Queen of the Toilet Bowl (6 page)

“You might be right,” said Liz. “But we can't let Karin get away with this.”

“Look,” I said, my head clearing for the first time that day. “Karin wants me to drop out of the show. I know that. If I don't, no matter how embarrassing the pictures are, she won't win. Right?”

“Right,” said Liz. “So what you have to do is play it cool. Make believe you know nothing about the pictures.”

“Or even ... even... tell people you know someone took a nasty picture of your mom. Tell everyone she's a cleaning lady and someone made fun of her and is spreading it around the school.”

“Yes!” said Liz, her face lighting up. “You don't even have to accuse Karin. Make what she did the terrible thing. You didn't do anything after all. Someone did something awful to you.”

“But how do I do it?” I asked. “The principal is useless.”

“But Ms. Watson is not. She plays things straight, and she knows what's going on at school. Also she's good friends with the vice principal.”

“Let's talk to her after rehearsal,” I said.

“You're on.”

Somehow I got through the rest of the day. Knowing I had a plan helped. Knowing Liz was on my side helped. And knowing I hadn't done anything wrong helped even more.

At rehearsal I saw Karin looking at me, nudging her friends and raising her eyebrows. I ignored her as if she was a flea.

I sang. I spoke my lines. I got through the rehearsal. It took all my energy, but I got through it. And then Liz and I waited for everyone to leave so we could speak to Ms. Watson.

She'd already heard about the pictures.

“Renata, I have to tell you how shocked
and disgusted I am that someone would try to hurt you so much,” she said. “Do you know who did this?”

“I have an idea but no proof,” I said. “I can't let that picture hurt my family or me. My mother is a good person. ”

“She's great,” said Liz. “Pretty and smart and she bakes amazing cookies.”

Ms. Watson laughed. “I'm looking forward to meeting her. I think we should make sure she isn't embarrassed at the show. Perhaps the staff should say something publicly about the picture. Would that make you feel more comfortable?”

“I'd like to say something too,” I said.

“On stage?” Ms. Watson asked.

“Are you sure you want to?” asked Liz.

“I'm sure,” I said.

“I think it's a terrific idea,” said Ms. Watson. “It will put this whole thing out in public. You don't have to point a finger at anyone, just talk about what they did. Make the cruelty the shameful thing, not the picture. My guess is the perpetrator will not feel comfortable hearing
you speak in public. And I bet you'll get a lot more kids supporting you than you think. It's not going to be easy, Renata. It's harder than standing up and acting in a show.”

“I know,” I said. “I'll do it.”

“I'll speak to the vice principal and we'll see if we can call an assembly for tomorrow.”

“Renata Nunes, please come to the office,” said Ms. Bartlett during my first class the next morning.

A few kids looked up and gave me a “Boy are you in trouble” look as I left class.

I walked down the empty hall to the office. Was Ms. Watson able to arrange an assembly? Would the principal allow me to speak?

“Come in Renata,” said Ms. Long, the vice principal. I'd never spoken to Ms. Long before, and I'd never noticed how tall she was before either. She was much taller than Mr. Bowman, who was nowhere to be seen.

“Mr. Bowman is out at a two-day conference,” said Ms. Long. “I spoke to him briefly about the matter after Ms. Watson informed me of the situation. Mr. Bowman suggested I proceed as I see fit. So that's what I'm doing. I think Ms. Watson is correct. We need to address this horrible internet bullying. It's totally unacceptable.”

“I know,” I said, relieved Mr. Bowman was away and didn't care what the vice principal did.

“I'll call a short assembly this afternoon to address the issue. And if you are comfortable, I'd be happy to let you speak. But are you sure you want to get up on stage, Renata? It won't be easy.”

“I want to,” I said. “I just don't know what to say.”

“Say what happened. Say what you feel. Your words will have more impact than anything I can say. Ms. Watson thinks the world of you, and she knows you can handle this.”

Despite the shiver that was ripping through me like an electric shock, I smiled.

Thank you, Ms. Watson I thought, thank you.

“So we're on for two P M ,” said Ms. Long. “I'll speak first, then Ms. Watson and then you. Never forget that what you're doing takes courage, and what was done to you is the work of a coward and a bully.”

For the rest of the morning, I kept rehearsing my words. For the rest of the morning, my knees shook like Jell-o Pops.

“I don't know if I can do this,” I confided to Liz at lunch.

“Oh, Renata,” said Liz. “You're being so brave. You're amazing. Remember I'll be in the audience cheering you on, and
the vice principal and Ms. Watson are right behind you too.”

“There will be a short assembly at two o'clock,” an announcement suddenly boomed through the lunchroom.

“Another boring assembly,” groaned three girls at a near-by table.

At ten to two, my class walked down to the auditorium. As we'd agreed, I walked over to Ms. Watson at the front and together we climbed the stairs to the stage.

The vice principal was already there, standing in the center of the stage.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Liz in the fourth row beside Cheryl. Liz gave me a quick thumbs-up.

Two rows behind her I saw Karin. She was staring at me. Did she sense what I was about to say? Was she scared? Did she care? I couldn't tell from her face. It was hard and unsmiling.

And what of the other kids? Would they hate me? Make fun of me? It was too late to change my mind now. I was up on stage.

Ms. Long was speaking. She made a statement denouncing the use of the internet to humiliate people. She said that she was outraged that a demeaning picture of a student and her mother had been posted on the internet. “This will not be tolerated in any way,” she said. And then Ms. Watson spoke. She spoke slowly and clearly in her powerful voice. She didn't need a mike to be heard across the auditorium.

“The perpetrator of this act is a coward and a bully,” she said. “We must all speak up when we see people hurting others. Bullying is cruel, even when it's not physical. Bullies must be stopped.” And then Ms. Watson said, “Renata Nunes would like to address you now.”

I walked to the microphone. I swallowed hard and then I spoke. The auditorium hushed to silence with my first words.

“My mother is a cleaning lady,” I said. “She is a good, hard-working, kind person. I hope she never sees the picture
of her that is posted on the internet or reads the words someone wrote to embarrass her and me. Whoever did this has no heart. No soul. No kindness. I am from Brazil, a beautiful country. I am proud of my mother. I am proud of who I am and where I'm from. That's all I have to say.”

For the longest minute, there wasn't a sound in the auditorium. Then from the fourth row, where Cheryl and Liz sat, the applause began. It rippled, then grew and grew, and soon everyone was clapping.

The vice principal said, “Renata has shown great courage to stand before you today. If any of the staff discovers who did this, there will be dire consequences for that person. I hope never to have to deal with this kind of incident again. You may return to class.”

“Renata, you were awesome,” said Liz as we walked to our last class of the day.

“Boy am I lucky Mr. Bowman was away,” I said. “I wonder what Karin will do now.”

“I snuck a peek at her while you were speaking. She looked like she had turned into a bar of ice. I wonder how many kids know she did it.”

“I wonder,” I said. “But you know what? No matter what Karin does now, it doesn't matter. I spoke up. It's out there. I'm out there. No hiding.”

“Well, after Friday, you won't be able to hide. You'll be a star!” said Liz.

After the assembly a few kids told me they thought it was great that I spoke up. Some kids said nothing, but I felt like something had changed. I felt like a load of rocks had been lifted off my back. I didn't want to hide any more.

Karin was absent for the next few days. Darleen said she had a bad cold, but Liz and I wondered if that was true. We wondered if Karin would even show up for
the show. Ms. Watson suggested that Liz prepare for Karin's part, just in case.

Then it was the night of the show. By five o'clock, the whole cast was zipping around backstage, looking for clothes, rehearsing lines, popping buttons and calling for Ms. Watson's help. Ms. Watson zoomed around fixing broken zippers, finding lost clothes and helping calm nerves.

Everyone was there, except for Karin.

Liz was sure Karin wouldn't show up for the play. “She'll never come. She'll get her mom to call in with some excuse and then I'll have to do her part and fake the singing.”

Liz, who was usually the coolest person I knew, who was never fazed by anything, looked like she'd been shot with an arrow.

“You'll manage. Don't worry. We'll all help you get through it,” I told her.

“Easy for you to say. You sing like an angel. I sing like a frog. No, worse than a frog.”

“Maybe you should get into the nun's costume,” said Ms. Watson as she handed Liz Karin's outfit. But just as Liz was sliding into the long black skirt, Karin walked in.

“I was just about to call your house,” said Ms. Watson. “I was afraid you wouldn't make it for the show. It's late.”

“I wasn't feeling well,” said Karin.

“Are you well enough now to go on?” asked Ms. Watson.

“Yes,” said Karin.

“Then hurry into your costume. You don't have much time.”

Liz almost leaped out of the costume and popped it into Karin's hand.

For a second, Karin and I looked at each other and then Karin hurried to the dressing room.

“I hear people,” said Liz. “The audience is arriving.”

Suddenly the dressing room was filled with panicked cries.

“Ohmygod.”

“I'm not ready.”

“What if I forget my lines?”

“My zipper is jammed.”

“I hate my hair.”

“You're all going to be fine,” said Ms. Watson. “Everybody take a deep breath and remember we've rehearsed this. You know your lines. You're ready. Five minutes to show time.”

Liz gave me a hug. “You are going to be the best Maria ever,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Break a leg,” said Liz and she began to giggle.

“Thanks,” I said laughing.

The music began. As I straightened my nun's habit, I saw my left shoelace was untied. I bent over to retie it.

When I stood up, Karin was standing beside me.

For an instant we looked at each other.

I smiled. “Break a leg,” I told her.

“You too,” said Karin, and she smiled back.

Then the curtain rose.

From that moment on everything was a dream. I sang, I remembered my lines. I saw my mom's face glowing like a candle in church.

But the best part was when, without saying a word, the whole cast joined hands like we were one family. Then we bowed together as the audience stood up and cheered.

Frieda Wishinsky
is the author of many popular books for children, including
A Bee in Your Ear
,
A Noodle Up Your Nose
,
Just Call Me Joe
and
Each One Special
. Frieda lives with her family in Toronto, Ontario.

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