Blubber (12 page)

I moved my desk next to hers. She had a peanut butter sandwich too.

Tuesday morning, on the way to school, Irwin called me some of his best names. I said, “The same to you,” and everybody laughed, but not at me.

That afternoon we had our Thanksgiving program. The sixth graders put on a boring play about the Pilgrims, the Indians and the first Thanksgiving. I wish our school could do a play like the one in
Harriet the Spy
where everybody pretends to be a different vegetable. I would like to play the onion. I’d roll around the floor the way Harriet did in the book. I wonder if there really are schools where they do that kind of thing?

When we got back to class Mrs. Minish stayed out in the hall, talking to the teacher from the
next room. So Robby Winters had plenty of time to stick pins through his fingers and do his zombie act. When he shoved his hands in my face I said, “What’s so great about that? Anybody can do it.”

“Oh yeah …”

“Yeah …”

“Including you?”

“Including me.”

“Put your money where your mouth is, Brenner.”

“How much?” I asked him.

“A quarter.”

“You’re on … give me some pins.”

Robby took the pins out of his fingers and handed them to me. I stuck one through the top layer of skin of every finger, being careful not to flinch as I did. Then I stood up, held my hands out straight, and walked around making zombie noises.

“Exactly what is going on here?” Mrs. Minish stood in the doorway, watching me. “Jill … you’re out of your seat.”

“Yes, Mrs. Minish.” I hurried back to my desk, hid my hands underneath it and pulled the pins out of my fingers.

Robby passed me a quarter.

By lunchtime it was easy to tell that Wendy
and Laurie were going to be best friends and so were Donna and Caroline. Some people are
always
changing best friends. I’m glad me and Tracy aren’t that way. Still, it’s nice to have a regular friend in your class, even if it’s not a
best
friend. I ate lunch with Rochelle again. She’s kind of quiet but I get the feeling that a lot goes on inside her head. So later, when it was time to go home, and we all ran for our lockers, I said, “Hey Rochelle … you want to be my partner for the class trip?”

She put on her jacket, closed her locker door, and said, “Why not?”

I didn’t bite my nails once that afternoon or night and when Dad tucked me into bed I said, “You know something? There’s still a whole month to go before Christmas.”

“So?” he asked.

“So … is our deal still on?” I held out my hands and wiggled my fingers to show him what I was talking about.

“It’s still on,” he told me.

“Good … because I think I can make it this time.”

We had just half a day of school on Wednesday. On the bus ride home we played Keep-Away with Robby’s hat and the sixth graders
taught us a song about the girls in France. The bus driver yelled, “Shut up or I’ll report you to the principal.”

Nobody paid any attention.

When we got off the bus me and Tracy stopped for the mail. Both of us had a packet of approvals from Winthrop.

“Come over and we’ll decide what to buy,” I said.

“As soon as I change.”

“Don’t forget your album.”

“How could I?” Tracy asked.

Kenny met me at the front door. “Did you know the longest earthworm in the world measures twenty-one feet when fully extended?”

“I’m really glad to hear that,” I said. “His mother must be very proud.”

When my daughter was in fifth grade the class leader used her power in an evil way to turn everyone in the class against one girl. This bully (like Wendy in the book) made the other girl’s life miserable. My daughter was the shy, quiet girl in the class, the observer, like Rochelle. She was upset by what was going on, but she didn’t know what to do about it. I think she was scared. Like many other kids in that class, she worried she could wind up the next victim of the bully.

I wrote
Blubber
because bullying is often kept a secret by the kids who see it happening, and even by the person who’s being bullied. Being bullied feels so humiliating, it’s such a terrible and frightening experience, that kids are often afraid to tell anyone, even their parents. But keeping it a secret doesn’t help anyone. It just makes it worse. It leaves the bully thinking she or he can get away with anything. I hope this story will help kids, parents, and teachers to start talking and working together. No more secrets. If it happens to you, talk to the people you trust most. It’s too hard to worry alone.