Page 35 of Please, Sir

Lene. Her changing her name breaks my heart a little, because I do not believe she wants to be called Lene. I think she’s looking for who she wants to be, and feeling more lost than ever. After today, all I want to do is make her feel better.

I get to my feet and move through the administration building until I come to the peer counseling office. This issue spans beyond what a peer counselor can handle, but it was the only private space we could stick Jo Jo until the other girls got picked up.

Practice today was a disaster.

The frosh squad started harassing Jo Jo about her gettingupset at the sleepover and leaving. Teasing her about being a baby is how it started, then it turned into teasing her about not having her period, which rolled straight into “I bet you don’t even shave down there,” something they teased her about at the sleepover since she didn’t want to change in front of them. Cadence did not, not even once, say a word to Alexa about her bullying and taunting.

They teased her so much, and when I stopped JV practice to stomp over and tell Cadence to get control of her team, they took that opportunity to race back to their bags and collect all the shaving cream they brought. While I was arguing with Cadence, the freshman squad coated Jo Jo in shaving cream, taunting her about how they were helping her shave.

Thank god for my squad. They’ve accepted Jo Jo as one of them, and immediately went to bat for her. I love that they defended their teammate and team, but it ended in the gymnasium looking like the inside of a shaving cream can, and a handful of the freshman girls on the dock for suspension.

Pushing into the small office area, I find Jo Jo wearing a loaner PE shirt just like I am. I point, and smile. “Twins!”

She laughs a little, but it turns into tears. Before I get to any pep talk, I slide into the seat next to her, wrap my arms around her, and pull her into me. She cries, and my heart breaks, because she doesn’t deserve this at all.

“I’m sorry, Jo Jo,” I tell her quietly, then correct myself, saying, “Lene.”

She pulls off of my chest, looking up at me with wet eyes, traces of mascara pooling beneath them. “Why are they doing this to me?” Her bottom lip quivers, and my heart constricts.

“You got moved up to JV. She’s jealous. You don’t take herbait, and it makes her angry that she can’t get under your skin. When she upset you at the sleepover, you left. You didn’t stay and cry or fight. You’re more mature and she knows it.” I don’t need to name Alexa for Jolene to know who I’m talking about. “She’ll quit soon. And for now, she’ll be out for three days. She got suspended. Jasmine, Cara and Macy, too.”

“They’ll hate me more. They’ll blame me for getting in trouble,” Jo Jo says, panic bouncing around each word.

“You don’t make the rules. There are rules in school. They broke them. None of this is your fault. Nor is it in your control.”

She nods, but I can see in her face all the doubt lingering, all the stress laid out ahead of her. She’s wondering what it’s going to be like when the suspended girls get back, how cheerleading will be next year if they’re all on the same squad–she’s thinking about everything and I know I need to put a stop to it.

“Wanna do something? Today sucked. And my ex-boyfriend, who is a total asshole, just called me. So my day kinda sucks, too,” I tell her. “So let’s do something fun. Something to make us feel better. Ice cream? Coffee?”

Jo Jo rolls her lips together. “I can think of something, but it’s not food.”

The sadness is already partially lifting, and I’d do anything to finish the job. “What?”

“I’ve always wanted to get my belly button pierced.”

This is likely something a mother would take their daughter to do. First she’d probably try and talk her out of it then she would reluctantly drive her, and be the one to explain to her dad later that night that it wasn’t too serious.

Maybe she’s asking me because I’m the only woman inher life she trusts? Jake certainly gave me that impression when we briefly talked at the farmers market last weekend.

“Sure,” I tell her. “There’s a place in town that does piercings and tattoos. Let’s go check it out.”

Leaving Ink Time,Jo Jo is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. She’s smiling and laughing, and can’t stop peeking at her new piercing. After the day she had, it was the best sixty bucks I’ve ever spent. It does occur to me at some point, while Jo Jo is telling me about her science project testing the permanence of markers that claim to be permanent, that maybe this is something Jo Jo needed permission to do.

It’s fleeting, though, because her ears are double pierced, and she has a cartilage piercing too. Not to mention, belly button rings are harmless. You can take them out anytime and your belly button heals right up.

I got mine done, too because my mother would never let me. She always said I shouldn’t even be showing my midriff, so having one makes no sense, because no one would be able to see it anyway–as long as I wasn’t dressing like a hussy.

After telling me all about her hypothesis, the car falls silent for a few minutes, but not uncomfortably. We’re about five minutes from her place when she twists behind her seatbelt a little, facing me in the moonlight.

“Growing up, I missed my mom but I never really like, missed her so intensely until recently,” she says, her voice quiet, but her eyes locked onto my profile. She wants a good response from me, clearly seeking assurance and comfort. Handsy anticipation claws low in my belly. I hope I can deliver for her.

I glance between her and the road. “Why do you think recently you’ve missed her more?”

She looks down, lifting her shirt to twist the belly button ring a few times. “I don’t know. I guess when I was young I thought eventually my dad would date again and… I’d have a stepmom. And I’d get so used to her that eventually the step title would just fall off and I’d call her mom and finally feel like I had a family again.” She wipes at her eye discreetly, but I catch it. I also hear the wobble in her tone, too. “I don’t have a mom. I don’t have grandparents nearby. I don’t even have friends anymore.”

My heart internally shatters, and, while I didn’t go through this when I was her age, I feel like I’m going through it now. At least I have Leah, and now, Denae.

“The Brownstock sisters are your friends. I used to see you around campus with them all the time,” I attempt to reassure her, though after the sentiment is between us, I wonder if those girls are still friends with Jo Jo. I haven’t seen them together in a few months at least.

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