Page 52 of Bookish Boys Don't Date Social Girls
When the time is up, I get and give hugs to most of the kids as they leave. I’m blinking away tears like I’ve known them forever. It isn’t just the kids I’ve enjoyed. It was the escape from the craziness that I’ve appreciated too.
Nobody here knows about the #NoMoreShame project, or the video. Nobody here wants to share their shame story—even though I would totally listen if they did. Life has been a whirlwind of attention and responsibility and planning and chaos since that video went viral, but twice a week, I got to come here and, for two hours, pretend like it hadn’t happened.
These kids appreciate me because I’m helping them have fun. That’s all. They aren’t looking to me as a leader or savior or anything like that. They just like me because I award them prizes.
It’s funny to think that when I started volunteering, I worried that I wouldn’t know what to do, and now I have my own foundation. It’s been a summer to remember. I’m not sure I’m even the same girl anymore.
Finally, it’s just Latisha, Tammy, and me. Latisha hands me the cards she picked up.
“Oh, thanks for doing that.” I slide them into the envelope Tammy keeps the “Literary Walk” game supplies in, along with my notecard with the questions and answers written on it.
Latisha’s head hangs and I can’t see her face. She looks wilted. It reminds me of when we first met, and for the first time, I realize how much straighter she stands now and how she holds her head up.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask. I dip my own head, trying to catch her gaze, but she shifts away from me.
“I’m never going to see you again,” she mumbles.
Her aunt steps up behind her and our gazes lock over Latisha’s bowed head.
Brandy puts her hands on Latisha’s shoulders. “I was wondering about something.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Are there any volunteer opportunities for a seventh-grader and her aunt at the #NoMoreShame project?”
I inhale. “You know about that?”
Brandy snorts. “I’d have to be living under a rock not to know about that.”
I smile because that’s our intent. For everyone to know about it whether they want to or not. Ines has done an excellent job keeping us in the news. “I’m sure there will be events or tasks that we could use your help on. I’d love it if you sign up as volunteers. We have a sign-up form on our website that gives more information.”
Latisha looks from her aunt to me. “So, I’ll see Sam again?”
Brandy nods. “You will.”
Latisha’s eyes sparkle when she turns a grin on me. “Yay!”
I grin back. “Yay is right.”
We hug, and it’s nice to know it isn’t the lasttime I’ll see Latisha. I watch her and Brandy walk hand-in-hand across the lawn before I grab my stuff and head to my car.
It’shard for me to get my mind out of the #NoMoreShame project to go back to a mundane life at Oak Grove High. But I decide if I’m going to walk the halls, I’d advertise at the same time. It’s the first day of school, and I’m wearing a t-shirt with my hashtag in bold letters across the front and our brand-new website underneath. I pair the shirt with a cute pair of black shorts, some strappy black sandals, and a black newsboy hat. I hand out magnets, encouraging kids to put them in their lockers, and I tell them their swag order through the website will support a local non-profit group that aids those experiencing shame.
It's the best first day of school I’ve ever had.
Our lunch table looks like a #NoMoreShame marketing meeting with all the swag we are sporting. But it gets the kind of attention I want. Kids come up to us throughout the lunch period and ask questions about the organization. Some want to volunteer. I caution them that not all volunteer jobs are glamorous, but if they are willing to do some grunt work, they can sign up online.
“#NoMoreShame has somehow made you even more popular,” Ava says in a rare moment when it’s just her, Bek, Dylan, and me at the table.
I smile at her. “This is a better reason though.”
They all chorus their agreement. Then Ava gets serious. “I hope you know I never thought badly of your popularity before.”
My eyebrows practically arch off my head. “I neverthought that. You always knew about my dating rules and believed one hundred percent in me.”
“Yeah, but,” Dylan scans the room, his gaze stopping on a few faces along the way. “Even if you had slept with every one of those guys, Sam, that’s not for us or anyone else to judge.”
I blink at him and realize that besides our love for Ava, we share this in common. We both have exaggerated reputations. His was a defense mechanism. I was oblivious to how my actions fueled mine. But we are living with the results, nonetheless. I’m hoping to provide a safe place for the people out there who don’t have great friends like Dylan and I do. For those who need a safe place and need some confirmation. And I understand why Dylan jumped in with both feet to support this.
