Girls in Charge by Debra Moffitt Page B

to let go of the PLS yet, and I was nervous. I wanted to keep it running for the rest of the school year. (We didn’t want to let all those girls down.) But we had to seriously cross our fingers that Principal F. would never actually go to www.pinklockersociety.org and see we had completely ignored his orders. Again.
    â€œBut we also wanted you to know that it’s especially important for you to lay low right now,” Ms. Russo said.
    â€œMeaning what?” I asked.
    â€œYou don’t want to risk getting suspended,” Mrs. Percy said. “And I fear that’s what Principal Finklestein would do if he caught you red-handed, or should I say pink-handed?”
    â€œTrès amusante,” Piper said.
    I was not so amused.
    â€œDo you think he suspects anything?” I asked Mrs. Percy.
    â€œI don’t know. All he would tell me was the official reason he listed for banning you from the class trip.”
    â€œBecause we restarted the PLS when he told us not to, right?” I asked.
    â€œNot exactly. The official school rule you broke was operating a student club without being officially sanctioned.”
    â€œSanctioned?” Kate asked.
    â€œSanctioned is another way of saying ‘approved.’ All school clubs are officially approved at one point or another,” Mrs. Percy said. “Many have been sanctioned for decades, like le club Francais, a club Piper is probably well acquainted with.”
    â€œOui,” said Piper. French for yes pronounced “we.”
    A sanctioned club has a charter (a document that explains the rules), a designated teacher-advisor, and signed permission forms from parents to let their kids be in it, Mrs. Percy explained. “I guess the PLS has always been a secret group without official approval.”
    â€œCan we get sanctioned? Ms. Russo has been our teacher-advisor. And we could write a charter,” Kate asked.
    â€œI’m afraid it would be difficult now. Principal Finklestein and the school board would have to recommend it for sanctioning. It’s hard to get a new club sanctioned or an old club unsanctioned,” Mrs. Percy said. “Lots of paperwork.”
    â€œCouldn’t we at least try?” Piper said.
    Ms. Russo and Mrs. Percy exchanged glances but neither said anything. Which in a way did answer Piper’s question, and that answer was “No.”

 
    Twenty
    After school, I nearly dove into my running clothes and sprinted out to the track to start my run. I didn’t want to talk to my teammates or my coach or take the long way around to catch a glimpse of the baseball team.
    â€œWant to run together?” Mimi Caritas asked me. Clem’s younger sister looked up to me, I knew. She joined the track team when I told her, “If I can distance run, you can distance run.” She was doing great, actually. But today, I just didn’t want the company.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mimi. I’m upset about something and I wouldn’t be a good partner.”
    I felt like if I could run, I could erase the noise and worries filling my head. At mile one, the anxiety had lifted only slightly. All thoughts kept leading me back to our troubling situation—no class trip and a grim future for the PLS.
    Though I kept hoping for some miracle to occur, it was now clear that nothing would change. I’d have to tell my parents that I wouldn’t be going to New York. Class trips can’t be replaced, I thought. There are very few of them and hardly any are overnight, stay-at-hotel trips. When else are you going to get to go somewhere fun with your close friends and the entire eighth grade? And when else would I get to visit New York City, the city that never sleeps? Fashion, art, theater, hot dogs on every street corner—it was all there for the taking.
    Missing the class trip meant missing our chance to make a presentation at the Tomorrow’s Leaders Today conference, too. Someone would