Girls in Charge by Debra Moffitt Page A

with a song. She introduced the Margaret Simon Jazz Band and then led a rendition of “Happy Anniversary,” sung to the tune of “Happy Birthday.”
    When it was over, Principal F. stood and bowed with his palms pressed together. The heavy velvet curtain closed and students jumped to their seats and headed for the exits.
    â€œDid that just happen?” Piper said at a volume high enough to cause people three rows away to turn around.
    â€œI think we are going to New York,” Kate said.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said, afraid to give into my barely contained joy.
    â€œWell, here’s how we find out for sure,” Piper said. “To the principal’s office! Allons-y! ” (French for “Let’s go!”)

 
    Twenty-five
    We approached the front desk of the school office, but there was no one there to wait on us. We stood there, in total stillness, until we heard shreds of conversation coming from the principal’s office. It was Principal F. and a female voice. I feared it was Bet, getting in major trouble. Maybe now she would be kept home from the New York trip, too? But soon we figured out the voice belonged to Mrs. Percy.
    We didn’t move a muscle and tried hard to decipher the wa-womp-womp-womp of it all. Occasionally, we could decipher a phrase but not the thread of what they were talking about.
    â€œâ€¦ after all these years…”
    â€œâ€¦ without merit…”
    â€œâ€¦ once in a lifetime…”
    â€œâ€¦ highlight of my career…”
    Then the door opened and Principal F. stood and faced us.
    â€œSo you’re here already. We were just going to call for you.”
    He motioned for us to join Mrs. Percy in his office. I found a seat and held on to both armrests. What could possibly happen next? I feared further punishment, an inquisition or an accusation that we had put Bet up to this.
    â€œAfter considerable thought and the careful examination of new evidence, I am going to take back the penalty we had discussed,” Principal F. said.
    It was expressed in gobbledygook language, but the smile on Mrs. Percy’s face said it all.
    â€œAnd along with that, girls, the PLS can come into the light as an organization,” she said.
    â€œYes, well, nineteen sixty-one was a full ten years before I arrived at Margaret Simon so I can hardly be held accountable for this … this record-keeping error,” Principal F. said.
    â€œCertainly not,” Mrs. Percy said, and then gave us a wink.
    â€œI didn’t fully realize the scope of the work being done,” Principal F. continued. “Or that the Tomorrow’s Leaders Today committee planned to honor your group, and by extension”—he cleared his throat—“Margaret Simon Middle School.”
    â€œLots to discuss, girls,” Mrs. Percy said. “But the first order of business is that you need to go home and pack. Bus leaves at seven thirty tomorrow morning.”
    We made a move toward the door, but Principal F. stopped us.
    â€œAnd Jemma,” Principal F. said, “in your presentation to the Tomorrow’s Leaders Today group, please acknowledge both me and the president of our school board in your opening remarks.”
    â€œAcknowledge you for what?” Piper said.
    â€œFor working through some difficult logistics so that the Pink Locker Society can continue its work and become a model for middle schools across the nation, and even the globe.”
    â€œBut-but, you didn’t help us at all,” I said, surprised to hear what I was thinking come spilling out of my mouth.
    â€œI would disagree. I verified that the sanctioning document is genuine, which clears the way for your future success. You literally couldn’t have done it without me.”
    And before we could say any more, he said he had an important call to make, shuffled us out of his office, and closed the door.

 
    Twenty-six
    Woo-hoo!