Girls in Charge by Debra Moffitt Page B

We needed to immediately tell our parents and start packing. And I needed to find Forrest and start working on our presentation. But at the very top of our to-do list was to find Bet and thank her. So immediately after school, the three of us walked over to her house. We linked arms and walked three astride down the sidewalk on that warm May afternoon. Forget the packing, forget the presentation, we had to find our girl! Funny that none of us even knew her before school had started in September. I had had no intention of making any new friends this year, but I had made a bunch.
    I was even friendly with some seventh- and sixth-graders. Yes, they were younger, but I started to realize how the years make less of a difference the older you get. Clem’s sister, Mimi, was a special friend—and a running buddy. Shannon Andersen, too, was popular in the same way Kate was, just for being friendly and easygoing with lots of people. She and I just “clicked,” and I was sorry I’d be leaving her when I went off to high school.
    But among all my new friends, Bet was at the top of the list. How many cups of tea had we shared at Lucky’s? And how many hours had she listened to me analyze Forrest, and later, Jake? Many hours, too, I was a sounding board for her frustrations about boys and her run-ins with Principal F. over what she could report on for her You Bet! videocast.
    â€œBet!” we called out when she came out on the porch. Then we applauded and cheered her as if she had just hit a home run, which in a way she had.
    â€œYou guys are too much,” she said, accepting our hugs.
    We pulled her along with us to Main Street for celebratory ice cream cones. On the way, we asked her how she had unearthed the document. She explained that she requested and received permission from the school board to go through the archives.
    â€œI said it was for a special school project. Four days in a dusty back room, but it paid off,” Bet said. “Not only did I find the PLS document, I found source documents for about ten other stories.”
    â€œBut will you be able to broadcast any of them?” Kate asked. “I mean, the school year is almost over and Principal F. hasn’t been too supportive.”
    â€œSo true,” Bet said. “But I’ve applied to Charter High School and they have a special journalism program, so I’m hoping I’ll be able to do what I want, finally.”
    We ordered our cones—mint chocolate chip for me, mango for Piper, vanilla frozen yogurt for Kate, and chocolate truffle for Bet. Outside, we found an umbrella table and started talking—all at once—about New York City. Though we were plenty loud, anyone passing by would have had the same trouble we did, just hours ago, when we heard only fragments from behind the closed door of the principal’s office.
    â€œBreakfast at Tiffany’s…”
    â€œTop of the Rock…”
    â€œâ€¦ One hundred and two stories high…”
    â€œTrip of a lifetime…”
    Back at home, we pledged to not text each other for at least an hour so we could pack and prepare. Mrs. Percy had already called my parents with the good news. I walked in my room to find my suitcase with wheels and stacks of fresh laundry waiting to be packed. The clothing issue kept me up half the night. I needed a comfortable—yet stylish—outfit for the bus ride there. Then I needed something more professional-looking for our Tomorrow’s Leaders Today conference. And finally, to fill in, I had to pack a bunch of city-ready clothes for all the sightseeing we’d be doing.
    â€œDon’t overpack, Jemma. You always do,” my mother bellowed from outside my closed room door.
    Just a few nights before, I had helped her pack her own suitcase for the hospital.
    â€œI have to be ready at a moment’s notice now,” she had said.
    I almost cried—tears of sadness, happiness,