When Friday rolled around, we were set!
Hayley, Brianna, and I were so excited all day because we had this huge secret. We hadn’t told Reece or any of the other guys that they were going to have cheerleaders on Friday. We hadn’t told anyone. I could tell Cassie, Kylie, and Morgan were kind of wondering what was up with us, but we didn’t even tell them. The whole thing was supposed to be a surprise!
After school, we went up to our bathroom and got changed. Then we ran back downstairs, bumping into each other and giggling the whole way. We wanted to be down on the field before the football players so we could cheer while they were coming out. That was what the high-school cheerleaders did.
There weren’t a lot of people down by the field when we got there, but there usually aren’t a lot of people at middle-school games. Just a few kids from school and a few parents who can get off work. They sit on blankets around the field because we don’t have any bleachers at Truman.
Hayley, Brianna, and I sort of tiptoed around everyone until we worked our way to the front. Cheerleaders have to be in the front! Then we knelt down in the grass and waited for the guys to come out. We kept elbowing each other and smiling because we knew what was about to happen and no one else did.
“Look, here they come,” Brianna said, nodding toward the gym door.
Hayley and I both turned. My legs about turned to jelly when I saw Reece was leading the pack.
“It’s showtime,” Hayley said, nudging me and Brianna. So we all stood up and started waving our pompoms around.
“Here we go, Tigers; here we go!” we said. We started out kind of quiet and unsure, and then Brianna got the giggles. But Hayley glared at her and she knocked it off. We got a lot more serious, and our voices got stronger, and pretty soon everyone was staring at us. The parents, the kids, the players, the coaches, everyone.
There were a couple of kids from my language arts class who, I swear, looked right at me and then started whispering to each other, which made me a little panicky. Why were they whispering? Was there something wrong with our outfits? Were we out of step with each other?
Hayley and Brianna just kept right on cheering and waving their pompoms, so I tried to do the same thing, but it was hard when I didn’t know what people were thinking. Were they happy to see us or did they think we were being stupid?
But I saw Reece and a few of the other guys sort of smile at us. And then the coolest thing happened. Some of the people who were there to watch the game started cheering along with us! “Here we go, Tigers; here we go!”
When the announcer introduced the players, we all cheered and turned cartwheels. I was a little worried that the coaches would tell us to stop, but they didn’t. So we cheered the whole game.
I think people liked that we were there. At least the people from Truman did. The people from Harding Middle School kind of looked like they wished we’d go away. But they were probably mad that they were losing. And that they didn’t have any cheerleaders of their own.
Some seventh grader from the Bugle took pictures during the game. He even took one of us. And then when the game was over, he came over to ask us a couple questions so he could write an article about us. Hayley had also written a three-page article about how we started our cheerleading squad for the Truth about Truman. And Brianna’s stepbrother was there with his video camera, so we’d have a video to send in, too. It was like the best afternoon of my entire life!
Then I went home and everything crashed down around me.
First my mom told me my dad couldn’t have me at Thanksgiving after all (big surprise). Something about a business trip or whatever. I wasn’t going to let that get me down. After the wonderful afternoon I’d just had, I wanted to stay focused on good things, so I told my mom I had to check my email.
I expected a bunch of emails from people telling me how great me and Hayley and Brianna looked and how awesome it was that Truman now had their own cheerleading squad. But there was only one email in my inbox. It was from milkandhoney.
Dear Lilly … I bet I can take one of the most popular girls at school and turn her into one of the most unpopular girls at school. And I bet I can do it without her, or anyone, figuring out who I am. Or how I did it. Care to guess which popular girl I have in mind? By the way, don’t forget to check out the Truth about Truman!
Your “friend,”
milkandhoney
What could possibly be on that website that was such a big deal? Something about me? It had to be if milkandhoney wanted me to see it so badly.
I opened my browser and typed in www.truthabouttruman.com.
At first it looked like it was just the same old stuff that was there yesterday. But then I saw there was a new poll. Different from the one that was there yesterday.
Who’s the biggest poser at our school?
And underneath that header was … my old fifth-grade school picture.
I froze.
I had cut up every single picture we had of me from when I was in fourth and fifth grade. My mom got really mad at me when I did it, because now we don’t have any pictures of me from back then. But I didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, if there were no pictures of me from back then, then maybe I never really looked like that?
But I did look like that. This picture was proof.
My entire body started shaking.
It didn’t actually say anywhere on that website that the picture was me, so none of my friends would know it was me. Not at first. I’d never actually come right out and said, “Oh, by the way. I used to be kind of heavy in elementary school.”
Anyone who went to Hoover would know it was me, though. So it wouldn’t be long before the whole school knew.
I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. My friends wouldn’t care. But deep down, I wasn’t so sure. I hated to say it, but girls tended to come and go in our group. Like right now, Cassie, Kylie, and Morgan were part of our group, but they wouldn’t be around forever. One day they’d say or do something to make Hayley mad and then they’d be out. Just like Leah, Shaowei, and Gabby were.
Would I be gone one day, too? Did milkandhoney, whoever that person was, really have the power to turn me into the most unpopular girl in school?
Hayley:
Were we good or were we good? I think more people came up to congratulate us than the football players after the game. But I’m not surprised. We really were that good.
As soon as I got home from the game, I uploaded that article I’d written the night before to that Truth about Truman website. I don’t know why I had to be the one to write it! After all, I was the one who came up with the idea to start a cheerleading squad. I was the one who found our pompoms and decided on our outfits and picked out the cheers. You’d think Lilly or Brianna could have done something. But n-o-o-o!
While I was on the site, I looked around. There were a few new bad teacher stories, so I read those. Then I checked out the new poll. It said: Who’s the biggest poser at our school? There was a picture of a real lard-butt under it.
Seriously, how does a person let themselves go like that? I didn’t get it. I weighed myself every single morning, and if I was up two pounds, I went on a diet. No bread. No cheese. No pasta. Didn’t most people do the same thing? Well, people who cared about their appearance, I mean?
Even if you didn’t weigh yourself every day like I did, wouldn’t you at least notice that your clothes were getting a little tight? Or when you walked by a mirror in a store or something, wouldn’t you notice that hey, you kind of looked like Miss Piggy? And wouldn’t that make you want to do something about yourself?
Honestly, I didn’t see how this girl could bring herself to go out in public like that. She had, like, bags of fat hanging off her cheeks and her chin, and she had these beady little mouse eyes and no smile. (Though, really … what would someone wh
o looks like that have to smile about?) And it wasn’t just that she was fat and ugly and didn’t know how to smile. She also had greasy hair. I’m sorry, but there’s just no excuse for greasy hair.
I scrolled down to see the results of the poll. Did anyone know who this was? I wondered.
I just about choked. Forty-three people thought it was … ME!
Brianna:
Yes! For once, Hayley called me instead of Lilly when something was on her mind. It seemed like lately she called Lilly before she called me. Sometimes she even called Lilly instead of me. Like Lilly was her best friend now instead of me.
“It’s a joke,” I told Hayley right away. (Well, as soon as I logged on to www.truthabouttruman.com to see what she was talking about.) “Nobody really thinks that’s you.”
“Forty-three people do,” she whined.
I didn’t know what to say. I’ve known Hayley Wood my whole, entire life, and I can tell you she has never looked anything like that picture. Hayley is like the prettiest girl in our school. She’s got a perfect body. Perfect hair. Perfect skin. Seriously, she could be a model. How could anyone think the girl in the picture was Hayley?
“Twenty-seven people think it’s Lilly,” I pointed out. “It kind of looks like Lilly, don’t you think? And nineteen people think it’s Shelby Adman. But I don’t think it’s Shelby—”
“It doesn’t matter who it really is,” Hayley said. “The point is, forty-three people think it’s me!”
“Somebody probably just voted for you because they thought it would be funny, and then everyone else did it, too.” It was the only explanation I could come up with.
“But it’s not funny!” Hayley protested. “Forty-three people at our school think I’m fat. Forty-three people think I’m a poser!”
“Come on,” I said. “You’re not fat. And you’re definitely not a poser. Everyone knows that girl isn’t you. That’s like so ridiculous it’s … funny.” Even though we’d just established that it’s not funny.
I waited, but Hayley didn’t say anything. Was she buying it? Was I helping at all? I really, really wanted to help.
“I have to go,” she said suddenly.
“Wait! Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to call Lilly.”
Lilly:
It had to be Zebby Bower who put that picture of me up on that site. Zebby or Amr. And they probably did it because they’re still mad that I decided to stop being friends with them in sixth grade. Some people will hold a grudge forever!
I could probably just tell the whole school that the Truth about Truman was Zebby and Amr’s website and everyone would stop reading it because who cared what they had to say about anything? But people would wonder how I knew it was their site? I didn’t want to have to explain that I used to be friends with them. What would people think?
Besides, even if everyone stopped going on that site, that awful picture was still out there. And I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t me. Everyone who went to Hoover knew it was me.
What was I going to do?
My cell phone rang while I was trying to figure out what to do. It was Hayley.
“Did you know there’s this picture of some lard-butt up on that Truth about Truman website?” Hayley practically yelled at me.
My throat started to close. I couldn’t speak. Did Hayley know the lard-butt was me?
“It’s part of a poll,” Hayley went on. “You’re supposed to guess who you think it is.” Her voice sounded all tight and pinched.
Of course she knew it was me. By now, the whole school probably knew it was me. What could I possibly say to Hayley? She was really, really upset. I could hear it in her voice.
“Lilly,” she cried. “Forty-three people think that girl is me!”
Wait—what? “You’re kidding,” I said.
It didn’t sound like she was kidding.
I went to the computer and turned it on. Come on, come on, I thought as I waited for it to boot up. Hurry up! When I finally got on that site, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Hayley was right; forty-three people thought the girl in that picture was her. And only twenty-seven people thought it was me.
Hayley wasn’t upset that I used to be fat; she was upset because people thought she used to be fat.
That picture was three years old. Was it possible people had forgotten I used to look like that? If so, there was still time to salvage this. All I had to do was get that picture removed from that website. Which meant … I was going to have to talk to Zebby and Amr.
I hadn’t spoken to either one of them in close to three years. But I was pretty sure they were the ones who put that picture up. I was even more certain they were the ones who ran that website. So what choice did I have? As soon as I got off the phone with Hayley, I wrote Zebby an email.
Anonymous:
What? Forty-three people thought the girl in the picture was the most popular girl in school? Were these people blind and stupid? Or just stupid?
I needed to set the record straight.
Zebby:
“i just got an email from Lilly,” I instant-messaged Amr on Saturday. “did u get one, 2?”
“no. what duz it say?”
I picked up the phone and called Amr so I could read it to him. “It says, ‘I know you and Amr are the people who started the Truth about Truman.com, but I bet no one else does. I also know that you guys are the ones who put that picture of me up on your site. I want you to take it down. If you take it down before anyone guesses it’s me, then I won’t tell anyone that it’s just you guys doing that site.’ Can you believe that? ‘Just you guys,’ like we’re nobodies or something.”
“We are nobodies,” Amr pointed out.
“Yeah, well…” I paced back and forth in my room. “She didn’t need to say so.” It just reminded me we weren’t all friends anymore. Sometimes it was hard to believe we ever were.
“Did she say anything else?” Amr asked.
“No. That was it.” Wasn’t that enough?
“Are you going to write back?”
“Yes, but I’m still figuring out what I’m going to say.” So far, I was thinking something along the lines of, First of all, we don’t care that you know it’s us. Second of all, what makes you so sure we’re the ones who posted that picture of you? Anybody who went to Hoover could have taken it out of our fifth-grade memory book. I’m sure we’re not the only people you’ve ticked off. And third of all, we’re NOT taking it down! Where do you get off talking to us like that? You’re no better than we are. In fact, you—
“Uh … it probably doesn’t matter what you say,” Amr said all of a sudden. I could hear him typing in the background. “It looks like we’re too late.”
“What do you mean we’re too late?”
“Go to the site.”
I sat back down at my desk. Cradling the phone between my shoulder and my ear, I typed in www.truthabouttruman.com. It was kind of slow loading this time. Was that because there were a lot of people trying to load it right now?
When the page finally came up, I clicked on the Who’s-the-biggest-poser-in-our-school link. If I thought the main page was slow to load, this page was even slower.
“Is it loading slow for you, too?” I asked Amr.
“Yeah. You’ll see why in a minute.”
Finally, Lilly’s picture came up.
But it looked different. Someone had gone in and edited it! They made her eyes bigger, and drew horns on her head, a mustache under her nose, a beard on her chin, and two big teeth hanging down from her closed mouth. There was a box with an arrow pointing to the teeth that said click here. So I did, and a little speech bubble popped out of Lilly’s
mouth. It said, “Oink! Oink! I am Lilly Clarke.”
Trevor:
Since the people at the Truth about Truman said they liked my story about Nero, I decided to go ahead and post the first segment of my comic (six frames) on the site. A lot happens in those first six frames. Nero goes from math nerd to superhero, and then he’s warned to use his powers for good and not evil. That seemed like a good place to break because if people thought it was stupid, I wouldn’t ever have to post anything else. But I could post more if people liked it.
So I uploaded the comic to the Truth about Truman that weekend. I tried not to check the site too often for comments, but it was hard not to. I really wanted to know what people thought.
I was actually thinking about entering the full comic book in the Galaxy Publishers’ teen comic-book writers contest. If I could get it done on time. And if people who saw it on the Truth about Truman liked it. If nobody liked it, well, then maybe I wouldn’t bother.
So far, no one was saying anything. Why weren’t they saying anything?
There sure were a lot of comments about that old picture of Lilly Clarke, though. Every time I checked the site that weekend, there were at least two new comments about how fat Lilly used to be, or what an improvement the horns and mustache were, or how shocked someone was to find out that was Lilly!
I knew Lilly when she used to look like that. We weren’t friends, but we went to the same elementary school. I remember when we were in fourth grade, Justin Sawyer was making fun of my sponge painting in art. Lilly told him to stop, but he wouldn’t, so she “accidentally” spilled the black paint in his lap.
She was a whole different person now. Always trying to impress the popular kids. The worst thing was last year when she told me I was so ugly that my mom would probably keel over and die of embarrassment for giving birth to me. Which wouldn’t have been such a big deal if my mom didn’t really “keel over and die” two days after that. I know it was just a coincidence. Lilly didn’t make it happen or anything. My mom had a blood clot in her brain and she died. Just like that.
Truth about Truman School Page 4
