OLIVIA: I was walking to my locker from math with a hall pass. I wasn’t even thinking about the fact that I was wearing a tank top. I needed to get my phone to call my sister and see if she could bring me something.
ME: Do you want to tell us what you needed her to bring you?
She shakes her head and mouths, No.
OLIVIA: No, that’s fine. So I was walking to the south hallway, and I saw Dr. Couchman out of the corner of my eye. He kept calling “Hey,” but I didn’t slow down. We all know Dr. Couchman only knows the names of the baseball players. He finally ran up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to step outside. I got really nervous. Mr. Dern was sitting in his classroom, and Couchman knocked on his window and waved him outside. That’s when they both started telling me I was in violation of the dress code, and asking why would I be so selfish, and did I realize everyone else had gone over eight weeks without violating the dress code and I’d ruined the chance for our grade to go on the camping trip.
ME: How did you react?
OLIVIA: I freaked out. I begged them to give me another chance. Couchman said he’d consider it if I put my sweatshirt on and promised to never do it again.
ME: So did you?
She looks down at her lap and folds her hands.
OLIVIA: No. I told them I couldn’t, that I needed to keep my sweatshirt tied around my waist. They told me I was disobeying the rules and being disrespectful, and they made me go to the office and call my parents.
ME: What did your parents say?
OLIVIA: They both work, and they couldn’t come all the way here to pick me up. So I called my sister. She left high school, picked me up, took me home, and went back out to get me Starbucks iced tea and a giant chocolate chip cookie, which was nice of her. Then she got in big trouble for leaving school.
I’m stuck on feeling jealous that Olivia’s sister was nice enough to pick her up, buy her Starbucks, and get in trouble for her. Danny would never do that for me.
ME: Olivia, now I need to ask you a question, and it’s going to be really embarrassing.
She stares at me. I wish I could say I know how she feels, but I can’t. I can only imagine how she feels because, as my mom says, I’m a late bloomer. I have the body of a nine-year-old.
Pearl stands next to Olivia and puts her hand on Olivia’s shoulder.
OLIVIA: Can we just stop now? I’d rather be hated by the whole grade than talk about this.
I don’t blame her.
ME: Yeah. We can stop.
DEFINITIONS
PULLOVER (noun)
a garment, especially a sweater or jacket, put on over the head and covering the top half of the body
PULL OVER (verb phrase)
to move a vehicle or its driver to the side of or off the road
to target a Fisher Middle School student for the purpose of calling out her manner of dress when said student is violating one or more rules on the dress-code page of the Fisher Middle School handbook
Examples:
I tied my pullover around my waist.
Fingertip pulled me over because my bra strap was showing.
My teacher pulled me over because my knee was distracting him.
A BRIEF HISTORY OF FISHER MIDDLE SCHOOL’S DRESS CODE
“I really appreciate you trying to help me, but let’s just forget it,” Olivia says. “I’m honestly thinking about begging my parents to let me be homeschooled.”
Pearl and I look at each other.
Then Pearl says, “I accidentally left the rubber bands from my braces on a paper towel in art class last year, and Nick told everyone I was nasty, and I begged my parents to homeschool me.”
“Nick is nasty,” I say.
We eat cookies and stare out the window. This is the first time I’ve used the tree house in a while.
“I have one more thought,” I say.
“Why are you trying so hard, Molly?” Olivia looks at me with dead-serious eyes. “Like, we’re barely friends anymore.”
“Because what they did to you isn’t right. And their little plot to get us to do what they want by offering a camping trip is not right either.”
We hadn’t had dress codes in elementary school, so when we got to Fisher Middle School, they gave us a student handbook outlining all the things we couldn’t wear.
The summer before seventh grade, my friend Liza and I went shopping at Forever 21, which was a big deal, because until then my mom was all about Target and Old Navy. I picked out really cute shorts and a purple tank top, and Liza got the same shorts with a green tank top, to complement her eyes (we didn’t want to be too matchy). Our moms let us buy expensive white high-tops and Lokai bracelets, and after all that practicing, we finally got to wear a little makeup in public.
We felt beautiful.
Liza got dress coded the very first day of seventh grade, before they even gave us the handbooks, before we even knew how to get to our classrooms. I wasn’t there to see it, but I heard Fingertip chased Liza down the hall and made her extend her arms, and pointed out that her shorts were shorter than where her fingertips landed and said that was not allowed at this school. I heard Liza bit her lip so hard it bled. She was trying not to cry.
I spent my first day of middle school hiding from teachers because I was wearing the exact same shorts as Liza. My friends didn’t think I would have as much of a problem, because my behind was much smaller than Liza’s. That didn’t seem fair.
Liza and I didn’t tell our moms about the dress code. We didn’t want them to be furious that they had spent all that money on shorts and tank tops that we weren’t even going to wear to school. Liza had to wear her sixth-grade clothes, which were way too small, and she got detention three times that year because of tight clothing.
“So what do you think we should do?” Olivia says.
“Let’s scrap the podcast and invite Bea, Ashley, and Navya over to the tree house and tell them the story privately,” I say. “They’re reasonable people, and I think they can help.”
“Ugh,” Olivia says. “Fine. Why not? I’m going to be homeschooled next year anyway.”
FINGERTIP
We don’t know her real name.
She calls herself the dean of students, but nobody has ever seen her do anything but stare at girls, search for a rogue bra strap or a bare shoulder, and bark out warnings. Some girls get six or seven warnings a day—this is because Fingertip doesn’t remember if she’s already given someone a warning.