Ahhhhhhh . . .
But my cry was drowned out.
“Boooooooo. Boooooo.”
Shouts came from the back of the auditorium.
My mouth closed. My head turned to look at the spectators behind me.
Why hadn’t I seen them on my way in? The audience was angry, but not at me. Dozens of classmates and teachers held posters—some decorated with Skyler’s cherry trees and bunnies. They all said, “Let Her Stay!”
I spotted Grace, Stuart, Skyler, Jaz, and Julian. There was Mr. Harding, Ms. Beckett, Coach George.
On the other side, my usual cheering section—Gram and Pops, Aunt Kiki, and there was Elvi standing, holding a poster over her head—“SHAME ON YOU LINCOLN!”
It took my breath away.
Mr. Jergen rushed up to the podium.
“Anyone who cannot maintain a respectful tone will be promptly removed.” He nodded to a security guard, who stepped forward as proof of his threat.
Grace stood on top of her chair and shouted, “We stand with Charity. C’mon, girls!”
She raised her hands and voices began chanting.
She got the ball (clap)
Get outta the way (stomp)
C’mon, Charity! (clap)
LET’S SCORE TODAY! (stomp)
The Lincoln Hornets made an uproar, waving their arms for other students to join in.
And they did.
Teachers too.
Jergen motioned to the guard, who pulled Grace by the arm down from her seat to the sound of more boos.
“Silence! Silence, students!” Jergen shouted.
Shouts faded to whispers.
“Those of you who think you are helping Miss Wood’s case are seriously misguided,” Jergen said. “I insist that you allow Mrs. Warner to continue her statement.”
“No!” a voice shouted out.
It was Darcy.
She held up her mom’s phone. “I think you’re done speaking, Sassygirl.”
Darcy flung the phone onto the stage and stormed out.
Mrs. Bling-Bling turned pale. She shook her jittery head. “No, angel. You don’t understand . . .”
She scanned the crowd. Kids whispered and pointed.
“No, no, no . . . it’s not what you think . . .”
Translation: Sassygirl revealed!
Mrs. Bling-Bling kept shaking her head as her strappy sandals sprinted her off the stage and out the door after her daughter.
Jergen returned to the podium, looking like he had been stung by a jellyfish.
Page 131: Jellyfish tentacles release toxins to stun prey before eating it.
“Ahem. It would seem that Mrs. Warner has concluded her statement.”
The superintendent raised her hand to speak, and Jergen nodded.
“I am indeed impressed by the support for Miss Wood tonight,” she said. “However, the facts of the case are troubling. The idea of a student handing in plagiarized work, along with testimony to that effect from a former aide, Ms. Ivy Thornton. How does the student respond to these accusations?”
Jergen turned his gaze toward me. His intense blue eyes drilled into me. He smiled. I guess he was happy. He would finally get his wish. “Good point, Dr. Schwartz,” Jergen said. “I want to give Miss Wood the opportunity to speak for herself.”
He nodded at Ana, who took my hand and led me to the stage.
What’s going on here?
Jergen turned to the committee members. “I feel it is important for those of you who never met Miss Wood to see her for yourself and listen to her words. I could only say that the first time I witnessed it, my mind opened to the realization of my own ignorance. Miss Wood taught me something about myself, as I believe she has done for many of the people here tonight.”
“Come, Charity,” Ana said, “it is time for you to be heard.”
I wanted to resist, but my body followed her up the four steps and onto the brightly lit stage.
Darcy’s father bolted in front of us toward the podium. He put his hand over the microphone as he and Jergen began a battle of whispers.
A voice from the audience began to chant, “Let her speak! Let her speak!” It was Jaz leading the cheer, shaking her pom-poms.
Dozens of others joined in.
Dr. Schwartz stood and joined the whispered conversation at the podium. After a few seconds, all of them sat down, and Dr. Schwartz nodded to us.
Ana led me to the podium. “Charity has prepared her own statement, which I will read to you.” She looked at Mr. Warner, who huffed a big sigh and waved his hand, as if to say, “Whatever.”
Ana rested her hand on my shoulder, and I closed my eyes, praying to stay still for these few minutes. She cleared her throat and spoke each of my words with care.
For 13 years I had no voice. No way to say I love you or I am hungry or I want a strawberry milkshake.
Some people chuckled.
No way to scream for help. I spent years not at a school but at a prison where no one thought of me as a real person with a brain. Hungry to learn, I was welcomed here by caring teachers and students who gave me a chance to be one of them. Every person has a right to be included. As Frederick Douglass said, “the rights of the humblest citizen are as worthy of protection as are those of the highest.” That is a quotation. I know the difference between quoting and plagiarizing.
A few more people laughed.
I regret any trouble I have caused with my body that I struggle to command. You and I fear nothing in life when we are accepted for who we are.
The audience started to clap, but Ana put up her hand to quiet them.
“I believe Charity wishes to add something else.” Ana nodded at me and placed the iPad and the keyboard on the podium. She pulled me closer and whispered, “Remember what we were practicing before I left? I know you can do it. Speak your truth, Charity.”
The room became pin-drop silent.
My mission came down to this moment. I looked out at the crowd—hundreds of eyeballs staring at me, including Mason right up front. But these stares did not make me feel puny. An army of supporters sat in front of me. The love I sensed from each one of them superglued my broken heart together and filled it with helium.
Ana steadied the keyboard, but she did not hold my elbow. Instead, she put her
