Only Girls Allowed (7 page)

“I like someone right now and I don't know whether to tell him,” Piper said. “On the one hand, you want to know if he likes you, too. But what if he doesn't?”

Whoa. We shared more common ground than I thought. Who was her Forrest McCann? And what about Jamie Welch, who was supposedly her boyfriend right now?

Finally, she gave up the name.

“It's Jonah Zafron,” Piper said.

“You're thinking of telling the
movie star
Jonah Zafron that you have a crush on him?”

“Don't you think he would want to know?” she said, giving me that flirty look she used so well on cute boys.

Before I could remind her how old Jonah was or that he already had a girlfriend, Kate returned from the archives with a stack of papers. She slapped them down in front of us, and together we read the headline of
The Pink Paper,
published in October 1976. In big, blaring type, it said:
PINK LOCKER SOCIETY IN DANGER
! But the headline was all we could read. Every line of the article had been blacked out.

 

If you were to visit
www.PinkLockerSociety.org
, here's what you'd see today. Ta-dah! Our first answers for our first clients:

To MG, the girl who was worried about not getting her period:

 

Dear MG,

You can breathe a sigh of relief: Plenty of girls do NOT have their periods by sixth grade. The first period happens during puberty, which can start between ages eight and thirteen. But the key word is
START.
Some girls start at eight and some start at thirteen. After it gets going, puberty takes a while and lasts for a few years. Most girls get their periods between the ages of ten and fifteen. Everyone is
different, but your period usually happens about two years after your breasts start developing.

Unfortunately, periods don't come by appointment. You won't know until it arrives. If your first period (aka “Aunt Flo”) arrives for the first time when you're at school, don't panic. Instead, be prepared by keeping a couple of pads in your backpack or locker. If you need help, ask a friend or a female teacher. If you stain your clothes (this hardly ever happens, because first periods are usually light), wrap a sweater or sweatshirt around your waist until you can change.

And we understand how you feel about your period. It's OK to want it and it's OK to not want it, even at the same time! Anything new is weird for a while. It's also more than OK to talk about your feelings with your mom or another girl or woman you are close to. If you need some questions answered, why not ask someone who knows Aunt Flo quite well!

Think pink!

The PLS

I keep track of all my major successes in life. The list is not that long, but I'm happy to say that I think today is one of them. We answered not only MG's period question but also the one about big boobs and the one about crushes.

We used Piper's advice about getting your chest stared at. Thank you, Piper!

And what about the crush question?

After a lot of thought—and a conversation with Kate's older sister—we offered this advice to the person who wrote that they kinda-sorta wanted to tell their crush about their true feelings.

 

Dear DM,

People have been asking your question for hundreds of years, and the answer is not crystal clear. Crushes are called crushes for a reason. They can hit you hard! And it can feel amazing to learn that your crush likes you, too. Imagine Christmas morning and your birthday combined. Woo-hoo! But when the person doesn't have a crush on you, it can feel like a dozen rainy Mondays all at once.

The good news is that crushes are like playing make-believe. It's probably been a long time since you did that! But crushes are a way of imagining, thinking about, and even testing out what it is like to fall in love. So it's up to you if you want to take a risk and see if your crush likes you, too. Are you feeling brave? Or maybe you'll decide that your crush is more fun kept as a secret. The only thing we know for sure is that this won't be your last crush.

Happy crushing!

The PLS

We felt really good to post those answers. But we felt even better when we went to the PLS office, signed on to
our computers, and saw that the Web site had gotten more than one hundred visitors by lunchtime! I even heard some girls talking about it in the bathroom. Not only that, but lots of people sent us e-mail
thanking
us. Here are a few:

 

OMG, you guys soooooo rock. I was very worried about “Aunt Flo,” and now I know exactly what to do when she makes her first visit. Thank you! Thank you!

Signed,

A not-so-nervous-anymore seventh-grader

 

I have had a crush on someone for a long time and now I feel mucho bettero.

Your friend—BBallGRL98

 

Thank you, PLS! I am feeling less worried and much more un-shy now about periods. I think I might ask my mom about it. After all, she was young once. I've seen pictures!

Keep up the good work,

MG

DM, the crush girl, and the girl with the big boobs hadn't written back yet, but I hoped they liked our answers. Walking around school, I felt different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I guessed this confident feeling must be what it feels like to be popular. I was sort of a celebrity, even though no one knew who I was.

 

A person can get used to almost anything, my mother often says. She's even written a poem about it—one of the many I don't completely understand. On one hand, it's great that people can adapt and get used to new stuff. Kate, Piper, and I quickly got used to the fact that we were part of a secret society. In the same way that I trundle off to the caf for lunch at 11:47, I now go to my locker every day at 1:35 and crawl inside (and try not to get caught on the way out).

Beforehand, I write that day's pink locker combination in the palm of my left hand. No one ever asks why I've inked myself with words like B-L-O-O-M, L-E-A-D-E-R, and T-R-U-T-H.

In our headquarters, I grab the daily snack (the fudgy
no-bake cookies are my favorite) and we take care of business. As predicted, PBBs account for most of our inquiries. But there have been other questions on the fringes. One girl asked about what to do if you're afraid to get your ears pierced. And we've even had a couple questions from boys. They mostly want to know about girls and what to do if you like someone—so similar to the kind of questions girls ask!

We're getting so much “business” now that we're working during every study hall and tapping away on the pink laptop during evenings and weekends. (Great, but not so great for my grades.) As promised, Piper rigged our laptop to buzz our phones with a special ringtone when we have a new question. For the ringtone, she recorded the three of us saying “Think pink!”

I feel overwhelmed sometimes, but I still squeeze the PLS into my life, just like I squeeze in track practice (now that I've gotten used to running those endless laps and hilly trails). And also like track, being in the Pink Locker Society makes me feel good, as if I'm an important part of something. I love it when I hear people buzzing about the Web site or wondering who runs the Pink Locker Society. I've even seen “The Pink Locker Society Rocks!” written on the inside of one of the girls' bathroom stalls. And I did eventually find a school library book that had one of those Pink Locker Society bookmarks inside. It said: “They're cool and confidential. Ask and the Pink Locker Society will answer!”

That's me: I'm cool and confidential. It's like an awesome secret, and even though I have had trouble keeping secrets before, I don't mind keeping this one. But this secret would be more fun to keep if it were just between me, Piper, and Kate. If you ask me, Bet is a half-time, half-hearted member. (Which takes its toll on the rest of us, as if she doesn't realize.) She misses a lot of meetings and has answered only a handful of questions from our readers. She barely says anything, just nods a lot and hangs close to Kate.

Plus, Bet hasn't really spoken to me since that day by the buses. I guess she has gotten used to being the new girl, so quiet you hardly know she's there, always hanging on the outskirts. Even though I see her almost every day, I have to admit I have gotten used to something, too—not being Bet's friend.

 

Friday was always my favorite day of the week, but not anymore. Now we're forced to watch Margaret Simon TV during last period. It was one thing watching Clem parade around during
Clem's Crib,
saying things like “Here's my shoe closet; here's my at-home foot spa for pedicures. . . .” It was sometimes dull, but not the worst way to waste ten minutes of class time. But now that Taylor's the anchor, everything has changed. Of course, since she's Forrest's girlfriend, I didn't exactly long to watch her on TV. But my mood went from bored to electrified today when Forrest called my name on the way into class. I heard him say, “Jemma,” but by the time I turned around in my seat, Mr. Ford said, “Face front; let's be courteous during Taylor's broadcast.” When I looked back again at Forrest,
he just laid his head on his folded arms, like he was going to take a nap.

To prove something to Clem (or maybe all of us), Taylor had dramatically changed her approach to her broadcast. The kittens were definitely gone. Music boomed loudly in the intro to a new show she called
Gotcha!
It began with a scene from a recent football game, with the cheerleaders all posed in a perfect pyramid. Perfect at least until Marina Testarosa wobbled from her perch at the very top and they all came tumbling down. The class laughed a little, and the camera turned again to Taylor, who smiled in a pink turtleneck and said, “Gotcha!”

From there the report went to a tape of Clem Caritas standing in front of the girls' bathroom mirror, putting on lipstick and trying different smiles—the first one big and movie-star-like and the next one shy and closed lipped. Then she winked at herself. “Gotcha!” purred Taylor again, this time pointing a jaunty finger at the camera.

And so it went on for ten uncomfortable minutes, showing people caught on secret videotape. Even though he said nothing, I could tell Mr. Ford was getting annoyed by the way he sighed and shifted in his squeaky desk chair.

“It's funny, right? I think it's really funny,” Taylor explained, live to the class.

That seemed to give them more permission to laugh, and they did so with increasing volume with each new clip. The one of Mr. Updike, the janitor, chasing a groundhog
around the front lawn drew a real hoot. Hardly anyone laughed, though, when the camera zoomed into the cafeteria, zeroing in on a long lunch table where Bet sat alone, eating delicately from her lunchbox.

“Boo-hoo-hoo and . . . Gotcha!” Taylor said, rubbing her eyes and putting on a fake sad pout.

Just as I was gathering some sympathy for Bet and despising Taylor that much more, I saw a familiar row of lockers emerge on the screen. Then the camera moved in close to catch me slipping out of my locker and stepping a foot gingerly on the linoleum tiles. My face couldn't hide my surprise and, with cheeks flushed pink, I hustled by the camera until Tia could do nothing else but record my fast departure down the hall.