Operation Frog Effect Read online

  SHARON

  I work alone.

  Mostly.

  Sure, I sit in a table group.

  Sure, we talk.

  But they all think I’m weird.

  It’s okay.

  I am weird.

  I don’t have three eyes

  Or purple polka dots,

  But there’s something about me

  That’s different.

  And sometimes,

  Different means strange.

  Mom says it’s because I don’t care

  About what other people think.

  But she’s wrong.

  I do care about what people think.

  I find it fascinating.

  But I don’t care to change ME in order to make them like me.

  KAYLEY

  Dear Ms. Graham,

  Emily’s going to write you a letter, asking you to switch her group. No offense to Emily, but we don’t want to be in her group.

  Emily will need to find new friends before middle school, since Aviva and I are both going to La Ventana Prep next year. She’s way too dependent on us. If we keep hanging out with her, she’ll never branch out. It’s for her own good.

  There’s no way Emily’s mom could afford to send her to La Ventana. Emily’s smart enough—but they only give full scholarships to geniuses. Poor Emily—her dad took off to explore faraway places like Lebanon and Armenia, and her mom paints for a living (for real) and practically makes no money. Sucks to be Emily.

  PS No offense, Ms. Graham. But it’s kind of a waste of time for us to be researching types of frogs. A frog is a frog is a frog! Who cares what kind it is? It’s gross no matter what!

  EMILY

  Status:

  Dear Hope,

  Ms. Graham called me up to her desk to talk today. I got that “oh no I’m in trouble” feeling. My throat tightened up right away. I couldn’t meet her eyes, so I stared at her dangly earrings.

  She thanked me for my letter but said it was important to keep the seats consistent. Right away I felt tears pushing at the bridge of my nose. I hadn’t cried in school since third grade, and I sure didn’t want to break my record. Ms. Graham started to say something else, but I just needed to get out of there because those tears were about to burst free.

  After lunch, I found this note on my desk.

  Dear Emily,

  We spoke briefly today, but I wanted to add a few thoughts. Please know that I admire it when students stand up for themselves. I understand your reasons for wanting to switch groups. However, let’s give our seating arrangement a chance. If you’re still concerned about this issue in a few months, we can always take it to a class vote. Let’s wait until after Thanksgiving and see how you feel then.

  In life, the most challenging experiences are also the most rewarding. I encourage you to stick it out. Spread your wings and try something different. This is how we grow.

  I want to tell you that your letter sparked an idea. Mailboxes! We’ll all make mailboxes for our desks, myself included, and send each other letters throughout this year.

  Thanks for helping me “think outside the box.”

  Sincerely,

  Ms. Graham

  PS Talk to Sharon. She has lots to say.

  I wanted to rip her letter into shreds. Doesn’t she know she’s RUINING my life?

  —Emily

  HENRY

  SCENE: Students mill about the room and work on a babyish project—making mailboxes out of wrapping-paper-covered shoe boxes.

  KAI: Can I swap with someone? The only wrapping paper we had at home has floating babies and rattles.

  HENRY: I have silver. You want silver?

  KAI: Thank you. You saved my life.

  HENRY: My powers surprise even me.

  AVIVA: Did you see that Ms. Graham is wrapping her box in froggie-covered wrapping paper? I wonder if she had that at home or if she bought it just for this.

  KAYLEY: Who cares? Wrapping paper and letter writing are both killing trees. It’s entirely ungreen and global-warming-ish.

  HENRY: That’s not a word.

  KAYLEY: You knew what I meant.

  BLAKE: This is a trick to make us write more.

  HENRY: (all theatrical) Curses! The scoundrel’s trying to force us to learn! I’m onto her sneaky plan!

  AVIVA: (softly) It is kinda fun, though. It might be fun to write letters too.

  HENRY: No way! You sounded like Minnie Mouse just then.

  AVIVA: (turns red)

  HENRY: Maybe you should do voice-over work in cartoons. I have an auntie who does that. She’s got a high-pitched voice too.

  AVIVA: Uh. O-kay.

  KAYLEY: Is everything a joke to you?

  HENRY: Yep. Pretty much. Haven’t we been over this before? It’s called wit.

  KAYLEY: Yeah, maybe dimwit.

  BLAKE: I think you’re funny.

  HENRY: See? Someone who appreciates my humor.

  CECILIA

  Hola Abuelita,

  Today I put stickers all over my journal and added some to my mailbox. I don’t want anyone to mistake my journal for theirs. I’m sharing my heart with you, Abuelita, but I don’t want anyone from my class reading my private thoughts. Ms. Graham promises she’s not reading our journals either. Don’t worry, I remember what you said—I know to be careful about sharing our situation.

  Ms. Graham is funny. She puts all these sticky notes around her desk to remind her to do things. Some of them are practical, like “Pick up dog food after work” or “Prep for Tuesday’s lesson.” Those practical sticky notes disappear (and then new ones appear) each day. But she also has silly sticky notes that just stay stuck day after day. Like “Breathe” or “Be. Here. Now.” or “Being in the now.” What do you think, Abuelita? If she can’t remember to breathe, she might have a bigger problem than a hungry dog.

  If I wrote myself a silly reminder sticky note like Ms. Graham’s, it would be “Relax.” No one needs to remind me to breathe. I’ve got that one down.

  Guess what? I’m starting to like Kermit! Remember how I used to get all creeped out by lizards? Kermit’s a whole different story. I stop by his habitat/tank every morning and say, “Hola ranita.” I swear he stares right at me and says, “Croá, croá.” Looks like I’ve got a new friend, Abuelita.

  WORDS TO PRACTICE

  stickers = calcomanías

  Besos y abrazos,

  Cecilia

  BLAKE

  SHARON

  I slipped a note

  In Blake Benson’s mailbox.

  All it said was

  “Have a Nice Day!”

  Because he doesn’t fit in either.

  He tries to, but it’s like he’s mixed up

  Being cool with being bad

  And thinks one equals the other.

  Blake feeds the frog fresh

  Crunchy crickets and

  Hangs out by the habitat.

  Maybe he’s watching, worried

  Kermit won’t recover from HER* injuries.

  Or maybe it’s just another way Blake

  Can avoid the mean kids.

  He cares that he doesn’t fit,

  I see it in the way

  His shoulders hunch and his mouth curves down.

  He notices the way

  The others scramble and scootch

  To the middle of the lunch benches

  So that there is no room for him.

  I invite him over to my table in the corner,

  But it doesn’t make his shoulders straighten out.

  It’s easier to be like me…

  And not care.

  *(Why does everyone assume that
the frog is a boy?)

  AVIVA

  Date: September 12

  Every time I see Emily, my stomach hurts.

  This morning she put a note in my mailbox.

  Aviva,

  What’s going on?

  Please talk to me. Maybe we can walk to school together tomorrow?

  Your bestie since second grade,

  Emily

  That last line made my throat prickle. Emily and I have been best friends ever since I rescued her. Two weeks after Ima stopped homeschooling me, she enrolled me in second grade. All the kids knew each other already, and everyone had paired up. Emily and I were seat buddies, but I don’t think we said more than ten words to each other until I lied for her.

  Cranky Ms. McFarley never let us use the bathroom after recess. This was supposed to teach us to use-our-time-wisely and be-responsible-enough to go potty instead of play handball all recess long. Really this taught us to hold our pee longer.

  One time Emily couldn’t hold it…and she wound up peeing a big old puddle in her chair. I told everyone I’d spilled my water bottle and she’d sat in it. When Emily came back to class with fresh loaner shorts from the nurse’s office, she shot me this grateful look, and we became instant best friends. Suddenly school was fantasterrific.

  We got even closer when her parents divorced, because Emily wanted to sleep over a lot. My parents prefer to host the sleepovers, because “overprotective” is their middle name, so having Emily over was a win-win.

  Kayley’s our third—even though she and Emily hung out before I came along. Kayley’s the kind of friend you have to be careful not to make mad. Sometimes she can be mean.

  Only now, everything is changing and I don’t know how to stop it. I need to stay on Kayley’s good side because we’ll be together next year. I don’t want to have to sit alone at lunch. The chance that I’ll rescue another friend from a puddle of pee…is low.

  I can’t walk with Emily because Kayley will get mad and Emily will ask me questions I don’t know how to answer. I can just imagine her saying, “You know how Kayley is. Why’re you letting her make all the decisions? Don’t you have your own opinion?” And I’d be all…“(silence).” Because what can I say to that? Of course I have opinions. I have tons of them. But having them doesn’t mean I can share them, or stand up to Kayley about them.

  I slipped a note in Emily’s box right before lunch.

  Dear Emily,

  I’m getting a ride tomorrow. We’ll talk soon.

  Aviva

  Truth—I’m not getting a ride tomorrow, but I can walk a different way to school. That way I won’t run into Emily. Sometimes life is so complicated.

  BLAKE

  KAYLEY

  Dear Ms. Graham,

  Not to be a Tattletale, but do you know that Blake is only drawing in his journal? Every day? How does he get away with that? Don’t you notice when you walk around? Just because he goes to Resource Class for English doesn’t mean you should let him slack off.

  And can you please give Sharon a quota for comments? That girl needs to zip it! Teachers always think she’s brilliant, but the truth is that she reads history books for fun. Who does that?

  No offense, but has anyone explained to you the purpose of sticky notes? They’re to remind you do to things. You’ve got at least twelve on your desk right now. That’s like reminder overload. I’m not sure it’s helpful. And do you really need a note to remind you to “Laugh Often”? Puh-leeze.

  Last thing: Don’t you think it’s unsanitary to have students bringing in bugs for Kermit to eat? I know you’ve got that antibacterial hand wash, but still. Gross.

  PS I will tell Emily that Aviva’s going to La Ventana soon. Awkward.

  HENRY

  SCENE: Table group work. Students discuss class job options, including the class council election coming up on Friday. Happy, wasting-class-time buzz fills the room.

  HENRY: I’m voting for Kermit. He’ll bring class council to a whole new level.

  KAYLEY: You bring “annoying” to a whole new level.

  HENRY: What? Kermit is the perfect candidate—he’s calm, he won’t gossip, he can jump more than twice his body length. All good qualities for a leader.

  MS. GRAHAM: Remember, this Friday’s vote is not a popularity contest.

  KAYLEY: (whispers) It’s TOTALLY a popularity contest. That’s why I’m not running. I might get it and I don’t want it.

  HENRY: Seriously—you SHOULD run. You could abolish homework.

  KAYLEY: (makes a face)

  HENRY: Or expand our snack choices.

  KAYLEY: Why don’t YOU run, if you’ve got so many ideas?

  HENRY: I’m a behind-the-scenes kind of guy. I’ll write your acceptance speech.

  KAYLEY: Shut up! I can’t tell when you’re being serious and when you’re just kidding.

  HENRY: That’s because you’re not familiar with Henryish.

  KAYLEY: What is Henryish?

  HENRY: My language. You know, like English or Spanish….I speak Henryish.

  KAYLEY: You are so strange.

  HENRY: Thank you. I take that as a compliment.

  KAYLEY: (sighs)

  EMILY

  Status:

  Dear Hope,

  Truthfully, I want to boycott this whole class job assignment. (I’m still MAD at Ms. Graham for not letting me change my table group.) But if I HAVE to pick SOMETHING, I’m going to run for class council. If some of the kids are going to be making our classroom rules, I want to be a part of it.

  The problem is that I don’t have a ton of friends, but I’ll need a TON of votes. I’ve always hung out with Aviva and Kayley, only they’ve been acting so weird recently. Today I’m going to try to talk to three new people at lunch. I’ve known most of these kids since kindergarten (and I think they’ll vote for me), but who knows? Now I’m wishing I’d had bigger birthday parties. Birthday parties buy friends.

  I wish I could talk to my parents about some of these things. But Dad’s traveling, like always. Sometimes I HATE my dad’s job. Him being gone (practically ALL the time) is the main reason my parents got a divorce. I used to talk to Mom about drama at school, but she always says she’s not feeling 100%, so these days I just don’t want to worry her.

  Still feeling unlucky and hopeless,

  Emily

  PS Sometimes I think I might want to be a journalist when I grow up, but if I do, I’ll do it better than Dad. I’ll make time for my family.

  AVIVA

  Date: September 13

  My hand is shaking so badly that I can hardly write. The scariest thing just happened!!!

  I walked the long way to school this morning. I didn’t want to run into Emily, especially since I’d told her I had a ride. All of a sudden, a banged-up car pulled up next to me real slow. This scruffy man sat inside. He had tattoos up and down his arms. He’d crammed his car so full of clothes, food, laundry detergent, and trash that I doubted he could see out the windows. I felt like I’d stepped into one of those “Stranger Danger” ads, because just like all the stories, Tattoo Man rolled down the window and asked, “Have you seen my dog? He ran off. He’s a long-haired black Lab.”

  I told him “no” and “sorry,” then kept walking. Only just then he jerked the wheel, parked at the curb, and got out of the car! I panicked. Probably he was just climbing out to look for his dog, but it totally freaked me out! I ran so fast that my chest hurt, and when I turned to look behind me, Tattoo Man was gone.

  I bumped into Emily right when I got to school, and I wanted to tell her what happened, but then I’d have to explain why I was walking. I couldn’t tell Kayley either because she’d say I’m such-a-baby for getting scared. So I didn’t tell anyone. Just sat down and started writing.
r />   At least my journal can’t laugh at me or make me feel stupid.

  CECILIA

  Hola Abuelita,

  I can’t imagine running for class council. I’d be way too nervous to give a speech in front of everyone.

  Abuelita, remember how I came home from kindergarten and couldn’t stop crying because I couldn’t understand anyone at school? Of course, now I speak English just as well as anyone, and I can translate for Mami at parent-teacher conferences, but I think that’s when I started feeling self-conscious about talking. I’m not shy, I’m just quiet. There’s a difference.

  At White Oak, the only time I feel totally comfortable is during lunch recess. A bunch of us have soccer matches on the far field. I’ve been playing goalie—I don’t mind diving for the ball, even if the ground is muddy. I’d like to try another position soon. I love soccer, partly because I’m good at it, partly because of all the memories I have of watching fútbol on the couch with you and Abuelito, and partly because the game’s the same whether I speak Spanish or English. (I miss Abuelito so much. I know you do too.)

  Ms. Graham is asking us to write letters for our class mailboxes every week. Today I made myself write two. Sometimes writing is easier than talking.

  WORDS TO PRACTICE

  shy = tímida

  Besos y abrazos,

  Cecilia

  * * *

  —

  Dear Ms. Graham,

  Every day I see a new frog figure or frog poster in class. You must really like frogs. I think you should add a sticky note that says, “Ribbit!”

  From Cecilia

  * * *

  —

  Dear Aviva,

  What’s wrong? You look sad today. If you ever want to talk, let me know.

  From Cecilia

  HENRY

  SCENE: Students vote for class council. Overachievers stupid enough to run: Amaya, Emily, Kai, and Amar. They’re looking nervous and turning shades of green. Ten points if someone barfs.