it meant we didn’t have to move away from everything I’d ever loved.

  Some wishes are bigger than others …

  Turn the page for more from Lisa Schroeder!

  Emma pulled a small, red gift bag splattered with blue and gold stars out of her backpack. “I got you guys something,” she told us, her green eyes twinkling like stars as she smiled.

  I stared at the bag, wondering what it could be. She reached in and pulled out three little boxes wrapped in baby blue tissue paper. “One for you, Juliet,” she said, pushing one toward me. “One for you, Carmen. And one for me.”

  “I
love that you wrapped one for yourself, even though you know what it is,” Carmen said.

  “Would’ve ruined the surprise if I didn’t,” she said. “Okay, on the count of three, let’s open them. One. Two. Three.”

  I carefully tore the tissue paper and opened my box. Inside was a teensy tiny bottle with a note rolled up inside it. I picked up the bottle and saw that it hung on a pretty silver chain. “Oh my gosh,” I said. “It’s perfect!”

  As we all went to work attaching them around our necks, I asked, “Did you write us notes on the tiny pieces of paper using your best tiny handwriting?”

  “No, but you can pretend I did,” she replied.

  “What would you have written?” Carmen asked.

  “Um …” She thought for a moment. “I would have said, ‘Always remember, wishes do come true.’”

  Copyright © 2020 by Lisa Schroeder

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

  First edition, November 2020

  Author photo by Scott Schroeder

  Jacket art © 2020 by Mike Heath | Magnus Creative

  Jacket design by Yaffa Jaskoll

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-67562-7

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