Girls in Charge by Debra Moffitt Read Free Book Online Page B

That I never really put on the calendar.
    â€œIs everything all right, Jem?” Mom asked as we packed up and left the doctor’s office.
    Yes, I nodded. Fine. Based on what the doctor had said, I wasn’t sure at all that I’d be able to fix the Period Predictor. It was good to know where I went wrong, but it’s another thing altogether to know how to fix it.

 
    Seventeen
    Dear PLS,
    OK, so thanks for answering my letter. But I can’t thank you for helping me. The conceited, mean girl who’s bothering me won’t stop. I sometimes don’t even want to get up in the morning, knowing I’ll see her and she’ll say something. And I can’t/won’t do the stuff you suggest—telling an adult and asking my friends to stick with me. I’m independent and I don’t want to be a crybaby.
    I can’t tell my friends because I don’t want them to know I’m flunking almost every class. I’m desperately afraid you-know-who will tell the whole school. I soooooooooo wish she hadn’t found out in the first place. Our very good taste in backpacks is to blame. Both our bags are made of Italian leather—mine is cerulean blue and hers is sort of a sky blue and we got them mixed up. I took hers and found it filled with high-priced cosmetics and a flat iron. She took mine and apparently rifled through everything, including all the failing test papers crumpled in the bottom.
    She’s still mad at me for something that happened months ago. OMG, how she loves knowing this secret about me. Sometimes it’s less about what she says and more about how she looks at me. Like when a teacher says, “Does anyone have any questions?” she looks right at me, like she’s saying “Don’t you have any questions?”
    Until now, I’d hidden it perfectly. When test papers were returned, I usually just folded them in half really fast and plunged them into my backpack. There are more in there now than ever before because I have kind of stopped trying. Once the school told my parents that I’d have to repeat eighth grade, what was the point? I don’t even know if I’ll be allowed to go on the eighth-grade trip. It’s supposed to be a celebration, right? And what do I have to celebrate?
    I started telling people I’m going to a high school outside of our school district. It will buy me some time. Then I figure I can tell them I transferred back in. What I really hope is that somehow I can repeat eighth grade and be miraculously placed in tenth grade the next year. Or maybe there’s some summer school solution no one’s thought of. It could happen. Well, I’m hoping it can.
    Signed,
    Student F
    It was a sign of how bad Taylor’s situation was that even I felt sorry for her. If you had told me six months ago that I’d be trying hard to think of ways to help Taylor Mayweather, I would have told you that you were crazy.
    â€œJust goes to show,” Kate said. “No matter how well you have people figured out, you never know what’s going on in their real lives.”
    â€œWhat a witch,” Piper said.
    â€œWhich one?” I said sarcastically.
    â€œThe bully, of course, Jem,” Kate said.
    â€œI don’t exactly love Taylor,” Piper said. “Not after what she did to the PLS. But you’ve got to feel bad for her.”
    â€œImagine what it would feel like to be flunking eighth grade,” Kate said. “But I was always a little angry that she didn’t get punished for hacking into the PLS site.”
    â€œI was really angry and still am, if I let myself think about it long enough,” I said.
    â€œExactement!” Piper said.
    â€œIf that means ‘exactly’ in French, I agree. Who else completely tears people apart and gets away with it?” I said.
    Taylor had admitted hacking into our site and making rude comments. She said people who wrote in to us were