The BSC Legacy - Book 3: When Numbers Really Count
By: CNJ
PG-13
11: Letters Are Out!
Anna:
"...so let's make them feel welcome," Ms. Silverbein finished at Monday morning's announcements.
Wow. Hard to believe that we're getting even MORE new students this Wednesday and Thursday. It'll be about two hundred more for all four grades. There willbe about forty new juniors joining us. Almost everyone in our homeroom was talking at once.
"We should clue them in on OTGY," Mona told Mary Anne and me.
"That'd make them feel part of the school," Mary Anne nodded.
"We need to talk it over with the BSC at lunch," I added.
We did later on at lunch. A lot of the other kids agreed that it was a good idea too.
"We can tell them that they can still add on letters," Kristy told us.
"I wonder when we'll get word on our letters?" Abby wondered as she dug into her fettucini.
Kristy:
Sure enough, they came in mid-week. We had an assembly schedule that day, where the third period was used for the assembly.
This time, the rest of us had a study hall while the new kids had a brief orientation in the auditorium. As I read over my notes for a history test we'd be having on Friday, a note was pitched into my lap.
It read I figured the new kids came from the school in the rural side of Stoneybrook. Love, Claud.
Where did you hear it? I wrote back.
I overheard my mom talking on the phone with a friend of hers who is on the county school board. That school was one of the failing schools targeted for reform. I nodded.
Claudia's mom is a librarian, so she has close contact with a lot of teachers and principals.
I even have heard that Ms. Silverbein is fifty-four, widowed, her first name is Leah, and lives in Stamford. Two of her kids are grown while she still has the one daughter we'd met last month who is a senior at Stamford High.
I've heard about "failing" schools, which basically means the schools aren't doing an adequate job of having supplies or competent teachers and kids are falling between the cracks.
I hope Ms. Silverbein isn't inundated with a lot of paperwork and stuff like that, I wrote back.
Not to worry, Ms. Silverbein's on the ball, Claudia wrote back.
She is, I thought. The student mediation she started back in September was doing well and now there were fewer fistfights between students.
I almost wrote another note back, but Ms Chen walked back toward the board and I didn't want her to catch us passing notes.
I don't know about her, but I know some teachers go berserk if they see students passing notes in class, even a study hall.
I grinned, turning back to my notes as I thought of Ms. Cerrata, our English teacher. She's one who doesn't tolerate any note-passing.
She's one ofthe toughest teachers in this school, but fair. She has a no-nonsense air that doesn't permit the usual cutting up that frequents other classes. Even kids from the In clique know not to cross her.
The bell rang for our next period. The halls were even more crowded and I could tell the new kids by the way they looked lost and often checked their schedule cards. Just like we did over two years ago when we started here at SHS, I thought.
"Hey, is Lit class around this corridor?" A voice asked me and I turned to see a lost girl behind me.
She had big brown eyes, an olive complexion, and sort of medium-brown hair with a tinge of red. Her heavy brows were drawn together in worry.
"Yeah, I'm head there now," I told her. "Just follow me."
"Thanks," The girl's brows relaxed.
Something about the way she walked suggested an extra maturity that most teenagers don't yet have.
"I'm Kristy Thomas," I introduced myself as we entered Ms. Cerrata's room and sat. I warned her that Ms. Cerrata was tough, but fair. She nodded, some of the worry coming back into her face.
"I'm Lyric Woodward," she told me.
"So, are you from Lockwood High?" I asked, referring to the school that had closed down.
"No, actually..." she trailed off a little. "I took time off school. I used to go to a school in Hartford. My dad died when I was young and it was just my mom and me for a long time. But my mom's...she's in rehab and I helped her out."
"Oh, that's too bad," I told her. "So, is she better now?"
"Slowly getting there," Lyric nodded. "She still can't take care of me, so when I was sixteen I became an emancipated minor."
"So you live on your own," I confirmed.
I've heard of emancipated minors, but until now, had never actually known one. It's when teens who can prove that they can support themselves and their parents can't care for them for whatever reason go to court and the courts tell them that they can live on their own.
"So at sixteen...how old are you now?" I asked.
"Nineteen." She said this in a matter-of-fact way. No wonder she'd seemed older than the rest of us.
"Wow, so you're legally an adult," I said softly.
"I work in a laundromat four afternoons a week," Lyric told me. "In fact, I worked out a plan with Ms. Silverbein last week that I have all my classes in the morning, then get off at twelve and go to work. She's neat."
"She is," I nodded. I told her a little about OTGY and Lyric seemed fascinated.
"That's one thing I missed when I was out of school," she told me softly.
Just then, Ms. Cerrata came in and everyone immediately turned around and became quiet. Attennn-tion, I thought in amusement, thinking of soldiers standing at attention facing their sergeant. I had the feeling a lot of the new kids would be interesting and would add more to SHS.
Abby:
"ABBY!" Anna shook me awake that Saturday morning after we welcomed the new kids into SHS.
"Ummm..." I moaned, burying my face into the pillow and wanting to just sleep some more.
"The letters we wrote to the editors...got in the New York Times!" Anna shook me again.
"WHAT...Where!" I snapped awake and sat up.
We flipped through the paper and found the editorials. Sure enough, our letters from Stoneybrook High and several other schools covered several pages. I saw mine third from the top. I saw my other friends' letters there too.
"Someone was able to get more from Stamford High," Anna pointed. "And some from Mainview High."
"Congratulations, you two!" Mom came in and hugged us.
She sat on the bed, growing a little misty-eyed. "You're both growing so fast...it's so hard to believe you'll be ready to graduate next year...your father would be so proud..."
"Oh, Mom..." Anna said softly and hugged her. I gulped hard over a lump in my throat as I remembered how supportive Dad had always been of our endeavors.
Dawn:
I was up early enough to grab a quick breakfast with Mom and Richard. Mary Anne was still asleep, so I had a biscuit, herbal tea and an orange, then went out to bring in the paper.
I sat down at the kitchen table and flipped idly through it. It was on the local Connecticut section that I saw our letters right there in the Stoneybrook Gazette.
"Mom!" I called. "Richard!" I raced into the living room. "They're in here!" I showed them.
"Oh, good for you," Mom put an arm around me.
"Great work," Richard added. "Is Mary Anne...?"
"I'll wake her up," I raced toward the stairs. "I know she wants to see this." Mary Anne likes to sleep late on weekends. I knocked on her door.
"Mmmmpp..." she moaned softly.
"Good news," I smiled. "Can I come in?"
"Yeaaa, I g'ss..."
I came in as she slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. Tigger strolled in, jumped in the bed and licked her.
"Awright, I'm up..." Mary Anne looked up and I held the paper to her. "What's this?" She fumbled for her glasses and put them on.
"Our letters..." I pointed. "Operation Today's Good Youth."
She slowly focused, then her dark eyes grew big as she whispered, "Wow...we really got in here...oh, Dawn , this is great." She grabbed me in a great hug.
Stacey:
We really did it! It was all kids talked about on Monday at school.
And naturally it was the tabletalk of the cafeteria as well and the BSC and several other tables, new kids included, talked back and forth once we pushed our tables together.
It was really something. I could see that the cooks and cashiers looked bewildered, then fascinated.
"I hear it's those letters they wrote," I heard one cashier whisper. "They're talking about that. Did any of you read the papers this weekend?"
"Yeah, I saw 'em," a cook added. "That was something. I guess kids do get a bad rap with the media."
"Heeey, Stace, great reference to that book!" Charlotte Ginning called.
"Thanks," I called back.
In my letter, I'd written how things were more hidden in the old days before the advancement of the technology of the media and had referred to the book The Way We Never Were. It's a very good book; Mom and I read it last year.
Gathering from the conversations around the cafeteria, I heard that a lot of kids' parents had different reactions to the letters' release; some parents were happy about it; some kids said their parents were upset.
"Jessi and Mallory e-mailed last night," Kristy told us. "They saw the letters too."
Jessi Ramsey and Mallory Pike, two of our seasonal members who were away at boarding schools, had mailed in their letters from their schools and even gotten some of their classmates to join in.
"I can't believe we're in the New York Times of all places," Claudia put in.
"Me either," I wondered if Dad in New York City had seen our letters.
It felt good knowing that we'd made ourselves and all our generation heard. The day flew by too fast and I was a little sorry when school let out, signaling that the end of the day was near.
Oh, well, there was tomorrow, I thought as I lingered around the school grounds for a while before heading to my afternoon sitting job.
Dawn, Mona, Mary Anne and I were at the kitchen at my house studying the next night after dinner and still discussing OTGY between study times.
"Wasn't that a great comeback Caitlin Giotti had for Riles Greer in the hall today?" I asked.
"Yeah..." Dawn nodded. "He looked so shocked that everyone laughed." Few people have ever stood up to him before. He is even more obnoxious than Alan Gray.
"Stacey...girls!" Mom called from the living room where she was watching the news. "Come quickly..."
We dashed into the living room and saw a newscaster thrust a microphone at a group clustered outside Stamford High.
"...disgrace how these teachers these day are encouraging this crass immorality of young people today..."
"And disrespect for authority!" another person chimed in.
"...letters all over the papers...is that what young people are learning today!"
We all looked at each other in near-shock. I just hope this doesn't start riots or anything.
"You all did the right thing," Mom tried to reassure us. "Don't worry. I'm behind you kids one hundred percent."