Confessions of a So-called Middle Child by Maria T. Lennon Page A

!”
    What! I stared. How great was this? “You know what a bindi is?”
    â€œWhat’s a bindi ?” Babs pulled Trixie. “And by the way, we’re late.”
    â€œI’m totally going Indian in every way,” I announced, catching up with them.
    â€œI love their fashion, their movies, their dances! Those women are so beautiful.” Trix beamed.
    â€œI know, right!” Babs concurred.
    â€œEver since I was a little kid, Mother Teresa was one of my heroes.” I watched the look on their faces like, What the heck is wrong with this girl? But I persevered. “Being kind, doing stuff for the less fortunate, I just think it’s cool.”
    Trixie shot me this look of horror. “But have you seen what she looked like?”
    â€œOh yeah, but I’ve totally updated. I’m going for the Bollywood thing plus the charity”—hand up to be clear—“minus the wart.”
    Kids streamed in and shouted across the now empty parking lot, “Hey, it’s Marta the Farta!”
    We all turned to see Marta, head down, pulling her Cinderella roller suitcase as fast as she could. It was like the gods were shining down on me. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. Being mean to Marta; that’s just gotta stop.” I tried to sound like this was a sudden decision, not a horrifying task. “You know what?” I said as we ran up to class. “I’m going to stop it.”
    Babette shook her head. “Stop what?”
    â€œBeing mean to her,” I said. “But why? It’s fun,” Babs said. “Plus she doesn’t mind at all. If she did, she’d dress better.” Babs pulled open the door. “She’d cut her nails, look a little more human, n’est-ce pas ?”
    I let it go, because you know what? I was so not into having that kind of discussion.
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    TRUE FACT: Babs should have been on Scales’s couch, not me.
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    Mr. Lawson strolled in with his chai tea in a brown, earthy mug. “Good morning. Call me Mr. L, and boy”—he zeroed in on me right away—“that bindi is beautiful.”
    â€œAnd super meaningful.” I pushed on it hard with my finger.
    â€œAnd it falls in so nicely with what we’re doing this morning. All right, everybody.” Mr. L smiled as if he actually liked us, which was pretty unusual for teachers these days. “Time to choose a community buddy.”
    â€œCommunity buddy?” Babs slapped the desk with her hands.
    â€œUh, you’re kinda freaking us out, Mr. L.” Trix rolled her eyes.
    â€œCommunity building saves lives.” He walked between our desks. “The buddy you choose will be your community-outreach partner.”
    Just the words community outreach used to make me feel like I’d been struck down with a deadly disease. But now, now, they validated my whole plan.
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    TRUE FACT: When you’ve finally hit upon the right course of action, the stars align.
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    I raised my hand. “Are we talking charity?”
    â€œWe are.” He nodded. “But now we call it service. The word charity is no longer used.”
    â€œKinda like retard ?” Bobby yelled out. “Right. Mr. L?”
    â€œExactly, Mr. Brown.”
    He handed each one of us a list. “We’re going to break into groups of two and choose the kind of service we want to do. All right?”
    Babs jumped up. “I choose Trix,” Babs announced before anyone else could say a thing. I looked over at Trix; she looked at me. She raised her hand, about to ask what I did not want her to ask.
    I raised my hand higher. “Mr. Lawson, can I have”—I could barely get the words out, so I stabbed myself in the leg with the pencil and shouted—“Marta?”
    Everyone laughed, like it was a joke. Trix looked at me. “Are you nuts?” Babs was smiling. Bobby kicked me under the table and said, “Good