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  Something in his voice made Joelle feel nervous, too.

  “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” Joelle told Kailey.

  “Whatever. See you in band.” Kailey shrugged and continued down the hall.

  Joelle walked over to Ryan. “Hey, what’s up?” she said. “Did you guys win yesterday?”

  “No. We lost 2–6.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Yeah.” Ryan seemed to be looking everywhere except at her. “Listen, I was wondering whether you were planning to watch us practice after school today.”

  “Sure,” Joelle answered. “I guess so.” He really does like me, she thought.

  Ryan scratched his ear again. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Joelle.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, feeling her face flush.

  “Well, my dad’s sort of mad about that letter you wrote to the paper. He thinks you made him sound sexist.”

  So? Joelle thought. He is sexist. But she didn’t say anything.

  “Look, it might be better if … well, if you didn’t show up for a couple days,” Ryan said. “Give my dad a chance to calm down.”

  Joelle didn’t answer. She was the one who’d been wronged here. And now she was supposed to stay away from the baseball field because Coach Carlyle was upset?

  “I don’t know why you had to go and do something like that, anyway,” Ryan muttered. He seemed to be talking to his feet. “Most of the guys thought you were pretty cool on Saturday. But then you had to go and write that dumb letter and—well, maybe you’re not much of a team player after all.”

  “I’m not a team player?” Joelle cried, her voice rising. Several kids stared as they passed in the hall. “Wait a minute. First of all, I wrote that letter way before Saturday. It just took the Gazette a long time to print it. Second, I’m not actually on the team, remember? That’s what my whole letter was about!”

  Ryan looked at his tennis shoes again. “You made it sound like my dad blew you off just because you’re a girl.”

  Joelle almost burst out laughing. Wasn’t that exactly what Coach Carlyle had done? “Come on, Ryan. You know as well as I do, your dad doesn’t want any girls on his team.”

  “If you’d just hung on a bit, I might’ve been able to change his mind,” Ryan said. “But you made him look bad and now he never will.”

  “I didn’t make him look bad,” Joelle argued. “All I did was tell the truth. Besides, I don’t need you fighting my battles for me.” She didn’t need anyone fighting her battles for her.

  Ryan’s eyes went cold. “Fine. Work it out yourself, then. But my dad’ll never let you play for the Hawks now. You can bet on that.” He turned his back on Joelle and quickly disappeared into the crowd of passing students.

  Joelle stared after him. If I get that district policy changed, she thought, your dad won’t have much choice.

  Ryan Carlyle could bet on that.

  Later that morning, Joelle still couldn’t push Ryan’s words out of her mind. She was having trouble focusing in social studies class.

  “Now that most of you have completed your courtroom procedure packets,” Mr. Hawkings was saying, “we’ll move to the next phase of our unit, the mock trial.”

  Some kids looked interested. A few of them groaned.

  “We’re going to try a case right here in class,” the teacher went on. “Each of you will have a role to play. We’ll need a prosecuting attorney, a defense attorney, a plaintiff—these terms should be familiar to you if you’ve completed your packet. Who remembers what a plaintiff is?”

  Several hands shot up.

  “Travis?”

  “The plaintiff is the person who’s been wronged.”

  “Not necessarily.” Mr. Hawkings leaned against the chalkboard. “The plaintiff files the lawsuit, but either party can be awarded damages.” He began to walk around the room. “Our attorneys will decide which witnesses they need and they’ll ask some of you to play those roles,” he went on. “We’ll have a week or so for the attorneys to build their cases and prepare witnesses. Then we’ll have the trial. Those of you who don’t have other roles will serve as jurors.”

  Ryan raised his hand. “Who’s going to be the judge?”

  “I am, of course,” Mr. Hawkings replied with a smile. “Any other questions?”

  “What’s the trial going to be about?”

  “How about whether a girl should be allowed to play baseball?” a kid called out from the back.

  “Yeah!” a few other voices chorused.

  Joelle slid down in her seat. The last thing she wanted was to be held up as some classroom example.

  “No, I’ve got something else in mind,” Mr. Hawkings said. “You all know the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” He pulled a large rag doll out from behind his desk and held her up. “Say hello to our defendant, Goldilocks.”

  “That’s our trial?” one boy asked.

  “Totally lame!” the kid next to him agreed.

  “Just listen.” Mr. Hawkings leaned the rag doll against a row of books on his desk. “Goldilocks has been accused of burglary, assault, and destruction of property. If convicted, she faces up to twenty years in prison.”

  “Well, obviously she’s guilty,” Brooke spoke up. “She broke into the bears’ house, stole their food, destroyed a chair, and slept in one of their beds.”

  “Yeah, lock Goldilocks up!” a guy near the window said.

  Joelle turned and frowned at him. “You’d put Goldilocks in jail?”

  The guy’s black T-shirt was so faded that Joelle couldn’t even tell which band’s name had been plastered across the front. His feet rested on the empty chair in front of him. “You do the crime, you do the time,” he said with a shrug.

  “But she’s Goldilocks!” Joelle protested. “She’s a children’s book heroine.”

  “So? She broke the law!” Brooke insisted.

  Joelle sighed. People in this town were so narrow-minded. Goldilocks should go to jail. Joelle shouldn’t play baseball. Did they only see things in black and white?

  “What would you do if you were lost in the woods for three days, and didn’t have anything to eat or drink—” Joelle began.

  “I’d knock,” Brooke answered. “I wouldn’t just barge in.”

  “What if no one came to the door?”

  “I’d wait for someone to come home.”

  “Well, what if they didn’t come home? How long would you wait?” Joelle shot back.

  “I’m just saying, there are rules,” Brooke said. “If people don’t follow the rules, then society can’t function. Isn’t that right, Mr. Hawkings?”

  “Oh no.” Mr. Hawkings held up his hands. “This is your argument, not mine. But you’re both doing great so far. Brooke, maybe you should play the prosecuting attorney. And Joelle, why don’t you be our defense lawyer?”

  “That’s so perfect,” Joelle heard someone behind her mutter. “She’s just like Goldilocks. She doesn’t care about rules.”

  Joelle forced herself not to turn around.

  She really, really hated this town!

  After school Joelle headed toward the baseball field as usual.

  Ryan had warned her not to come. But part of her wanted to go anyway, just to prove a point. Nobody could keep Joelle Cunningham down.

  Nobody.

  But before she was halfway to the field, Joelle changed her mind. Maybe it would be better to lie low for a while, she told herself. Let everyone cool down a little. See what happens with my letter.

  It was hard to do, but Joelle finally turned around and walked back past the softball field.

  The girls were practicing on the diamond. From a distance, the drills looked pretty similar to baseball drills. Hitting, running, catching. Joelle stopped to watch. But it just wasn’t the same. Elizabeth waved when she spotted her. Joelle waved back.

  “Hey, Joelle!” Katie called. Katie was a tiny girl from her social studies class who didn’t even come up to Joel
le’s chin. “Are you playing?”

  Several other players, including Brooke, quit in the middle of a relay drill and looked curiously at Joelle. Even Ms. Fenner glanced her way.

  “No,” Joelle called back. “Sorry.” She quickly started walking again. Just because she was giving the baseball team a little space didn’t mean she was joining the softball team. Besides, she had to start planning Goldilocks’s defense.

  She had to do something to distract herself from baseball.

  Joelle forced herself to think. So who should I call for witnesses? And what should I have them say? Maybe Jason would have a few ideas.

  She wanted to talk to her brother anyway. She had a lot to tell him. Joelle dialed Jason’s number as soon as she got home. When he answered, she said in a rush, “Hey, it’s me! Guess what? My letter got printed in the paper today. Everyone’s talking about it at school and—”

  “Whoa, Jojo! Hang on. I can’t really talk right now.”

  Joelle frowned at the receiver. “What do you mean? We’re already talking, aren’t we?

  “Well, yeah, but I’m on my way out. I’ve got a date.”

  A date? “But I have to talk to you, Jason,” Joelle insisted. “It’s not just about my letter. There’s something else, too, and it’s really important. We’re doing this mock trial in social studies and—”

  “I’m sorry, Jojo, but I really can’t talk. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Sure,” Joelle said glumly. But she had a feeling Jason wasn’t going to call.

  He had his own life now. Wasn’t that what her mom had said?

  Chapter Nine

  Check out the editorial page today, honey,” Joelle’s mom told her a few days later.

  Joelle fanned her face with her cap, trying to cool down from her morning run. She staggered over to the kitchen table, where the Gazette was lying open.

  “You got seven responses to your letter,” Dad said.

  “Really?” Joelle said eagerly. “What do they say?” She rested her elbows on the back of her dad’s chair and peered over his shoulder.

  “Well, here’s someone who thinks you should be allowed to play.” Dad pointed to a letter from a Tom Healey.

  Joelle quickly read the letter. Mr. Healey basically repeated everything she had said about baseball and softball being two different sports. Score one for me, Joelle thought.

  “And here’s another supporter.” Mom called her attention to the next letter.

  Dear Editor,

  I play on the Hoover Hawks. When Joelle Cunningham first wanted to join the team, I was glad our coach said no. I thought it would be weird to play with a girl. But some of us played with her in the park the other day. She’s pretty good. So she should play if she wants to. Maybe she could even help us win a game or two.

  Ian Walsh

  Wow, Joelle thought. That took guts.

  “Nice letter,” Dad said. “Do you know this boy?”

  “Not really.” Joelle shook her head. She and Ian had hardly spoken two words to each other on Saturday.

  In another letter a woman said she didn’t know much about either baseball or softball. “But if a girl wants to play baseball,” she wrote, “I’m behind her one hundred and ten percent!

  Joelle snorted. “That woman’s only supporting me because I want to do something that most girls don’t do.”

  “Well, at least she’s behind you,” Mom said. “Not everybody is. Read this one.”

  Dear Editor,

  That girl over at Hoover Middle School should quit whining and just play softball like all the other girls. Baseball is not a girls’ sport.

  Patrick Quigly

  “What?” Joelle cried, outraged. “What does he mean, baseball’s not a girl’s sport?”

  Dad chuckled. “Ignore that one, honey. Here’s another that was written by somebody on the school board. Let’s see what he has to say.”

  Dear Editor,

  I understand Ms. Cunningham’s desire to play on the Hoover Middle School baseball team. However, she is presenting the issue strictly from her own point of view. The reality is that we have limited funds for the entire sports program. We are required to spend the same amount of money on boys’ athletic programs as we do on girls’ athletic programs. If we allow girls to play both baseball and softball, then we’d be offering the girls of Greendale more opportunities than we offer our boys.

  Jeff Fitzpatrick

  Greendale School Board Member

  “That’s so stupid!” Joelle exclaimed. “He makes it sound like I’m the one who’s being unfair.”

  “I must say, I’m really surprised by all this brouhaha.” Dad shook his head.

  “It’s a terrible shame, but I do understand what this man is saying,” Mom said. “You wouldn’t want the school to cut softball entirely and just have a baseball team, would you, Joelle? There are a lot of girls who play softball.”

  “I never said anything about anyone cutting softball!” Joelle practically exploded. “Maybe there are boys out there who’d rather play softball just like I’d rather play baseball? Why can’t they have both softball and baseball and let kids play whichever one they want?”

  She picked up the paper and looked at the rest of the letters. The last one was the worst of all.

  Dear Editor:

  Here’s a message to Joelle Cunningham: You can’t play baseball here, so get over it and join the softball team. The two sports aren’t that different and we sure could use you. But you probably won’t listen because you’d rather sit out the whole season than play softball. What’s the matter, Joelle? Do you think you’re too good to play softball? Or do you just like all the attention you get being the poor girl who can’t play baseball?

  Brooke Hartle

  Hoover Middle School

  Softball Co-Captain

  Joelle gave the newspaper an angry shake and threw it back onto the table. “She’s got some nerve!”

  Dad grinned. “Sounds like Brooke Hartle is every bit as spunky as you are.”

  Joelle narrowed her eyes. “Do not lump me in the same category with that girl.”

  “I hate to say it, honey.” Mom smoothed Joelle’s ponytail. “But ‘that girl’ has a point, too. It doesn’t look like you’re going to be able to play baseball here in Greendale. So maybe you should give softball a try.”

  Joelle stared at her mother. “You want me to give up? I thought you were on my side.”

  “I am, Joelle. But it wouldn’t really be giving up,” Mom said. “You’ve tried everything else. Would playing softball with the girls really be so terrible? You might make some nice friends.”

  “And I’m sure you can play Little League this summer,” Dad added. “They aren’t affiliated with the school system.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Joelle sank into a chair. “You think I should join softball, too?” Wasn’t her father the one who had bought her first bat and glove? The one who had taken her and Jason to the park every night after supper? The one who’d jumped up and down when he heard Jason would be playing ball for the University of Minnesota?

  Dad shrugged. “Well, you never know. You might find you actually like softball.”

  Joelle crossed her arms. “Not if that girl”—she nodded toward the crumpled newspaper—“is captain of the team.”

  Dad read Brooke’s letter again. “Oh, come on,” he said, tossing the paper in Joelle’s lap. “She doesn’t sound so bad. I think she’s issuing you a challenge.”

  Joelle stood up, letting the newspaper fall to the floor, and stomped out of the kitchen. “I won’t give her the satisfaction,” she called over her shoulder.

  There was one thing Joelle really appreciated about the guys she knew in Minneapolis. If they had a problem with you, they told you to your face. They didn’t issue challenges to you in the newspaper or talk about you behind your back.

  Like Brooke and the girls who followed her around all over school were doing right now.

  Joelle knew
they were talking about her. She could just tell.

  Between second and third period, she heard a voice from behind her. “Hey, Joelle!” Elizabeth waved as she caught up with her. “How’s it going?”

  Joelle hugged her books tighter to her chest. “I feel totally paranoid. Like everybody’s staring at me.”

  Elizabeth grinned. “Well, you are something of a celebrity around here, I guess. Look at it this way. You’ve hardly been at school a month, but everybody already knows you.”

  “They don’t know me,” Joelle said. “To them I’m just ‘the girl who wants to play baseball’ or ‘the girl who won’t play softball.’”

  “True,” Elizabeth admitted.

  Joelle was starting to wonder if maybe she should just play softball. At least then kids would like her. Life in Greendale would probably be a whole lot easier.

  “You know, some people really admire you,” Elizabeth said as they continued down the hall.

  Joelle raised one eyebrow. “I seriously doubt that,” she said.

  “No, they do!” Elizabeth insisted. “You’re standing up for what you believe in. That’s pretty cool. I wish I was more like that.”

  Joelle wasn’t sure what to say. Elizabeth made her sound so brave. But she’s the brave one, Joelle thought. It can’t be easy for her, dealing with her mom being gone.

  Elizabeth never seemed to whine or complain or feel sorry for herself. Joelle knew Elizabeth had to be sad and angry sometimes, too. But Joelle had never seen her take her feelings out on anybody else.

  Sometimes Joelle wished she were more like Elizabeth.

  “Some kids think you’re right not to join the softball team,” Elizabeth went on. “I even heard a couple of the baseball players say this whole thing has been blown way out of proportion.”

  “Not all of them are saying that.” Joelle sighed. Ryan Carlyle sure wasn’t. He hadn’t spoken to her since their little discussion in the hall.

  “Well, those who aren’t probably can’t stand the idea of having a girl who’s better than they are on their team,” Elizabeth said lightly.