When I got to the end of the school driveway and hit the “real” world, I wondered if I should go: A) Home? B) To my mum’s office? C) To Sarah’s house? Or D) To the coffee shop on the corner. By myself.

That thought made me taller still. If this kept up I’d be as tall as Sarah by dinnertime. I grinned, picturing myself sliding l-o-n-g legs into one of the restaurant booths. I’d order fries and a Coke, or maybe a piece of pie and a cup o’ tea. I’d take my books out and do some studying or maybe I’d read.

Girl alone. On her own. Mysterious. Independent. I smiled harder, walking along, picturing it.

Girl alone, protesting the mistreatment of her friend. A boycott of one (as Ms. Divan had dubbed it). I liked the sound of that. But she was right that a one-girl demonstration wouldn’t WOW anybody. I’d have to call in some troops, right?

The first person I thought of was Rob. Secretly, he’s often the first person I think of. But THIS time it made perfect sense. I’m sure he’d want to help.

A car slowed down and the driver leaned over to peer out the window toward me. I thought he was lost, so I went closer to the curb to offer directions. But then his window went down and he said, “Hey, baby,” in a low, slow voice that chilled my blood.

I jumped back onto the sidewalk, picked up my pace, and stared straight ahead. The car moved on, but I didn’t slow down until I’d reached Sarah’s door.

Boy, was she surprised to see me. So surprised that she threw her arms around me and gave me a hug! That was a first. And guess what she did next? Something else I’d NEVER seen Sarah do before. She cried. Not great snorting floods of tears, but enough to make my shoulder wet.

Then, when I told her that I’d left school in protest, and hoofed it to her place all alone on my own two feet, she stood speechless. Sarah at a loss for words? Talk about FIRSTS!

Rob

Katie called. She’s really something else. She’s doing something about the Sarah thing. I promised to help. We talked easily, like we used to. Had forgotten her catchy laugh. Like being tickled when you’re little…Can’t help yourself, just crack right up.

I call all the guys on the team. Doesn’t feel like enough. So get the school directory. Call down the alphabet. More like it.

Call one kid, Jake Broder, who freaks. “Who told you to call me?”

“Relax, Bud,” I say. “I’m calling everyone. I’m on the B’s.”