Only Girls Allowed by Debra Moffitt Page B

thinking that it would be funny. Totally surprising, don’t you think?”
    The camera cut back to anchorwoman Bet, who explained that Taylor had enlisted an accomplice. Bet said this accomplice—whom Bet had chosen not to identify—was an accomplished student and computer expert. He figured out how to break into the Pink Locker Society Web site, Bet said, and he gave Taylor the access she needed to make her catty remarks. Immediately, I knew her accomplice had to be Gabe, the sweet geeky guy people said Taylor had been flirting with. The poor guy.
    Bet went on to say that Taylor said she wouldn’t be hacking into the PLS site any more.
    â€œI’ve kind of been there, done that, you know what I mean?” Taylor told the camera.
    At this point, the entire audience seemed to be scanning the rows of auditorium seats. We were all looking for Taylor. Where was she, and was she really so casual about all this? Surely Principal Finklestein would be whisking her away for some kind of disciplinary hearing.
    â€œIt’s not for me to say how this ‘prank’ should be punished,” Bet said. “But I’d like to conclude my report by applauding the women—past and present—who are making it a little easier to grow up. Each question the Pink Locker Society answers is a random act of kindness, a lifeboat to someone who feels like they are going under. My onlyregret is that you guys don’t have the same service. Though boys would never admit it, I suspect a Blue Locker Society would be just as popular as the pink one.”
    With that, her segment ended. Bet had saved the title of her proposed show for the end. She called it
On Your Side? You Bet!
The crowd erupted in, what else? “You Bet! You Bet! You Bet!” They were louder cheers than before. Some people, including Piper, were on their feet. Bet deserved to win. Even I had to admit it. Taylor, on the other hand, should be sent to live alone on some island with just the seagulls to keep her company.
    I felt a surge of real happiness when Principal Finklestein made it official and called Bet to the stage. Bet took a bow then looked out on the crowd and smiled—not a fake anchorwoman smile, either—a genuine one.

 

    I was in a great mood as I walked home from track practice that day. Just a few hours earlier, Bet had won and Taylor had lost in more ways than one. I wondered what kind of punishment she would face at school. I had the urge to get in her face and yell “Gotcha!” but I restrained myself. Was it too much to hope that she’d be expelled? But I didn’t want Gabe to be kicked out of school. I was sure he was just another of her victims. And, of course, I was praying that Bet’s dramatic report was all the evidence Forrest would need to finally break up with Taylor.
    Thanks to all that had happened, I was no longer obsessing about my water-fountain incident with Forrest. Without realizing it, I think I was starting to give myself the advice thatI would have given any other girl. “Let it go,” I would tell her. “He’s probably forgotten it by now. Maybe someday he’ll like you, too.”
    My mind wandered the closer I got to home. I thought about how I would burst in the door and tell my mother how my grades had finally started to improve, just in time for report cards. When I had good news, I liked to start out looking very serious and down. (My mother fell for this every time, owing to her natural tendency to imagine the worst possible scenario.) Getting her all concerned first would make it all the more fun to spring the happy news on her. What I really wanted to talk about—with anyone who would listen, even Mom—was Bet’s report and the Pink Locker Society. But I knew I couldn’t do that.
    Two more blocks to go: Thoughts of Forrest always figured into any thoroughly good mood of mine, and this one was no different. I made a bold decision as I