Upstander by James Preller (free ereaders .TXT) 📕

talk to Chantel. To tell her the truth. Chantel was standing off to the side of the schoolyard, leaning against the building with a small group of friends.

“Chantel,” Mary said softly.

One girl, Beatrice Rosario, stepped up in front of Mary, blocking her path. But Mary set her shoulders. She didn’t budge. “Please,” she said.

Beatrice looked back at Chantel, who nodded sharply.

Mary came forward. “I’m so sorry.” She reached out a hand to touch Chantel on the arm, to connect, but Chantel pulled away. “Chrissie and Alexis—” Mary began, sputtering to explain, “No, I mean, me—I haven’t been a good friend to you. I was silent when it mattered most—I didn’t stand up—and I am so sad and so sorry.”

Chantel listened, arms crossed, slouching against the brick wall, never looking Mary in the eye. After a while, Chantel’s breathing became more regular, her emotions under control. She nodded once or twice. Scratched her arms. Finally, Chantel raised her chin and stood tall. “You hurt me very much, more than you’ll ever realize—”

“Yes, I know, and I’m so sorry,” Mary said. “But—”

“No, you don’t get to talk,” Chantel cut her off. “It’s my turn to talk. You can listen, or not listen. I honestly don’t care.”

Chantel looked away, her head shaking. She lifted up a hand, made a waving gesture as if swatting away a fly. “Just … just … go. I’ve heard your words, Mary. But that’s all they were. Just words. You’re sorry. Okay, maybe you are. Good for you. Now go, leave me alone.”

Mary hesitated.

Chantel turned away.

“You heard her,” Beatrice piped up. “Go.”

Mary looked at Beatrice. Nodded in defeat. This wasn’t how she’d hoped her apology would play out.

“Wait,” Chantel called. “Tell me why. Do you know? Why did they do this?”

Mary looked up. To the right, over the crown of trees, a mass of white cumulus clouds hovered, rimmed with sunlight. She imagined painting it, all the colors she’d need. Not just blue and white, but gray and silver, green, even yellow and pink. It would be nice to make something beautiful for a change. Four black crows landed in the open field, close to the tree line. The scavengers picked at something—a gray, dead squirrel. They pecked and ripped and hopped away, gulped and swallowed and butted in for another bite.

“Hakeem,” Mary finally said. “I think it started with Hakeem.”

“Hakeem?” Chantel repeated. “A boy? Those girls did this to me, all over some boy?”

A guttural sound came from Chantel’s throat. A laugh, a screech of fury and astonishment. Mary knew she would hear that cry echoing in her ears for a long time to come.

“Time’s up, buttercup,” Beatrice said, leaning close and whispering in Mary’s ear. “Now vanish.”

Mary wished she could. Instead, she walked toward the doors. Still had half a day to go. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Eric standing alone. He wore a puzzled expression on his face, which was typical of him. He was always trying to decipher meaning from the complex code of middle school behavior. She saw that he was watching a conversation between an unlikely pair, David Hallenback and Griffin Connelly, walking and talking close together, thick as thieves.

33[rumor]

Somehow Mary got through the rest of the school day, a crippled ship drifting through rocky straits. The final bell blared, and they were released to the buses and bike racks, the sidewalks and coffee shops. The halls resounded with the metallic-gunshot clang of slammed lockers. Students raced off to the next thing. Sports practice, cheerleading, play rehearsals, band, chess club, LGBTQ meetings, the town library, a friend’s house, the skateboard park, the shimmering universe inside their phones—a hundred urgent places to be.

Mary felt listless, lacking in all energy. She walked absently toward the bike racks, forgetting that she had abandoned hers two weeks ago. Never a fan of the bus, she started to walk home. Out the doors, down the wheelchair ramp. In front of her, two girls chattered. Mary heard Azra talking about some dumb thing the boys were doing. A fight of some kind. Azra was telling Jamilah, a ringlet-haired girl with thick red glasses, and said, “Cody said he’s going to teach that new kid a lesson.”

Mary squeezed Azra by the elbow and guided her out of the path of departing students. “What new kid?”

Azra blinked her startled dark eyes, looked to Jamilah. “It’s nothing,” she replied, pulling her arm free.

“Please, Azra,” Mary said. “I heard you. What new kid are you talking about?”

“The nice one, Eric Hayes. He’s in our English class,” Azra answered. “Cody said he’s going to get him today.”

“Today? When? Tell me what you heard,” Mary insisted.

Azra nervously brushed hair from her face. “I don’t know anything, just that Cody and some guys are out to get Eric. Something about an ambush.”

“An ambush?”

Azra frowned. The sidewalk was thinning.

“We have to go, my father’s waiting,” Jamilah said, looking toward the cars that idled on the curbside.

“You don’t know where or when?”

“Mary, that’s all I know. But I think it was supposed to happen, like, now. After school,” Azra said.

Mary knew she’d have to scramble to find Eric. Or Griffin. Anybody who might know something. She raced through the empty halls, footsteps echoing. Near the gym, she saw a boy reaching for the handle of the locker room door. “Hey,” she called out, slightly winded, “are the guys from the football team in there?”

The boy, a broad-shouldered, dirty-lipped eighth grader who was attempting his first mustache, gave her a funny look. “That’s right,” he answered.

“Can you please see if Hakeem Downing is in there? I need to talk to him. I really appreciate it,” she said.

“You his girlfriend?”

“Please, it’s super important.”

Hakeem came out two minutes later, dressed in black socks, white football pants, and a burgundy jersey, the number 56 stitched to his chest. He adjusted his shoulder pads. “You wanted me?”

Mary asked if he knew about the fight. Hakeem looked up and down the halls. “What I heard is that Eric called