The first person I see when I walk into the gym is Rowena. It would be hard to miss her. She is wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts—with pictures of palm trees and convertible cars on them. The best thing about those shorts is they go almost to Rowena’s knees.
Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe all the girls will be wearing regulation length shorts. We may not like the school dress code, but hey, isn’t it easier to go along with the rules and not fight over every little thing?
Vicky punches my shoulder. “You got this, Eric?” she asks me.
I take a deep breath. “I got it.”
Miss Aubin goes to speak with the gym teacher. They huddle for a moment, then the gym teacher whistles to get the class’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she says, “the members of the Student Life Committee are here to verify that your gym clothes meet the dress code.”
“You mean whether the girls’ clothes meet the dress code!” Rowena calls out.
The gym teacher does not respond to Rowena’s comment. Instead, she asks Vicky and Ivan to be as quick as possible. “I wouldn’t want this… this inspection…to interfere with our broomball game,” she says.
“It shouldn’t take long,” Vicky assures her. Vicky turns to the class. “If you could all line up along the back wall, with your hands extended by your sides, Eric will check that your shorts are regulation length.” It is obvious from Vicky’s tone and the way she puts her hands on her hips that she likes telling people what to do.
I scan the gym for Daisy, but I don’t see her. She must be in another class.
As I am thinking that, the gym doors swing open and Daisy sails in. My heart sinks when I see that she is wearing extremely short shorts.
Daisy looks from the back wall, where her classmates are lined up, to me and the other members of the Student Life Committee, then over to the wall again. I can tell she has figured out what is going on. For a second, I wonder if maybe she will try to leave the gym. Can’t she go hide out in the bathroom until the inspection is over?
But Daisy does not make a run for it. Instead, she gives me this giant smile that makes my knees wobble. Then she walks over to the back wall and stands by Rowena. I try looking down at the gym floor, but my eyes are refusing to take orders from my brain—because next thing I know, I am sneaking a peek at Daisy’s legs, which are still slightly tanned from summer. I swear, if I was a painter, I’d paint them.
Next to Rowena’s shorts, Daisy’s look even shorter.
“Eric.” It’s Vicky. I get the feeling she has already called my name, but I might have been, well, distracted. “Eric.” Vicky sounds annoyed. “Let’s get this over with. Now.” She lifts her chin toward the back of the gym.
“It’s not fair! Look how short your fingers are! Mine are almost twice as long!” I hear a girl complain to the girl standing next to her.
I look back at Vicky. She must have heard the girl’s comment too. It’s a valid point. If a student has long fingers, her shorts need to be longer than if she were a short-fingered person. Maybe Vicky will say we need to review the rules. But I catch her eye, and she lifts her chin again. She is telling me to get on with it.
My heart is thumping. If only there were some way for me to get out of this situation. But there isn’t. Not if I want to stay on the Student Life Committee. Then I hear Miss Aubin’s words in my head. Sometimes the best way to effect change is to work from the inside. But how does that help me now? A guy who is trapped can’t effect change.
I move to the end of the line, as far away as I can get from Rowena and Daisy.
The first two students are guys in baggy khaki shorts that go to their knees. They lower their arms, and I make a point of checking where their fingers reach even though I know their shorts are regulation length.
The second guy salutes me—which makes some of the other kids laugh. I feel my ears getting hot.
Next in line is the girl who sits next to me in Life Sciences. I take a quick look at her shorts. They are burgundy and made of sweatshirt material, but they are not as long as Rowena’s. My breathing quickens. This is going to be close. I really hope she has short fingers. She extends her arms. Am I the only one who sees that she has folded her fingers so that her knuckles line up with the bottom of her shorts? I nod as I pass her. She nods back—at least, I think she does. The nod was so small and quick I might have imagined it.
The next couple of girls are wearing jeans that are cut off at the knee. None of the guys’ shorts are a problem.
Rowena is next. She smirks when I lean down to check where her fingertips end. I know she is remembering the promise I made her.
Some kids have been whispering, but when I get to Daisy, the whispering stops. Everyone is watching us.
I catch Daisy’s eye. I’m sorry, I say, mouthing the words.
Daisy drops her arms to her sides. She does not bother trying to fold her hands. Her shorts are so short they barely reach her wrists.
I want her to tell me it’s okay, that she understands I have no choice about turning her in. But when I look at her again, Daisy just stares at me blankly. As if we never met in Reading Circle or walked to school together.
I force myself to meet Daisy’s eyes. “Your shorts, uh, they’re not regulation length.” My voice cracks on the word length. Rowena laughs, and my ears get hot again.
Vicky and Ivan have come to stand next to me.
“You have to report to Mr. Germinato’s office,” I say. At least this time my voice doesn’t crack.
“Now?” Daisy asks.
“Now!” Vicky barks. “Eric, you go with her!”