Written by Tracie Renee
The reason I have not found a best friend yet is because the fourth time Kayden Karst
chucks his empty water bottle at my head, I get sent to the principal’s office. This is completely
and totally unfair because:
- Kayden Karst does NOT get in trouble, even though he did the throwing.
- Also, I didn’t choose that seat in homeroom. Thirty-one days ago when sixth
grade ruined my life by starting, Mrs. Tanaka’s alphabetical-order seating chart stuck me—last name: Abagnale—right up front (spitting distance to Mrs. Tanaka’s desk AND the garbage can that lives next to it), and Kayden Karst one row to my right and four seats behind me. - But mostly, this is unfair because when I intercepted Kayden’s first three flying Doom Bottles, I caught them and he smiled at me (which made Hannah and Kamila giggle exactly like almost-friends should). So how was I supposed to know that hand-block number four would send the Doom Bottle into Mrs. Tanaka’s face?
“It was completely and totally an accident,” I tell Principal Lopez.
She shakes her head and sighs. “Francesca—”
“My friends call me Frankie,” I remind her.
“As I was saying,” she continues, “it would be in your best interest to think before you
act. Considering that this is your”—she squints at her computer —“sixth visit to my office in the
last two weeks, I’m afraid it’s time for a consequence.”
“I’m generally free after 4PM, but if you want me to help Janitor Davis clean up the
school grounds again, I’ll need to go home first because these aren’t the right shoes.”
She rubs her temples. “No need. Detention takes place in the media center.” She checks
her watch. “Chop chop! Best not be tardy again for second period, Francesca.”
I start to say, “Actually I go by—”
But Principal Lopez completely and totally points to the door before I can finish, so that’s
the fourth very unfair thing about today: nobody here listens.
In detention, I listen to the clock tick too slowly for eleven minutes while I multiply
four-digit numbers by two-digit numbers. Then I read chapter seven of A Long Walk to Water by
Linda Sue Park, and for twenty-three minutes I forget that I am the weird, new, completely and
totally friendless kid at Harold Washington Middle School. Instead, I am in South Sudan with
Nya, who is exactly my age but doesn’t go to school (lucky) because she walks all day to get
water for her family (not so lucky). For twenty-three minutes, I don’t worry about what Hannah
and Kamila giggle over at the lunch table I wasn’t invited to; I just worry about Nya’s sister,
who drinks dirty water and gets really sick. But then I close the book and there are still fifty-six
UGH minutes of detention left which is completely and totally too many. And I’m jumpy
inside from Nya’s worries.
When I ask the librarian if I can use a computer for research, he says yes.
Actually, Mr. Zalusky says, “Why?” but after I explain that I want to research water
contamination, he says “Go ahead but if I catch you on YouTube, Principal Lopez will hear
about it.”
I completely and totally do not go on YouTube. Or at least, I completely and totally do not get
caught.
For the next fifty minutes on not-YouTube, I learn that some water is dirty because of
parasites (like in Linda Sue Park’s book) and some water is dirty because of pollution. Plastic
doesn’t completely and totally go away when you throw it away—bits of it end up in the water
we drink (ew). So Kayden’s fourth Plastic Doom Bottle is not just the root of my own personal
Doom (a.k.a. detention) but also a Doom Bottle for All of Humankind because it will hang
around (like locker room stink on run-the-mile-day) for hundreds AND hundreds of years. And
schools (like Harold Washington Middle) create 14,500 TONS of plastic waste (ugh)—EVERY
DAY!1 Which is sad. And completely and totally does not vibe with my let’s-be-middle-school-
friends look (sunshine yellow high-tops + a rainbow hoodie) so I spend the last thirty-two
detention minutes looking up “environmental activism” and “plastic recycling” and “how to
save the earth.”
When it’s finally time to leave, Mr. Zalusky asks if I found what I needed. I nod. Because
even though it’s still completely and totally unfair that I’m here and Kayden Karst isn’t, and
even though it’s still UGH that he chucked his bottle toward the trash can by Mrs. Tanaka’s desk
in the first place, at least now I know what to do about it.
I start first thing Wednesday morning in the cafeteria, with the vending machine that sells
Kayden’s Doom Bottles. But even though I have used my very best handwriting to letter the
signs, Hannah and Kamila roll their eyes at the posters I’ve taped to the vending machine.
Think before you drink!
BYORB2 tomorrow!
Be cool and reuse!
Principal Lopez doesn’t take them down though. And I only groan a little when Kayden
interrupts my protest to feed the machine a dollar. Also I completely and totally do not rant about
melting icecaps and homeless polar bears when he asks me if I like boba tea. Instead I
explain—very calmly— that plastic boba tea straws weigh so little that the wind can blow them
right out of garbage trucks and into the ocean, where sea turtles eat them, so no, I don’t drink
boba as of 5:17PM yesterday because turtle murder is completely and totally uncool.
All Kayden says is, “Oh.” But when he punches COIN RETURN, I think before I act: I
thank him for not buying a Doom Bottle. And totally don’t point out that his ears have flushed as
red as the (plastic-wrapped) Twizzlers he shouldn’t have dug out of his bag.
174,000 tons of plastic cafeteria UGH3 later, Mrs. Tanaka says we can pick our own seats
for second semester homeroom. I nab one by the window this time, far
away from her desk AND the trash can. When Kayden slides into the seat behind me, I don’t
groan or even turn around—at least, not until something (a stainless steel water bottle, sunshine
yellow) crashes to the floor at my feet. I completely and totally don’t mean to kick it into Mrs.
Tanaka’s path as she makes the new seating chart. My feet just think faster than my brain.
It is unfortunate that Mrs. Tanaka’s feet completely and totally don’t.
“Honest, I didn’t mean for Mrs. Tanaka to sprain her ankle,” I tell Principal Lopez.
She rubs her temples. “I know. But it would be in your best interest, Francesca, to think
before you—”
“Act,” I finish. “Usual time?”
She nods. “And if you leave now, you can still make second period.”
I almost accidentally tell her that second period this semester is Domestic Arts and I
really don’t mind missing whatever that is, but then I shut my mouth. I guess I’m learning.
In detention, I sit at my usual table (closest to the books about science). I’m four pages
into How to Change Everything by Naomi Klein when Mr. Zalusky says, “I don’t understand.
You’re not on the list.”
He’s by the door, talking to some kid. I can’t see who.
“I’m volunteering?” Mystery Kid says.
“That’s…not how detention works,” Mr. Zalusky says. “But knock yourself out.” He nods
toward me. “Plenty of room over there.”
Kayden slides into the seat across from me. I completely and totally keep my eyes on my
book and don’t look up at all—not until something falls out of his backpack and crashes to the
floor at my feet. At least I don’t kick it this time. I just pick the water bottle up and hand it back
to him.
“Thanks,” he says. “So…”
“So…why are you volunteering for detention?” I completely and totally don’t mean to
blurt that out. But I guess my mouth isn’t as good at staying shut as I thought.
His ears flush again. “Mrs. Tanaka tripped on my bottle? I felt bad.” He twists
it—stainless steel, sunshine yellow—in his hands. “Don’t you live on Holly Hill?”
I nod.
“I’m two streets over. On Maple? Carpools are good for the earth. Right? So…my older
brother can drive you home.”
I squint at his water bottle. “Does that say ‘THINK BEFORE YOU DRINK?’ In sharpie?”
“Huh?” Kayden follows my eyes. “Yeah. I mean, my brother can drive you if you want,
Francesca.”
For the first time ever at Harold Washington Middle School, I don’t have to think before
I act because this one’s a no-brainer. “Completely and totally,” I say. “But my friends call me
Frankie.”
1 Completely and totally true! Read: Evaluating Food Packaging Waste in Schools: A Systematic Literature Review.
2 Bring Your Own Reusable Bottle
3 174,000 divided by 14,500 = 12 (days).
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Tracie Renee (she/her) is a librarian, a Publishers Weekly book reviewer, a three-time winner of the Grand Prize in Poetry from Outrider Press, and a Best of the Net nominated writer who lives and dreams in sort-of Chicago. She’s currently querying a middle grade novel-in-verse. Say hi and connect here: https://linktr.ee/tracie.renee
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