Ava and Pip by Carol Weston

might find it charming. So this morning I sent our customers an e-mail with a link to the library contest site. Within the hour, two people e-mailed back asking me about Queen Bee, the nasty new seventh-grader. One even took it upon herself to telephone.”
    I sat there staring at the dark green rug. It had a bunch of crisscrossing vacuum lines in it. My eyes were prickling, and I had a lump in my throat.
    â€œI’m all for free speech,” Mrs. Bates continued, “but not when it’s hurtful or damaging. At Bea’s last school, she had to deal with a number of mean and jealous girls and their nasty rumors, and I don’t want her to go through that again. That’s why I came over to put an end to this.”
    â€œI wish I could press Undo,” I mumbled.
    â€œSpeak up,” Principal Gupta said.
    â€œI wish I could press Undo,” I repeated, a little louder.
    â€œI wish you could too,” Mrs. Bates replied. “Ms. Gupta, perhaps you can remove Ava’s story from the school website? I assume that wouldn’t be considered censorship?”
    â€œUnder the circumstances, I think it would be fine.”
    Principal Gupta phoned her tech person while I sat there like a criminal. I started feeling smaller and smaller, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears.
    I thought: I wish my parents were here. Then I thought: no, I don’t. And to be honest, that made me feel even worse!
    â€œI’m not sure if Bea even knows about your story,” Mrs. Bates said.
    â€œShe does,” I said softly. “She and I already made up.”
    â€œReally? Well, I shouldn’t be surprised.” She nodded. “My daughter has a very forgiving nature. More so than I.” Did that mean that Mrs. Bates was going to stay mad at me forever? “Bea is wise beyond her years, and she has a heart of gold.”
    I wondered what my heart was made of. Pebbles? Dirt? Mud? I was still afraid I might start bawling.
    â€œMrs. Bates,” Principal Gupta said, “I feel certain that Ava has grown a lot because of this unfortunate experience. Would you say this is true, Ava?”
    â€œYes!” I said and threw in a couple more “I’m sorry”s. There was a silence, so I asked, “Would it be okay if I went back to language arts? I mean, if I’m not getting suspended?”
    â€œIt’s okay with me,” Principal Gupta said. Mrs. Bates gave a nod too, so I stood up and backed out of the room, closing the door behind me.
    In the hall, I was starting to breathe full breaths again when a seventh-grader I’d never met before said, “Are you Ava Wren?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBea Bates is a nice person,” she said. “She did not deserve what you did to her.”
    â€œI know,” I said and kept walking.
    â€œWhat’s with the weird hair anyway?” she called.
    I hurried back to class wishing Thanksgiving were this week instead of next week.
    AVA WHO WROTE A BUNCH (INSTEAD OF EATING LUNCH)

11/20
    FRIDAY AFTERNOON
    DEAR DIARY,
    I don’t know how Pip survives without talking. She may think talking is hard, but not talking is so much harder.
    I wish I could talk to my parents the way some kids do. Or the way Bea talks to her aunt.
    This afternoon, Maybelle and I sat in the library near Pip, Isabel, and Nadifa. Nadifa’s hair is even shorter than mine, and she wears two earrings in one ear and one in the other.
    Maybelle and I were playing I Spy. Here’s what I spied with my little eye: Pip said a quiet hi to Bea’s freckly brother! And Ben said a quiet hi back!
    Questions:
    1. Is Ben her crush??
    2. Does Pip know that Ben is Bea’s brother?
    3. Does Ben know his mother hates my guts?
    4. Does Pip have any idea about all the drama going on?
    After the bell rang at the end of the period, I got up the nerve to talk to Mr. Ramirez. Since my story is no longer on the school website, I asked if he could ask