Girls in Charge (14 page)

“Jemma! Come in with us,” Forrest called to me from near the front of the line.

Bet arched her eyebrow and said she was going to shoot some video of the festivities. Before I could argue, she was gone.

“Do you care if I cut ahead?” I asked a group behind him, which included Clem Caritas.

Everyone said no and Clem said nothing. Typical Clem. I slid into line with Forrest.

“How's your mom?” Forrest asked.

Everyone had seen her at graduation. I mean, the woman could not be missed.

“She's okay. One more day until the due date.”

“I had a really good time in New York,” Forrest said. “It was beast.”

“Beast. Yes, it was. I never said, but I liked your pink tie.”

Forrest smiled. Luke Zubin came up behind us and put an arm around each of us.

“When are you two kids just going to get together already?”

“Luke!” I said, annoyed. I flicked his arm off my shoulder.

“Zubin, dude. Get a hold of yourself,” Forrest said, but stayed in Luke's embrace.

“All I'm saying is it's like the last day of eighth grade. It's now or never, unless you're going to Charter like smarty-pants McCann here,” Luke said.

“You're going to Charter, too, Luke,” Forrest said.

“Okay, that's technically true,” he said.

“Where are you going to high school, Jemma?” Luke asked me.

“Charter. Kate and I both got in,” I said.

I watched Forrest's expression change. He looked surprised, but in a good way.

“There you go, then,” Luke said. “It was meant to be. Tell her about the flower, Forrest.” Before I could say, “What flower?” Luke left in the direction of the ice cream sundae bar.

“Zubin is such a bonehead,” Forrest said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I'm glad, though, that you're going to Charter,” Forrest said.

“It's a really good school,” I said.

“I mean I'm glad you're going to be there, too,” Forrest said.

“What did he mean about the flower? What flower?” I asked.

Forrest looked to the sky like he was trying to figure out what to say.

“He means the carnation sale. I … um … sent you a pink carnation.”

“You sent it?”

“Well, you got more than one, I figured it would just blend in,” Forrest said.

“It did not blend. It was the only pink one. And it had no note.”

“Yeah, I didn't know what to say.”

“Big shock,” I said. “You once told me you didn't know how you felt.”

“And you didn't like that answer.”

“No.”

“I don't always not know,” Forrest said.

“Whatever that means,” I said, half wanting to change the subject. “This line is taking forever.”

I looked away because the intensity was starting to make my palms sweat. My phone vibrated in my skirt pocket, but I ignored it. I looked at Forrest and, for the first time, I believed he might actually like me. But to go any further felt like jumping off a ledge into the deep end. I swallowed hard.

“Say it,” I said.

“Say what?” he said.

“If you like me or not.”

My heart was beating really hard. My palms were slick and my phone would not stop shaking like a Chihuahua in my pocket.

“I like you, Jemma.”

I took a deep breath through my nose and nodded my head. Why was I nodding? Because I agreed, or was I saying I liked him, too?

“It's our turn,” Forrest said.

For a moment, I thought he was being romantic.
Finally, it's our turn!
But it actually was
our turn
. For the moon bounce. Mr. Ford was holding the flap on the moon bounce door for us.

You might think: What bad timing! But really, a moon bounce was just the right place for me to burn off the nervous energy that had accumulated in me over the last ten minutes. I bounced over to Piper and simply screamed. She screamed back, having no idea that my scream had a reason. I caught a glimpse of Bet, who was filming us from the other side of the moon bounce netting. She winked at me. I kept an eye on Forrest, who was turning some impressive flips and hockey-checking his friends against the moon bounce walls. Then Mr. Ford blew his whistle and our turn was up.

I went looking for my shoes and wondered if Forrest would just drift off, like the last fifteen minutes had been a dream. But as I slipped on my ballet flats, he appeared beside me. People were swirling around us, finding their shoes, taking shoes off, snapping photos, heading to and from the dance floor. Forrest looked down at the ground and took my hand. When I looked down at my hand's new location, he stepped a foot closer and kissed me. It was soft and quick, almost secretive. My feet felt frozen in place. I just stood and looked at him.

Why did he like me now? How long would it last? I wanted to know what had changed. And I didn't want to be hurt if he ever stopped liking me. But I knew in my bones that I would not get answers to my questions. Why? Because people were complicated and you couldn't really know what was going on inside someone's heart. You were lucky enough to understand your own.

Brrrttt! Brrrttt!

My phone! I had been ignoring it basically forever. I looked at the screen and saw it was my dad.

“Jemma? Finally. Your mom is in labor and we're at the hospital. She's fine, but you'll need to get a ride home.”

“What? You mean it's happening tonight?”

“Yes, probably. But sometimes these things take a while. Mrs. Pinsky can take you home,” he said.

“She's okay? Mom is, right?”

“Of course—this isn't her first time doing this, you know,” Dad said.

“Tell her I love her,” I said.

“You've got it,” Dad said excitedly.

I ended the call and was closer to crying than I wanted to be.

“Is everything okay?” Forrest asked, still holding my hand.

“No … yes … I think. My mom is having the baby. The babies!”

“Do you have to go?” he asked.

“I think I do.”

I reached out and hugged him.

“Let me know, as soon as you know,” he said.

“Done,” I said.

I spun around, a woman with a plan. Why should I just hang here like nothing was happening? I should
be there
. This was big—was it not? I found Bet and Kate, and finally, Piper. Mrs. Pinsky agreed to pick us up, but she was reluctant to let all of us go to the hospital.

“You're going to have to ask the front desk nurse if it's okay that you're all there. It's a hospital, for goodness' sakes,” she said.

We said our quick good-byes to the rest of our friends. Piper stopped briefly, like a celebrity, to sign someone's yearbook before dashing off to her mom's car.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Mrs. Pinsky asked. “I'm sure your mother doesn't want an audience.”

“We're not going into the delivery room,” I said. “We can play cards or something.”

The thought of watching a baby being born filled me with fear, actually. Childbirth was thrilling, mysterious, and terrifying. How did something so miraculous happen every single day everywhere on the planet?

The wide glass hospital doors slid open and we got directions to the maternity wing. A soothing peach waiting room, nearly empty, awaited us. I told the nurse I wanted to see my dad and, in a few moments, he appeared.

“Jemma, what are you doing here? What are you all doing here?”

“I wanted to come. And I'm old enough. We can just wait together, right?”

“Well, okay. Things are moving right along actually,” he said. “Do you want to come in and see your mom?”

“I can do that?”

“Of course, she's in a nice, private room.”

My dad and I walked down a corridor past rooms where little plastic cribs sat next to each hospital bed. Balloons and flowers announced whether it was a girl or boy. I heard a few baby cries, but they weren't that loud. I started to wonder if maybe babies didn't start to cry in that loud, wake-you-up way until they were a little older. Mom's room was cozy despite all the bleeping and blipping medical monitoring equipment. She looked OK to me.

“Hi, Mom.”

“How are you, cupcake? How was the dance?”

“It was good. Really good. But I'm glad I'm here now.”

“Me, too. Do you want to stay?”

“You mean stay,
stay
? As in be here when the babies are born?”

“Shouldn't we have talked about that before?” Dad interrupted. “This is kind of sudden for her.”

“I just thought of it now,” Mom said. “But only if you want to.”

I did and I didn't, but I did. I raced out to the waiting room to tell my BFFs. Then I raced back into the delivery room, where the doctors and nurses were focused, like laser beams, on the babies. How were their hearts beating? What position were they in? I did not like seeing my mother in any kind of pain, but she told me she could do it. She worked extremely hard—like someone running a marathon—and we couldn't do much to help, except be cheerleaders. Dad and I held her hands. We made jokes and I prayed feverishly that everyone would be OK. Then, gloriously, the babies emerged from the watery inside world to the airy world out here with us.

“It's a girl,” the smiling doctor said.

An umbilical cord was cut and I heard a sweet cry. I wanted so much to hold her right then, but she needed to be checked out and weighed first.

“It's … another girl,” the still-smiling doctor said.

Another cord was cut. Another cry was heard. Mom was OK. I cried tears of happiness and I think Dad cried a little, too.

“How long until we can see them?” I asked my dad.

“You can see them right now,” a nurse said.

She handed one blanketed baby to me and another to my dad.

“Stand by your mom and smile,” said a nurse holding a camera. “Cheese!”

A flash went off and the printer started printing our first family portrait.

“Is everyone good?” Mom asked.

“They're perfect,” said the doctor. “Congratulations.”

“Jemma, sit on the edge of the bed there with your mom so I can take another picture,” Dad said.

I sat down carefully with one sister in my arms. He handed me one more. I smiled down at them. I had held little babies before, but not this new. They were red-faced and warm as toast, two little pink-blanket burritos. In a minute, I would rush out to the waiting room and share the news with Kate, Piper, and Bet. And I had promised to text Forrest. But I didn't want to let them go, or let go of this moment, just yet.

Now that we knew they were not boys, I could admit that I was hoping for sisters all along. My parents had kept the names totally top-secret, even from me, for fear that someone wouldn't like one of the choices. But I loved the names they chose. I fast-forwarded the memories I wanted to share with my baby sisters: first steps and playgrounds, Christmas mornings and first days of school.

Years from now, I would tell them about the Pink Locker Society, too. When they are in middle school, I'll be twenty-four—amazingly old. Because they're my sisters, they could be legacy members, a gift handed down through time. But I was getting ahead of myself. And I knew I should be going. My friends had been waiting forever for my wonderful news. I kissed the top of each tiny head and silently welcomed them, Ivy and Rose, the newest links in our pink chain.

 

Ask the PLS

How do we answer over 30,000 questions?

That's how many questions have been sent in to the Pink Locker Society Web site. But here's the good news: Girls often have the same or very similar questions. Here are some of the most popular ones.

What are the signs I will get my period soon?

Certain signs give you a hint that your first period will arrive soon. But these signs aren't the kind of thing that will let you predict the exact day and time. Use them as guidelines.

A first period usually happens:

• between ages ten and fifteen

• about two to two and a half years after a girl begins developing breasts

• after about six months of getting vaginal discharge, a thick, white mucus (most girls notice it in their underwear)

If you're concerned that your first period will surprise you, be prepared and carry a couple of pads with you. Lots of girls stash them in a pencil case in their backpacks, just in case.

I need a bigger bra, but I'm afraid to tell my mom. What do I do?

Breasts grow gradually, so it's totally normal to grow out of your bra. Girls seem to stress a little over asking their moms to go bra shopping. Why? Probably because they are a little uncomfortable talking to their moms about personal, puberty stuff.

So we understand it's a little awkward, but usually not as bad as wearing a too-tight bra. Pick a time when you're alone with your mom and just ask plainly, “Mom, my bra is tight. Can we look for a new one?” Some girls find it's easier to ask when you're at a store and you are walking near the bra department. Before you know it, you'll be in a new, more comfortable, and supportive bra.

How do I know if a boy likes me?

Sigh. I wish we had the answer to this one. It turns out the answer is lots of different answers. That's according to all the girls who offered their advice on the Pink Locker Society blog. Here are some of them:

• He looks at you a lot

• He won't look at you

• He smiles at you

• He tries to make you laugh

• He is mean to you

• He blushes when he talks to you

• He talks to you

• He won't talk to you

Are you confused? We are, too!

I'm jealous of my friend who's prettier/smarter/more popular than me. How can I compete with her?

We've all been there. You have this friend who's funny and wonderful and beautiful. It's just that sometimes her wonderfulness makes you feel less so. She's the life of the party and everyone wants to sit next to her at lunch. What can you do?