Leggings Revolt (3 page)
Phil tenses up next to me. I have never heard Phil make the kind of comment about
a girl that Rory and his pals are making. So I nearly fall off my chair when Phil
says, “Seven,” and then adds, “I agree with Martie. Too round.”
Now all four guys look at me. I consider saying this is a dumb game and asking if
they realize they are objectifying girls. But I can already hear them laughing at
that.
“Uh, seven-point-five,” I say.
Martie leans across the table toward Phil and me. “You two should come to the gym
sometime.”
I spot Daisy and Rowena in line, buying lunch. I lower my head so they won’t see
me. If they come to sit over here, the guys will rate their butts. And I will have
to do it too.
Rory sees them. And then he does something I really wish he would not. He waves them
over.
“You friends with that girl Daisy?” Theo asks Rory. Theo sounds impressed.
“Actually, she’s my friend,” I say.
Daisy and Rowena stop at a nearby table to talk to some other girls, giving us a
perfect view of their butts.
“Ten. Eight-point-five,” Rory says.
“Ten. Eight,” Theo calls out.
“Not so loud,” I tell him, but it is too late.
Rowena turns to face us. She looks like she just tasted sour milk. “Are you
guys
doing what I think you’re doing?” Her voice is so shrill that kids from other tables
are turning around to see what is happening.
Rowena grabs Daisy’s arm and whispers something in her ear.
I can tell from the way Daisy’s eyes are flashing that she is angry too. The worst
part is that she seems to be especially angry with
me
. “I thought you were better
than that,” she hisses at me before she storms off with Rowena.
“Where are you going?” Theo asks when I get up from the table.
“I’m going to talk to Daisy and Rowena,” I tell him. “To apologize.”
“Apologize for what?” Rory asks, and then he guffaws, which makes Theo and Martie
crack up too.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Phil offers. I think he is as eager as
I am to get
away from Rory and his pals.
“Sure. But I should do the talking.”
At first Daisy and Rowena ignore us. But after I apologize twice to Daisy’s back,
she turns around and says, “Do you promise never to do that again—ever?”
I cross my hands over my heart. “I promise.”
“Me too,” Phil chimes in.
Rowena only wants to know one thing. “Are you going to run for Student Life Committee?”
she asks me.
“I already got the application from Miss Aubin.”
Rowena eyes me. I think she is deciding whether I can be trusted. “If you get elected,
do you promise to fight the dress code?”
I cross my hands over my heart again. “I promise.”
I did not need to work so hard on my application letter for the Student Life Committee.
Since I’m the only seventh-grader who applied, there is not going to be an election
for our grade.
I am in the library, catching up on homework, when Germinato makes the announcement
on the
PA
system. “The first Student Life Committee meeting is noon on Wednesday
in the boardroom. There will be a catered lunch,” Germinato’s voice booms. “Thank
you and have a good day.”
Rowena is working in the next cubby. “Way to go, Eric!” she says, reaching over to
clap my shoulder. “Just don’t forget your promise.”
The librarian turns to look at me. I am expecting her to shush us. But she smiles
and mouths the word
Congratulations.
“Hey, Rowena.” I whisper because I want to stay on the librarian’s good side. “Can
I ask you something?”
Rowena rocks on the back legs of her chair. “Ask away,” she whispers back.
“How come
you
didn’t run for Student Life Committee? I mean, you’ve got strong opinions
and all.”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t run. Besides, it would have been a confl—” Rowena stops
herself.
“A conflict?” I ask.
“Something like that,” she mutters. “If you don’t mind, I need to get back to my
math homework.”
We are studying in our cubbies when Daisy comes up behind us. “Hey, you two,” she
says. Then she taps my shoulder. “Congratulations on getting elected to the Student
Life Committee.”
“I wasn’t exactly elec—” It is hard to get the words out, because Daisy looks so
amazing. Because her hair is in a ponytail, I notice how high her cheekbones are.
She is wearing a short
turquoise dress. I see both bra straps—and quite a lot of
leg.
I think Daisy has noticed my reaction, because she says, “It’s a new dress. I mean,
an old dress. I got it at a garage sale. It’s from the sixties. Turquoise was really
popular back then.”
“I like it.” It’s hard not to stare at Daisy. I try looking at the floor instead.
The carpet is beige and worn on the spots where kids have pulled back their chairs.
My eyes travel to Daisy’s feet. She is wearing fuchsia flip-flops. Her toenails are
the same shade of turquoise as her dress.
“You’d better hope the Germinator doesn’t see you now that the dress code is in effect,”
Rowena tells Daisy. “From what I’ve heard, none of the teachers will turn you in,
but the Germinator’s obsessed with that stupid dress code.”
“Don’t worry,” Daisy says. “I plan to stay out of his way.”
It is just plain bad luck that when we leave the library Germinato is standing by
the turnstile. I put my arms on my hips in an attempt to block his view of Daisy.
“Good afternoon, sir.” I keep my voice as casual as I can.
“Eric,” Germinato says. For a minute, I think my plan has worked. But then his expression
changes. He has spotted Daisy.
“Young lady.” Germinato’s voice sounds louder than it did over the
PA
system.
“Yes, Mr. Germinato?” Daisy does not sound nervous.
“It appears that you are in flagrant violation of the Lajoie High School dress code.
What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Flagrant?” Daisy says. “I don’t know that word.” For a moment, my mind flashes on
the Daisy I first met in Reading Circle, the shy newcomer who
was more interested
than any of us in learning new words.
“It means ‘total’ or ‘utter,’” Germinato says.
Rowena has come to stand next to Daisy. “It’s extremely hot outside, sir,” she says.
“And inside too, since this school has no air-conditioning. Daisy is dressed to keep
cool. Also, she bought her dress at a garage sale, so it’s a form of recycling.”
Germinato glares at Rowena. “It doesn’t matter where her dress came from. What matters
is that she’s not abiding by the Lajoie High School dress code. Young lady”—he turns
back to Daisy—“consider this a warning. Next time, and I certainly hope there won’t
be a next time, there will be consequences. Serious consequences.”
The Student Life Committee meets every other Wednesday at lunch. Germinato left out
who was catering the lunch. It’s the same company that runs the school cafeteria,
which isn’t saying much.
A platter with sandwiches sits on the middle of the boardroom table. I grab an egg-salad
on brown bread. The bread is so soggy my thumb goes right through it.
I am the youngest member of the Student Life Committee. The president is a girl from
eleventh grade named Vicky. The vice-president is a guy from grade ten named Ivan.
There is also a treasurer plus five other members at large, like me.
Someone knocks on the boardroom door. It’s Germinato. Miss Aubin is behind him.
“I won’t be long,” Germinato says. “I want to have a few words with you. As those
of you who served on the committee last year know, Miss Aubin will act as secretary.
Which means she’ll attend all your meetings.”
Miss Aubin gives us a tight-lipped smile. She sits down at the end of the table and
opens her laptop. Something tells me she is skipping lunch.
“I want to congratulate all of you on being elected or”—Germinato looks at me—“acclaimed
to the Student Life Committee. As I’m sure you realize,
being part of such an important
committee is an excellent addition to your résumés. Which is why I know I can count
on your full cooperation.” Germinato smiles at Vicky and Ivan, and they beam back
at him.
“This afternoon,” Germinato continues, “I need every member of this committee to
help with an initiative that is close to my heart.” At first I think the initiative
will have something to do with recycling, but then he says, “The enforcement of
our school’s dress code.”
I look at the other students seated around the table. A couple of them are nodding.
A girl is doodling on the back of her notebook. The rest have blank looks on their
faces. So I raise my hand.
“Have you got a question?” Germinato sounds surprised.
“More of a comment, sir. You see…I was wondering if maybe we could discuss the dress
code and the way it targets…”
Miss Aubin shoots me a look over the top of her computer.
Vicky flicks a spot of lint from her navy-blue sweater. Then she looks up at Germinato.
“What is it you need us to do for you, sir?” she asks.
It’s as if Germinato did not even hear my comment. “I need you to go to every gym
class this afternoon to ensure that every student is wearing regulation-length shorts.”
Germinato extends his hands by the sides of his legs the way he did at the opening
assembly. For a second he reminds me of a wooden soldier.
Miss Aubin catches Germinato’s eye. “Sir, it is the beginning of the school year,
and this could put them in an awkward position with their classmates.”
She pauses,
as if she wants to give Germinato time to consider her words. “I could do it, sir.”
Germinato waves his hand in the air. “Last time I checked, Miss Aubin, I was the
principal of this school, not you.”
Miss Aubin’s lower lip quivers as she types something on her laptop.
“We’ll do it, sir,” Vicky says.
“Absolutely,” Ivan adds.
“But—” I begin.
Vicky cuts me off. “Eric, we value your participation on the Student Life Committee.”
She smiles in a way that tells me she does not mean it. “But there’s something you
need to understand. The newbies on this committee, well, they don’t usually say
much.”
Ivan nods. “It’s not that we don’t
want
you to participate, Eric. You need some time
to learn how things work around here.”
“I think Eric is a quick study,” Miss Aubin says, without looking up from her computer.
Before Germinato leaves, he hands around a list of all the gym classes for the afternoon.
The first group are grade sevens.
I get a knot in my stomach as I remember the promise I made Rowena.
“Do I have to do it?” I ask Vicky when the meeting is over.
“Only if you want to stay on the Student Life Committee,” she says.
“Maybe I should resign…” I mutter.
Ivan pats my shoulder. “Didn’t you hear what Mr. Germinato said about having this
on your résumé?”
I thought Miss Aubin would go back to her office, but it looks like she is coming
to the gym too. “Eric,” she says, in a half-whisper as we walk together, “sometimes
the best way to effect change is from the inside.”
The first person I see when I walk into the gym is Rowena. It would be hard to miss
her. She is wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts—with pictures of palm trees and convertible
cars on them. The best thing about those shorts is they go almost to Rowena’s knees.
Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe all the girls will be wearing regulation
length
shorts. We may not like the school dress code, but hey, isn’t it easier to go along
with the rules and not fight over every little thing?
Vicky punches my shoulder. “You got this, Eric?” she asks me.
I take a deep breath. “I got it.”
Miss Aubin goes to speak with the gym teacher. They huddle for a moment, then the
gym teacher whistles to get the class’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she says,
“the members of the Student Life Committee are here to verify that your gym clothes
meet the dress code.”
“You mean whether the
girls’
clothes meet the dress code!” Rowena calls out.
The gym teacher does not respond to Rowena’s comment. Instead, she asks Vicky and
Ivan to be as quick as possible. “I wouldn’t want this… this inspection…to interfere
with our broomball game,” she says.
“It shouldn’t take long,” Vicky assures her. Vicky turns to the class. “If you could
all line up along the back wall, with your hands extended by your sides, Eric will
check that your shorts are regulation length.” It is obvious from Vicky’s tone and
the way she puts her hands on her hips that she likes telling people what to do.
I scan the gym for Daisy, but I don’t see her. She must be in another class.
As I am thinking that, the gym doors swing open and Daisy sails in. My heart sinks
when I see that she is wearing extremely short shorts.
Daisy looks from the back wall, where her classmates are lined up, to me and the
other members of the Student Life Committee, then over to the wall again. I can tell
she has figured out what is going on. For a second, I wonder if maybe she will try
to leave the gym.
Can’t she go hide out in the bathroom until the inspection is over?
But Daisy does not make a run for it. Instead, she gives me this giant smile that
makes my knees wobble. Then she walks over to the back wall and stands by Rowena.
I try looking down at the gym floor, but my eyes are refusing to take orders from
my brain—because next thing I know, I am sneaking a peek at Daisy’s legs, which are
still slightly tanned from summer. I swear, if I was a painter, I’d paint them.
Next to Rowena’s shorts, Daisy’s look even shorter.
“Eric.” It’s Vicky. I get the feeling she has already called my name, but I might
have been, well, distracted. “Eric.” Vicky sounds annoyed. “Let’s get this over with.
Now.” She lifts her chin toward the back of the gym.
