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“Typical, isn’t it?” I say. “They always make the girls do the most unimportant job.”
“If they don’t make me a reporter next year, I’m going to start a petition,” she says fiercely.
“Hmmmm. I’ve always thought there were two ways of getting what you wanted in life. Forcing people to give it to you, or making them want to give it to you. Seems the latter is usually the better choice. I bet if you talked to Ms. Smidgens, she’d help you out. She seems pretty reasonable.”
“She’s not so bad. It’s Peter.”
“That so?”
“He refuses to give me a chance.”
Suspecting, perhaps, that we’re talking about him, Peter strolls over. “Carrie, you don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” I say airily. “I love arts and crafts.”
“You do?” Gayle asks when Peter walks away.
“Are you kidding? My worst nightmare was those relief maps. And I failed sewing when I was in the Girl Scouts.”
Little Gayle giggles. “Me too. I mean, I want to be Barbara Walters when I grow up, even if everyone does make fun of her. I wonder if she ever had to do this?”
“Probably. And probably a lot of other worse things as well.”
“You think?” Gayle asks, encouraged.
“I know,” I say, just for the hell of it. We work in silence for another minute, and then I ask, “What’s this thing with your sister and Donna LaDonna?”
She looks at me suspiciously. “Do you know my sister?”
“Sure.” It’s a bit of a lie. I don’t really know her, but I’m aware of who she is. Gayle’s sister has to be a senior named Ramona who looks just like Gayle, albeit a slightly less pimply and more refined version. I never paid that much attention to her because she moved here during our freshman year and immediately made other friends.
“She’s a really good gymnast,” Gayle says. “I mean, she was, back in New Jersey. When she was thirteen, she was the all-around state champion.”
I’m surprised. “Why isn’t she on the gymnastics team, then?”
“She grew. She got hips. And boobs. Something happened with her center of gravity.”
“I see.”
“But she’s still really good at doing splits and cartwheels and all the things cheerleaders do. She tried out for the cheerleading squad and was sure she’d make it because she’s so much better than the other girls, like Donna LaDonna, who can’t even do a full split. But she wasn’t even picked for Junior Varsity. She tried out again, last year, and afterward, Donna LaDonna went up to her and told her right to her face that she wasn’t going to make it because she wasn’t pretty enough.”
“She came right out and said it?” I gasp, astonished.
Gayle nods. “She said, and I quote, ‘You’re not pretty enough to make the squad, so don’t waste your time and ours.’”
“Wow. What did your sister do?”
“She told the principal.”
I nod, thinking maybe this is typical Ramona behavior, always tattling to an adult, and that’s why they didn’t want her on the team. But still. “What did the principal say?”
“He said he couldn’t get involved in ‘girl stuff.’ And my sister said it was discrimination, pure and simple. Discrimination against girls who don’t have straight hair and tiny noses and perfect boobs. And he laughed.”
“He’s a bastard. Everyone knows that.”
“But it doesn’t make it right. So my sister has been trying to get this discrimination suit going.”
“And you’re going to write about it.”
