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“SheMan”). Hmmm … I wondered if “Buzzy” qualified as a mean nickname.
    But even more intriguing, Bet said she was looking more deeply into the history of the PLS and what happened to shut it down in the 1970s. She told me only that it had something to do with Title Nine.
    â€œThat cute clothing catalog?” I said.
    â€œNo, Title ‘I’ ‘X,’ ” she said, stopping to write down the Roman numerals that stand for nine. “It’s a law that requires girls and boys to have equal access to stuff like sports. For instance, way back when, there was no girls’ volleyball or girls’ track team. And even when girls could play sports, they didn’t have real uniforms.”
    A team without uniforms seemed sad, like something in a movie.
    â€œHow’d you find all that out?” I asked.
    â€œResearch, my dear. The answer is always research.”
    I almost told her right then about how we had restarted the PLS. But I stopped because I worried she wouldn’t be able to resist reporting about it. And, with her knack for uncovering secrets, I figured it was just a matter of time before she found out herself.
    In the girls’ bathroom, we splashed cold water on our faces and decided to get back to work before her dad arrived. Bet had moved our interview outside so I could sit on the low brick wall outside of school. The autumn sun was shining on my face from a low point along the horizon. Cleansed by the crying and laughing from my heart-to-heart with Bet, my view of the dance had finally crystallized.
    â€œMy opinion is that it doesn’t matter what you call the dance,” I told the camera in a clear voice. “As long as girls know they can ask someone or just go with friends, it will be successful. But no one should feel like they have to stay home.”
    This interview felt a little like when I answered questions for the Pink Locker Society. I could imagine what I said helping other girls. But this time, my words happened to apply very directly to me.

Eleven
    Friday came and I felt better than I had all week. It was clear Forrest was not going to answer. I could analyze that all day, but in the end I needed a new plan. Bet and I decided we’d go to the dance together (without dates) and hang out with other friends once we got there. Brett and Kate would be there. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle Piper and Forrest, but I reminded myself that he’d be performing, so maybe that wouldn’t give them much chance to be a couple there.
    On Friday morning, Trevor McCann was once again awaiting my arrival in front of my locker. Today he was also holding a single red rose wrapped in plastic, the kind they sold at the Toot-n-Scoot. My heart stopped for an instant. Was he delivering it on Forrest’s behalf?
    â€œJemma, I just want to say thank you, but I can’t go to the dance with you.”
    My head was swimming now.
    â€œYou … what?”
    â€œI know you’re probably upset. But I asked the principal and the assistant principal and both of them said there are no exceptions. Only eighth-graders can go to the Backward Dance. Even when I told them I’d be helping set up for my brother’s band.”
    â€œRight,” I said, totally confused, waiting for more explanation.
    None came. I noticed that one of his shoes was untied. With time to consider it, I estimated he was a foot shorter than me. I had to step back a bit to look him in the eye.
    â€œSo I brought you this rose. Maybe some other time?” Trevor said, handing me the flower.
    I took the rose without saying thanks and he walked away, a bit dejected. As I started gathering books from my locker, I heard him stop in his tracks a few paces down the hall. Then, he turned around and asked: “Hey Jemma, why did you call me Ax-man?”
    â€œWhat?” I said, still whirling in my own thoughts.
    â€œIn the note,” he said. He