Don't Judge Me Page 3

  She laughed. “But you’d fit right in!”

  I grabbed my shorts and her shirt and as I dashed into the hallway, I ran into Ben. “Oh, sorry,” I told him.

  He smiled, looking like the old Ben I used to know. “Hey, no problem. Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going?”

  Before I could answer, Tori came out to the hallway and said, “Ben, we’re going to the zoo. Will you please go with us? Please? We’ll have fun, I promise.”

  “Can’t, Sis,” he said. “Going to a friend’s house. Have to study for a test.”

  Tori crossed her arms. “I don’t believe you. We’re just not cool enough for you, are we? All you care about anymore are your friends.”

  He laughed. “Tori, what are you talking about?”

  “It’s true!” she insisted. “You’re not the studious type. I mean, since when does one of the most popular guys at school care about his grades?”

  I don’t know why it took until right then, but suddenly, I got it. Like, I really got it. For a while I’d wondered why Tori was so obsessed about becoming popular in middle school. Her intense questioning started last summer, when she’d ask Ben things like, “Where do the popular kids sit at lunch?” and “Can sixth graders sit with the seventh and eighth graders at assemblies, or are there separate sections for each grade?”

  She was jealous. Jealous of her older brother who had lots of friends and girls chasing after him because he was so good-looking with his brown wavy locks and gorgeous green eyes. Tori wanted to be popular like Ben, and since the end of fifth grade, she’d been trying to figure out how to make it happen.

  “So, I’m just gonna …” I pointed to the bathroom.

  Still talking, they moved out of the way so I could get into the bathroom. I shut the door and locked it, wondering if I’d feel less awkward about getting in the middle of their fights if I had an older brother or sister. Sometimes being an only child makes me feel like an alien.

  After I took off my shirt, I found a washcloth in the cupboard. Before I turned on the faucet, I heard Tori scream at her brother, “You’re so selfish, Ben! All you think about is yourself.” And then she slammed her bedroom door shut.

  I’d washed the right armpit with soap and water and was about to do the left when there was a knock on the door.

  “Hazel,” Ben said. “Sorry to bother you, but I forgot my notebook in there. Can you hand it to me, please?”

  “Just a sec,” I called out.

  “It’s probably sitting on the back of the toilet.”

  “Okay, hold on, I need to get dressed.”

  I glanced over and sure enough, there was a small spiral notebook with a red cover. On the front, in big black letters, it said PRIVATE PROPERTY OF BEN R.

  I don’t know what made me do it. Maybe I felt like it would help me understand him better? Like, maybe there was a clue as to why he basically shut us out all of a sudden. Or maybe I’m just a terrible person who can’t respect other people’s property. Except I totally can. There was just something about that little notebook with such a strong message to keep out, I couldn’t help but look.

  I opened it and on the inside of the front cover, someone had written, “Cute or nah? Rate them, then date them, if you dare.”

  On the first lined page, there was a girl’s name. Addie Sanders. And then rows of initials with numbers and comments below her name.

  B.R.

  9

  she is so gorgeous, I dream about her sometimes

  T.E.

  10

  doesn’t get any better than this girl

  J.J.

  8

  too tall for me

  V.R.

  5

  uh, have you seen her teeth? The girl needs braces so bad

  P.W.

  9

  such a babe. Who looks at her teeth anyway?

  I could hardly believe what I was reading. I closed the toilet lid and sat down before I carefully and quietly flipped the pages.

  Each page was the same. A girl’s name at the top and then ratings and comments below. Many of the names I didn’t recognize, but some I did. Like, I’m in a study hall that has sixth through eighth graders and I saw a few names from girls in that class, all in different grades. I also saw names of some of my friends who play soccer with me.

  And then, I had a thought that made my stomach hurt so much, I was afraid I might throw up.

  Would I find my name in here?

  I started to flip the pages, looking, when something made me stop.

  Tori Robinson

  Don’t even think about it.

  So Tori was saved. But what about me?

  Ben knocked again, startling me so much, I dropped the notebook. “Hazel, come on. Just crack the door and give it to me.”

  I threw on the shirt and opened the door. “Sorry,” I said as he snatched it from my hand.

  He waved it in the air. “Thanks. I need it to study for that test, you know?” He sounded normal. But he wore a smug half-smile that screamed, “I’m so amazing; I can get away with anything.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just mumbled, “Okay.”

  He turned and rambled down the hallway. “See you later. Have fun at the zoo!”

  I shut the door again and tried to slow my breathing as I began to process what had just happened. Ben had a notebook filled with girls’ names and was passing it around, getting guys to rate them. And I had no idea if I was in there and what they might be saying about me.

  Why had I rushed to give it to him before I knew? I was pretty sure I’d never be able to sleep until I got an answer.

  I coaxed Tori out of her room and into Alice’s car. We listened to an audiobook as we drove the hour and a half up to Portland. It was a historical novel called Under a Painted Sky, about two girls who dressed up as boys to stay safe as they made their way on the Oregon Trail. They were headed for the California gold rush all on their own. Alice said the book is fiction, but the story was so good, it seemed real. I couldn’t help but think how messed up it was that two girls had to dress as boys to stay as safe as possible, though.

  As good as the book was, my mind wandered to what I’d found in the bathroom. I was thankful I didn’t have to talk to anyone during the ride because I’m not sure I would have been able to keep my thoughts to myself. Except I knew I couldn’t tell Tori or her moms. If they knew about the list of girls, they would be so upset. Like, really, really upset.

  I mean, it made me upset and I wasn’t even related to Ben.

  But even if I decided to tell them (which seemed impossible, honestly), would they believe me? And would they be angry that I’d snooped? The cover of the notebook said PRIVATE in big, black letters. There wasn’t a single good reason why I should have opened it. Not one.

  When we made it to the zoo, I texted my mom and let her know. She replied:

  Grandma and Grandpa are coming for dinner tonight. The zoo closes at four in the fall, so you’ll be home in plenty of time. Have fun!

  This was good news! Grandma loved animals, and I couldn’t wait to introduce her to Pip. My parents and I hadn’t talked about whether or not we would keep Pip, but I knew that conversation was coming.

  The first thing the four of us did after we’d bought our admission tickets was to get some food since it was after noon and we were starving. While we ate our lunch, we talked about our favorite animals at the zoo so we could make sure not to miss visiting them all.

  “You already know mine,” I said.

  “Fuzzy lemurs for me,” Tori said.

  “Giraffes,” Alice said.

  “Naked mole rats,” Jeanie said.

  “Ew,” Alice said, turning to Jeanie with her face all scrunched up. “That’s even worse than saying the bats.”

  “Oh, I love the bats too,” she said. “So creepy yet beautiful.”

  Tori shivered. “Mom, you’re weird. Bats are so gross.”

  “Honey, it’s not nice to put someone down
for simply liking something,” Jeanie said. “Please remember that, okay?”

  I could tell by the look on Tori’s face that she felt bad. “Okay. Sorry.”

  I kind of wanted to say, “What about boys who like rating girls? It’s okay to put them down, right?” But I kept quiet. I needed to just forget about what I’d seen. There wasn’t anything I could do about it, anyway. I kept telling myself that maybe Ben had protected me the way he’d protected Tori. I wanted to believe there wasn’t a page about me in the book.

  Tori put her arm around my shoulders. “I’m definitely not going to put Hazel down for loving the elephants because they are pretty incredible, but naked mole rats? Why? They’re so creepy looking.”

  “They dig underground with their teeth,” Jeanie explained. “They hardly ever use their eyes, but their hearing is incredible. I just think they’re really unusual.”

  “So, how do we decide what we see first?” I asked.

  “The elephants are out with the trainers,” Tori said, pointing toward the fairly new outdoor habitat that we could see from our outside table. “I say let’s check them out right now.”

  A few months ago, I watched a video titled “Life after Lily.” It talked about how the elephants at the zoo were starting to come around after losing her. Back to their normal selves. A few of the keepers in the video talked about how difficult Lily’s death had been for them. That she had been a little ray of sunshine for them every day. Since her passing, they’d been giving her mom, Rose, extra attention and treats. It was one of the saddest videos I’d ever seen. It had shown me that the keepers considered the elephants their family.

  Each of the zookeepers now stood next to an elephant. Some of them were brushing their elephants. Some were picking up their feet and checking them. And one held a bucket with some kind of food and threw it to an elephant swimming in the pool. The elephant looked so happy, lounging in the water, its trunk raised, opening its mouth to catch the snack every time the zookeeper tossed food.

  To be honest, zoos are something I have mixed feelings about. If I had my way, all elephants could live happily in the wild. But maybe when people come to the zoo and see the animals, they’ll realize how special they are and be willing to take better care of our planet, for us and for them. Maybe?

  “I’ve always wanted to play with the elephants,” I told Tori. “But maybe what I really want is to be an elephant.”

  “Don’t you want to be something cuter?” she asked. “A lemur, maybe? Some kind of bear? Or what about an otter? I love otters.”

  “But Tori, looks aren’t everything. Or they shouldn’t be, right?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You’re a bit spicy today.”

  “Spicy?”

  She nodded her head toward Alice. “Something Mimi likes to say.”

  I wiggled my eyebrows. “Pretty sure it’s your spiciness that’s rubbed off on me. But think about it. Their trunks are so amazing. They’re smart. And very family-oriented. And better than cute, they’re, like, majestic. That’s the best word to describe them, I think. Majestic.”

  “Okay, okay, I get it,” Tori said. “You adore elephants, and nothing will change that fact.”

  But now I was back to thinking about the list of girls and how all the boys had decided nothing else mattered.

  Not how kind they were.

  Not how smart they were.

  Not whether they were funny or artistic or athletic.

  It seemed the only thing that mattered to most of the boys at our school was looks. I thought of other things in the world that were viewed differently than girls, and my brain couldn’t help but count syllables.

  Trees lose their pretty

  leaves in autumn, but no one

  shames them for that fact.

  Beautiful. Pretty. Cute. Gorgeous. Babe. How many times had my parents and grandparents said, “You’re so cute!” when I was younger? How many times have I wondered why I hardly ever heard that as I’ve gotten older?

  My hair’s too frizzy. My nose too crooked. My lips too big.

  Every day I think at least one of these things and beat myself up for it. Last year when I got a cold sore on my bottom lip and it grew three sizes bigger, I asked my mom if I could stay home from school.

  “Honey, you need to go to school,” Mom said. “The kids will understand.” But she was wrong. They didn’t understand at all.

  This mean kid, Thomas, told everyone at recess, “Look at Hazel, she has camel lips!”

  Some of the kids thought it was hilarious, and for weeks, boys called me Camel Lips. It only stopped because one of the teachers heard it once and told them if it happened again, she’d write them up and call their parents.

  Did someone remember that and write it under my name in that notebook? Or did they talk about my thunder thighs? Or maybe how I had wildly thick hair that was harder to tame than a mustang?

  I was terrified to know but also dying to know.

  How could I possibly make it the next three years knowing a notebook was being passed around school where boys could say horrible things about me?

  “Are you okay?” Tori asked.

  I wasn’t okay. Not at all. And the really awful thing was I had no idea what to do about it.

  On the way home, we listened to music instead of the book. Tori flipped through a fashion magazine, pointing things out to me.

  “I’m glad that frilly sleeves seem to be going out of style,” she said. “Remember when I tried on that blouse with big ruffles up and down the arms that made me look like a clown?”

  Almost every time Tori and Alice go shopping, she invites me to go, too. I don’t like shopping half as much as Tori, but since I do need to buy clothes now and then, sometimes I tag along.

  “Since T-shirts are basically the same now as they’ve always been, I don’t think I need to worry about going out of style anytime soon,” I teased.

  “But aren’t you worried about looking as good as everyone else?”

  “Tori, that’s not very nice,” Alice said, looking at us in the rearview mirror. “It sounds like you’re insulting her.”

  Tori put her hands in the air. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. I just meant … it matters what we wear now, more than it did in elementary school. Even Ben told us that last year, when he was giving us tips about middle school. You remember that, right, Hazel?”

  I did remember it. That conversation was probably the last good one we’d had with Ben. We’d gone out for ice cream to celebrate moving on from Hoover Elementary and Ben had given us a bunch of advice.

  “Try not to stand out,” he’d told us. “You want to look good, not like some messy, immature elementary kids. Clothes are definitely more important in middle school. But you shouldn’t look too good, you know? If you stand out, you’ll be a target.”

  “A target for what?” I’d asked.

  “All kinds of things, I guess. I mean, who knows? But that’s my point—don’t stand out and you probably won’t have to worry about it.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Ben,” Tori had told him. “If I want to be popular, shouldn’t I try to look as good as I possibly can?”

  He shook his head. “If you try looking like a tenth grader when you’re in sixth grade? That is not a wise move, Sis. You gotta trust me on that.”

  “I’m just gonna be my normal, boring self, so I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I told them.

  He seemed completely serious when he said, “If you girls ever have any trouble, feel free to come to me, okay?”

  Now I had some trouble with a certain notebook, but going to Ben seemed about as impossible as flying to Mars.

  “You obviously take after your mimi, Tori,” Jeanie said. “I’ve always been more like Hazel. Being comfortable is about my only requirement when it comes to clothes. When I met your mimi in college, I wasn’t sure if she’d even want to go out with me since we were so different that way. You know how much she loves fashion.” She reached over and
held Alice’s hand. “Fortunately, she didn’t hold my lack of style against me.”

  Alice smiled at her wife. “I mean, just because I love a well put-together outfit doesn’t mean I expect everyone to be that way. You knew how to win me over.”

  “How?” Tori asked.

  Jeanie laughed. “I asked her if she wanted to go out for the best mac and cheese she’d ever have in her life.”

  Now Alice chuckled. “And I couldn’t say yes fast enough!”

  “Mmm, now I want some good mac and cheese,” Tori said.

  “Same!” I declared.

  “I know what I’m making for dinner tonight!” Alice said. “Want to join us, Hazel? You’re more than welcome.”

  “Thanks, but my grandparents are coming over,” I told them.

  “Lucky you,” Jeanie said. “I’d take my grandparents over mac and cheese any day of the week.”

  Tori didn’t seem to know what to say to that, since her great-grandparents on Jeanie’s side had been gone for a while now, and I know they all missed them. She opened her magazine again and pointed to a jumpsuit. “This would look so cute on you.”

  “Cuter on you,” I told her.

  Which was probably true about everything, but I didn’t say that.

  * * *

  When we got to my house, I grabbed my bag and hopped out of the car, calling, “Thank you, that was fun!”

  We waved goodbye and then I ran inside.

  Everyone was in the kitchen either helping with the meal or setting the table. It smelled like basil and oregano and all the other yummy things Mom puts in her lasagna sauce.

  “There’s our girl,” Grandma said as she pulled me close for a hug. “Decided to come home instead of joining the elephants, huh?”

  “Let me guess,” Grandpa said. “You smuggled one home in your bag.”

  “I wish,” I said.

  Grandpa winked. “I guess I know what to get you for Christmas.”

  Grandma and Grandpa are the cutest couple I’ve ever seen. They both have silver hair, they both wear bifocals, and they both love to dance. They’re not that old, sixty-two, and it’s one of their favorite things to do together. We all went to a wedding once, and when my grandparents got on the dance floor and started doing their swing dancing, everyone clapped and cheered. Sometimes when they’re at our house, I’ll put on some music and beg them to dance. And they always do. They don’t get embarrassed or anything.