Then last period, during AP Physics, the school secretary comes over the intercom and interrupts Mr. Halpbern: “Can you send Emma Woodhouse straight to Mr. Dodge’s office?”
Mr. Halpbern looks at me, his mouth a circle, his eyes expressing the shock that I’m feeling. I have never once in my entire life been called out of a class to go to the principal’s office. In fact, I’m pretty sure if Mr. Dodge even knows who I am, it’s only because I ended junior year ranked first in my class.
“You’d better go,” Mr. Halpbern says, sounding as concerned as I feel. I gather my things and stand, and George shoots me a worried look as I make my way out toward the hallway.
When I get to the front office, I walk in and spot the white of Jane’s lab coat across the room. She’s already sitting in a chair outside Mr. Dodge’s office. “Hey,” I say to her. “Do you know what’s going on?” Since we were both called down, I have a strange feeling that this has something to do with our coding club project. But then why wasn’t George called down? Why me and Jane?
She shrugs, and I sit down next to her. We can see through the glass that Mr. Dodge is on the phone, but we can’t make out what he’s saying. He hangs up, and Jane tugs on the sleeves of her lab coat with her fingers, nervously clutching the material in her fists.
Mr. Dodge opens the door. “Girls,” he says pointedly, staring at us. He ushers us into his office, offering us the two chairs across from his desk. I’m already frowning as we sit down, feeling annoyed that he called us girls, which feels somehow both dismissive and demeaning. I’m not sure how a person is supposed to react in this situation. But I’m mad that I’m missing the end of AP Physics, and also confused about what’s going on.
“Why are we here?” I ask bluntly.
“Well.” Mr. Dodge folds his hands in front of him on his desk, twiddling his thumbs. “I’ve gotten a few complaints from the boys’ cross-country team. Apparently you two created some kind of...” He looks down and checks his notes. “App that allows women to demean them?”
Laughter gurgles in my throat and I can’t stop it from coming out. Both Jane and Mr. Dodge look at me and frown, so I know right away my first reaction, to laugh, was the wrong one. I think about the way Phillip laughed at me on Friday, in the parking lot, and then I realize whatever is going on here is all his doing. Or maybe it’s my fault, for saying the wrong things to him. “That’s ridiculous,” I say, now completely serious. “If anyone’s demeaning anyone, it’s the other way around.”
“So you didn’t create an app?” he asks.
Jane and I look at each other, and I’m really not sure what to say next. Jane surprises me by speaking, her voice sounding louder, more forceful, than normal. “We’re working on a project for coding club, an app, yes.” Then she explains about what happened with Phillip and the boys on the cross-country team at the dance, and about how she designed a survey to try and prevent that going forward.
Mr. Dodge is frowning the whole time. “Look,” he says. “You’re both good girls.” There he is, calling us girls again. “But the boys say they didn’t do anything wrong. And they feel bullied by this app, so I’m going to have to ask you to shut it down.”
Shut it down? No way! Not when we’re finally getting it right.
Before I can say anything, Jane speaks again: “Bullied?” She sounds incredulous. “So you’re fine with the fact that the cross-country team is betting on which underclassman they can have sex with first? But you’re not okay with us asking people to flag bad behavior?” She’s breathing hard; her hands are shaking.
“If you had some proof about this...bet, then of course I would investigate that,” Mr. Dodge says. He stares at both of us, as if he’s waiting for us to hand over some sort of proof we might be hiding in our pockets.
“George overheard them talking,” I finally say, and Mr. Dodge frowns. “They said it all out loud.”
There’s a knock on the door, and we turn. Ms. Taylor peeks her head in. Mr. Dodge motions for her to come all the way in and close the door. “Sorry,” she says. “I got caught up with a student.” She addresses Mr. Dodge. “But I read your email, Bill. And honestly, I’m shocked you’re calling these two fine students out of class.”
He reiterates to her what he told us. That the cross-country boys feel bullied, and he wants us to stop working on the app. I feel like I should say something else, anything, but I’m not sure what. All I know is we can’t stop working on the app. And also, now I really truly hate Phillip, and I can’t believe I ever thought he’d want to help coding club win.
“Absolutely not,” Ms. Taylor says. I’m surprised by her forceful tone—usually she’s so calm and soft-spoken—but also relieved she’s jumped in to defend us. It wasn’t too long ago that she’d been skeptical about the survey questions, too. “Bill, first of all. No one is being bullied. Everything is being done anonymously and confidentially. And second of all, if you bring anyone down here for bad behavior in this case, it should be those boys. I can’t believe you’re singling out Jane and Emma right now.” Her face is red, and she’s making an expression I’ve never seen before: Is she livid?
Mr. Dodge looks away from her, down at his thumbs on his desk, and frowns. When he looks back up, I expect him to say something really ridiculous, like Boys will be boys. As if none of us can be expected to hold Phillip and his friends accountable for anything. But instead he looks back up at Ms. Taylor again and his face softens a little. “Now, Anna, you know that’s not my intent. I know Jane and Emma are good students. I’m just investigating a complaint I got, that’s all. We have a zero tolerance policy for bullying at this school, so if someone makes a complaint...”
“Oh, Bill, please.” Ms. Taylor shoots him a steely look.
“We’ve already submitted our project for the state competition,” I interject, suddenly finding the words I want to say. “We can’t change it now or we’ll have to withdraw. I’m counting on this for my Stanford application. We’re all counting on it for college applications. And I promise you, our app is completely inclusive. We’re trying to prevent people from being treated badly or being bullied.”
“Yes.” Ms. Taylor smiles at me, like she’s proud of me. Like maybe she thinks I’m actually finding a way to stand out, or stand up for myself, or to be something else other than a math brain. “Emma’s absolutely right.”
The bell rings for the end of the day, and Mr. Dodge looks at Ms. Taylor, then at me and Jane, and holds his hands up in the air. “You girls can go,” he says. “But I don’t want any more done on this app until we figure this out.”